#mr dob

[zegalba]

Takashi Murakami: Mr. Dob (1998)

[kn1ghtc0r3]

First piece of 2024!

[mr-stottlemonk]

stottlemeyer's timeline as promised.

[find monk's timeline here]

[wheelscomedyandmore]

You Might Not Ever Guess

Captain Kangaroo passed away on January 23, 2004 as age 76 , which is odd, because he always looked to be 76. (DOB: 6/27/27 ) His death reminded me of the following story.

Some people have been a bit offended that the actor, Lee Marvin, is buried in a grave alongside 3 and 4 star generals at Arlington National Cemetery . His marker gives his name, rank (PVT) and service (USMC). Nothing else. Here's a guy who was only a famous movie star who served his time, why the heck does he rate burial with these guys? Well, following is the amazing answer:

I always liked Lee Marvin, but didn't know the extent of his Corps experiences.

In a time when many Hollywood stars served their country in the armed forces often in rear echelon posts where they were carefully protected, only to be trotted out to perform for the cameras in war bond promotions.

Lee Marvin was a genuine hero. He won the Navy Cross at Iwo Jima. There is only one higher Naval award... the Medal Of Honor

If that is a surprising comment on the true character of the man, he credits his sergeant with an even greater show of bravery.

Dialog from "The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson": His guest was Lee Marvin Johnny said, "Lee, I'll bet a lot of people are unaware that you were a Marine in the initial landing at Iwo Jima ..and that during the course of that action you earned the Navy Cross and were severely wounded."

"Yeah, yeah... I got shot square in the bottom and they gave me the Cross for securing a hot spot about halfway up Suribachi. Bad thing about getting shot up on a mountain is guys getting' shot hauling you down. But Johnny, at Iwo I served under the bravest man I ever knew... We both got the cross the same day, but what he did for his Cross made mine look cheap in comparison. That dumb guy actually stood up on Red beach and directed his troops to move forward and get the hell off the beach. Bullets flying by, with mortar rounds landing everywhere and he stood there as the main target of gunfire so that he could get his men to safety. He did this on more than one occasion because his men's safety was more important than his own life.

That Sergeant and I have been lifelong friends. When they brought me off Suribachi we passed the Sergeant and he lit a smoke and passed it to me, lying on my belly on the litter and said, where'd they get you Lee?' Well Bob.. if you make it home before me, tell Mom to sell the outhouse!"

Johnny, I'm not lying, Sergeant Keeshan was the bravest man I ever knew.

The Sergeant's name is Bob Keeshan. You and the world know him as Captain Kangaroo."

On another note, there was this wimpy little man (who just passed away) on PBS, gentle and quiet. Mr. Rogers is another of those you would least suspect of being anything but what he now portrays to our youth.

But Mr. Rogers was a U.S. Navy Seal, combat-proven in Vietnam with over twenty-five confirmed kills to his name. He wore a long-sleeved sweater on TV, to cover the many tattoos on his forearm and biceps. He was a master in small arms and hand-to-hand combat, able to disarm or kill in a heartbeat.

After the war Mr. Rogers became an ordained Presbyterian minister and therefore a pacifist. Vowing to never harm another human and also dedicating the rest of his life to trying to help lead children on the right path in life. He hid away the tattoos and his past life and won our hearts with his quiet wit and charm.

America's real heroes don't flaunt what they did; they quietly go about their day-to-day lives, doing what they do best. They earned our respect and the freedoms that we all enjoy.

Look around and see if you can find one of those heroes in your midst.

Often, they are the ones you'd least suspect, but would most like to have on your side if anything ever happened.

Take the time to thank anyone that has fought for our freedom. With encouragement they could be the next Captain Kangaroo or Mr. Rogers.

Send this on will you please? Nothing will happen to you if you don't, but it will tell what a "real" HERO is made of.

[fishfooddude]

No Phone Policy 2.0

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader

Still feelin' very angsty... Except, I'm not sorry this time around.

The Bear MasterList

Directory

Part 1

“Can I help you, sir?” an older nurse in baby pink scrubs asked Carmy as he approached the nursing station on the Labor and Delivery floor of the hospital. “Uh yeah- my wife is in labor.” Carmy managed to get out with minimal stuttering. She smiled, “Oh, that’s delightful! Can I have her first and last name, her DOB, and your ID?” 

Carmy nodded as he felt for his wallet in his jacket pocket. “Y/N Berzatto, 10/31/97.” He managed to fish his wallet out of his pocket and handed the nurse his ID. The nurse thanked him and quickly typed something into the computer. Carmy watched her face shift. “Just give me one moment.” She grinned sympathetically and scampered over to another nurse in a similar pair of pink scrubs. Carmy watched them whisper back and forth as his anxiety grew. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly found your contact. As he hit call, he noticed the older nurse walking back to where he’d been waiting with the other nurse in tow. When Carmy heard your ringtone coming from down the hall, he made the decision to follow the sound. “Mr. Berzatto!” the nurse called after him as he turned around the corner and managed to find your room. 

“Baby—I’m so—” Carmy immediately stopped his apology when he noticed the small pink bundle in your arms. He couldn’t breathe or speak; he just stared. “Sir. You aren’t allowed in this room. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” a security guard calmly instructed as he put a hand on Carmy’s shoulder. It immediately tensed, “Tha-that’s my wife and m-my daughter.” Carmy murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. You looked up at the ceiling and squeezed your eyes closed as you brought your right hand to your face. “Baby?” Carmy pleaded. You shook your head as you wiped away a stray tear. 

“I want him out of here. Now.”

Part 3

[project-sekai-facts]

Only one date is ever mentioned in-game, that being 2021. Considering that the Virtual Singer Fan Festa seems to be a stand-in for Magical Mirai 2021, we can assume that the Scramble Fan FESTA! event takes place in September 2021 (the real-life MM2021 was delayed to November due to covid-19, but the pandemic doesn't exist in-universe and MM Tokyo usually takes place at the beginning of September). There are Leo/need Daily Life social media posts that show them attending Magical Mirai, and do state the year of the event, but these can be considered promotional material for the event itself rather than canon material, especially since the characters address in-game that only one year has passed since the start of the story (despite the fact they have celebrated new year's day 4 times now. Timeloop things).

Based on this date, we can actually place exactly when every main character was born. The cutoff date for Japanese schools is April 1st, making Ena the oldest main character, being a 3rd year with a birthday of April 30th, followed by Tsukasa on May 17th, so on so forth all the way down to Kohane, a 2nd year with a birthday of March 2nd.

Considering when Scramble Fan FESTA is set, Ena, who was a 2nd year at the time, would be 17 years old. That would place her date of birth as April 30th, 2004. Additionally, while Kohane, a first year at the time, should be 15 during the event, the game considers her to be 16 due to using a set age for every grade bracket. Regardless, the event setting places her date of birth as March 2nd, 2006.

Based on this, we can conclude that:

Ena, Tsukasa, Rui, and Shizuku were born in 2004

Mafuyu, Kanade, Airi, Minori, Saki, Toya, Nene, An, Ichika, Mizuki, Emu, Haruka, Honami, and Akito were born in 2005

Shiho and Kohane were born in 2006

This also means that Ena, Tsukasa and Rui are all older than the MEIKO software (released November 5th 2004), and everyone except Kohane is older than the KAITO software (released February 17th 2006). Every main character is older than Miku, the Kagamines, and Luka based on this information.

Using the information around set ages*, we can also work out rough estimates for when the side characters were born. For example, Arata, who was 19 during the first 3 years of the game, is 3 years older than the members of VBS who were all considered to be 16. Since the members of VBS were born in the April 2005 - April 2006 school year range, Arata was likely born in the 2002-2003 school year range.

* based on how characters like Youta and Miu, who are said to be the same age as Leo/need, were both confirmed to be 16 years old before the 3rd anniversary age-up. Also Haruka's age is confirmed as 16 at a point in time when she shouldn't be 16. Timeloop things.

Based on this, the oldest living side character, Kounosuke, who was 55 pre-3rd anniversary and 39 years older than Emu, was probably born between April 1966 and April 1st 1967. On the younger side of things, Hanano, who was 14 pre-3rd anni, was likely born between April of 2007 and 2008. I've put the rest of the estimated side character DOBs under the cut.

assumed age as of 3rd anniversary in brackets (literally just pre-age-up age + 1)

Rakunosuke Otori - April 2nd 1922 ~ April 1st 1923 (98 (at time of death. would be 100 if still alive))

Kounosuke Otori - April 2nd 1966 ~ April 1st 1967 (56)

Jean Riley - 1967~1968 (55)

Harumichi Aoyagi - 1968~1969 (54)

Shin'ei Shinonome - 1973~1974 (49)

Mr Yoisaki - 1975~1976 (47)

Ken Shiraishi - 1978~1979 (44)

Taiga Kotaki - 1978~1979 (44)

Mrs Asahina - 1980~1981 (42)

Yoshiki Shindou - 1982~1983 (40)

Yuuka Kazamatsuri - 1990~1991 (32)

Keisuke Otori - 1991~1992 (31)

Shousuke Otori - 1994~1995 (28)

Daigo Kijima - 1994~1995 (28)

Tatsuya Okazaki - 1999~2000 (23)

Yuuki Akiyama - 1999~2000 (23)

Ayaka Saito - 2001~2002 (21)

Hinata Otori - 2001~2002 (21)

Iori - 2002~2003 (20)

Mio - 2002~2003 (20)

Arata Tono - 2002~2003 (20)

Souma Miyata - 2002~2003 (20)

Asahi Genbu - 2003~2004 (19)

Kotaro Mita - 2004~2005 (18)

Sakurako Seiryuin - 2004~2005 (18)

Nanami "Nanamin" Hayakawa - 2004~2005 (18)

Futaba Natsuno - 2004~2005 (18)

Arisa Higure - 2004~2005 (18)

Ayumi Tabata - 2004~2005 (18)

Hibiki Miyake - 2004~2005 (18)

Shuuta Hayashi - 2004~2005 (18)

Ibuki Taniyama - 2004~2005 (18)

Yuina Uchiyama - 2005~2006 (17)

Shouta Hayashi - 2005~2006 (17)

Miu Takagi - 2005~2006 (17)

Youta Yoshizaki - 2005~2006 (17)

Riho Hasegawa - 2005~2006 (17)

Saku Kousaka - 2005~2006 (17)

Mai - 2006~2007 (16)

Hanano Yoshizaki - 2007~2008 (15)

Additional notes (mod is rambling atp):

Rakunosuke died when he was 98 years old. In the WxS main story, Emu says that he died a year ago. Assuming Emu was 15 at the time, they have an age gap of around 83 years. The year of birth listed here was based on that assumption.

We know that Kanade's mother died aged 30, but we do not know when she died. She is still alive in flashbacks set roughly 10 years prior to the events of game.

In the third fanbook, ages were given for Mrs Asahina, Shindou, Yuuki, Asahi, and Arisa as one year less than they are given in this post. The reason for me adding a year on is because of the confirmation in a livestream of Daigo's age being 27. Daigo is meant to be the same age as Shousuke, whose age was given as 27 prior to the 3rd anniversary. When his age was provided on stream, he was grouped with the 5 I mentioned earlier. Based on this we can assume that all their ages are taken from the same time frame, i.e, pre-3rd anni (and this also confirms that NPCs inexplicably don't age but we'll ignore that for continuity reasons).

We do not have confirmed ages for Nagi, Reki, Sakaki, Ohara, MMJ's landlady, Mafuyu's father, Hiiragi, or the members of ReLight yet

Rui suggests that Reki is the same age as him in A Story Where You Are The Star while talking about both him and Asahi in the same sentence. Asahi was since confirmed as 18/19, so it is likely that Reki is also around that age.

Nagi's age is left blank in the fanbook due to it not being revealed that she was dead at the time of publication. She is younger than Taiga, but we don't know by how much, but nonetheless she was likely born in the early 1980s. It is unlikely we will ever know her exact age.

Ohara is stated to be in his mid-30s, placing his birth year as somewhere in the 1980s, likely around 1986-1989. Sakaki is an old college friend of Ohara's, so he is likely a similar age.

No NPCs are given exact birthdays

[bulletswithribbons]

"Fucking hate journalists"

Kai Anderson X Fem!reader // NSFW

Warnings: Kai Anderson. You guess it. Very little plot, degrading, non-con/dob-con, mentions of murder, implied masochism, rough oral sex (m receiving), gun play, slut shaming, hair pulling, let me know if I missed any.

Summary: Kai breaks in your house to teach you your place after non-stop asking him back handed questions during the interview. Events eventually take a twisted turn, you were never that much of a good girl anyways.

Word count: 2.5k

a/n: This is my first ever fic, I've read plenty and wrote smut before so I'm pretty confident. But first time publishing so here we go.

Interviewing Kai right after his campaign was not the best call at all, especially the way you kept pressing him. You knew you shouldn’t have but this is war whether he knew it or not. You took a vow on yourself to make him expose himself on his own. You’ve always been suspicious about him but you had no proof of your accusations, and calling someone out based on your gut is not really professional, especially as a journalist. 

Even though someone had to confront him about his mistakes and fear mongering, your questions only made things worse, for you at least. You pushed too hard, making him feel small in front of the media. He could sense your suspicion with every question, and it's clear you put a big dent in his ego.

You were sitting on your desk, ticking your pen as a form of anti-stress. A bit of a mess actually, papers scattered, pens strewn about. Newspapers and magazines pile up, post-it notes plastered everywhere and a coffee cup long forgotten. Your desk lamp sits on the edge, casting a soft, warm glow in the room. You've always preferred gentle lights especially when working, it helps you think.

Your thoughts spiral around making your headache worse than it already is. How could you possibly put him down, once and for all..?

A bone-chilling breeze whispers over the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You enjoy it while it lasts, a refreshing breeze in this stifling hot night. It must have come from the window behind you, although you don't remember leaving it open... It doesn't matter. Nothing does as long as you still have work to do.

Your slender fingers reach for your white blouse, unbuttoning it. Once removed, you toss it aside, letting it fall to the floor, trying to cool your temperature down. You're digging through Kai's files, searching for a gap to use against him. It wasn't your job to do so. But as a journalist of course, you'd investigate and research to report the facts and keep people up with the facts.

Perhaps it's because you take what he says in the media personally. After all, a part of you is a feminist, a part you're not ready to let go of, at least for the sake of all the women who fought for their place in this world. You see through his manipulation tactics because you've seen them before. You know a narcissist when you see one.

"Fuck!" You shout as you throw the papers off your desk.

"Hm, come on now, how dare you throw these papers. We don't want little big mouth to lose her temper." He tsks, with an overly sweet tone dripping with sarcasm.

Shocked, you recognize the voice as you feel something hard poking you in the back of your head, trailing down to your neck, detaching your hair that was hardly holding up in the messy bun. Cold, metal. Sudden realisations hit all at once, but most importantly is the outsider in your house -your room- you pissed off earlier this day holding a gun to your head.

"Mr. Anderson, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. What the fuck are you doing in my house?!" you ask, your voice rising towards the end. You're trying your best to stay calm. One mistake, and you’re dead. Young lady in her 20s corpse’ found shot in her bedroom because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“Mr. Anderson?”He repeats after you, chuckling. “They’re always respectful when fearful.” A sinful smirk tugs his lips, a look of pride in his dark cold eyes after hearing his last name coming from your trembling lips. “But I would have to politely decline your offer. I’m here to fix the mess of a situation you’ve just created for yourself. After all, I don’t want to lose voters over something so foolish. Especially this… close to the election.”

"Like hell I—or anyone with a brain that knows right from wrong—would vote for you!" You yell as you stand up from your seat.

His jaw clenches and nostrils flare, showing his annoyance. His grip on the gun tightening as he lifts the gun up to your temple, his finger twitching on the trigger. His voice, on the other hand, remains eerily sweet. “I really think you should keep your voice down.”

You swallow, your throat drier than ever. 

His voice lowers to a whisper, "I see you started learning. Good girl, I'm proud of fast learners." He takes a step towards you, his free hand stroking your chin and cheek, his touch alone giving you goosebumps. The gun rests on your temple, his eyes darting around the room.Then his focus shifts back to you. "Get on your knees," he orders and pulls his hand away from your face.

“I’m sorry?” You rush out, your eyes widening.

“Now,” he responds, his tone dripping with impatience as he jerks his gun to signal his order. “Expecting company?” He inquires looking down at your —bra only— chest.

You crouch down on your knees, his gun still pointing to your head. “No,” you respond short and clearly. For a minute, you believe you saw him smile slightly. A smile of pride.. 

“You’re such an obedient slut, aren’t you?” He pauses, “You defied me, made a fool of me in front of everyone. That doesn't go unnoticed.” He whispers, his voice pitch getting higher towards the end.

“So you’re going to shoot me? Because I hurt your little pathetic ‘man ego’? Because I’m small and vulnerable while you’re big and strong?” You retort, fake amusement hiding your fear.

“You’re smart. Most girls aren't smart. Well, that was the plan.” His smirk widens, his tone sounding even more sadistic as he slowly traces the gun barrel around your jawline— tracing it slowly with the tip of his gun. You notice him staring at your lips. “But now, seeing how big of a mouth you have, I’m going to show you what whores like you are made for.” He informs, his tone bled dry of emotion.

“The kitchen and carrying useless men’s babies. I Get it, trust.” You lash out. Although you know keeping your mouth shut is probably the better option, especially in this exact situation. But that never really happens, at least not most of the time.

Kai’s grip tightens on the gun as his rage begins to seep through his body. His other hand darts out to your face and before you even notice it, a slap lands with a sharp crack, sending a jolt of pain rippling through your cheek and leaving you on the floor. It stings, you can feel a red mark in its wake. Leaving you feeling shocked and humiliated.

You were lying down there on the floor, your body stretched out, limbs motionless. There was no sense of ease in your posture nor the room, rather a stillness that borders on tension. Even the air itself felt stifling.

Your eyes widen at the sight of his free hand darting to his zipper, pulling it down tooth by tooth. “You see, you just know how things work.” His tone becomes condescending, he pops the button and grip the waistband of his pants pulling it down until it’s enough to pull his dick out. “You have such a delicious looking mouth. I'm sure it has been put to good use for the benefit of passing by men. I'm guessing you've had a lot of fun.” He grabs the elastic of his boxers, lowering them down over his balls and pulling out his half hard cock.

You stare at him, your face frozen in shock. “You’re sick!” you shout.

“Am I now? You're the one who's been around so many men in your life. You should be used to it by now.” He grins, his hand holding his gun and moving it from your cheek to beneath your chin, pulling it up, so you were looking at him. “You should be grateful I'm bothering to even look at you.”

Although the men you’ve been with aren’t that many, you don’t bother to waste your time explaining. He believes what he wants to believe.

“Get back here,” he orders as he starts to pump his cock, the veins bulging beneath his grip. A bead of precum glistening from the tip.

You crawl back to him on all fours, doing as he says, and getting back on your knees, looking up at him. “Are you going to hurt me?” you ask.

He pauses for a moment before tilting his head with a small grin. “Isn’t that what you deserve? Do you want me to hurt you? Is that it? You like pain? Is that what you crave, y/n?” 

Fear… Regret.. Along with arousal.. Unwanted arousal specifically. You always knew you had a thing for troubled —twisted— men, but this is beyond fucked-up. Not to forget, he’s your worst enemy. He’s any woman’s worst enemy.  Feeling your pussy weeping in response to his tall figure towering over you is not really something to be proud of. The heat between your thighs only grew bigger every second and you knew you needed to get rid of the feeling.

He stops pumping his cock, his hand darts to your head caressing your hair with —almost— a soft touch.

“Suck,” he orders.

Your eyes widen, your tongue ready to curse at him, “I’m not going t-” 

“I won’t ask again, suck.” His hand darts up to your face squishing your cheeks painfully together. “You run your mouth a lot, might as well put it to good use. I’ll show you what exactly happens to smart mouths. Suck it like the slut you are.” His eyes burn with anger while he’s squeezing tight, his voice dripping with venom. The tip of his heavy warm cock caresses your soft lips, tempting you to bite it off.

He roughly lets go of your face, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head to the back to force your mouth open.

He forces the tip past your teeth, hatred spewing from your eyes.

“Wider,” he demands, but you want him to beg. Beg for it on his knees and switch the table, be the one with the gun ordering him around like a house pet. Getting back your dignity sounded good but not enough if you compare it with its consequence, having your life taken away from you.

You ignore his request. Making him reinforce his hold in your hair, pulling at it harder making your jaw drop so he can get deeper to your throat. The salty taste of precum evades your taste buds.

You loved the taste of him, your mouth watering with his cock inside it. But you couldn't admit it, of course you never would. It didn’t take too long for you to wrap your fingers around the base of his shaft.

Your head bobbing up and down. A breathy moan escaped him.

“Do enlighten me,” he breathes out, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Your tongue massaged the veins that swelled on his thick cock, flattened out on the thickest one underneath and flicked at the tip.

Ragged breaths escaped his mouth as you began to inch your way down, taking in more of him. The tip of his cock bumped against the back of your throat. Kai tightens his grip around your hair, and shoves your face down against his cock, making you gag around him, violently forcing you to deep throat his dick, making you gag. His length occupying your whole mouth down to your throat. You were practically choking, but he didn’t really care about it, he’s there for one reason and one reason only, teaching you to know your place.

“Fucking whore. You thought you were so smart with those non stop questions?” He pauses panting as he thrusts harder into your throat, the sound of you gagging and the wet thrusts echoing through the room. “Fucking hate journalists. Tell me… Who got the upper hand now?” 

You can't help but ignore him once again. It's not like you would give him what he wants and come undone beneath him, right? Of course you can’t answer him, after all you’re his number one hater. But even haters would give in when it’s the most mouthwatering cock a man can ever have. 

When you avoided answering, or maybe couldn’t answer since you were basically choking on his cock. His dick alone is enough to murder you if he wanted to. It only made him thrust faster, the asshole didn’t stop mouth fucking you even when he noticed your cheeks turning to a bright red and your eyes watering. Your cries turned him even more on. Kai forced his cock further into your throat, until your nose was pressed in the bush of his pubic hair.

Finally, you gave him a wobbly nod, motioning that he has the upper hand.

His head fell back to his shoulders, “That’s good to hear.. You’re learning, you’re such a good girl…Fuck…” 

You smile at the praise. Surprisingly, him being somewhat ‘sweet’ only made him ten times hotter. 

Tears keep running down your red cheeks, your cries echoing through the room.

“Just so you know, I’m enjoying this. Your whimpers are music to my ear.” He groans. “But god dammit don’t whine like a fucking bitch.” He spits at you and it lands on your cheek. Add it to the list of body fluids covering your face, along with the sweat gathering at your forehead and drool drenching your chin. 

You moan around his thick cock, sending him vibrations through his whole body. After all, you’re not putting on an act, you are enjoying it which is something you, yourself, are afraid of. But mostly you were focused on getting oxygen into your lungs. And maybe he is right, as always. Maybe there really is a part of you that enjoys the pain. That burning stinging sensation in the back of your throat. It’s scary because it’s true. 

His thrusts then began to lose their rhythm, but still managed to keep up with his pace. You knew what was coming for you. You shut your eyes, dramatically accepting your fate. Your jaw was already tired from him using you. His shaft was heated up, thrusting in and out of your red swollen lips. His hand gripped on your hair even more tightly holding you in place while his hold on the gun loosened. 

“My cock is a reward, tasting me is a blessing. Fucking thank me for letting you suck me off.” He says between breaths. 

No response, just a wet sticky cough. But afraid of his reaction, you choke out with a full mouth, “thank you.”

You could promise that you felt the disgusted face he did, “what a filthy bitch didn't your parents teach you not to talk with a full mouth?” He says while non-stop grunting like a wounded animal. That's probably what he is anyways... A wounded animal.

Few seconds later, ropes of cum spurt out from his dick into my throat, milking it after the abuse it went through when he was hammering into my mouth. He pulls out from your mouth and tug his dick back into his boxers then his pull his pants back up.

“Swallow,” he orders. “Fucking swallow my cum.” Kai grabs your face and presses his fingers into your cheek flesh.

Desperately, all you wanted to do was spit it at him, right in his face, but you don’t. You actually swallow like the obedient little slut he said you are. His seed slides down your throat, alongside your dignity and maybe your hatred towards him. 

Your fingers reach to your face drying up the tears that ran down your cheeks and the saliva running down your chin along with lines of cum. Looking up to him, you see him breathing heavily. His body working hard to get the oxygen he needs from how hard you sucked him off.

He looks at you up and down, judging you, it can't be anything good.

You expected him to do something, whether beat you up, shoot you, the least of it is spit at you telling you how much of a filthy whore you are.

But he didn't, and you were grateful for that... For him..

The taste of him still lingers at the tip of your tongue. You lick your lips unintentionally and in the most discrete way possible. Last thing you want is having him know you liked it and boost his ego, not that it could possibly needed any more promotions. But he already knows, you're sure of it. The way you sucked the life out of him like it was the best thing you laid your lips on, you can't hide that from anyone.

He turns and walks to the door, completely silent. What could he be possibly thinking about...?

He pauses at the door, turning his head to see you, he’s sweaty.

“If I see you run your mouth about any of my work, newt time will be much worse.” He promises, which you thought was kind of cute.. Promises… 

Zipping up his fly, and slipping his gun in his pants, he finally turns away and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

[yourdailyqueer]

Charlotte Charke / Charles Brown (deceased)

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Lesbian / Bisexual

DOB: 13 January 1713 

RIP: 6 April 1760

Ethnicity: White - British

Occupation: Actress, playwright, writer, entrepreneur

Note: Began acting at the age of seventeen in breeches roles, and took to wearing male clothing off stage as well, performing and being publicly known as "Charles Brown" from 1741. Her later career and her writings were conducted under her own name, "Mrs. Charlotte Charke".

[loudlittleecho]

Frozen in Time: Too Late to Save Them

Previous

Part 6

Tim got an alert on Forever Ice in Wisconsin. 

Seems there had been an accident. He quickly scanned the document. Mr. Anderson had given a statement, grateful that no one had been harmed, thankfully, and he also did not expect this to delay shipping. He mentions that his new facilities had better safety measures installed, and while he was sad to let the building go, it was time. . . a little further in the article mentioned how everyone who had worked at the facility had been given two lucrative options. Take a generous severance package, or transfer to another facility with housing and transportation cost support. 

Tim frowned. He had gotten alerts about the other facilities two months ago. When he had scanned them they all seemed above board. Seems Anderson had found a way to recreate his ability. Tim had purchased one crafted from a newer facility, and had analyzed it beside the first. They were identical.

Tim had a hunch he didn’t like. Anderson was making friends with quite a few people. 

He noticed a file he hadn’t added to the report, written in code. 

He narrowed his eyes. This folder was open to anyone in the Justice League to add to if they so desired. 

The only one who would add something in code was The Question. 

—

The woman, Nora, had requested his team to clear one of the smaller offices of the warehouse they were occupying, and to find a bed for the boy– though by now the boy was back as a block of ice.

His crew had glanced at him for confirmation; he nodded for them to comply. 

She had only given her first name, but Snart was able to put the pieces together. Nora Fries, wife of Mr. Freeze. He hadn’t kept up with Gotham news, but it looked that somehow Freeze had managed to bring his wife back.

Now how the kid connected to the two, he didn’t know. 

Nora had told him the boy had felt feverish; she believed if a room was made colder than his own, his body wouldn’t need to form his own ice. 

Snart worked on the logistics. 

—

Sources (See interview 1c): noted complete flip in N.A.’s personality. Clone? Mind Control? 

P.A. using ice BEFORE N.A. (See interview 1a). Need full interview with P.A. 

B.A. No Meta gene, biological sibling of N.A. (See D.M.A. Federal Employee Background Check)

Forever Ice: hired employees previously working with CADMUS. Deeper connection?

Tim rubbed his eyes. He enjoyed cracking codes, but The Question had written his added documents in seventeen different ciphers. Two to three, Tim understood, but seventeen on an already secured folder? He admired the man, sure. But he also recognized this could be his future if he wasn’t careful. 

It seemed The Question had taken on the case. That was good, because Tim already had enough on his plate. He started to close out the file when he paused.

He wanted to let his fellow detective know he was willing to help if needed. Tim smirked.

Wrote a coded note, and closed the file. 

— 

The room was set below freezing, using Nora’s cryokinesis and Snart’s devices to keep it at the right temperature. 

It had taken a week, but they had finally found the correct temperature. Nora wasn’t quite sure why Cold was helping. But she didn’t complain. 

When she removed ice from the boy, it didn’t replace itself. 

Slowly and gently she placed him on the bed. It had frozen over, of course, but was better than the floor.

His chest slowly moved up and down; breathing. 

Noticing the medical band from his wrist, she removed it. 

Fenton, Daniel.

ADM: 09/16/–

DOB: 04/03/–

The band was frayed, so Nora couldn’t be positive about its accuracy on the current situation. But based on dates alone, Daniel Fenton was fourteen 27 years ago.

Author note:

Acronyms: N.A., P.A., B.A: Nathan, Paul, and Becks Anderson

D.M.A.: Department of Metahuman Affairs. 

The D.M.A. is a real department in DC comics. Now, they don't have a 'Federal Employee Background Check', but honestly I wouldn't put it past the DC Universe to do so: Especially to not have a Queen Bee, Count Vertigo, etc situation happen in the states.

[hopelesslys-world]

50 SHADES OF FUCKED UP | CH. 2

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, reader is kind of a bimbo, heavily detailed smut, basically porn, loss of virginity, harsh language, anger issues, stalking, obsession, jealousy, controlling behaviour, DOM-SUB themes, BDSM Expand considered to be portrayed with incorrect/poor etiquette, emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse/assault, statutory rape.

Tell me if I missed anything...( As you can see most of the warnings will appear in future chapters. )

I apologize for any grammar mistakes...

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Y/M/N: Your Middle Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

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*𝘾𝙃𝙍𝙄𝙎𝙏𝙄𝘼𝙉'𝙎 𝙋𝙊𝙑*

┅┅

𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋. Was all I could focus on as soon as the elevator doors closed and she disappeared.

“Andrea,” I bark as I return to my office. “Get me Welch on the line, now.”

As I sit at my desk and wait for the call.

I look at the paintings on the wall of my office and Miss Y/L/N’s words drift back to me. “Raising the ordinary to extraordinary.” She could so easily have been describing herself.

My phone buzzes. “I have Mr. Welch on the line for you.”

“Put him through.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Welch, I need a background check.”

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•••

Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N

DOB: ( The Month and day you were born ). 1989, Montesano, WA

Address: 1114 SW Green Street, Apartment 7, Haven Heights, Vancouver, WA 98888

Mobile No: 360-959-4352

Social Security No: 987-65-4320

Bank: Wells Fargo Bank, Vancouver, WA:

Acct. No.: 309361: $683.16 balance

Occupation: Undergraduate Student WSU Vancouver College of Arts and Sciences English Major

GPA: 4.0

Prior Education: Montesano Jr. Sr. High School

SAT Score: 2150

Employment: Clayton’s Hardware Store, NW Vancouver Drive, Portland, OR (part-time)

Father: Franklin A. Lambert, DOB: Sept. 1, 1969, Deceased (The day before your birthday), 1989

Mother: Carla May Wilks Adams,

DOB: July 18, 1970

m. Frank Lambert March 1, 1989,

widowed (The day before your birthday), 1989

m. Raymond Y/L/N June 6, 1990,

divorced July 12, 2006

m. Stephen M. Morton Aug. 16, 2006,

divorced Jan. 31, 2007

Current Marriage Situation: m. Bob Adams April 6, 2009

Political Affiliations: None Found

Religious Affiliations: None Found

Sexual Orientation: Not Known

Relationships: None Indicated at Present

•••

I pore over the executive summary for the hundredth time since I received it two days ago, looking for some insight into the enigmatic Miss Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. I cannot get the damned woman out of my mind, and it’s seriously beginning to piss me off.

This past week, during particularly dull meetings, I’ve found myself replaying the interview in my head. Her fumbling fingers on the recorder, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the lip biting. Yes. The lip biting gets me every time.

And now here I am, parked outside Clayton’s, a mom-and-pop hardware store on the outskirts of Portland where she works.

You’re a fool, Grey. Why are you here?

I knew it would lead to this. All week…I knew I’d have to see her again. I’d known it since she uttered my name in the elevator. I’d tried to resist. I’d waited five days, five tedious days, to see if I’d forget about her. And I don’t do waiting. I hate waiting…for anything.

I’ve never pursued a woman before. The women I’ve had understood what I expected of them. My fear now is that Miss Y/L/N is just too young and that she won’t be interested in what I have to offer.

Will she? Will she even make a good submissive?

I shake my head. So here I am, an ass, sitting in a suburban parking lot in a dreary part of Portland. Her background check has produced nothing remarkable—except the last fact, which has been atthe forefront of my mind.

It’s the reason I’m here.

Why no boyfriend, Miss Y/L/N? Sexual orientation unknown—perhaps she’s gay. I snort, thinking that unlikely. I recall the question she asked during the interview, her acute embarrassment, the way her skin flushed a pale rose…I’ve been suffering from these lascivious thoughts since I met her.

That’s why you’re here. I’m itching to see her again—those eyes have haunted me, even in my dreams.

I haven’t mentioned her to Flynn, and I’m glad because I’m now behaving like a stalker. Perhaps I should let him know. No. I don’t want him hounding me about his latest solution-based-therapy shit.

I just need a distraction, and right now the only distraction I want is the one working as a salesclerk in a hardware store.

You’ve come all this way.

Let’s see if little Miss Y/L/N is as appealing as I remember.

Showtime, Grey.

A bell chimes a flat electronic note as I walk into the store. It’s much bigger than it looks from the outside, and although it’s almost lunchtime the place is quiet, for a Saturday. There are aisles and aisles of the usual junk you’d expect.

I’d forgotten the possibilities that a hardware store could present to someone like me. I mainly shop online for my needs, but while I’m here, maybe I’ll stock up on a few items: Velcro, split rings—Yeah. I’ll find the delectable Miss Y/L/N and have some fun.

It takes me all of three seconds to spot her. She’s hunched over the counter, staring intently at a computer screen and picking at her lunch—a bagel. Absentmindedly, she wipes a crumb from the corner of her lips and into her mouth and sucks on her finger.

My cock twitches in response.

What am I, fourteen? My body’s reaction is irritating. Maybe this will stop if I fetter, fuck, and flog her…and not necessarily in that order. Yeah. That’s what I need.

She is thoroughly absorbed by her task, and it gives me an opportunity to study her. Salacious thoughts aside, she’s attractive, seriously attractive. I’ve remembered her well.

She looks up and freezes. It’s as unnerving as the first time I met her. She pins me with a discerning stare—shocked, I think—and I don’t know if this is a good response or a bad response.

“Miss Y/L/N. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Mr. Grey,” she says, breathy and flustered. Ah, a good response.

“I was in the area. I need to stock up on a few things. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” A real pleasure.

She’s dressed in a tight T-shirt and pants, kind of disappointing, earlier this week all she wore was flattering mini skirts and sweaters.

She’s all long legs, narrow waist, and perfect tits. Her lips are still parted in surprise, and I have to resist the urge to tip her chin up and close her mouth.

I’ve flown from Seattle just to see you, and the way you look right now, it was really worth the journey.

“Y/N. My name’s Y/N. What can I help you with, Mr. Grey?” She takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders like she did in the interview, and gives me a fake smile that I’m sure she reserves for customers.

Game on, Miss Y/L/N. “There are a few items I need. To start with, I’d like some cable ties.” My request catches her off guard; she looks stunned.

Oh, this is going to be fun. You’d be amazed what I can do with a few cable ties, baby.

“We stock various lengths. Shall I show you?” she says, finding her voice.

“Please. Lead the way.”

She steps out from behind the counter and gestures toward one of the aisles. She’s wearing Converse shoes.

Idly I wonder what she’d look like in skyscraper heels. Louboutins…nothing but Louboutins.

“They’re with the electrical goods, aisle eight.” Her voice wavers and she blushes…

She is affected by me. Hope blooms in my chest. She’s not gay, then. I smirk.

“After you.” I hold my hand out for her to lead the way. Letting her walk ahead gives me the space and time to admire her fantastic ass. Her long, thick hair keeps time like a metronome to the gentle sway of her hips. She really is the whole package: sweet, polite, and beautiful, with all the physical attributes I value in a submissive.

But the million-dollar question is, could she be a submissive? She probably knows nothing of the lifestyle—my lifestyle—but I very much want to introduce her to it. You are getting way ahead of yourself on this deal, Grey.

“Are you in Portland on business?” she asks, interrupting my thoughts. Her voice is high; she’s feigning disinterest. It makes me want to laugh. Women rarely make me laugh.

“I was visiting the WSU farming division. It’s based in Vancouver,” I lie. Actually, I’m here to see you, Miss Y/L/N.

Her face falls, and I feel like a shit.

“I’m currently funding some research there in crop rotation and soil science.” That, at least, is true.

“All part of your feed-the-world plan?” She arches a brow, amused.

“Something like that,” I mutter. Is she laughing at me? Oh, I’d love to put a stop to that if she is.

But how to start? Maybe with dinner, rather than the usual interview…now, that would be novel: taking a prospect out to dinner.

We arrive at the cable ties, which are arranged in an assortment of lengths and colors. Absentmindedly, my fingers trace over the packets. I could just ask her out for dinner. Like on a date?

Would she accept? When I glance at her she’s examining her knotted fingers. She can’t look at me… this is promising. I select the longer ties. They are more flexible, after all, as they can accommodate two ankles and two wrists at once.

“These will do.”

“Is there anything else?” she says quickly—either she’s being super-attentive or she wants to get me out of the store, I don’t know which.

“I’d like some masking tape.”

“Are you redecorating?”

“No, not redecorating.” Oh, if you only knew…

“This way,” she says. “Masking tape is in the decorating aisle.”

Come on, Grey. You don’t have much time. Engage her in some conversation. “Have you worked here long?” Of course, I already know the answer. Unlike some people, I do my research. For some reason she’s embarrassed.

Fuck, this girl is shy. I don’t have a hope in hell. She turns quickly andwalks down the aisle toward the section labeled Decorating. I follow her eagerly, like a puppy.

“Four years,” she mumbles as we reach the masking tape. She bends down and grasps two rolls, each a different width.

“I’ll take that one.” The wider tape is much more effective as a gag. As she passes it to me, the tips of our fingers touch, briefly. It resonates in my groin. Damn!

She pales. “Anything else?” Her voice is soft and husky.

I’m having the same effect on her that she has on me. Maybe… “Some rope, I think.”

“This way.” She scoots up the aisle, giving me another chance to appreciate her fine ass.

“What sort were you after? We have synthetic and natural filament rope…twine…cable cord…”

Shit—stop. I groan inwardly, trying to chase away the image of her suspended from the ceiling in my playroom. “I’ll take five yards of the natural filament rope, please.” It’s coarser and chafes more if you struggle against it…my rope of choice.

A tremor runs through her fingers, but she measures out five yards like a pro. Pulling a utility knife from her right pocket, she cuts the rope in one swift gesture, coils it neatly, and ties it off with a slipknot. Impressive.

“Were you a Girl Scout?”

“Organized group activities aren’t really my thing, Mr. Grey.”

“What is your thing, Y/N?” Her pupils dilate as I stare.

Yes!

“Books,” she answers.

“What kind of books?”

“Oh, you know. The usual. The classics. British literature, mainly.”

British literature? The Brontës and Austen, I bet. All those romantic hearts-and-flowers types.

That’s not good.

“Anything else you need?”

“I don’t know. What else would you recommend?” I want to see her reaction.

“For a do-it-yourselfer?” she asks, surprised.

I want to hoot with laughter. Oh, baby, DIY is not my thing. I nod, stifling my mirth. Her eyes flick down my body and I tense. She’s checking me out!

“Coveralls,” she blurts out.

It’s the most unexpected thing I’ve heard her say since the “Are you gay?” question.

“You wouldn’t want to ruin your clothing.” She gestures to my jeans.

I can’t resist. “I could always take them off.”

“Um.” She flushes beet red and stares down.

I put her out of her misery. “I’ll take some coveralls. Heaven forbid I should ruin any clothing.”

Without a word, she turns and walks briskly up the aisle, and I follow in her enticing wake. “Do you need anything else?” she says, sounding breathless as she hands me a pair of blue coveralls. She’s mortified, eyes still cast down. Christ, she does things to me.

“How’s the article coming along?” I ask, in the hope she might relax a little.

She looks up and gives me a brief relieved smile.

Finally.

“I’m not writing it, Bella is. Miss Clark. My roommate, she’s the writer. She’s very happy with it. She’s the editor of the newspaper, and she was devastated that she couldn’t do the interview in person.”

It’s the longest sentence she’s uttered since we first met, and she’s talking about someone else, not herself. Interesting.

Before I can comment, she adds, “Her only concern is that she doesn’t have any original photographs of you.”

The tenacious Miss Clark wants photographs. Publicity stills, eh? I can do that. It will allow me to spend time with the delectable Miss Y/L/N.

“What sort of photographs does she want?”

She gazes at me for a moment, then shakes her head, perplexed, not knowing what to say.

“Well, I’m around. Tomorrow, perhaps…” I can stay in Portland. Work from a hotel. A room at The Heathman, perhaps. I’ll need Taylor to come down, bring my laptop and some clothes. Or Elliot —unless he’s screwing around, which is his usual thing to do over the weekend.

“You’d be willing to do a photo shoot?” She cannot contain her surprise.

I give her a brief nod. Yeah, I want to spend more time with you… Steady, Grey.

“Bella will be delighted—if we can find a photographer.” She smiles and her face lights up like a cloudless dawn. She’s breathtaking.

“Let me know about tomorrow.” I pull my wallet from my jeans. “My card. It has my cell number on it. You’ll need to call before ten in the morning.” And if she doesn’t, I’ll head on back to Seattle and forget about this stupid venture.

The thought depresses me.

“Okay.” She continues to grin.

“Y/N!” We both turn as a young man dressed in casual designer gear appears at the far end of the aisle. His eyes are all over Miss Y/N Y/L/N. Who the hell is this prick?

“Er, excuse me for a moment, Mr. Grey.” She walks toward him, and the asshole engulfs her in a gorilla-like hug. My blood runs cold. It’s a primal response.

Get your fucking paws off her.

I fist my hands when she returns his hug.

They fall into a whispered conversation. Maybe Welch’s facts were wrong. Maybe this guy is her boyfriend. He looks the right age, and he can’t take his greedy little eyes off her. He holds her for a moment at arm’s length, examining her, then stands with his arm resting on her shoulder. It seems like a casual gesture, but I know he’s staking a claim and telling me to back off. She seems embarrassed, shifting from foot to foot.

Shit. I should go. I’ve overplayed my hand. She’s with this guy.

Then she says something else to him and moves out of his reach, touching his arm, not his hand, shrugging him off. It’s clear they aren’t close.

Good.

“Er…Paul, this is Christian Grey. Mr. Grey, this is Paul Clayton. His brother owns the place.”

She gives me an odd look that I don’t understand and continues, “I’ve known Paul ever since I’ve worked here, though we don’t see each other that often. He’s back from Princeton, where he’s studying business administration.” She’s babbling, giving me a long explanation and telling me they’re not together, I think.

The boss’s brother, not a boyfriend. I’m relieved, but the extent of the relief I feel is unexpected, and it makes me frown. This woman has really gotten under my skin.

“Mr. Clayton.” My tone is deliberately clipped.

“Mr. Grey.” His handshake is limp, like his hair. Asshole. “Wait up—not the Christian Grey? Of Grey Enterprises Holdings?”

Yeah, that’s me, you prick.

In a heartbeat I watch him morph from territorial to obsequious.

“Wow—is there anything I can get you?”

“Y/N has it covered, Mr. Clayton. She’s been very attentive.” Now fuck off.

“Cool,” he gushes, all white teeth and deferential. “Catch you later, Y/N/N.”

“Sure, Paul,” she says, and he ambles off to the back of the store. I watch him disappear.

“Anything else, Mr. Grey?”

“Just these items,” I mutter. Shit, I’m out of time, and I still don’t know if I’m going to see her again. I have to know whether there’s a hope in hell she might consider what I have in mind.

How can I ask her? Am I ready to take on a submissive who knows nothing? She’s going to need substantial training. Closing my eyes, I imagine the interesting possibilities this presents…getting there is going to be half the fun. Will she even be up for this? Or do I have it all wrong?

She walks back to the cashier’s counter and rings up my purchases, all the while keeping her eyes on the register.

Look at me, damn it! I want to see her face again and gauge what she’s thinking.

Finally she raises her head. “That will be forty-three dollars, please.”

Is that all?

“Would you like a bag?” she asks, as I pass her my AmEx.

“Please, Y/N.” Her name—a beautiful name for a beautiful girl—flows smoothly over my tongue.

She packs the items briskly. This is it. I have to go.

“You’ll call me if you want me to do the photo shoot?”

She nods as she hands back my charge card.

“Good. Until tomorrow, perhaps.” I can’t just leave.

I have to let her know I’m interested.

“Oh— and Y/N I’m glad Miss Clark couldn’t do the interview.” She looks surprised and flattered. This is good. I sling the bag over my shoulder and exit the store.

Yes, against my better judgment, I want her. Now I have to wait…fucking wait…again. Utilizing willpower that would make Elena proud, I keep my eyes ahead as I take my cell out of my pocket and climb into the rental car. I’m deliberately not looking back at her. I’m not. I’m not. My eyes flick to the rearview mirror, where I can see the shop door, but all I see is the quaint storefront. She’s not in the window, staring out at me.

It’s disappointing.

I press 1 on speed dial and Taylor answers before the phone has a chance to ring.

“Mr. Grey,” he says.

“Make reservations at The Heathman; I’m staying in Portland this weekend, and can you bring down the SUV, my computer, and the paperwork beneath it, and a change or two of clothes.”

“Yes, sir. And Charlie Tango?”

“Have Joe move her to PDX.”

“Will do, sir. I’ll be with you in about three and a half hours.”

I hang up and start the car. So I have a few hours in Portland while I wait to see if this girl is interested in me. What to do? Time for a hike, I think. Maybe I can walk this strange hunger out of my system.

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It's been five hours with no phone call from the delectable Miss Y/L/N. What the hell was thinking? I watch the street from the window of my suite at The Heathman. I loathe waiting. I always have.

The weather, now cloudy, held for my hike through Forest Park, but the walk has done nothing to cure my agitation. I’m annoyed at her for not phoning, but mostly I’m angry with myself.

I’m a fool for being here. What a waste of time it’s been chasing this woman. When have I ever chased a woman?

Grey, get a grip.

Sighing, I check my phone once again in the hope that I’ve just missed her call, but there’s nothing. At least Taylor has arrived and I have all my shit. I have Barney’s report on his department’s graphene tests to read and I can work in peace.

Peace? I haven’t known peace since Miss Y/L/N walked into my office.

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When I glance up, dusk has shrouded my suite in gray shadows. The prospect of a night alone again is depressing. While I contemplate what to do my phone vibrates against the polished wood of the desk and an unknown but vaguely familiar number with a Washington area code flashes on the screen.

Suddenly my heart is pumping as if I’ve run ten miles.

Is it her?

I answer.

“Er…Mr. Grey? It’s Y/N Y/L/N.”

My face erupts in a shit-eating grin.

Well, well. A breathy, nervous, soft-spoken Miss Y//L/N. My evening is looking up. “Miss Y/L/N. How nice to hear from you.” I hear her breath hitch and the sound travels directly tomy groin.

Great. I’m affecting her. Like she’s affecting me.

“Um—we’d like to go ahead with the photo shoot for the article. Tomorrow, if that’s okay. Where would be convenient for you, sir?”

In my room. Just you, me, and the cable ties.

“I’m staying at The Heathman in Portland. Shall we say nine thirty tomorrow morning?”

“Okay, we’ll see you there,” she gushes, unable to hide the relief and delight in her voice.

“I look forward to it, Miss Y/L/N” I hang up before she senses my excitement and how pleased I am. Leaning back in my chair, I gaze at the darkening skyline and run both my hands through my hair.

How the hell am I going to close this deal?

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[ series masterlist ]

DON'T BE AFRAID TO SPAM WITH LIKES AND COMMENTS. I WOULD ALSO APPRECIATE IT IF YOU COULD REBLOG THIS POST <3

[zegalba]

Takashi Murakami: Hiropon Factory Mr. Dob Glitter T-Shirt (1999)

[artistmarchalius]

British Police Slang! 🇬🇧

As promised, here is a post all about British police slang! The police are intrinsically tied to Spider-Man’s story, especially for Hobie as an anarchist arachnid, fascist punching, punk rebel fighting against a corrupt government and police force.

So let’s get started!

My main inspiration for compiling this list is because of how often I’ve read the phrase “bottle and stopper” from Hobie in fics. I thought I could help inform writers about the many options that they might not have known about when it comes to British police slang. And since I’ve seen it used so much, I thought this would be a good place to start!

Bottle and stopper - Cockney rhyming slang for copper/a police officer (as mentioned in my Cockney Rhyming Slang post, here). It’s more commonly shortened to “Bottle” or adapted to “Bluebottle” or “Mr Bluebottle” due to the colour of their uniforms. Also, “bluebottle mob” can be used to mean the police force.

To be perfectly honest, I’d never heard an officer referred to as a bottle and stopper before reading Spider-Verse fanfics, though that’s not to say others don’t use it or that it’s not a good or accurate phrase. I’ve just personally heard most of the following terms used more.

Other slang terms for the police:

Sweeney/Sweeney Todd - Cockney rhyming slang for Flying Squad (the police). The Flying Squad is a branch of the Serious and Organised Crime Command within Londons Metropolitan Police Service. They investigate robberies.

E.g. “Here come the Sweeney!”

Bobby - a police officer. Originating from Sir Robert Peel who established the force in 1829.

E.g. “We had bobbies knocking on our door this morning looking for you.”

Peeler - a police officer. Also originating from Sir Robert Peel.

E.g “Watch out for the peelers.”

Copper - a police officer. Originating from the word “cop” which meant “to capture”, so a copper is someone who captures. I know “cop” is used commonly in America too but I still thought it was worth noting the use of “copper” in the UK.

E.g. “Alright, copper?”

The Bill/The Old Bill- the police. This became a nickname for the Met police after the Great War when it was fashionable to wear one’s moustache like the cartoon soldier character Old Bill, by George Bairnsfather.

E.g. “They won’t talk to the Old Bill but they might talk to you.”

Filth - derogatory slang for the police.

E.g. “Watch out, the filth are behind us.”

Dibble - derogatory slang for a police officer, originating from the character Officer Dibble from the cartoon Top Cat.

E.g. “Good afternoon, Dibble!”

Fuzz - the police. I believe it comes from a mispronunciation of “the force”. Most commonly known from the movie Hot Fuzz.

E.g. “Look, there’s the fuzz!”

Plod/PC Plod - a police officer. Originates from Mr Plod, a police character in books by children’s author Enid Blyton.

E.g. “I was enjoying my day, then PC Plod over here had to go and ruin it!”

Pig - derogatory term for a police officer or informer. It’s a bit unclear about the origins of this word being used to mean police, but some people believe it’s an allusion to early detectives sniffing out crime like pigs with truffles. It could also just be something insulting to call them or perhaps relates to another police slang term, “filth”?

E.g. “There’s pigs crawling all over London.”

Slang words relating to the police or to crime:

Booked/nicked - to be arrested/to get in trouble.

E.g. “They got nicked last night.”

Nick - police station or prison. Also means to steal something.

E.g. “Alex nicked a packet of Monster Much and a bottle of vodka, got nicked and now they’ve spent a night in the nick.”

Grass - a police informer/to tell the police/narc. Originates from the rhyming slang “grasshopper” meaning “copper”. The “grass” or “grasser” tells the “copper”.

E.g. “You grassed me up!” Or “He’s a grass!” Or “Don’t be a grass.”

Dob in - to tell someone about something someone else has done wrong.

E.g. “You dobbed me in to the police!”

Porridge - a prison sentence. Originates from the 1950’s when porridge was a large part of a prisoners diet in Britain.

E.g. “Just do your porridge and keep your head down.” Or “She’s serving porridge.”

And there you go, a selection of British police slang! By no means am I saying that these words are only said in the UK, but these are either very common here or have historical origins in the UK. As mentioned in my Cockney post, I’m not an expert on the subject and I can only speak from one perspective of British culture (white British); there are many cultures and social groups here that may have other slang terms that I either have forgotten about or have never heard of. I’m just sharing the knowledge that I have in the hopes that it will helpful, informative, or at the very least entertaining to someone. And hopefully it’ll help give all you Hobie fanfic writers a new choice of slang vocabulary to pick and choose from!

I might make another post about general British slang words. Let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in or if there’s a specific area that you’d like to know about!

[hr-twink]

molly's files

ok so uhh during my rewatch i remembered to pause on the files frank shows patrice in 4x05 and here is that info-- note that some of it is probably just art dept filler and some was out of focus/illegible

Name: Jackson Lamb Reporting to: Second Desk Dept: Aldersgate Annexe Start Date: 12.09.14 DOB: 10.05.90 Address: 7 Forbridge Terrace, London, SE11 6RM Marital Status: Single Mobile Number: 07700 900 B44

Name: Louisa Guy Reporting to: Jackson Lamb Dept: Aldersgate Annexe Start Date: 10.04.14 DOB: 19.05.81 Address: 270 Edge Park Avenue, Sydenham, SE26 2WK Marital Status: Single Mobile Number: 07700 9DD 757 Emergency Contact Name: Mrs. J Guy Emergency Contact No: 07700 900 447 Emergency Contact Address: 37 Ridge Lane, Acton, London, W12 9KL Relationship: Mother

Name: River Cartwright Reporting to: Jackson Lamb Dept: Aldersgate Annexe Start Date: 12.09.14 DOB: 10.05.90 Address: Flat 7, Fitzcalder Road, Newham, E17 3YC Marital Status: Single Mobile Number: 07870 654 538 Emergency Contact Name: Mrs _ M_ [unreadable] Emergency Contact No: 07380 425 512 Emergency Contact Address: 65 Cromwell Avenue, Muswell Hill, London, N15 5JP Relationship: Mother

Name: Roderick Ho Reporting to: Jackson Lamb Dept: Aldersgate Annexe Start Date: 12.09.14 DOB: 10.05.90 Address: [numbers blocked by franks hand] Middlesex Court, London Marital Status: Single Mobile Number: 07700 900 538 Emergency Contact Name: [blocked by franks hand] Emergency Contact No: 07700 900 512 Emergency Contact Address: [numbers blocked by franks hand] Muswell Hill, London, N10 5JP Relationship: Mother

Name: Shirley Dander Reporting to: Jackson Lamb Dept: Aldersgate Annexe Start Date: 03.07.16 DOB: 17.07.90 Address: __ [something] Way, Tulse Hill, London, _W2 _JP Marital Status: Single Mobile Number: 07700 900 757 Emergency Contact Name: Mrs. _ Dander Emergency Contact No: 07700 900 892 Emergency Contact Address: [looks the same as shirleys] Relationship: Mother

Name: Marcus Longridge Reporting to: Jackson Lamb Dept: Aldersgate Annexe Start Date: 03.07.16 DOB: 21.02.80 Address: __7 [something] Road, London, EW13 ___ Marital Status: Married Mobile Number: 07700 900 584 Emergency Contact Name: Mrs. _ Longridge Emergency Contact No: 07700 900 ___ [pos 395?] Emergency Contact Address: [same as main] Relationship: Spouse

[wanderingaldecaldo]

Messages keep getting clearer Radio's on, and I'm moving 'round my place I check my look in the mirror I wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face ▶

From the first draft of the corpo!val longfic...

“Good afternoon, welcome. Are you checking in?”

He steps forward to the counter, releasing his touch on Val at last. “Yes. Mitch and Valerie Anderson.”

“Yes, Mr. Anderson, I see your reservation here: four weeks in our lovely Morro suite. It is fully stocked one bedroom with full service kitchen and balcony with a water view.”

“One bedroom?” he falters; he’s certain Val told him there would be two.

“Yes, sir. Is that a problem?”

His eyes slide over to Val as the visual distortion increases and more hormones pump into his system. She squeezes his bicep as she steps up to the counter.

“I believe we had a reservation for your two bedroom suite. I adore my husband,” she says, pausing to look up at him with a sweet smile, and her touch grounds him somewhat. “But this man snores like a fleet of AVs. If I have to share a bedroom with him, I will be suing you to pay for our divorce, and for damages.”

Val’s face lights up as she laughs and he follows her lead, throwing his head back and guffawing. 

“Please, for the sake of my marriage,” he says, still chuckling as he turns back to the receptionist. “Don’t wanna test that prenup.”

Val laughs and swats him with her other hand.

“Let me see what I can do,” the receptionist says and smiles politely. She resumes typing and moments later looks up at them. “I apologize for that oversight. I do have a two bedroom suite available. There will be a slight price difference.”

Mitch waves his hand dismissively. “Whatever Valerie wants, she gets.”

She gives a laugh that he can describe as sultry as she leans into him, and he slides his organic hand down her back to her waist, pulling her tight against his side. 

“Of course, sir. We have adjusted our records. One moment please.”

A new alert pops up in the corner of his HUD, SCAN INITIATED, and it’s time for the first real test of the soft. The new deck from Vik shows the data being received by the scanner:

MITCHELL ANDERSON DOB: 2028-04-29 NATIONALITY: NUSA .... 

The data flowing from his deck matches the info packet passed on by Val and he releases the breath he’s been holding. He glances over at Val who’s watching him, and he gives her a lopsided smile and presses a kiss to her forehead. The chemicals taper off and the disorientation plateaus but he continues to focus on Val, on the feel of her against his side and the soft skin of her arm under his calloused fingertips.

“Very well, you are all checked in,” the receptionist says. “Please let us know if there is anything you require, otherwise please enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you,” Val says with a warm smile, and he nods with an awkward smile.

When the valet directs them away from the desk, Mitch finally releases his grip on Val’s waist and follows her to a bank of elevators.

[zuko-always-lies]

Every time Katara Comforts Sokka

"The Spirit World":

Katara: Sokka! [She runs to him and embraces him, while other villagers embrace their loved ones.] Sokka: What happened? Katara: You were trapped in the Spirit World for 24 hours! How are you feeling?

"The Storm":

Katara: [Pressing a wet rag onto Sokka's forehead.] This should bring your fever down. Sokka: You know what I love about Appa the most? His sense of humor. Katara: That's nice. I'll tell him.

"Avatar Day":

Sokka: [Sadly.] I feel like I've lost part of my identity. [He jumps up and moves Aang's hat slightly so that he can point at Aang's arrow.] Imagine if you lost your arrow, or Katara lost her … [Makes a hair loopies gesture with a somewhat bored look.] hair loopies. He slowly saunters over to the stall, where Katara gives him a loving hug in order to comfort him before she holding her hands in front of herself while smiling lovely at Sokka.

"The Earth King":

Sokka: Someone has to stay here with the Earth King and help him plan for the invasion. [Stands up.] I guess that's me. Katara: No, Sokka. I know how badly you wanna help Dad. You go to Chameleon Bay. I'll stay here with the king.

[This last one is a little dubious as "comforting," although obviously Katara is being very nice.

"Sokka's Master":

Sokka: It's just, all you guys can do this awesome bending stuff like putting out forest fires, and flying around and [Side-view of Toph, Aang and Katara.] making other stuff fly around. I can't fly around, okay? [View of Sokka from behind.] I can't do anything. Side-view of the group. Katara: That's not true. No one can read a map like you.

"DoBS Part 1":

Hakoda: Ah, a little, better. I need, to get back to the troops. [Attempts to stand but is too weak to.] Ahh! Katara: You're hurt, badly. You can't fight anymore. Hakoda: Everyone's counting on me to lead this mission Katara, I won't let them down. [Attempts to stand again but can't.] Ahh! Sokka: Can't you heal him any faster? Katara: I'm doing everything I can. Sokka: [Looks around before looking confidant.] I'll do it. Katara: No offense Sokka, but you're not exactly Mr. Healing Hands. Sokka: No. [Stands confidently.] I'll lead the invasion force. Katara: Don't be crazy Sokka. Sokka: Maybe I am a little crazy, but the eclipse is about to start and we need to be up that volcano by the time it does. Hakoda: You can do this. [Cuts to a close-up of him.] I'm proud of you son. Katara: I still think you're crazy, but I'm proud of you too.

Katara and Sokka were very close as siblings, and Katara was parentifed to the point that Sokka saw here as his "replacement mother." Despite that, we only see Katara comfort Sokka 6 times in the entire series, despite them appearing together in significant roles in nearly every episode in the series.

By contrast, "evil, heartless" Mai comforts Zuko 5 times, despite barely appearing on screen with him. "Evil, heartless, terrible sister" Azula tries to comfort Zuko 6 times, despite only being on a semi-decent terms with him for a sixth of the series.

[altxxr]

"𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨.. 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨? 𝐈𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠..? 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐬𝐨.. 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬, 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧."

"My name is Altair Webster. I am the IT and General Engineer alongside Mr Swansea and Mr Daisuke on the Freighter Vessel Tulpar of the Pony Express Shipping Company."

"Your introduction is wayy too formal, man!" "...Sorry, it's a force of Habit, Dai." "Don't need to apologize, Altair." "Sorry." "..." "Sorry."

NAME: Altair Webster AGE: 32 NATIONALITY: British DOB: 14/07 OCCUPATION: IT & General Engineer

∟ Dividers by @saradika-graphics []

MORE INFORMATION UNDER THE CUT!

RELATIONSHIPS:

ANYA: POSITIVE || ALTAIR encourages her for nursing school, giving tips for her, he enjoys talking to her. ANYA tries to get him to rest more and sometimes catches him staying up late. ALTAIR'S emoji for her is 📖 since he acknowledges the way she studies hard to become a professional nurse.

CURLY: POSITIVE || ALTAIR trusts and admires him as a Captain. Post-Crash, he wonders why the man would do such a thing. CURLY trusts him in turn, and worries about his sleep schedule. ALTAIR'S emoji for him is 🚀 since he thinks its fitting, as he's the captain of the ship.

DAISUKE: POSITIVE+ || ALTAIR sees him as his little brother, and tries to keep him as happy as possible, and out of as much danger as he can. DAISUKE likes to learn from him and watch him work on his laptop. ALTAIR'S emoji for him is 🎇 since he sees him as his little brother, and as a light in his life.

JIMMY: NEUTRAL || ALTAIR doesn't talk to him outside of work, during CURLY'S birthday party, he grew anxious and stayed out of his way. JIMMY dislikes him and thinks he isn't helpful, and claims that he was a coward. ALTAIR'S emoji for him is ⚙ since he sees him like a gear, works really well until something small disrupts it.

SWANSEA: POSITIVE+ || ALTAIR worked under Swansea as his apprentice during their last trip, and now simply as his coworker. SWANSEA does things for him and forces him to sleep whenever he catches him staying up. ALTAIR'S emoji for him is 📃 since he always enjoys looking at his many plans for the ship, and tries to help him out.

ALTAIR'S FULL GOOGLE DOCUMENT

TAGS:

#📖 : ANYA #🚀 : CURLY #🎇 : DAISUKE #⚙ : JIMMY #📃 : SWANSEA OTHERS...

#📡 : REBLOG #🎧 : OOC #📻 : INFORMATION #📸 : ART