#mr i have more than 4 rolls royces

[unholyhelbig]

Keep the kate angst coming pls

Title: Firecrest (Part 4/???)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: Bad parenting, panic attacks, possible arson, descriptions of fire, fight scenes, blood, angst, and horrible grammar (I don't proofread)

[A/n: All of my Kate Bishop stories have a tendancy to flop, but this one is for you, six loyal readers, I love you!]

Bobbi Morse refused to release her hold on the duffle bag. It was comically pink but covered in different drawings that bled into the nylon as if the item had been wounded. You hated the color, despised it, really, but defacing it with sharpie markers seemed to settle your discontent.

Her other hand gripped her daughters shoulder with her usual confidence and you knew better than to pull away from her. The woman in front of you was only a head taller than you, her face pockmarked with zits of different pustules of width. When she smiled, her lips made an uncomfortable noise against her braces.

“Miss Morse, I promise you, Y/n will have a fantastic, safe, time.”

They were playing tug-of-war with the bag now. It was subtle enough that no one else would notice. But of course, Eleanor Bishop was always the first in the room to notice subtle. She materialized out of a Rolls-Royce that had a strange purple tint to it in the mountain sun.

“Oh, Bobbi, you have to relax.” The woman gabbed your mother in the side. If anyone else had ever tried that, they’d lose a hand or possibly a heart. “You think I would really send Katherine to Target Trails if it were dangerous? These are trained professionals.”

That seemed to relax Bobbi’s shoulders by half an inch. Your mother was not worried about safety. She had ensured that you knew how to take care of yourself from a young age, much younger than the counselor in front of you now.

The idea of leaving you in the middle of the forest wasn’t a problem either. You had survival skills, you could make a home for yourself out here in the wilderness and wander back to civilization on your own in time for school to start in the fall.

Bobbi trusted you. What she didn’t’ trust, was your powers. You had become less reactive over the years, relied on therapeutic techniques to control the fire that festered just below your fingertips. But there were moments, sporadic ones, where the heat got away from you and you were too groggy to chase it.

“Jessica, dear. Can you make sure that Katherine and Y/n are in the same bunk?”

“Mrs. Bishop, the assignments have been set for weeks, I can’t just-“ a crisp hundred dollar bill was slid across her neon clipboard. Her eyes widened, narrowed, but she snatched it up all the same. “Would you look at that? We just had a bed open up in the bullseye cabin.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Bobbi was suddenly relinquishing her hold on your bag to cup both of your shoulders. At fifteen, you were nearly her height. She made a point never to bend down to speak to you. It was demeaning, and you both knew it. She addressed you like an adult in these moments.

“Okay, sweetie, remember what doctor Garner said.”

It wasn’t a question. Your coping mechanisms were drilled into your mind, tattooed against the softness of your brain. You were supposed to name five things in the room you could touch, five you could see, five you could hear, and five you could smell. By the time you’d puzzled it out, you had reached to the end of that ever-familiar heat.

There were other tools; an imaginary box to put your worries in, a safe-space that was fire retardant. But there were almost always moments you feared that nothing would work. That you’d torch a place and add more names to your ledger of misuse.

“I love you, firefly.” Bobbi kissed between your eyebrows and gave your shoulders an extra squeeze. “Send a smoke signal if you need me.”

She smiled jokingly before loading back into her jeep and expertly pulling from the gravel drive. She kicked up white dust behind her that tasted like the salt of the earth when you inhaled. Jessica smelled like sunscreen and sweat, and you stepped to the side before she had a chance to touch you in a nurturing way.

“Right, let’s get you to your bunk.”

There were four other girls in Bullseye, including Kate; America Chavez, who had somehow already found a stick to carve with a pocket-knife that should have been confiscated upon entry. Cassie Lang, a small blonde that had already claimed the top bunk. And Gwen Poole, a girl who would have loved your pink bag before you destroyed it, the tips of her hair dyed the offensive color.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It’s good to see you too, Katie.”

“Okay!” Jessica clapped her hands together, “Y/n, I’ll leave you to get settled. Dinner is at six and there is a mandatory campfire afterwards.”

She seemed to sense the tension and left fast enough not to get hit with the sticky screen door. She took the cabin steps two at a time and kicked up a trail of dirt much like Bobbi had. Kate had claimed the bottom bunk on your side of the cabin, leaving you with the rickety top.

“I hope you’ve curved that nasty bed-wetting habit of yours.” She said, just loud enough for the whole cabin to hear.

“Hope you packed an umbrella.”

Kate turned as white as a sheet and clutched her pillow to her chest. She could never tell if you were being serious or not. Of course, you weren’t. You’d never wet the bed. Setting it ablaze on the other hand? That wasn’t so far out of the realm of possibility.

“You take that back,”

A wolfish grin moved across your face before you pulled yourself up onto the scratchy green blanket. The springs creaked as if they’d been used for years. You were suddenly exhausted and made no move to remove your boots, or unpack the duffle shoved to the side.

“Do you two know each other?” America asked, shirking a long strip of birch onto her own bed. She was sitting cross legged, getting it as sharp as she possibly could. You had a feeling you would gravitate towards her throughout the summer. “Or is this some weird attempt at flirting?”

You sat up fast enough to make your head spin, “Our parents run in the same circles. We’re obliged to be in each-others presence at least 75% of the year.”

“Obliged? Try forced” She scoffed, scowling at you. “You don’t even like archery.”

“I like being better at it than you.”

“You’re not.”

“They’re totally flirting.” Gwen whispered to Cassie, who gave an exaggerated nod, barely stifling her blinding grin with the stuffed bear she’d brought along to suffer with the rest of them.

Most of that summer had passed by in a blur. You really didn’t like archery. Your aim was there, but your form was lacking. Kate ticked all the boxes and had even split an arrow straight down the middle on the second day of camp, much to your dismay.

The two of you mostly stayed out of one another’s way, on opposite schedules by design. You’d grown impossibly close with Gwen and America, the three of you none too enthusiastic about the sport that Target Trails boasted about. You were much too interested in the lake, and spent most of your time out there.

A week and a half before the end of summer, and you had let your guard down. You would never admit this, but you were actually having fun and participating. Gwen had begged you to attend a movie night at the fire pits, and you had agreed with the promise of sickly sweet marshmallows.

The two of you were huddled up under a blanket, biting through the late-night mountain chill. You hadn’t been paying attention to the content that would be shown, nor to anything other than the slow-moving bag of puffed deliciousness that was making its way towards you.

“We have a real treat for you tonight, campers. We’ve got first hand access to the new Hawkeye documentary! It’s not releasing until this November, but he loves what we do here at Target Trails and gave us an exclusive.”

A wash of numbness fell over you, appetite suddenly gone. You were frowning, you knew, at the documentary as it played on a hung white sheet, strung up between two evergreens. Your fingers curled around the edge of the blanket.

Gwen nudged you with the bag of marshmallows, but you shook your head, too engrossed in the picture on the screen. Seeing him as a hero, you could handle. He’d been on the news, and you’d caught glimpses before Bobbi shut it off. But this was different. This was about his life.

He sat at his kitchen table with his family. A baby cradled in his arms and a woman with kind eyes at his side. There was a girl around the same age as you in the other chair, pushing yellow eggs around her plate and doing her best to ignore the camera. A daughter.

“Lila, don’t be rude, say hi to the nice film crew.”

Clint was joking, and the frame was shaky, but she gave a small wave and dazzling smile regardless. The thought was bitter; what made her different from you?

You didn’t realize that your breath had quickened and you’d wigged out of the fleece blanket that you shared. Gwen looked at you with worry, but you had the stamina to hold it together until you could maneuver around other campers to the darkness of the surrounding woods.

Far enough to stifle your sob in the side of your hand and fall to the damp forest floor. The pain that ripped through you was unbearable, and you naively dug your fingers into the dirt to see if it would extinguish the building flames.

The pressure licked at your throat and pressed down your spine like a metal rod. It hurt to hold it in, to let warm tears soak through the glowing embers that had taken over your irises. You were doing so well. You were pretending almost too well, to be normal.

Arms were around you in an instant, but you were too far gone to push them away. Instead, you folded into the embrace. It was cold compared to your body-heat, the scent of artificial wintergreen rivaled the real thing. It was Kate. You knew from the strong grip of her hands and the gentle soothing words that you couldn’t process.

A growl had escaped you, and when you peered up at her, the orange glow of your eyes shaded her features. There was no moon tonight. They flickered like a lantern used as a beacon. Kate drew in a sharp breath, but didn’t’ push.

“You need to breathe for me, y/n.” She said instead, letting you clutch onto her camp shirt and stain it with dirt. You were in her lap like an insolent child, but you would combust if she let you go. As if on instinct, she held you tighter. “Four in, six out, come on.”

You tried to follow instructions, but the pain started to roll in waves. The rolling in your stomach felt like you were about to vomit up magma. Kate was panicked, you could see the beautiful gray of her stare flicker with worry. Your hands were getting hotter.

“Fuck it,” She hissed.

Kate leaned down with fervor and pressed her lips against yours. It was not graceful, her teeth hit your own with a dull clack and her hand was gripping your collar to hold you up. Her nose was cold, and her chest heaved up and down with anxiety. It was much too clumsy, and it was glorious.

Eventually, you sucked in a deep breath and used your heels to scramble away from her, back hitting the hard bark of a tree. She had a dazed, glassy stare that still seemed to seep with worry. The worst of it was over, and you were suddenly exhausted.

Your stare didn’t glow like engine coal and your skin had returned to it’s normal pigment. You were breathing normal, almost greedy for the tinny taste of it. “What the hell, Kate?”

“Me what the hell?” She whispered harshly, “You what the hell! I was preventing a forest fire.”

“You’re not smokey the mother-fucking-bear.”  

It was harsh, you should be thanking her, but you wanted to get as far away from the archer as possible. You clambered to your feet and started to head towards civilization. You needed to get to the payphone. Screw the last few weeks of camp. That was too close of a call.

Kate didn’t’ let you get far. Her fingers wrapped around your wrist and she held you in place with an impressive amount of strength for a girl her size. “I don’t understand a lot about what happened just now. That’s not important. I don’t get why you’re so mad.”

“Because,” The first word was easy, the rest got stuck in your throat. You tore your hand away and she let you. “You… stole my first kiss.”

Her features softened for a moment before she narrowed her eyes in what you could only describe as discontent. There was plenty to thank Kate Bishop for, and plenty more that you had to explain to her. Instead, you were hung up on this. And why wouldn’t you be?

You’d been saving it. You’d expertly dodged Tommy Maximoff at a game of spin the bottle just last week. And before that, you’d gone to see a movie with Teddy Altman who seemed as worried about grabbing your hand with his sweaty one as you were. None of it felt right, and the two of you both breathed a sigh of relief when the credits rolled.

She kicked dejectedly at the dirt. “You took mine too, you know? You were freaking out and I saw it in a movie. It worked. Didn’t it?”

You blinked at her in surprise. Kate bragged on multiple occasions that she and Eli Bradley, a kid that was way too into ROTC, had made out behind the bleachers. It made sense now, why the two of you had done your awkward little dance on the forest floor.

“Thank you,” You settled, working shaking hands through disheveled hair, suddenly feeling even. “For doing that, I mean. It could have been really bad.”

 An obscure pop song crackled through the overhead speakers in the grocery store. The lights buzzed under the melody, uncomfortable and neon in their flickering annoyance. You hadn’t been able to sleep, which wasn’t a surprise, so you took advantage of the low traffic to stock up on essentials.

Bread, milk, and dry pasta. Your diet wasn’t the best, but it filled you up and the staples still maintained an easy enough price for you to justify your purchases. The basket hung from your arm, slowly filling with off-brand items.

You were busy stocking up on bandages and antiseptic when you felt an odd crawling feeling up the back of your neck. You were being watched. Your movements stilled for half a second before you continued with your task, senses becoming overwhelmed with an expensive floral scent.

“Miss Morse, strange running into you here.”

Yes, it was strange. You didn’t know that Eleanor Bishop did her own grocery shopping, and judging by the single orange in her cart, you weren’t sure she had actually decided to do so now. There was a sheepish smile on her face. She had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed.

“Relax, sweetie.” She squeezed your upper arm. “You don’t have to be so guarded. I just wanted to extend an invitation to dinner this Friday. It’s a formal event, just a chance to get to know my daughters partner a little better.”

The air suddenly felt thick. You still hadn’t produced a comprehensive sentence and now you opened and closed your mouth like a goldfish that had hopped from it’s bowl. She had a thin smile on her face that failed to hide her true rage.

“I’ll even extend the invitation to your father.”

Finally, you found your voice. “I’m sure Lance would appreciate the thought, but he’ll, uh, be out of town until next Monday I’m afraid.”

“No, no. Not Lance, silly. Clint.”

Your grip tightened on the box of bandages. It made a sad noise under your crushing fingers. Eleanor’s unwavering gaze flicked down and then back up, hardly phased by your knee-jerk reaction. You were flushed with an odd type of calmness.

Five things you can touch: The rough fabric of your jacket. The metal handle of the basket. The obnoxious blue plastic at it’s end. The crumpled box of bandages.

“How do you know about that?”

“Well, dear, people talk.”

Five things you can see: The venom in Eleanor Bishops eyes. A single fly trapped in the light fixture above. A bored clerk that pushed packs of gum around the counter. The puke-colored floor tiles under your feet. The line of green vitamin bottles just below your shoulder.

“That won’t be a problem, will it? I’ve heard through the grapevine that you and Katherine are getting quite serious. It’s only customary to meet the parents. I know Bobbi so well, but Clint is all anyone can talk about these days. We’d love to get to know him better.”

Five things you can hear: The pitiful last cries of the trapped fly. The squeak of a cart that was three aisles over. The dull hum of the frozen section across the store. Eleanor Bishop’s even, calculated, breaths. An obscure rock-song blaring from the clerks’ headphones.

“Y/n?” She prodded, lifting a sculpted eyebrow.

“That… that uh,”

Five things you can smell: Your own sweat, quickly slicking your back. The musky floral perfume that Eleanor Bishop bathed in. The sharp edge of antiseptic contained by plastic bottles. The faux citrus scent of floor cleaner. The beginning of bile climbing your throat.

“Yes, of course, Mrs. Bishop.” You schooled your features into something you hoped was calm. “I’ll be there.”

She clapped her hands once, a moment of success. You were absolutely drenched in sweat with a heat that even the frozen section couldn’t cure. She went to pat you on the shoulder but thought better of it, before leaving her cart with the singular orange behind.

Shopping was the furthest thing from your mind at this point. Any semblance of productivity was morphed into shock, and then scathing anger. You set your own basket down and turned to rush from the grocery store, entirely overwhelmed in the area you’d just used to steady yourself.

The change in temperature between the store and city streets was minimal. You could feel your breath speed up, your fingers start to tingle. You had to get out of here, so you started to run. Kate’s usual haunts as a hero weren’t too far, and even if they were, you were positive that you could sprint to them.

People became scarce on the sidewalks, a humid mist coated your skin. White fairy lights adorned every other tree, and then none at all. There was a darkness, chain link fences and a dog that lunged on a short lead. The streets were empty, and your chest began to ache.

You stopped in the center of the street, shouting out “Hawkeye!”

It wasn’t certain which one you would summon. You tightened your fists, clenching your eyes shut as you tried to control your breathing. You hadn’t had a panic attack like this in years, high school, to be exact. The turmoil kept building. The memories you’d shoved down boiled up.

“Hawkeye!” You shouted again, letting the orange flames engulf your fingertips, cracking against skin. “Come out or I start torching everything!”

An overreaction? Perhaps. But part of you, a very small part, was tired of playing the hero when all of the cards were stacked against you. What was stopping you from being a villain? You had your nemesis in both archers for different reasons, and a formidable villain you would be.

It would be easy to let go of the control you’d worked so hard to build. Fires were uncontrollable, they were dangerous and deadly. There was no problem setting them. It was controlling the blaze once it’d been ignited that could bring absolute destruction.

“Five!” You called out, your boots on the ground the only noise. “Four!”

You spotted a trail of gasoline leaking form the bottom of an old Camaro that was propped up on cinderblocks, all four tires being ripped from the frame. Perfect. It was clearly abandoned, and far enough away from the brownstones to be a real risk. An attention grabber.

“Three!”

You were feeling heady now. A wash of dizziness had replaced the panic as your emotions were simmering down. You knelt, the sharp scent of gasoline filling your senses. Even the smallest touch would ignite the vehicle in a wash of flames.

“Two!”

Still, nothing. The quiet was eerie. Much like crickets and frogs in the country, the city relied on it’s staple noises. There was never silence, but it fell heavy on your shoulders now. You could cut your losses, raise to your feet, and walk away. But walking away never got you anywhere. Walking away was too much like your father.

The sharp sound of an arrow being pulled back pulled you from your thoughts. “Not another move.”

Kate was bluffing. You could see the uncertainty and fear in her eyes. Of course, you were positive that you were harboring the same thing. You weren’t obedient in this moment. The sight of her in her black tactical suit, marred in purple, was captivating. Infuriating all the same.

A rush of hot air pooled at your palms as you righted yourself. They’d gotten stronger, hotter. Blue licked harmlessly at your skin now. You clenched your jaw and lilted your head to the side. In this moment, despite the intoxicated hold she had on you, you wanted to fight her. Wound her as she’d wounded you.

“Do it. Shoot.” You called her bluff. Her aim was slipping. “Or we could put all of our flashy toys away and have it out like adults.”

She made no move to lower her weapon. “We can talk this out. Just step away from the car.”

“This car? God, she’s a beauty. It’s such a shame that it was put to waste like this.”

“Y/n,” She warned in a muted growl. “I will shoot.”

This time, you believed her. Any slack in her stance had tightened like she were on puppet strings. She aimed directly at your chest. Hawkeyes never aimed to kill, but they would. Kate would, if she was pushed far enough.

You lifted both of your hands up in a half surrender, letting the flames extinguish themselves. You’d shown so much restraint. So much leniency for an unfair situation that plagued the both of you. Kate lowered her arrow, the metal tip pointed at the ground before she placed it back in the quiver entirely, sensing the danger dissolving.

When she glanced up and closed the distance between the two of you, your breath hitched. There was insurmountable anger in her eyes. In a quick movement, she slapped you with an open palm, hard enough to make you taste metal, but not hard enough to cause a ringing in your ears.

Kate hissed “that was fucking stupid of you.”

Your head was turned to the side, the harsh sting throbbing in tune to your heartbeat. You pulled in a humid breath and let it out within the same sentence. It had been stupid of you, nearly starting another fire that could very easily get out of control. You’d never admit that to Kate.

In a swift move, you grabbed Kate’s arm, twisting it until she let out a yelp and fell clumsily to one knee. You stopped shy of breaking anything. “No, it was fucking stupid to tell your mother about Clint.”

Kate’s fist hit your stomach with a cheap shot. It was still effective, knocking the breath right out of your lungs. By the strap of her quiver, you dragged her back to her feet and slammed her against the side of the car.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re the only one that knows, Kate!” You snarled “Your mother invited me to a family dinner with him.”

Your knee was in between hers, she was panting, strands of hair falling into her slate stare. There was a smear of dark blood against the corner of her lip. You hadn’t put it there, and though she was pinned under you right now, you wanted to destroy the person who had done that to her.

Fist-fights were predictable for you and Kate. The first time she landed a punch was at her 9th birthday party. You don’t remember how the quarrel started, it was that trivial. It was a pool party with an inflatable slide that might as well be a boxing ring.

There was hair pulling and you remember Lance wrapping his arms around you while Derek Bishop wrestled to pull a feral Kate to the other side of the yellow slide. After fifteen minutes, the two of you were sitting at the edge of the pool digging into chocolate cake.

“Y/n, have you ever considered that other people heard the conversation we had at the benefit?” She sighed, letting her head thump softly against the side of the car. “My mother has ears and eyes everywhere. I didn’t even tell her we were dating. I would never do that to you.”

She shoved you off, and you went slack, allowing her to. You were close enough to a catering table that it was plausible. Kate sounded broken, and it filled you with a deep guilt that you weren’t quite prepared for. You had been so certain.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck.” She bumped into your shoulder as she walked past you. You turned, tracking her with your eyes. “After all these years, do you really think that little of me?”

“No, Kate I...”

She looked at you expectantly. Sadness rimmed her stare. All of your previous anger had melted away. There was nothing there but a deep dread. You never wanted to hurt her. You hung your head like a kicked dog, feeling a lump form in your throat.

“We’ll do the dinner. Keep playing the part. But after that, it’s done. I don’t owe you anything.”

“You don’t.”

Your voice was tight, chest suddenly painful. She used the edge of her thumb to wipe at the wound on the edge of her lip that you’d reopened. She swiped her tongue over it for good measure.

You were crying.

But she respected you just enough not to say anything.

Tag List💕: @noturlondonboy, @slvtformaria, @pianogirl2121

[beatle-george-smut]

write george + anal pls

Finally. Some anal

Both George and John were drunk. Not drunk enough to not know better, just drunk enough not to care.

It always startled George that Sylvie was such a slag. She was pretty and nice but she liked it up the ass. And what an ass she had. Round and soft but not at all too big. And her pink rose bud of an asshole was tempting.

Sylvie wasn't drunk. And she laughed at John and George. They had agreed earlier that John would get the blow job and George would fuck her up the ass. If she was up for more, they'd trade and do it again.

Sylvie looked like a model. She was tall and slender and always dressed in the latest. Her hair was perfectly styled and she had gorgeous teeth. George and John had discussed endlessly why such a beautiful bird was such a slut for anal.

John offered her a drink, and she took the obligatory sip. Then she took off her clothes and stood there in her high heels with her hands on her hips. "You got the Johnnies?"

George pulled several from his top pocket. That was Sylvie's only rule. The cock up her ass had to have a Johnnie.

Of course John wanted more. He had to feel her up and run his finger up her snatch and George knew John would just ruin it by demanding more than Sylvie allowed, but tonight he seemed rather subdued.

"Where do you want me? Paul's piano? Ringo's drums?"

"How about this stool ?" suggested George. And Sylvie put her hands on the seat and spread her legs as she bent over.

"Perfect," she crooned.

"You start George, " said John as he usually did. John got off on watching and he liked to jack himself before the excitement of putting his cock in Sylvie's mouth.

George couldn't just ram her. He felt obligated to give her some pleasure. He dipped his finger in his drink and then rubbed her pussy getting it juicy and letting her wetness lubricate her ass. John looked on as George pulled down his trousers and fitted the Johnnie on to his hard cock. Then he spit in his hand and got the tip wet and started to poke around Sylvie's pink arsehole. He spread her bottom wide and as she wiggled he got his cock in.

"Oh, Georgie. Oh you feel so good." She moaned and grunted with pleasure. "Let me suck that throbber, Mr Lennon!" And there they were in the studio. At 3 o'clock in the morning. George buggering while John got a blow job.

It was hot, dirty work. George was glad for the Johnnie. He couldn't go home smelling of ass. But by God she was tight as fuck and his cock was loving it. And by John's expression he was enjoying his blow job. They both pumped away at Sylvie. Then John started counting and George started to concentrate. Coming at the same time was the important part of this ritual.

"10, 9, 8, 7, 6," John counted backwards slowly. George closed his eyes. He could feel the rush of sensations and as John continued, "5, 4, 3, 2, arrgh 1!" And there it was. George came and John was still in Sylvie's mouth.

Sylvie pushed John away and George pulled out. She walked over to the trash bin and spit John's jizz out. George remembered she had swallowed his cum last time. She gave John a put upon look before taking her time and slowly getting dressed.

She looked in the mirror and reapplied her lip stick. When she finished she stopped it in her pocketbook, and snapped it shut.

"I don't appreciate being gagged," she said to John. As she walked by George she patted his cheek. "You, as usual, were lovely. I'll see myself out."

John and George watched her as she walked up the steps and out the door.

"I feel like we should pay her,"said George quietly.

"Don't be daft, son. She's getting fucked by and sucking off two Beatles," retorted John. "There's plenty who would be happy to take her place." He threw back the rest of his drink.

"Come on, I guess we better get home. Be back here soon enough." John threw the keys to his Rolls Royce at George. Even sober, John was a terrible driver.

And though he felt a bit guilty, George couldn't help but think he was a little in love with Sylvie. She didn't follow rules, she acted like she was doing them a favor. And she was gorgeous. He wouldn't want to marry her, but he did love fucking her in the ass.

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

“You can’t really believe that stuff?” said Ye Jin, Hyo Jin and In Jin Tatiana Moon

January 7, 2011

My father was a Christian minister. I was brought up in a Christian home, actually in a Christian seminary campus. At the age of 21, God called me into the Unification ministry and eventually by the grace of God, He led me out of the UC. The important thing to understand here is, once I had passed through Jesus and Sun Myung Moon all that was left was myself with God.

In the late 70’s I was an East Garden security guard. These were the ‘Day of Hope’ years within the Unification Movement. In 1979, I was called into the main house living room to meet with SMM and Hak Ja Han. They wanted me to escort their three children to England for the summer. They asked me to teach their children, Ye Jin, Hyo Jin and In Jin the Divine Principle. At the time, these children were all teenagers. Unfortunately, I was never given a formal opportunity to teach them, due to a particular UC leader who felt more qualified than me, and others unwilling to take my request seriously. So I resorted to teach them in the car. I tried to explain the DP view of God, His parental love and his yearning for His lost children. I tried to explain the origin of sin and how sin has broken the relationship between our Original Parent (God) and humanity. I tried to talk about Jesus, his willingness to give his all for humanity’s salvation. Tried to teach about the history of restoration and the hope God has for each person.

You may notice I tried. I tried, but failed! “Do you really believe in God,” they taunted. “You can’t really believe that stuff?” They laughed and mocked me for believing in God! I defended myself with “yes,” I really do believe this! I was actually shocked that Sun Myung Moon’s own children were so ignorant of God and His love. At the time, I took their taunting as just teenagers’ torments.

We now know of their father’s dark side, Hyo Jin’s plight, In Jin’s troubles and the evil lives of the other Moon children who pursue their parents’ position, power and money. I often wonder to myself, what is to become of God’s family providence? What will happen to all the tears, sacrifice, faith, good will, creativity and love investment that was put into building the beloved community and the global village? …

from Done with Moon

___________________________________

Nansook Hong: “In the world of funhouse mirrors I had entered, their behavior was not the problem. Mine was.”

In Jin Tatiana Moon by Nansook Hong

Breaking Silence on In Jin, Ben, Alistair Farrant

I’m first gen. I left the Unification Church after the In Jin Moon fiasco.

Sun Myung Moon makes me feel ashamed to be Korean

1. Moon’s first son wrote a letter saying his father was a fraud. 2. Ashamed to be Korean 3. Sun Myung Moon: “Women have twice the sin” 4. “Japanese blood is dirty,” Mrs Gil Ja Sa Eu said 5. Moon’s Divine Principle Theory Applied 6. Sun Myung Moon’s explanation of the Fall of Man is based on his Confucian ideas of lineage, and his belief in shaman sex rituals. 7. The establishment of a worldwide government under Moon 8. Sun Myung Moon in 2012: “There is no Mother” 9. Sun Myung Moon’s words on Hak Ja Han, Justin Kook Jin and Sean Hyung Jin 10. Hak Ja Han married “God” in January 2012. Moon was furious. 11. The Sokcho Incident – the removal of Hyun Jin from the succession 12. In 2018 Hak Ja Han was questioned about the Sokcho Incident

Buying Sun Myung Moon a Shiny New Rolls Royce – MLP

Playing the “Idolize ___ Nim” Game

‘The whole thing about the messiah is a human construct’

[jaejoongs-nipple-piercing]

Yes, you should. You should want to be the straw.

But I beat you because I want to be the cup he's holding.

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

Dad!Mob!Tom Holland x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x reader, Parker Holland x Charlotte Owens

-Warnings: Language, Blood, Death, Fighting

-Words: 3.6K

Author note: I really love this chapter. I love all the comments and would appreciate nice constructive criticism (please don't butcher my work lol) if you want. Feel free to leave in the comments or message me directly your feelings while reading the chapter :))

Chapter 3: A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

Word: 3.6K

“Haz are you okay mate?” Tom asked, seeing Haz freak out, they were about to land at Heathrow, on their way back from Dublin.

“No, I just heard from my neighbor that Henry never came home last night. With everything that happened yesterday, I’m just worried. I hope he is not lying in a ditch somewhere.” Harrison explained.

“He probably crashed at ours, everything will be ok.” You said as you comforted Haz. Oh boy, were you wrong.

Back at home, Parker awoke to his impending death once you and Tom, his parents’, find out what happened to their beautiful mansion. One party did all this damage. The curtains were torn down, there was red party cups everywhere and all the liquor bottles were displayed on the table. One amazingly epic party did all that.

“Bloody hell! That’s it I’m dead. I’m dead. I will never be allowed to leave this house ever again.” Parker said to himself. Picking up his phone he noticed 4 missed calls from you. Each one had a message and if there was one thing he knew about you is that you only left more harsh and frantic voice messages the more you called.

He only played the most recent one, you sounded really peeved “PARKER JACKSON HOLLAND! Please call me, I’m worried about you. I can’t get in touch with the staff either. I will be home in 20 mins, you better have a good fucking explanation for everything.” Parker’s eyes nearly flew out of his head when he saw that was sent 15 mins ago. Any moment now he would hear the Rolls pulling into the driveway.

The poor kid could only move so fast, he quickly gathered the liquor bottles and threw them into a plastic trash bag along with all the red solo cups that seem to be multiplying. All the meanwhile corralling all the squatters, from last night, who crashed there. He found some people by the pool and others passed out in the dining room. Running like a madman through the house, he caught a glimpse of what would be the reason for his demise. The door to Tom’s office was open. He swore to god he locked it, someone must’ve broken in. They could’ve taken anything, all the information about the mob was stored in that one tastefully decorated room. Parker quickly shut the door and hoped nothing would happen, he couldn’t live with himself if this one stupid party cost his family their livelihood.

“Rosie? Henry? Where are you guys? Mum and dad will be home any minute, I need your help.” Parker called out throughout the house. He didn’t expect Rosie to show up because of their fight last night, but where the fuck was Henry.

You and Tom pulled up along with Harrison in the black Rolls Royce, coming to a screeching halt. You all walked along the cobble stone path to the two large, intimidating front doors. You all simultaneously freaked out when you saw the door was ajar. Tom and Haz pulled out their guns and made it a priority to keep you safe by shoving you behind them. You all had no idea what you could be walking into.

Tom whispered to Haz to split up, Haz took the East Wing while Tom checked the main rooms. Rounding the corner he could her footsteps.

“Darling, stay behind me. I don’t want you getting hurt,” Tom whispered and you nodded in response.

“On the count of 3. 1, 2, 3,” Tom screamed as he jumped out, holding his gun straight ahead. He found his son disheveled, carrying grocery bags filled with empty beer cans and liquor bottles.

“DON’T SHOOT! DON’T SHOOT! Holy fuck! Dad is that you?” Parker screamed, dropping the bags to the ground, glass shattering and raising his hand up in innocence. Scared for his life her quickly caught his breath when he realized who it was.

“Parker, what the hell? Why the fuck was the door opened…. wait? Did you have a party!?!” Tom thundered as he realized what his son did. His voice gradually growing more furious. Parker just stood there with a shameful look on his face.

“Mum, dad. How was Dublin?” Parker sneaked to quickly change the subject.

“Don’t try to get out this, explain now!” You scolded, just as furious as Tom

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did it, I just needed to blow off steam.” “What the fuck do you think a sorry is going to do? I run a fucking mob, Parker. Are you a fucking idiot? Parker, for fucks sake, anyone could have stolen some information from my office or gotten into the gun room. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I’m not that much of a div, I locked your office and I don’t know,” Parker explained.

“You’re not as dumb as I thought. Hope you were smart enough to lock the liquor cellar too,” Tom concluded.

“Yeah…about that,” Parker mumbled as Tom ran off to his liquor room. A loud clash and curse sounded throughout the house when he laid his eyes on his ransacked priceless collection.

“Mum, say something?” Parker pleaded with you as you just stood there in silence.

“2 months. You’re grounded for 2 months. No dates or parties, just school and home. I don’t think you understand how lucky you are that nothing serious happened here.” You said, your voice drenched with disappointment. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about what dad and you asked me and —” Parker whispered as he was soon cut off by Haz walking in.

“Did you find Henry?” Haz interrupted.

“No, I’m going to check upstairs. Will you check on Tom?” Harrison nodded as you ascended the staircase. Making your way through the halls, coming upon Rosie’s room.

“Roo, honey you awake?” You said walking into Rosie’s room

“AHHHH! Oh my fucking god! Rosie!” You screamed at the sight in front of you. Your sweet, slightly bad tempered daughter asleep with a boy in her bed.

“Darling? You alright?” Tom yelled from downstairs after hearing your scream.

“Mum, what are you doing here?” Rosie exclaimed frantically.

“Hi, Y/N.” Henry whispered, praying he wasn’t going to be berated. You were a mother figure to him after his own mother left his father and never looked back. “This is my house and hi Henry. What the fuck is Henry doing here in you bed? What the fuck are you doing here?” You questioned bouncing between the two of them to get some answers.

“I can explain. But, firstly are you gonna tell dad?” Rosie inquired.

“The fact that he is already fuming downstairs, no. Not right now. And please explain, you have 5 seconds, but first you need to get Henry out of here.”

“Thank you mom, I just don’t —.“

“Ehh, eh, eh! Shut it, I’ll deal with you later,” you barked.

“Henry, I suggest you take the window and your dad is looking for you,” you said.

“Shit! Thanks Y/N… I mean Mrs. Holland” Henry said as you shot him a glare.

The moment Henry was in the clear, Tom barged in with his gun in hand. Someone needs to tell this man to put it down. All morning he has been traumatically scarring his kids for life, first with Parker and now Rosie.

“What? Is everyone all right? I heard a scream.” Tom exclaimed out of breath.

“Umm, yeah. I just saw a spider.” You stuttered.

“Oh love, you can kill a man in cold blood but can’t handle an itty bitty spider,” Tom joked as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“You're afraid of them too, Thomas.” You quipped with a side eye. If looks could kill, yours definitely would.

“And for you missy, you’re grounded along with your brother.” Tom said, looking down on Rosie. “Me? What did I do?” Rosie asked in a high pitched voice. “You attended this party correct? And since this is also your house, you threw it by association. Am I right?” Tom inquired.

“I guess so,” Rosie huffed.

The twin’s exile was worse than they prepared for. Not only were they responsible for cleaning up the entire mess but they were given a list of chores to complete. This was no ordinary list. It was devised by you and Tom along with inputs from the maids and capos.

On it read:

Wash the Rolls

Clean the guns

Reorganize the pantry

Mow the lawn

Re-order all stolen liquor and stock the liquor room

Drain the pool, clean the pool, fill the pool back up again…

The list was never-ending. Each task more pointless than the next. It went on forever. The household staff was happy for their load was to be lessen for a couple weeks, unlike the kids. Harrison even forced Henry to partake in the chores.

The kids were only a couple days into their quarantine and were already going stir crazy. Parker was having withdrawals from Charlotte, missing her even more. The boy was whipped for her, really smitten. They would talk the night away. Some nights never getting any shut eye as their conversations would prolong hours.

Parker couldn’t believe this was where he was now. One night of unadulterated juvenile fun equated to 2 months of misery. Today was Charlotte’s birthday and he was supposed to take her to the London Eye on a surprise birthday trip, but all his plans were ruined the moment his parents came home and grounded his sorry ass.

“I can’t believe your parents grounded you. Assholes.” Charlotte said over the phone, fuming he couldn’t celebrate with her.

“I can’t go babe. I really wish I could but I’m grounded for life remember.” Parker said, the cold shoulder Tom and you had been giving him was killing him.

“Parker its my birthday. You have to come,” Charlotte pleaded

“There’s no chance in hell I’m allowed to leave.”

“Geez you just threw a party, it’s not like you killed someone,” Charlotte added. He might as well have. If he killed someone he wouldn’t be burdened with this punishment, probably praised instead, carrying on the family tradition.

“Just sneak out. Come on, we are all going to this nightclub downtown. It’s gonna be awesome. And I’m such a good girlfriend, I can’t let you miss it.” Charlotte pleaded.

“Alright, Char you wore me down.”

“I knew it. Pick you up at 11 tonight.”

“Park around the block, I’m going to have to climb out my window. Remember my house is like a fortress.” Parker said. He wasn’t lying.

Meanwhile, Tom was in and out of meetings in his office all day. He received one odd phone call in particular from his dad, Dominic Holland. “Hi dad, how are you” Tom said as he picked up the phone.

“I’m fine son, so how did the talk with Parker go. I’m excited to teach him all my mobster tricks,” Dom exclaimed. “Actually dad, he reacted like I did.”

“Oh well, he will come around just like you did” Dom said encouragingly.

“I don’t know if he will. Anyway it wouldn’t be so bad if he had his own path in life.” Tom murmured trying to stick up for his son’s decision.

“Tom, you know what will happen to this family if that happens,” Dom yelled.

“I know dad. I just don’t want him to feel trapped, like you did to me,” Tom exclaimed growing more annoyed by the minute.

“What I did to you got you to where you are today. Your life is thanks to me son and don’t you forget it,” Dom said with a stern, menacing voice.

“Understood sir,” Tom quipped. “Maybe Parker needs a push, in the right direction.” “Dad, I swear to god, don’t fucking do anything. Y/N and I are handling this” Tom yelled. “We’ll see how that turns out” Dom ended the phone call. Leaving Tom frustrated that his father sees him as his own puppet.

The night soon fell and Parker’s plan had been put into motion. He bribed a few of the Tom’s men with his allowance to let him sneak past. He jumped out the window, carefully walked on the roof as to not slip and make any noise. Finally on the ground, he scaled the iron fence to be met with Charlotte’s ice blue eyes. She was dressed in a pink party dress that hugged her figure perfectly.

“Wow princess, you look *chef’s kiss. Happy birthday baby,” Parker said while making his way back to the ground.

“Thanks doll. Now come on, before someone catches us,” she yelled whilst hopping into her silver Mercedes.

Arriving at the nightclub, everything was in full swing for 11 o’clock at night. Parker, Charlotte and her other friends were treated like royalty the moment Parker let his name slip.

“Right this way Mr. Holland and I will have someone bring you a bottle of champagne, on the house of course,” the hostess said as she sat them at their table.

“Oooo fancy, you should drop your name more often,” Charlotte whispered in Parker’s ear.

“Oh it was nothing, love.” Parker said while pouring himself and Charlotte a glass of bubbly. “Seriously Parker, how’d you do this? If I didn’t know any better I’d say your dad owned the club or something,” Charlotte said dumbfounded, causing Parker to choke on his champagne at her remark.

It was amazing what power could do. Having enough power to make your enemies disappear was unimaginable. Parker knew what turning down his father meant. He would have the name and the look of a Holland, but he wouldn’t be one anymore.

How could he give all that up. He enjoyed his cushy lifestyle. Sure it was day after day of worrying about your image but, he felt as though he belonged in that world. How could he go on being a kid for two more years knowing there was a metaphorical expiration date on his life.

He desperately wanted to want to be like them, his family. You, his mother, are the strongest person he knows. Having you in his life keeps him grounded, literally at the moment. Also his dad, Tom is a very loving and amazing father. He was there at all the football games (English football) cheering him on and at the spelling bees, also when he felt his first heartbreak, Tom was there.

Family has been the one constant in his life. Now it was being eclipsed by power, a power that could ruin lives or affect change. Turning his back on his family means they would never get see his future.

No one would be there at his graduation from college or when he first child was born, only Charlotte would be there. The girl he hoped to marry and have his kids. He couldn’t give up his future with her, no way. Parker eyes glanced at her, mesmerized by her beauty. He thought to himself, “This was it. This, she is all I’ll ever need, my princess.”

Most of Parker’s pet names for Charlotte were derived from Tom. He had heard his dad refer to his mother as: princess, queen, doll, darling, love. The list goes on. As long as Parker had his princess he knew he would be ok.

They danced the night away. Song after song. Feeling like the only two people in the room. Getting more drunk as the night progressed and other guests started to fizzle out. Leaving Charlotte and Parker alone on the dance floor.

“Char, I think it’s about time we head home. We are the only people left,”

Parker chuckled.

“Just two more songs please,” she muttered with her head nuzzled by his neck.

“It’s two hours til sunrise!” Parker exclaimed.

“Just a little while longer, I don’t want this moment to end.” “Me neither baby, I want to stay in your arms forever” Parker said. In a moment of love, coupled with champagne and a few tequila shots, Parker whispered, “We should get married.”

“What? Are you serious? Do you mean now or in like 5 years?” Charlotte asked as her voice slowly diminished

“Umm… yes and now. I love you,” Parker murmured. “YES! I will marry you!” Charlotte exclaimed pulling her boyfriend into a deep, passionate kiss. Parker’s dream was coming true and all he had to do was leave his family.

Just then a group of tall, stocky men, all dressed in black, funneled through the door of the club. They didn’t bother with sitting down, they just stood there blocking the only exit.

One of the men spoke up, “Parker Holland? I have a message for you.”

“Can’t it wait til morning, just tell him I’m sorry and he can ground me even longer,” Parker replied thinking the message was from Tom.

“It’s not that kind of message,” all the noise drifted away as the other man drew his gun. Both Charlotte and Parker grew tense at the sight of his pistol.

“Charlotte, get behind me,” Parker whispered, scared for both their lives.

“Boy, it’s not from your daddy,” said the leader of the men. “Do you know who my father is? He will have all of your heads if you so as much lay a finger on me,” Parker responded

“So the girl is up for grabs?” “Charlotte, RUN!” Parker Screamed

“Eh, not so fast. I’m going to enjoy this one.” The guy said, seizing Charlotte in his grip and motioning for this associates to grab Parker. Two arms holding Parker back from protecting Charlotte.

“LET GO OF ME! CHARLOTTE!”

“Why you hanging out this rift raft? I’m sorry but he needs to atone for his mistakes.” “Parker..” Charlotte whimpered.

“Such a pretty girl and such a waste” the man snickered as he pressed the gun into her abdomen. Tears slipped down her face as she felt the cool metal against her.

BANG

It was the shot heard round the room. Everything stood quiet as Charlotte collapsed to the floor. The leader of the men shouted he need a drink. “NOOOOO! ” Parker screamed as he was let go and raced to Charlotte’s side

“Hey, hey, baby look at me. Look at me,” Parker said as tears flooded down his face.

“I’m sorry, we should’ve left.” Charlotte whispered with labored breaths while blood poured out of her wound. “Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Parker cried while rubbing his thumb on her cheek. Blood pooled around them and he could only be focused on one thing, the love of his life dying in his arms. “Parker, it hurts so much,” Charlotte cried. The pain was mind-numbing. Threatening the life inside her.

“I know, love. Just keep your eyes on me love, keep’em open”

“I’m so tired Parker… I want my last words to you to be I love you. I love you ok? So much.” she whispered, then broke into a coughing fit. Blood filling her mouth and running down her chin, scaring Parker.

“Don’t, don’t fucking start that now you, hear me. You’re gonna be fine, we’re gonna get married and have kids and grow old together,” Parker exclaimed as her eyes threatened to shut.

“You said yes, Char. You have to be okay. You said yes. I asked you to marry me and you said yes.” Parker cried as tears refused to stop coming. Charlotte’s eyes growing more and more to a close.

“Please, don’t leave me baby. Charlotte don’t leave me. Don’t fucking close your eyes. You hear me. Don’t.” And with that, the hand Parker held so close to his heart was limp. Her eyes had closed and heart stopped beating. She was gone.

“No! No, no no, hey hey hey, come on, come on baby stay with me. Stay with me please.”

“Wake up, darling. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Just come back to me baby. , I need you,” Parker whimpered. He burst into a fit of sobs and hugged her close to his body, not wanting to let her go because then it all became real.

The woman who changed his life, no longer walked this earth. The love of his life was gone. All the bubbling life inside of her, vanished like it had never existed in the first place. Parker’s demeanor flipped like a switch. His sadness became infused with anger, he was out for blood.

“You bastards! Why did you do that? She had nothing to do with this?” Parker thundered as blood coated his knuckles. “I’m sorry kid, but it had to be done” The leader spoke.

In a fit of rage, Parker grabbed the empty champagne bottle and smashed it over one of the guy’s heads, knocking the muscular guy unconscious.

“Big mistake, kid. Thought you were smarter than that.” The leader said as he stood in front of Parker and delivered him a swift punch to the jaw, flooring Parker.

“She really wasn’t enough of a message? Want her death to be in vain?” He spat as he kicked Parker in the stomach.

Several kicks followed, two more to the stomach, one to the groin and one final blow to the head, demobilizing Parker. He laid on the ground coughing up blood, trying to gather enough strength to get home.

He looked once more over to the girl he had loved, lifeless with a whole in stomach, knowing if it weren’t for him she would still be alive. Charlotte was the only thing on his mind as he succumbed to all the pain and everything faded to darkness.

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort

[jssicamandy]

MY LIBERATION NOTES: MY MOST ULTIMATE FAVORITE DRAMA FOR NOW

Actually I intended to skip this drama, for awhile I have been watching light casual k-drama with no feeling attached and so I just end it when I find it boring. 

Then by chance, I see screenshot scenes of this drama on IG’s explore, the color tone and the atmosphere feel so somber and depressing, but the captured dialogue always got me curious about it, then it appears more often in my explore and after about 2 weeks or so being intrigued I finally give it a watch, and that night I binged watched about 3-4 episode and then I binged the other 3-4 the next day lol. 

The first week episodes tiring me out, but got me attached as I also experienced long hours commute back in my school days. I can’t read Gijeong & Chanhee characters on the pilot week, and at first I find them annoying lol. I quite find it hilarious how Mr. Gu and Gijeong ( Seon Seok Gu & Lee El) used to be a married couple in another drama universe lol, but I know that dramas they take usually gravitates toward slice of life drama and most of the time are great to watch (but I don’t watch Matrimonial Chaos, because it deals with affair and I choose not to watch those kind of drama).  

Watching them and knowing them more by each episode I find them all so lovable, all of them grow at their own pace, but the period captured in the drama were their most growing up & wiser period, losing their mother served as a fatal breakthrough points for all of them and their father was no exception to it too. The void left by their mother weighs so heavy for me too, The mother was always there working in the background, not a lot of words were said or delivered by her, but watching the next drama episode without seeing her at all, got me feeling very unsettled. 

Yeom Chanhee, is a very talkative and expressive boy, he himself said that he vents out by talking things out passionately. More often than not, his words hurt her sister, Gijeong as it always hit points blank in quite a rude way. Yet, he finally learned and matured well after getting the chance to ride in Rolls-Royce so effortlessly lol, he find it amusing himself, that he is gentler than he thought to be. Life directs him to places, and I find it amusing where he ended up too and how it actually fit so well with him lol. 

Yeom Gijeong is a harsh talker too, she is also a chirpy one, she is a heavily romanticist, and would not hesitate to go all out for love. She used to look down on people confessing to her, but then she find no one wanted to be in relationship with her. Not gonna lie, I actually shipping her with the boss, because the boss is also a heavy romantic in his own way, and I think together they would be able to have a happy couple life. Yet she is in love with Taehoon, and finally able to go into relationship with him. Taehoon is a kind of person who finds himself a miserable persona, and absolutely miserable company, but now at this age, I can sympathize with him too. How he was feeling so relieved when Gijeong isn’t really pregnant (and how people kind of cursing him about it too), but then we get to see him explaining his point of view regarding it, why he said it like that, and the way he think things in his own view. He is a sad boi for sure. 

Yeom Mijeong is such a sweet girl, she is the most filial and at first came off as taciturn as much as her father is. She appeared very exhausted by everything that life has thrown at her. I love that she is a character that is actually very good at her own work, yet she was having trashy boss, and still able to hold herself well even to the very end if I must say. It served as example that the world would not always done us good, but there will be place and time where our good points shine brightest when we are being rightfully appreciated, so I hope that we would not lose the trust within ourselves of our own worth. 

Her love story is no ordinary feat though, We all love the lovey-dovey moments they have, but if I was in Mijeong shoes, I would not able to handle things as well as her did there. It puts me in awe, when she knows Mr. Gu is already addicted to alcohol in a very unhealthy way, but how she is readily accepting that even before he confessed it to her, and how Mijeong very empathically listening to his words and story only thinking the best of him without stamping any judgement or giving words like how he should stop drinking at all. Mijeong really does love all out no less than Gijeong, and I love how the drama was ended in a very beautiful way and how every moments built up beautifully, and it all feel so so right. 

Lastly, let’s talk about how beautiful Mr. Gu is, Son Seok Gu is a very charming man, and he always play his characters in alluring ways too. He is so handsome, and I love his smile, and why does he pulls off the Effortless chic in another level, when He sweats up, he also reminds me of Wolverine too, if K-drama ever makes rendition of It, he would be perfect for that role! also when he smiles I see his resemblances with Cho Seung woo too ^^

[charbax]

KAW 2021 DAY 4 - Modern AU

Chapters: 4/7 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla Characters: Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Alexsandr Kallus, Kanan Jarrus, Hera Syndulla, Sabine Wren, Ezra Bridger, C1-10P | Chopper Additional Tags: more characters will be revealed as prompts come, more tags will be revealed as prompts come, Fluff, Biting, H - Freeform, Stardew Valley AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting 

A/N: I decided to instead incorporate a lil bit of a Stardew Valley I've been rolling around my head for a while. All you need to know is that Kallus is the Joja Mart manager and Zeb is a rancher ^.^ I'll see if I continue this train of thought later! 

AO3 link here uwu

Zeb found him on the way back to his ranch; it would have been hard to miss the Rolls Royce parked close to the bus stop, its engine stalling. As Zeb approached it he could hear swearing from inside. He knocked on the fogged window. "Kallus?"

The swearing stopped. A moment later, the window got rolled down, and Kallus' frown appeared, bringing a blast of heated air Zeb's way. "May I help you Mr. Orrelios?"

"Seems like you're havin' car troubles."

"Yes, well, thank you for noticing that." Kallus said, then went back to turning his engine on in vain. When Zeb didn't move from his spot, Kallus turned back to him and snapped, "Is there anything else?"

Now this was new - usually Kallus' face held thinly veiled contempt or placid customer service friendliness - but right now, he looked pissed off enough to try arguing with Zeb. So of course Zeb kept talking. "Do you usually drive home after work?"

"Yes." Kallus said through gritted teeth.

"So whereabouts do you live?"

"Zuzu city."

Zeb whistled. "That's pretty far. And you drive there and back everytime?"

"Yes." Kallus said, and didn't elaborate on that.

As if to remind him that it was the middle of winter, the wind picked up, sending shivers through Zeb, despite the warmth of Kallus' air conditioning. That was then the engine gave one last whine then stilled, no matter how many times Kallus cursed and turned the key. Zeb decided to throw him a bone.

"I got a spare room at my place. Why don't you stay the night, then we can take a look at your car in the morning."

Kallus made a face as if he was considering freezing himself rather than accept the offer, but then, he sighed, his frown turning more forlorn. "Fine." He turned off the car completely, halting the blast of hot air, then exited. At least he's wearing a parka, Zeb thought, even if it was a bright blue Joja Mart brand and looked ugly as anything. Kallus shivered as he started to follow Zeb, huffing into cupped palms.

"Be careful of the ice," Zeb said. "Especially at this part of the path-"

There was a skid, then a sharp gasp, then sound of someone eating shit on the ice-hard ground. Zeb whipped around and saw Kallus raising himself on his elbows, groaning. Zeb carefully stepped over to him. "Crikey, you ok?"

"I'm fine." Kallus bit out. He tried to get to his feet but cried out, clearly the opposite of fine.

"Here, let me help." Zeb said, offering out a hand. Kallus looked at it with disdain. "C,mon, I don't bite." Zeb continued. "Unless I really like you."

With great trepidation, Kallus took the hand and let his arm get slung around Zeb's shoulders, Zeb's hand secure on his waist. It was much slower going, but definitely safer. He could feel the long line of Kallus' body taut with pain and stiffness, trying to keep as much pressure off his bad foot as possible. The snow drifted around them, turning a short walk into a long trek into the dark unknown. All they had was the light of the lamposts and the cobblestone pathways that Zeb knew like that back of his hand. The air was silent with the hush of freshly falling snow.

Finally, the glow of the barn's lanterns came into view and Zeb breathed a sigh of relief. "Home sweet home." He guided Kallus through the front gate and up to the house.

“I’m surprised you didn’t live in a barn.” Kallus said. Zeb bristled, but chose not to rise to the bait.

“Y’might change your mind when you come in.”

"We'll see about that." Kallus muttered, and limped inside with Zeb.

[europesroyals]

EuropesRoyals’ Worst Wedding Wear

There are some gowns I simply cannot find anything likable and some there are easy little tweaks that can take an overly expensive gown from matronly to magical.  Also, none of these posts should be taken to mean I don’t like the bride.  That kind of petty nonsense isn’t welcome here.

10.  Queen Silvia of Sweden

This wedding took place in 1976.  The King had been on the throne for just under 3 years and this wedding was a MAJOR event!  I’m not here to bash the hideously dated dress, the bunched up veil making it look ridiculously poofy, or the bouquet that looks like it’s wilting already.  No, I’m here to show you her right wrist.  Under her waving hand is a tissue held onto her wrist by a brown rubber band.  A RUBBER BAND!! are you seriously telling me The King couldn’t have put a handkerchief or tissues in one of his many pockets???  At least put it on the wrist that is going to be holding the bouquet for most of the day...

9. Rachel Meghan Markle

Once William married Catherine, Prince Harry’s wedding was the most sought-after wedding in Britain.  Everyone has their own expectations (and tastes) for what they wanted to see.  I had zero.  Zilch.  I had no expectations whatsoever, and boy was I disappointed!  I’m sure this gown was overly simple to really allow the veil to shine, but the veil wasn’t even that interesting, except at the very edges...  First of all, the dress didn’t fit well.  Being a Hollywood Glamazon (because who would care about a 2nd rate small screen actress) who was used to walking red carpets, why would she choose a shapeless, boring, ill-fitting “thing” for her wedding gown? (and she lost any bonus this gown might have received by using a non-British fashion house to create it.  Yes the designer was British, but Givenchy is not.)  I also hate it when the train has poor construction, can’t hold its own, and flops under the gown...

8. Princess Madeleine

I have an issue with strapless/semi-strapless gowns’ construction.  Back in the 1950s, designers understood that the HIPS are supposed to hold up a gown.  Today’s designers seem to believe either the BUST or magic is supposed to hold up gowns.  Plus, the gowns of yester-year had better undergarment support (and that’s really saying something coming from the era of girdles).  The lace on this dress also looks yellowed against the stark white of the backing fabric.  I feel like Madeleine deserved so much more than what she ended up getting.

7. Zara Tindall

Stewart Parvin’s coats for HM The Queen are tailored, structured, and interesting.  His wedding gown for Zara is just a hot mess.  When she first stepped out of the car, I wondered why she was wearing a bad slip/undergarment and she would change into her dress in an anteroom of the church...  Zara has curves, and as a fellow curvy girl, I can tell you the last thing I want in my wedding gown is to draw EXTRA attention to said curves with bad seams.  The veil, the shoulder piece-things, the entire construction of it... Girl, I’d have asked for my considerable amount of money back!

6. Princess Letizia, Princess of Asturias (currently Queen Letizia)

Okay, Letizia is TINY!!!  She is over a foot shorter than her husband (in platform heels she meets his shoulder) and they were married in a cathedral with very GRAND proportions.  This gown is wearing the bride, not the other way around.  Only way to put it.

5. Serena, Viscountess Linley (currently Countess of Snowdon)

I’m not viewing this ‘dress’ as the 1993 horrid fashion it is, I’m viewing it as what it was supposed to be.  It has been reported that Serena Stanhope wanted a 1990s take on her soon-to-be mother-in-law’s iconic Norman Hartnell wedding gown.  You’ll have to show me in great detail what parts (other than the towering hair) stayed on point for that design inspiration.  No matter what era, no skirt should EVER be made entirely out of layered tulle. 

4. Crown Princess Mary

I just don’t enjoy seeing a wedding dress with so many poor seams!  Mary Donaldson has a trim physique.  She could even be called athletic.  So why did Uffe Frank construct this so poorly that whenever Mary moved, some seam looked like it was ready to give way?  That is also the LAST way you should ever attach a train.  It looks like a back-brace-inspired afterthought.  (I’m not going to even begin on the tiara/veil/hairdo fiasco...)

3. Marie Chevallier 

While this bride isn’t royal (her husband is the nephew of the Sovereign Prince of Monaco), an otherwise completely lovely gown looks like it was thrown together at the last minute.  What is that bunched piece between the bodice and the skirt?  Why does each side of the bust come to an actual point? Could we not have done one more fitting before walking down the aisle??  Like many of the gowns on my list, I wonder if designers think they’ll be forgiven for any other structural flaws if they create a magnificent and dramatic train...

2. Princess Eugenie, Mrs. Brooksbank

The York Princesses have a style I can only call a sartorial nightmare with some actual fashion pieces thrown in every so often.  This gown is awful!  True to Eugenie’s regular fashion, there is just too much going on here.  If she had a veil, this whole look would’ve been thrown overboard.  Let’s start with the fabric.  It’s a brocade.  Brocades are SO heavy and this one is no exception.  I know Eugenie wanted a back silhouette that highlighted her scar from Scoliosis-correction surgery, but what’s with the draping of the fabric?  Is that supposed to be a bustle?  Is it supposed to mimic what her spine looked like pre-surgery?  The way the heavy brocade is folded down around her arms is just awkward.  This whole ‘thing’ looks too heavy and old for someone so young!

1. Catherine, The Duchess of Cambridge

Okay, I’ma try and be quick on this lunacy.  When Kate Middleton stepped from The Queen’s Rolls Royce, I went from *holding my breath in wild anticipation* to *letting my breath out in a huff of disappointment*.  First of all, this is too low cut for Westminster Abbey.  I detest cleavage on wedding gowns.  Second, I curse Kate Middleton for causing every damned bride ever since to have lace wedding gowns.  I’m only going to say this once: IT’S NOT A GOOD LOOK ON BRIDES!!!!  Please stand by while I go vomit...  This is quite simply one of the most underwhelming gowns out there. You can’t see the lace designs until you’re up close and personal with Kate’s breasts, I didn’t even know there was lace on the skirt/train at all until high def photos came out.  Also, the way the train is constructed, it was supposed to fan itself out as Kate walked, and it didn’t.  Just. So. Disappointing.

[jtmportland]

Like most Americans, I’m paying close attention to the impeachment hearings. Tomorrow we will hear from Gordon Sondland, the U.S. Ambassador to the European Union. I’m especially interested in his testimony, because as unlikely as this may be, a few years ago I had some business dealings with him.

First, a bit of background. I’m the type of person that tends to get into trouble when I’m bored … idle hands and all that. So my remedy is to stay busy and active. Thus, I always have projects and side businesses running parallel to my primary sources of income. 

Anyway, several years ago one of the things I stumbled into was restaurant/bar design. For a fee, my business partner Douglas and I would come up with a concept, design, and brand. We’d also act as general contractors and oversee the project to completion. Portland is known as a food town, and restaurants are big business. It was challenging, often frustrating work, but also quite fun.

And we were good at it. In a 6 year span, we helped launch a bar and 4 restaurants … two of which are still thriving (Masu and Bamboo Sushi).

This is where Mr. Sondland prances into the scene. He was a hotelier in Portland and had recently begun to transform his aging properties into something that would better fit with the boutique hotel/foodie culture so prevalent at the time. 

As it turns out, he also frequented Masu and admired the design. After some research on his part, I received a phone call from the marketing director at Provenance Hotels, the company he founded. They were interested in hiring us to develop a lounge adjacent to his chic little boutique property, Hotel Lucia. Fantastic.

We agreed to meet at the space and discuss ideas. Douglas and I got there early and peered through the windows. It had great potential and we were excited. After a while, a robin’s egg blue Rolls Royce Dawn pulled up, and Gordon, dressed in a flamboyant wide-striped suit and wearing a straw boater hat, bounced out looking like he just stepped off the set of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. It was all rather ridiculous. (Incidentally, he acquired a different accent in every conversation we had … it’ll be interesting to hear which one we get tomorrow.)

After chatting for hours over multiple meetings, we all decided it would be cool to do an intimate New York-style piano lounge. Fun. We signed a contract, and he agreed to pay 1/3 of our total fee before construction began. After a week or so, we delivered our conceptual drawings to Mr. Sondland. He fawned over them and gave us the green light and a very short deadline.

Now, the focal point of this lounge was to be a Steinway Model D; the pinnacle of concert grand pianos … 9 feet of musical extravagance. The size of the space required some creative thinking, and we decided the best solution was to install the piano first, then build the room around it. So Douglas and I placed a $19,000 deposit on the piano (total cost: $152,400), and started construction.

Funny thing, though. Gordon and his associates stopped returning our phone calls. We set up a meeting to discuss design options and he cancelled at the last minute. And again the following week. We got a sense that something was up, but due to the tight schedule, we kept working.

Eventually, his assistant phoned me to say that Provenance had made the decision to move “in a different direction” and that our services were no longer required. Thanks and have a nice day.

That’s how these things go sometimes. Unfortunately, we were out of pocket for the deposit on the piano and the hours of design and build time we put into it.

We threatened to sue and they eventually wrote a check to cover our expenses. Case closed … don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

I wasn’t surprised at all when Mr. Sondland bought his way into the EU ambassadorship in 2018. Nor was I shocked to read that he has spent more than a half million dollars in taxpayer funding to renovate his diplomatic residence in Brussels (including a $95,000 “outdoor living pod”… whatever the fuck that is). It was all perfectly fitting. Mr Sondland is fan of Ayn Rand and once gave his wife a first edition, signed by the author, of Atlas Shrugged, the novel loved by conservatives for its portrayal of a revolt by business people against a parasitic government. Drain the swamp, they chanted.

Every day, every detail, every lie is more absurd than the last. When will it all end? 

[bookdancerfics]

drawing battle lines, a 9-1-1 fic

Summary: It’s not often that a gun is introduced to an ongoing 911 call. It just so happens that Buck is between Athena and the gunman.

Relationships: Evan “Buck” Buckley & Athena Grant

Warnings: aftermath of a car accident, gun violence

also available on ao3 and ff.net

Series: checking vital signs, part one (this fic), part two, part three (yet to be posted) / six parts

Series Summary: 5 times Buck prioritizes his family’s wellbeing over his own, and the 1 time they help him prioritize himself.

The call comes in just as the sun is going down, orange bleeding across the horizon with the half moon already in the sky. It’s not quite dark yet, but it will be soon, and Athena switches her blinker on and makes the turn almost before she even thinks to do so.

It’s not a call she usually responds to. Dispatch reported a four car pile-up, minimal injuries, and the only thing that brings Athena to the site is the knowledge that an accident of that size has the chance of blocking traffic, and she’s just a couple blocks away. With dusk on the rise, someone should make sure that an officer is on site to direct cars and pedestrians, just in case. The siren call of her husband potentially responding to the same call beats in her chest, and Athena lets her mouth twitch into a smile at the thought.

She rounds another corner and the accident comes into view, a sedan and some fancy looking car crushed into the back of a truck that’s T-boning a minivan. All four cars huddle around the corner of an intersection, and it isn’t hard to guess that the truck driver had run into the minivan while making the turn. Two of her officers are already on scene, one waving traffic around the accident while the other talks with a middle-aged white man dressed in what looks like a newly pressed suit. He’s doubtlessly the owner of the fancy car, and Athena can already feel a headache coming on, but she parks her cruiser nonetheless.

“Sergeant,” her officer says as she approaches, the relief obvious in his voice.

“Parkins,” she returns, and eyes Newly Pressed Suit. “Are you having any trouble processing the accident?”

“No, ma’am,” Parkins says, but his eyes flicker to the obvious problem anyway. “I was just discussing with Mr. Taylor here about how he can’t actually press charges since it’s a civil suit and not a criminal one.”

“I see,” Athena says, crossing her arms. She levels a stern look at “Mr. Taylor” and can’t help the rush of satisfaction when his back automatically straightens. “Let me know if you need anything, then.”

She turns at Parkins’s nod just as a firetruck and ambulance pull up to the scene, a large 118 emblazoned on the truck.

Within seconds Hen and Chimney are at the minivan, Eddie the civilian’s truck, and Buck nearing the sedan.

In the end, it comes down to mere happenstance—Mr. Taylor arguing with Parkins at the back of the collision, all the other drivers and passengers still in their vehicles, Buck catching Athena’s attention while he’s at the back of the sedan instead of the front. A hand sticking through the sedan’s taillight.

Athena’s hand goes to her gun on instinct, even as she looks from the taillight to the driver’s side of the sedan. The driver is stepping out, and his voice reaches her ears even though she’s several yards away.

“If there’s no problem, can I go? I’m not worried about insurance or anything, and I’m fine.”

She’s yards away. The fact runs through her mind even as she calculates all of the variables, even as her world narrows to this single corner of the intersection. She’s yards away and somehow she can still pinpoint the moment when they make eye contact, the moment when he realizes she knows.

She’s yards away when he pulls his gun.

“LAPD, put the gun down!” she barks. Her own gun is out in seconds, and she can see Parkins turning in her peripheral vision, hand already flying to his own weapon. Her other officer turns as well, traffic halting around them, and the 118 freeze where they are. Mr. Taylor and the sedan driver are the only ones out of their cars, and Bobby is still at the firetruck, closer to Parkins and Mr. Taylor than to his own team.

The driver points his gun at Athena, then Buck, then Athena again, and finally stops it on Buck.

“Buck,” Athena says, and he slowly turns to look at her, eyes wide. “I need you to step away from the sedan.”

The gun jerks in the driver’s hand. “He can stay where he is.”

“Athena,” Buck says.

“Okay,” she replies, because the driver’s hand and gun are shaking now, and she knows a scared shooter is far more dangerous than a steady one. “It’s fine, Buck. Stay where you are. Sir, what’s your name?”

She directs the question at the driver, her voice raised ever so slightly so she can make sure he hears her.

“Like I would tell you,” he says. “I need you to let me go.”

“Alright,” Athena says, and nods. “We can try to reach an agreement. But first, can you tell me who’s in your trunk? Do they need medical assistance?”

The driver shakes his head, either not paying attention to or completely ignoring her last questions. “You need to let me go.”

“Sir,” Athena tries again. “If you keep threatening Firefighter Buckley, then we will be forced to take action. Do you understand that? We will do our best to reach an agreement with you, but first you need to put the gun down and tell us who’s in your trunk.”

“I understand,” the driver says, nodding slowly, and Athena watches with a mix of trepidation and relief as he lowers the gun. “I understand perfectly.”

In the next moment, Athena only gets a glimpse of the gun coming back up, pointed right at her, before Bobby yells her name and suddenly she’s not staring down the barrel of a gun anymore.

She’s staring at Buck’s back.

“No!” she screams, but the gunshot is already echoing in her ears when Laurey, the officer who’d been directing traffic, shoves the sedan driver to the ground and disarms him in the same motion. Buck lies in a collapsed heap next to them.

“Athena?” Bobby says from behind her, and his hand clenches around her shoulder.

“I’m okay,” she answers, but her gut churns and she has to clear her throat to stop from showing more emotion than she wants to. She’s still on duty. She can cry later.

Bobby nods, but as soon as he gets verbal confirmation from her, his attention switches to the scene by the sedan.

“Hen and Chim, with Buck,” he yells. Just as he’s about to join his team, though, he comes to an abrupt stop and turns back to her. “You said there was someone in the trunk.”

Athena nods.

Bobby nods back, then closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, face pointed to the sky, before he releases it and looks back at Buck. Hen, Chimney, and Eddie are all with him already, Hen and Chimney spouting medical jargon even as they try to stop the bleeding and Eddie smooths Buck’s hair back. There’s a pool of blood growing on the pavement by Buck’s left side despite their best efforts, and Buck has a fistful of Eddie’s pant-leg in one hand and his fingers digging at the pavement with the other. Even from here, as they watch Chimney move Buck’s hand from the pavement to his own shirt, they can tell he’s in pain, but Athena knows her husband. He’s still as focused on his job as she is, despite his no doubt desperate need to be with Buck.

“Okay,” Bobby says, his voice as hard as it is reluctant. “Eddie, get the jaws of life.”

“Cap,” Eddie protests, barely sparing a glance for them before he turns back to Buck.

“Eddie,” Bobby returns. “There’s a civilian in the trunk of the sedan. Let Hen and Chimney do their jobs and get the jaws, I need you with me.”

Athena doesn’t know what Eddie would have done if Buck held on, but even as she watches his fingers loosen and his lips move, likely pushing Eddie to do as Bobby said.

“Okay,” Eddie says, and before Athena can transfer her attention to the potential kidnapping or homicide victim, Laurey moves in front of her with the cuffed driver, the question obvious on his face as he defers to her higher command.

Athena turns to him, trying to focus. “You’ve read him his rights?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She clears her throat. “Get him in the cruiser. I want him in lock-up ASAP.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Laurey says, and directs the driver away.

Athena looks at them, then at the sedan, and then back at them. “And get me an identity!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Laurey calls back.

Athena finally turns back to the 118, but as much as she aches to be with them, to make sure that Buck will be okay, she’s still a sergeant on duty, and she knows that will always come first.

“Dispatch,” she says, holding her radio. “This is Sergeant Athena Grant with the 118 on the corner of 12th and Carol, requesting immediate assistance. We had shots fired, a firefighter down, the pile-up was never taken care of, and I’m losing my only two officers on the scene—” Even as she says it, she waves Parkins to join his partner; Mr. Taylor had retreated to his fancy car as soon as the situation cleared.

“10-4, Sergeant Grant,” the dispatcher responds. “Is the scene still active?”

“Negative,” Athena says. “But we have a potential kidnapping or homicide victim.”

“10-4, Sergeant Grant, assistance is on its way.”

Athena clicks the radio off and turns back to the 118. Hen and Chimney had gotten Buck onto a backboard at some point, and Buck’s hands white-knuckle the grips on that instead of his teammates’ clothes.

“Cap,” Hen calls, “we’re ready to transfer him to the hospital.”

“Good,” Bobby calls back. “Keep me updated.”

“Will do,” Hen says, and Athena turns back to Bobby and Eddie before she gets distracted.

“How’s it coming?” she asks.

Bobby glances at her. “As fast as we can push it. We got the Rolls-Royce to back up, give us some room, but the whole trunk is crumpled in on itself so we can’t just open it like normal, we have to get in with the jaws of life. And we’re a bit distracted.”

He spares another look to the ambulance, where Chimney is closing the back doors, and Athena squeezes his shoulder.

“He’s in good hands,” she says.

Bobby nods. “I know.”

“Almost there, Cap,” Eddie says then, and that’s when another firetruck, ambulance, and two squad cars pull up.

-

A full two hours pass before Athena can join the 118 at the hospital with Buck. Before that, she oversees the recovery and treatment of the kidnapped victim, as well as the treatment of the car crash victims, and then returns to her precinct to write up the paperwork that came with all that happened. The whole process takes her well into overtime, but she finally steps into the hospital and automatically spots the group of 118 firefighters and paramedics, as well as Maddie, Christopher, and Carla. They’re all grouped in the corner of the waiting room, talking in low voices, sleeping, or flipping aimlessly through the hospital magazines.

“Still no news?” she asks anxiously, easily making the transition from sergeant to friend despite the fact that she hadn’t bothered to stop and change into street clothes.

Bobby takes her hand and guides her into an open seat next to his, then kisses her cheek. “Not yet,” he murmurs, and squeezes her hand. “But sometimes no news is good news, right?”

Athena nods and does her best to breathe. “May and Harry?”

“Michael has them,” Bobby answers. “It’s a school night and he said he didn’t mind the change of schedule.”

Athena nods again, breathes. “Good. I wouldn’t want to worry them unnecessarily.” She turns to face Bobby fully, unable to ignore the churning in her gut that’s started up again. “Do we know if it would be unnecessary yet?”

Bobby shakes his head. “Not yet,” he admits, his voice hoarser than it was before.

“Oh,” Athena says. It feels like there’s a pit in her stomach, and it only worsens as the minutes pass. “Let me just—”

She motions vaguely, not knowing if she really knows what she needs to do, but Bobby nods like he understands, and she supposes he does. He was here a whole hour before her, after all.

Athena stands, rubs her hands on her slacks, and finally sets eyes on Maddie. She’s huddled in against Chimney even with the arms of their chairs in the way, and it doesn’t take a detective to guess that she’s been crying. The other seat next to her is taken, but Athena doesn’t hesitate to kneel in front of her instead and place a hand on her knee.

“Maddie,” she says, and smiles wanly when the eldest Buckley sibling meets her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I should have—”

“No,” Maddie says, and sniffles as she sits up and takes Athena’s hand in hers. “Don’t apologize. Buck made his choice, and as angry as I am at him for being dangerously reckless again, I would never want you to be in his position right now.”

Athena nods for what seems like the thousandth time since the whole mess began, her entire body feeling heavier than normal. She hasn’t relaxed since she spotted the kidnapping victim’s hand.

She squeezes Maddie’s hand, gives her her best smile, and stands. “I’ll be with Bobby, but just let me know if you need anything, okay? You, too, Chimney.”

Maddie squeezes her hand back, a smile tugging at her own lips. “You, too, ‘Thena. And hey—” Maddie grips her hand harder. Smiles some more. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Athena nods and lets out a breath. “Thanks.”

She lets go of Maddie’s hand, walks back to Bobby, and sits in the chair he’d left open for her.

And they wait.

-

It feels almost like forever that they sit in the waiting room, long enough for Athena to pull out her phone, text her kids, text Michael, thank Laurey for letting her know that they’d finally gotten the identity of the driver. She can’t measure time in seconds, minutes, or even hours anymore—at some point it becomes the number of times a doctor comes through the door with news about someone other than Buck, the number of coffee cups slowly collecting on the tables, the number of times she feels like crying and clutches Bobby’s hand instead. The number of times Bobby clutches at hers.

When yet another doctor finally comes through the doors of the waiting room, Athena doesn’t even bother looking up until she hears “family of Evan Buckley?”

She’s standing in the next moment with no recollection of having done so, but she doesn’t bother with the gap in time and instead lets Bobby pull her into the small group of people still left waiting for news. Her, Bobby, Chimney and Maddie, Hen, Carla, Eddie and Christopher. It’s eight people, but compared to the larger number of 118 firefighters and paramedics earlier, their group practically seems tiny.

The doctor eyes them all, obviously skeptical, but finally clears her throat and smiles at them. “He’s going to be fine.”

-

The doctor and nurses are only letting two visitors in at a time, and Athena waits in a hallway chair with her leg bouncing as Maddie and Bobby, then Eddie and Christopher, all go in to see Buck. Maddie comes out with fresh tear tracks on her cheeks, but also a smile, and Bobby returns with the tension gone from his shoulders and a soft grin on his face that Athena doubts he even knows is there. Eddie and Christopher also come out smiling, and Athena goes to wave Hen and Chimney inside only to find them hanging back.

“Go on, ‘Thena,” Hen says.

“Oh, no, I—” Athena protests, but the two just shake their heads.

“We know you want to,” Chimney says, and that’s that.

Athena goes in alone, peaking inside to see Buck laying back with the top half of the bed propped up and at least four different machines surrounding him.

“Hey, Athena,” he says, smiling at her.

“Hey, Buckaroo,” she returns, and closes the door behind her. One of the machines whirs. Another beeps. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m really sorry,” Buck says suddenly, and Athena finds herself nodding sharply.

“You should be; you scared the crap out of us. Again.”

“Right,” Buck says, “exactly.” He picks at his sheets, his mouth twisting and eyes downcast.

Athena sighs and settles herself on the bed by his hip, careful of his side.

“Buck,” she says, and then waits, but his eyes are still looking everywhere but her. “Look at me.”

He raises his head, eyes searching, until finally his gaze settles on her shoulder and she figures that’ll have to be enough.

She coughs. “Thank you.”

“What?” This time his eyes meet hers, and she makes sure to smile at him.

“Thank you. What you did was brave, and you may have saved my life.” She fixes him with the sternest look she can muster. “Just don’t do anything like that again. Bobby’s supposed to be teaching you how to be brave and smart, not brave and stupid.”

Finally, Buck grins. “Yes, ma’am.”

He throws her a mock salute, and Athena scoffs, but she can’t help but smirk back and draw him in for a hug. When they finally pull away from each other, they both pretend she’s not wiping at her eyes.

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

“You can’t really believe that stuff?” said Ye Jin, Hyo Jin and In Jin Moon

January 7, 2011

My father was a Christian minister. I was brought up in a Christian home, actually in a Christian seminary campus. At the age of 21, God called me into the Unification ministry and eventually by the grace of God, He led me out of the UC. The important thing to understand here is, once I had passed through Jesus and Sun Myung Moon all that was left was myself with God.

In the late 70’s I was an East Garden security guard. These were the ‘Day of Hope’ years within the Unification Movement. In 1979, I was called into the main house living room to meet with SMM and Hak Ja Han. They wanted me to escort their three children to England for the summer. They asked me to teach their children, Ye Jin, Hyo Jin and In Jin the Divine Principle. At the time, these children were all teenagers. Unfortunately, I was never given a formal opportunity to teach them, due to a particular UC leader who felt more qualified than me, and others unwilling to take my request seriously. So I resorted to teach them in the car. I tried to explain the DP view of God, His parental love and his yearning for His lost children. I tried to explain the origin of sin and how sin has broken the relationship between our Original Parent (God) and humanity. I tried to talk about Jesus, his willingness to give his all for humanity’s salvation. Tried to teach about the history of restoration and the hope God has for each person.

You may notice I tried. I tried, but failed! “Do you really believe in God,” they taunted. “You can’t really believe that stuff?” They laughed and mocked me for believing in God! I defended myself with “yes,” I really do believe this! I was actually shocked that Sun Myung Moon’s own children were so ignorant of God and His love. At the time, I took their taunting as just teenagers’ torments.

We now know of their father’s dark side, Hyo Jin’s plight, In Jin’s troubles and the evil lives of the other Moon children who pursue their parents’ position, power and money. I often wonder to myself, what is to become of God’s family providence? What will happen to all the tears, sacrifice, faith, good will, creativity and love investment that was put into building the beloved community and the global village? ...

from Done with Moon

___________________________________

Sun Myung Moon makes me feel ashamed to be Korean

1. Moon’s first son wrote a letter saying his father was a fraud. 2. Ashamed to be Korean 3. Sun Myung Moon: “Women have twice the sin” 4. “Japanese blood is dirty,” Mrs Gil Ja Sa Eu said 5. Moon’s Divine Principle Theory Applied 6. Sun Myung Moon’s explanation of the Fall of Man is based on his Confucian ideas of lineage, and his belief in shaman sex rituals. 7. The establishment of a worldwide government under Moon 8. Sun Myung Moon in 2012: “There is no Mother” 9. Sun Myung Moon’s words on Hak Ja Han, Justin Kook Jin and Sean Hyung Jin 10. Hak Ja Han married “God” in January 2012. Moon was furious. 11. The Sokcho Incident – the removal of Hyun Jin from the succession 12. In 2018 Hak Ja Han was questioned about the Sokcho Incident

Buying Sun Myung Moon a Shiny New Rolls Royce – MLP

[cesabutterflywrites]

The Duke of the Bay: Part 4

If you want to be put on a taglist for this please let me know!

[Spotify Playlist] [Youtube Playlist]

First Part, Ao3 Link, Next Part

Story Warnings: Guns, threats, alcohol, homosexual slang used pejoratively and positively, internalized homophobia, ask me to add any if need be

Chapter warnings: mildly implied prostitution, ask me to add any if need be

Chapter Word Count: 2042

Summary: Patton O’Hearty was a great detective. Most people didn’t take him for one at first glance, especially when he dressed casual. He was abnormally chipper; he thought everything was the cat’s pajamas. He had a smile for everyone he met. He was always tipping his hat at the dames and gents when he walked the streets of the Bay Area.

The only person he could never catch was the leader of the planted mob in Emeryville, nicknamed The Duke. The Duke was good at hiding his dealings and joints well, and he rarely had a snitch in his ranks. The few who tried, well, somehow they disappeared before they could give the police any substantial information. He was well hidden, but popular among the residents of the town. People talked boldly of his rambunctious parties, never revealing the locations though. He was hard to catch, to say the least.

So what happens, when instead, the detective is the one that’s caught?

-

Mr. Doris was standing outside the small diner, holding a young brunette girl by the elbow. He was obviously struggling to hold her still. There weren’t many people in the street to witness, though a few eyes in the diner were peeking through the blinds in the front windows.

 The lady was a firecracker. She was putting up a fuss for sure. She was spewing profanities that would make a sailor blush. Her brown hair was falling out of it’s pins, and her tan coat was ripped at the shoulder seam. 

 She paused her fighting when she turned and saw the detectives. Her eyes grew large as she recognized the men. 

“Alice!” Logan called. He ran up to Mr. Doris, holding his arm up to sucker punch him in the face. Patton was lucky to pull him back first. 

 “Detective!” he scolded, “Backup up is on it’s way, don’t lose your cool.” 

 Mr. Doris’ grin was sinister. He had straight teeth that made his smile seem dangerous. He was a handsome man, objectively. His narrow eyes were almost hypnotic. They were such a light hazel that in the daylight they were almost golden yellow. His scar gleamed in the sunlight. 

 The detective and Mr. Doris stared at each other, both waiting to see who made the first move. When the sirens of the backup were heard, the man in the bowler hat threw Alice forward and turned tail. Alice cursed as she stumbled.

 Patton pushed her into Logan’s arms, “Get her to the station!” he called as he ran after the sneaky, sinister snake of a man. 

 Mr. Doris was fast. The soft-spoken man clearly had many tricks up his sleeves that Patton would need to catch up to. His body was short and stocky, yet he practically glided through the streets as he was chased. Patton once again was struggling to keep up with a criminal because he underestimated them. He underestimated the entire gang, it seemed. 

 The detective’s heart pounded as he chased the spy through the streets. He barely noticed the pedestrians moving out of his way. He couldn’t let himself get distracted again. His lungs burned, yet he pushed. His legs were aching but the fury he held edged him forward. He shed his jacket behind him, not letting himself get over heated as he ran. 

 Slithery Mr. Doris turned into an alleyway, so Patton followed- only to see a car barreling towards him. He jumped back, watching with disbelief at the vehicle. Without a thought he found himself chasing the black Rolls Royce on his own human legs. It may have been futile, but the detective didn’t care at that moment.

  He looked at the license plate, trying to make out the figures through his own sweat. He stopped running as the car got further and further ahead. 

 He couldn’t run any more. He threw his hat down and cursed. He paced in the road, cursing at himself for once again not being able to keep up with a criminal. This was the third time not being able to catch up. He felt tears well in his eyes but held them back. Crying would do him no good, now.

 A loud horn interrupted his episode. He looked up and saw Logan behind the wheel of their Ford police car. He bit the inside of his cheek, meeting Logan’s glare with his own through the window. He leaned down to pick up his hat, then trudged to the passenger seat. 

 Alice was seething in the back seat, “Either of you gents want to tell me what the hell is going on?” she yelled. Her voice wasn’t scared. If Patton weren’t so upset, he would have been concerned by her lack of fear. 

 “Watch your tongue, we’ll explain it when we get to the station,” Logan ordered through grit teeth. He glanced at Patton, an unspoken question in his eyes. 

 What the hell is going on, indeed?

 Patton scrunched his face in worry. He didn’t understand what was wrong with him, himself. He wasn’t usually so careless. He always had a clear head when on a case. He never had such intense feelings on the job. He was meticulous in his dealings with people. He was steady, he could stay objective no matter how sensitive the matter. He was a good cop. He was good.

 Wasn’t he? 

 He internally cursed himself for letting himself get too attached to the Duke. Not just as a victim of seduction, but as a policeman. He was so antsy to set the head criminal behind bars. To see what the man looked like without the backing of his operation. He was craving the satisfaction in putting an end to the madness before the madness even began. He was so damn anxious to go to the party when he found out Logan got that tip. 

 Anyone would have known the damn note was a trap. Why did he fall for it? Even Logan had warned him. He thought it was just an anonymous do-gooder. He had blind faith in the goodness of people. Patton cursed himself again for being so gullible. 

 He felt bitter, with a million questions forming in his mind. If the trap was so obvious, what caused him to disregard it? Why did he need to be lured in that way in the first place? If it was clear as day, why the hell did their captain approve the mission? Why didn’t the captain even pause when he was told the plan the morning they got the tip? 

 Patton remembered he had smiled in satisfaction. There was a memory of the captain’s blue eyes grinning in triumph that flashed across Patton’s mind. At the time he dismissed it as confidence in the plan, but what if...

 His eyes widened in disbelief at the connection. The captain…

 He looked to Logan, panicked. “We can’t take her to the station, Logan!” 

 “Are you nuts? Why not?” Logan asked incredulously. “You’ve been acting like a loon for a month, Pat. Why should I trust your judgement now?” 

 “Because the captain is in on it! Please,” he softened his voice, “trust me this once.” 

 “I agree with...whoever you really are,” Alice piped up from the back seat. 

 “Patton. Patton O’Hearty,” he introduced, half paying attention to the kid. He was staring at Logan. “Logan, please. She’s a kid. I can’t endanger her.” 

 Alice crossed her arms and huffed. Logan’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. He set his jaw in consideration. It was a moment before he spoke again. He looked at Patton once more, and saw that Patton resembled a puppy begging for scraps at the dinner table. 

 “Alright, alright.” He pulled over to the side of a lake. He turned his torso to look at his passengers. “Where do we go, then?”

----

They walked into a dirty apartment located in the ghettos of Oakland. The place was small. It was cramped with the three people occupying the space. There were still beautiful decorations despite that. Pieces that showed Alice’s determination to not be deterred by her circumstances. 

 Patton’s heart broke for Alice. She was only sixteen. She lived alone, braving the world on her own.

 Alice had drawings covering the wall by her small vanity to the right of the doorway. There were little notes she had stuck to the mirrors, and there were perfume bottles that glittered in the dim lighting. The clutter was beautiful. It told a story of a girl who kept as much beauty in her life as she could. Patton admired the strength Alice had. 

 “Sorry about the mess, usually the visitors I have don’t care.” Alice remarked. Her voice was masking her panic well. Patton had barely caught it. 

 “Don’t worry, Miss. We’ve got bigger things to worry about than the cleanliness of your home.” Logan replied for them. His face betrayed him, though. He and Patton shared a look of concern for Alice’s well being. 

 Alice walked to the stove in the far corner of the room. “Could I interest you two in some tea before we start our discussion?” 

 The two men shook their heads. Logan made his way to sit down on the pillows on the ground. They looked like the type of pillows Indians used for sitting on the ground, Patton thought. Logan looked awkward, as always. Patton walked to the mirrors to read the notes. 

 “Hold on, Alice.” “The future is bright.” “Only a few more years to go.” “I love you - Lola”

 Patton shook his head. He was so enraptured by his curiosity that he jumped when Alice spoke up behind him softly, “I try to keep my head up when things get bad.” 

 “Why is Mr. Doris after you, Alice?” Logan asked. He stared at the two with curiosity. 

 Alice turned to look at him. “I borrowed some money from the Duke. I needed to pay rent. I had lost my job, and I couldn’t lose this place,” her eyes shined. She looked at the wall, but her face told the men that her mind was in another place.

 “I’ve been in between jobs before. Usually I can handle it. I have a backup. I have friends who help me. Well, more like acquaintances. I tried to reach out to them. 

“They’re all married now, or engaged. They didn’t need my trade anymore,” she blinked away tears. “I knew borrowing the money was risky. The Duke has a reputation for a reason, you know?” 

 Patton had tears of his own shining in his brown eyes. Logan seemed sympathetic, as well. Alice was being careful not to admit about her other crime, and they let it slide. The implication was enough. She was a desperate kid in a desperate situation. The detectives discreetly nodded to each other, silently agreeing to help this girl get her life in order. 

 Patton laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. He looked into her eyes. He saw her strength, her passion. She hadn’t let her circumstances kill her will. 

 “Let us help you,” he requested. His voice was gruff with intense emotion. “In return, you can help us catch the Duke.” 

 Alice turned her face to look at the vanity. She looked at the framed picture of Lola and smiled. 

 “Sure,” she agreed enthusiastically. “Let’s put the bastard behind bars.” 

 “If you work with us, you’re going to have to watch your language,” Logan chastised. His voice was still kind. “Now Patton, what’s this about the captain being in on this?” 

 Patton took his hat off to run his hand through his messy brown hair. He was nervous. Implying the captain being dirty was serious. If he was wrong, he could get suspended for making a false report. That, or worse, get fired. 

 If he was proven wrong, the captain could have that implication follow him for life. The man had a wife. He had a baby on the way. Patton admired the leader, he truly did, but could that admiration be misplaced? He’d been misplacing his trust a lot lately. 

 He took his time to figure out his words. He wasn’t aware that he started pacing. He felt nearly manic. He couldn’t explain why he thought the captain was in on it. In fact, his thoughts were telling him he was being irrational. It was his mind who was telling him how ridiculous he was for questioning his faith in the captain. 

 His gut told him something else entirely. There was something missing. It was a jumbled up puzzle. Which is why he needed to tell Logan. Logan was good at puzzles. He still trusted his partner. He looked at Logan eyeing him warily. Patton was aware of what he looked like to Logan; he was going mad.

 Alice sat at her vanity to brush her hair. It had become untamed in the chaos of the afternoon. She still looked at the nervous detective through her mirror, also curious about the theory Patton had. She kept her mouth shut, though, aiming to fix up her appearance with the chaotic mess of beautiful, cheap makeup. 

 Patton sucked in a deep breath, and began to tell Logan everything he had so far.

-

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[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: You Didn’t Get to Heaven But, You Made it Close

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

-Warnings: Language, Fighting, possible typos, hospital scenes

-Words: 4.6K

Chapter 4: You Didn’t Get to Heaven But, You Made it Close

Words: 4.6K

The night was a typical one at the Holland household. Earlier that night, Rosie helped you cook dinner, spaghetti and meatballs, a Holland family dinner favorite. Dinner was quiet, Tom had been ignoring Parker for multiple reasons, mainly the ultimatum but also he was still angered by the recklessness of his son the other night.

Only the sound of slight flickering of the chandelier candles, could be heard. It was a deafening silence that consumed them. No one wanting to speak up and risk and argument forming. Dinner ended quicker than it began and everyone excused themselves.

Tom and you sat by the fire in the living room while their kids closed themselves off for the night. Not giving another thought to their kids. Little did they know, Parker had a date that night. And after dinner ceased, planned his escape.

“Tommy, I think it’s about time we turn in,” you said.

“Y/N, I don’t know what we’re going to do.” Tom whispered with a somber voice.

“About what baby?”

“Parker. The threat. Everything,” Tom was beyond stressed at the moment.

“Shh, we’ll figure it out. We always do,” you said rubbing the back of Tom’s head and Tom nodded in response

“Now come on, why don’t I put your mind at ease,” you whispered seductively.

“Are you talking about some good lovin’?” Tom inquired moving his eyebrows up and down.

“You’re such a dork. I was, we’ll see now.”

“Aww don’t be like that, you’re such a tease.” “Oh you love it,” you said. “Yes, I do,” Tom shouted following you up the stairs.

“I think I’m going to take a shower, care to join me?” You exclaimed cheekily.

“Love, you don’t have ask me twice” Tom said. How could you be anymore perfect? The day ended even more perfectly.

After they showered, you both changed into wannabe pajamas, for you, a tank top and some shorts and Tom wore a pair of boxers. They were all set to watch a little TV and hop under the covers when tiredness overcame them, falling asleep in each others arms. Absolutely content with everything in your life, everyone in the family was safe, nothing had come of the note yet.

“I love you, darling,” Tom whispered pressing his lips to your hairline.

You were already fast asleep. How did he get, you, this amazing woman to fall in love with him? The night soon fell into pitch darkness, however Tom’s phone ringing, startling him out of his deep sleep.

“Hello?” Tom answered it with a groggy voice.

“Is this Mr. Holland, father of Parker Holland?” A woman on the other line spoke.

“Yes, this is. Who the fuck is this?” Tom said rather rudely just being woken up.

“Sir, I’m calling from Kingston Memorial Hospital. Your son has been involved in an accident.”

“Fuck, I’m on my way.” Tom muttered as he hung up

“Angel wake up, something is wrong with Parker,” Tom whispered, shaking you awake.

“Tommy, what? What’s wrong?” You muttered as you stirred awake.

“Just get dressed.” Tom said.

Driving like a madman and disregarding all traffic signals, they all eventually arrived at the hospital. Not giving anything else a second thought.

They all piled into the Rolls Royce. Tom drove, for the first time in a long time, always having someone drive him. You sat in the passenger seat, clutching Tom’s hand and hoping to god your baby boy was okay.

You hadn’t even bothered to wear proper clothes, you wore mix-matched shoes, shorts, a tank top and an overcoat to stay warm. Rosie was like her mother, only wearing a hoodie and pajama bottoms. Tom on the other hand was more put together, wearing a regular t-shirt and pants along with the same pair of shoes, unlike, you, his wife.

Barging through the sliding doors, Tom made his presence known.

“Parker Holland, where is he?” Tom screamed as he marched up to the receptionist.

“I’m sorry sir, hold on a moment,” the nurse clad in light blue scrubs said.

“NO! Fuck this. Parker Holland, tell me where the fuck he is before I blow your brains out.” Tom shouted and flashed his pistol.

“Alright Sir, just please put the gun away,” the nurse pleaded.

“He is in room 202,” she concluded.

“Thank you, come on Tommy,” you replied, pulling your husband away.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion, the moment you saw your baby boy lying unconscious in a hospital bed.

“I’m sorry, are you family?” asked the doctor as everyone funneled in the room.

“Yes, we are his parents,” Tom concluded

“I’m his sister,” Rosie spoke up, trying not to be forgotten.

“Good. Parker has a mild concussion, a few broken ribs, and he came in with a ruptured spleen which was taken care of during surgery. The anesthesia should be wearing off any moment now,” the doctor explained.

“Parker? Baby? It’s mommy. Please wake up,” you whispered to your son while petting his head, trying not cry at his busted lip and swollen eye.

“Mr. Holland? Sorry to disturb you but, the police would like to talk with you” a nurse informed Tom. Tom nodded with a blank expression, not letting his eyes stray away from his son.

“Follow me, sir,” the nurse concluded as she led him out of the room.

“Mom, is Parker going to be okay?” Rosie inquired. “I hope so” you responded with a hoarse voice from crying. Rosie wrapped her arms around you, comforting you,

You were so used to you being the one waking up in a hospital bed. At first, dating Tom and eventually marrying him, put a huge target on your back. Never experiencing the crippling fear of losing the one you love most.

Meanwhile, Tom was conversing with the cops who were on the scene. “Sir, your son was a victim to an assault that happened earlier at The Luxe, a nightclub downtown,” explained one of the cops. They stood tall, attempting to act macho but failing. The notorious mobster scared them. The stories, alone, spread on the street was enough to make a grown man soil his pants.

One of them was a man around age 45, looked like he had a pension and drove a hybrid car. Old but tried too hard to be young again. The other was a woman, rather young, possibly new to force. Both of them oblivious to man they were questioning. Unaware of Tom’s business and status. “What? I don’t understand.” Tom was puzzled, he knew his son snuck out, but to a nightclub, why? “It seemed like the moment it was made known that he was a Holland, they let him in,” interjected one of the officers. “Alright, anything else? If you don’t mind I would like to get back to my family.” Tom concluded, bothered by their pestering. “Your son wasn’t alone?” “What?” “There was another body found at the scene. A female about 16 years old, her ID labeled her as Charlotte Owens. She was shot in the abdomen and found dead at the scene,” the officer informed Tom. “Did your son know this woman?” asked the first officer, holding up her driver’s license. “Nope. Never heard of her. I’m sorry to hear about her, wrong place wrong time I guess.” Tom couldn’t tell them the truth, he only needed to protect his family right now and if that meant blatantly lying to the authorities it was worth it. “Your son really had no connection to Ms. Owens?” asked the second policeman.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Mr. Holland, when we found your son he was covered in blood, not his own.” “What… are you accusing my son of murder? I’ll have you know I can have both your jobs in an instant,” Tom yelled, astounded at such an accusation.

“Sir, are you threatening us?” said the cops growing defensive. “No. Just making you aware of the situation. Tell Captain Reid I, Tom Holland, says ‘I’ll call him tomorrow, if you guys can’t do your jobs and leave me and my family alone”” Tom knew what he was doing. You don’t get to be the most powerful man in London by not having the police Captain in your pocket.

“We’re sorry sir, it won’t happen again,” the cops said, realizing they might have just made a very powerful enemy.

“I should hope so, if you have anymore questions here’s my business card and I suggest you don’t bother me again,” Tom concluded.

“Yes, sir. Have good rest of your night,” they said but Tom ignored them as he made a call.

“Tom? Do you know what time it is?” Harrison answered after a few rings, probably consumed by deep sleep.

“Haz I’m at the hospital.” Tom spoke with a somber voice.

“What? What happened?” Haz said all panicky. “Parker snuck out and got beaten up. A hit had to be on him. He was with his girlfriend. She didn’t make it.” “Jesus Christ. I’m on my way. Is it Kingston Memorial?” Harrison inquired. “Yes, also bring Henry I have a feeling Parker is going to need some moral support.” “Alright, be there soon mate.”

Parker was coming out of his deep sleep. His body begged for it, desperately needing to heal. He took quite a beating.

“Woah, woah. Where am I?” Parker asked, confused by his surroundings.

“Honey you’re at the hospital, don’t move you’ll hurt yourself.” You exclaimed. Parker soon realized everything that had transpired that night.

“They killed her,” Parker whispered as his eyes went cold. Every moment flashing before his eyes. One minute she was dancing, full of life and the next lying his arms dead.

“What? Who, honey?” You asked just relieved that your son was awake. “Charlotte.” Tom said walking in as you burst into tears at the vocalization of Charlotte’s name.

“What? Parker you need to tell me what happened. I thought you were in your room,” you pestered, only concerned about her son’s well being.

“I snuck out and my girlfriend got killed. What more is there to tell?” Parker said raising his voice and showing off his beloved Tom’s temper.

“I’m sorry. Charlotte just wanted me to be there to celebrate her birthday. I’m so sorry. If it weren’t for me she would still be alive,” Parker explained, tears slipping from his eyes.

“Shh baby, you can explain later. Just get some rest,” you concluded and Parker nodded in response.

“Mom, I’m gonna get some air,” Rosie said, wanting to be sick at the thought of Charlotte’s demise. She walked aimlessly around the hospital, making her way outside by the ambulance entrance.

Her breathing rapidly increased, she was hyperventilating. “Oh my god, oh my god,” she whispered to herself.

Collapsing against the wall, she sunk to the ground and brought her knees to her chest. Parker being the older sibling, knew more of the family business and tried to shield Rosie as much as possible. Not wanting to see her dad littered with blood after a hard day’s work.

“Rosie?” Henry asked with concern, seeing her sitting on the ground with tears streaming down her face.

“Hey, hey, hey. I got you. You’re okay. I got you.” Henry whispered bringing her into his embrace.

“Henry. I’m so glad you’re here.” She said, not letting go.

“Roo, you gotta tell me what happened? My dad wouldn’t say anything.”

“Parker got hurt when he snuck into a nightclub with Charlotte and she—“ Rosie bawled, her voice cracking and not finishing the sentence.

“It’s gonna be okay. Parker is okay right?” Henry asked and Rosie nodded in response. “Charlotte though, she…” Rosie having trouble finding the words. She knew the words but, the moment she said them they became 10 times more real. “Come on, Rosie, spit it out.” Henry said, trying not to alarm her. “She’s dead. She’s dead and I was awful to her.” Rosie stammered. “Oh my god. How?” Henry gasped, trying to wrap his head around the news. “She was shot. I know it’s not my fault but I can’t shake the feeling that I had something to do with it.” “Rosie you can’t think like that. It was an accident,” Henry whispered, comforting the trembling girl beside him. “Hey come here, I got you Roo. You’re safe with me.” Henry whispered pressing a kiss to Rosie’s forehead. She was actually starting to grow fond of the nickname, only when it was Henry who said it.

“I know this is a bad time, but I have to tell you something,” Henry whispered, trying to find the guts to tell this amazingly perfect girl the truth. “Yeah,” Rosie responded, eager for his response. “Rosie, I…” Henry tried to say but was soon interrupted with Rosie’s lips on hers. The kiss was soft yet full of passionate. Their lips melded together like two puzzle pieces. Both their eyes fluttered shut as euphoria consumed them, finally breaking away to breathe.

“I like you a lot, I have for awhile,” Rosie said, shying away from his face.

“Rosie, I really like you too,” he whispered, bringing his hand to caress her cheek.

“Really?” Rosie asked dumbfounded. “Yeah, what’s not to love,” he said and brought her into another chaste kiss. This time lingering longer as his lips brushed against hers. This was everything they both desired.

In the Parker’s hospital room, Tom and Harrison were conversing. Stuff was happening right under Tom’s nose at the estate and he was fed up with it.

“Who do you think it could be?” Haz asked, trying to get to the bottom of this before it blows up. “God knows who, I have countless enemies. Barnes, Roberts, most likely Carson,” Tom said, trying not to alarm, you, his sleeping wife or son. “Alright, I’ll inform the others to be on high alert,” Haz concluded. “We will have a meeting first thing tomorrow morning, I want everyone there.” “Yes, sir.”

“Enough Haz, you don’t need to be formal” Tom chuckled. “I know it just makes you laugh sometimes and you need that right now,” Harrison said, being the comic relief in times of crisis.

“Dad?” Parker whispered, coming out of his deep sleep.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Tom exclaimed. “It’s fine. Can I ask you something” Parker inquired.

“Mmmhm,” Tom acknowledged. “How’d you deal with all those times almost losing mum?” Parker inquired.

“I won’t lie to you, I was a wreck” Tom explained. Seeing his son like this, brought Tom back to the time you were kidnapped and tortured. You two had only been going out for a year at the time and it was a huge turning point in your relationship.

At the time, Tom was in the middle of a turf war with James Graham, another mobster who predated Tom. You and Tom had just moved into together. Everything was smooth sailing up until that point. It was the night of your anniversary, going to the restaurant you went on your first date. You were dressed in a red, Tom’s favorite color not much of a surprise there, satin dress which hugged your figure perfectly. You had made your way to “Casa Nostra,” the little Italian restaurant that was very dear to your heart.

You sat down at your usual table with your usual drink, a gin and tonic, and fell in love with the ambience. Once in a while glancing at your watch, Tom was late. It was puzzling because Tom was everything and of those things was punctual. Tom was currently, stuck at the “office,” swamped with paper work.

“Vincent can you call Y/N? Tell her I’m sorry for being late and I’ll be there in 30 mins,” Tom asked one of his men. “Yes of course boss,” Vincent concluded as the phone suddenly rang.

“Oh, what’d you know, its her right here,” “Thanks Vincent, I got it from here,” Tom said grabbing the phone and dismissing him out of his office.

“I’m so sorry love. I’ll be there in 30 mins tops. Order what every you want to start with, may a suggest a bottle of Dom Pérignon. I promise I’ll be there. I love you,” Tom exclaimed hoping you would understand.

Who was he kidding of course you would understand. You were always so kind and considerate of everyone else’s feelings, he knew you wouldn’t be mad.

“Oh, no worries. I’m fine, just enjoying a few drinks. See you when you get here. I love you too. Remember don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you replied.

Drinking gin and tonic one after the another to pass the time, you had gotten up to make a phone call. 10 mins had past since you entered the establishment and your driver had dropped you off and stayed in the parked car. You made your way to the bathroom. Coming out of the stall having finished and washed your hands. In the reflection of the mirror, stood a tall figure one who looked like he could break your neck with one snap.

A gasp exited your lips as the assailant lunged toward you. Launching towards the bathroom walls, banging you head against the wall and the tile once your body hit the floor. All you heard were muffled screams you assumed belonged to the other patrons of the restaurants. Followed by several gunshots before you fell into complete and utter darkness.

You woke up to mind-numbing pain and throbbing pain to your head, your wrists fasten to a metal chair and wet, thick liquid dripping down the side of your face.

“Glad to see you are awake. Could I get you anything, water maybe?” Graham inquired tauntingly. “Fuck you, Graham. What the fuck am I doing here?” You yelled as you tried to escape your restraints.

James Graham had been a rival of the Hollands for decades. Always craving more power than there was to go around. The Holland’s enjoyed their freedom at the top of the food chain.

They were and are the most dangerous predator out there. When one of the less powerful predators gets a taste for blood, they won’t stop til they have decimated the rest of the population.

“Wow, who knew such a pretty girl like you would have such a mouth on her,” he quipped.

“Tom’s gonna come for me and when he does he will show no mercy,” you said, your voice tainted with hope.

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” he chuckled. “Why me? Why didn’t you just go after him yourself?” “I suggest you shut your fucking trap before I put a bullet through your skull,” He barked, slapping you straight across the face. Leaving a small imprint of his hand. Right before, he yanked your hair back, entangling all your strands in his fingers. All the pain caused tears to fall.

“I guess that seemed to shut you up. Better hope, your man hurries or he is going have to carry your decaying body out of this hell hole,” Graham taunted. “Why are you doing this?” you asked. “Your corpse would make Tom shatter. To get to him, I have kill you. You are his weakness. It will be the end of him, the end of Tom Holland,” he spoke with a tight grip on your jaw, leaving tiny bruises.

“Well, better get started cause one way or another you’ll be dead by sunrise.” He said, delivering a swift punch to your stomach. One after the other.

“I’ve had my fun. Boys, do you want to get a few licks in?” “It would be my pleasure, boss,” his men snickered as they made their way over to you. Alternating who punched and when. “Have your fun, but no guns. Tom needs to see the pain she felt. I’ll be upstairs.” Graham explained while leaving you alone with his men.

Meanwhile, Tom was finally free of work and on his way to enjoy a lovely night with you. A year spent together was really testament. He already felt so guilty for ditching you for 30 mins, he had some ideas of how he would make it up to you.

He arrived to a massacre at the restaurant. Not a single soul was found alive anywhere, they had all been shot. Searching for you, along with the other casualties, you were nowhere to be found.

Only explanation, you were taken by Graham. The lack of gravitas when it came to killing led to one person, James Graham. You were the only thing on his mind right now and Graham was behind it all. He quickly pulled his phone out and dialed the last person he wanted to see tonight.

“Oh Tom, what do I owe this pleasure?” Graham said cheekily. “Where the fuck is she, Graham?” Tom barked, not fucking around. “Sorry Tommy, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. Who?”

“Graham, I swear to fucking god if you hurt a hair on her head there will be hell to pay,” Tom gritted his teeth.

“It’s a little late for that.” Graham stated. “TOM!” You screamed in the background. “Let me talk to her,” Tom pleaded. “Alright, I’m not a monster. Hope she has some good last words for you now.” “It’s for you,” Graham said, holding the phone to your ear. “Y/N? Are you okay? Where are you?” Tom said with concern. He blamed himself for you being in this position. Sure, you had come from a mob family but, nothing like this happened. It was because of him. He was in love you, which made you his biggest weakness.

“I’m fine, don’t listen to him, I’m sorry we didn’t get our second date,” you said, trying to put Tom’s mind at ease. “You mean anniversary date. Oh… Baby, I’m going to find you. Trust me” “I do, I love—“ the conversation soon ended when Graham pulled the phone away and pummeled into your cheekbone, causing red to seep out. Only winces from pain and quiet sobs were heard on the other line.

“Aww, did you say your fucking marriage vows or shit? Too bad you’ll never see her in a wedding dress,” Graham snickered. “Graham, I’m coming for you and for your sake, I suggest you fucking run like the pussy you are,” Tom threatened as he hung up. He knew where you were thank to you subtle hint and he desperately needed backup. How could he go in there guns blazing when it’s just him.

“Haz, Y/N has been taken. Gather all the men I know where she is,” Tom said into the phone. “What? Where is she?” Haz inquired “She’s at the marina, our second date.”

Tom drove to where your second date was, the marina. He needed to know you were okay, the phone call didn’t give him much to go on. Haz and the other men soon arrived all in black SUVs.

“She’s in there. On my count. 1, 2, 3!” Haz said, instructing the soldiers. Tom let Haz take the lead on this one so he could focus on you.

Busting through the doors, guns went off a split second later. Flooring most of Graham’s men. Tom and Haz found you looking half dead strapped to a chair in the middle of the room.

“Love we have to get you out of here” Tom said, trying to run up to you until he was stopped by sound of a gun cocking against your head. Tears slipped as your came face to head with the barrel of a gun.

“Come any closer and she’s dead. Now drop the gun,” Graham shouted.

“Do you think I’m playing around. DROP IT!!!” Tom slowly put his gun on the ground, trying to stall enough for Harrison to be behind him.

“Duck!” Tom yelled, hitting the deck as Haz fired 3 shots. Striking Graham right between the eyes, and the chest twice. A thud soon followed and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Tom rushed over to you, cutting off your restraints.

“Y/N. Oh darling, I’m so sorry,” Tom cried.

“It’s ok, you got me now, that’s all that matters,” you said growing more weak in his arms “We gotta get you to a hospital come on,” he said, wrapping his arm around you shoulder as he walked.

This was the first time Tom had brought you to the hospital. Who knew it would be the first of many instances. He hated hospitals, all the sickness that lingered in the air.

You had been in surgery for an hour, the doctors were in the process of fixing your internal bleeding. All those punches, ruptured one of your kidneys. Now you were resting in your hospital bed with Tom attached to your side, refusing to let go of your hand.

Tom had been a wreck, sure it was only two hours but the most dreadful two hours of his life. He knew you would be okay, but all he wanted to do was hold you in his arms.

“Hi Tommy,” you whispered, beginning to wake. “God you scared the fucking hell out of me, please don’t ever scare me like that again. I need to know you are okay,” Tom exclaimed. “I’m okay, I promise.” “Yes and you will be from now on…. Tomorrow Jared, my driver, will help you gather your stuff from the house. I’ll have someone else take care of the furniture. Do you have a place to stay?” Tom explained.

“What? Why are you doing this?” you said, confusingly.

“I love you Y/N, this is the only way I can guarantee your safety.” “Tom, don’t push me away.”

“None of this would’ve happened if it wasn’t for me. You wouldn’t be lying here half fucking dead. You should just forget about me,” Tom pleaded. “Hey, look at me. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not,” you said, standing your ground. “Y/N, I’m damaged goods. This your chance, go live the your life without getting blood on your hands.”

“Tom, I think you forget that I already have blood on my hands. There is nothing you can say or do that would ever make me leave you.”

Tom knew in the moment, you were his and one day he might regret your words. Thank god you stuck around or he wouldn’t have the family he has today. You and Tom even still make it a priority to spend your anniversary at Casa Nostra.

Parker needed reassurance, just like Tom did when he asked you to leave him, after your kidnapping. Tom never wanted himself to be the reason for your demise. He could never forgive himself.

“Dad, I just don’t know how to move on from this. It hurts so bad,” Parker pleaded.

“She’s dead because of me. All I want to do is hold her. She didn’t deserve any of this,” Parker cried. “I know, it wasn’t your fault though,” Tom reassured.

“How is it not? The men specifically asked for me, I’m the reason she is dead!” Parker exclaimed.

“How do I make the pain go away?” he said, desperate for a quick remedy. “It will eventually, you just need time,” Tom explained to his devastated son. “No, what I need is revenge,” Parker said forcing a shocked expression upon Tom’s face.

“I’ll do it, dad” Parker concluded with a new found confidence.

“Do what, P?” Tom inquired.

“I’ll be the next you, be the next Holland that strikes fear.”

“I’m in, teach me to be the best fucking mobster this world has every seen.” These were the words Tom was wishing his son would’ve said a week ago, but there’s no time like the present. “It would be my pleasure. I always knew you had it in you,” Tom said rather excitedly.

“This is the only way I can avenge Charlotte. They won’t know what hit them.” Something in Parker changed. A switch had flipped in his brain. The innocent boy was now a shell of person, demanding revenge. He was out for blood.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Series Masterlist

Author note: Feel free to be asked to be added to the taglist if you want :)

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort

[the-type-a]

Can you post your Duncney playlist since I don’t have Spotify? Please!

Of course! (I might have to do it in two parts so make sure to check the RBs!)

3:00am - Finding Hope

5 O’Clock - T-Pain, Lily Allen, Wiz Khalifa

7 Things - Miley Cyrus

About You Now - Miranda Cosgrove

Alive - One Direction

All I Ever Wanted - Basshunter

All I Do is Dream of You - Emilie Claire Barlow

All That Matters - Justin Bieber

Almost is Never Enough - Ariana Grande

A.M. - One Direction

Amnesia - 5 Seconds of Summer

Anaconda - Nicki Minaj

Animal - Neon Trees

Animals - Maroon 5

Apologize - OneRepublic

As Long As You Love Me - Justin Bieber

A Thousand Years - Christiana Perri

A Whole New World - Mena Massoud, Naomi Scott - Aladdin

Baby Boy - Beyoncé, Sean Paul

Backseat - New Boyz

Back to Sleep Remix - Chris Brown, Usher, Zayn

Back to You - Louis Tomlinson, Bebe Rexha

Bad Boy - Cascada

Bad Decisions- Ariana Grande

Bad Liar - Selena Gomez

Beauty And A Beat - Justin Bieber, Nicki Minaj

Beauty and the Beast - Ariana Grande, John Legend (also Disney Version)

Bedrock - Young Money, Lloyd

Bedroom Floor - Liam Payne

Behind These Hazel Eyes - Kelly Clarkson

Best I Ever Had - Drake

Better in Time - Leona Lewis

Better Than Revenge - Taylor Swift

Better Than Words - One Direction

Bound 2 - Kanye West

Bow Chicka Wow Wow - Mike Posner, Lil Wayne

Boyfriend - Ariana Grande, Social House

Boyfriend - Justin Bieber

Break Your Heart - Taio Cruz

Can I Have This Dance - High School Musical 3

Can’t Stand It - NeverShoutNever

Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol

Check Yes, Juliet - We the Kings

Close - Nick Jonas

Closer - Ne-Yo

Closer - The Chainsmokers

Cold - Maroon 5

Come Back to Me - Vanessa Hudgens

Come & Get it - Selena Gomez

Complicated - Avril Lavigne

Confident - Justin Bieber

Contagious - Avril Lavigne

Controlla - Drake

Corazon Sin Cara - Prince Royce

Crazy - Prince Royce

Crazy in Love - Beyoncé, Jay Z

Criminal - Britney Spears

Crush - David Archuleta

Dangerous - Prince Royce, Kid Ink

Dangerous Woman - Ariana Grande

Dear John - Taylor Swift

Dear Maria, Count Me In - All Time Low

Despacito Remix - Luis Fonsi, Daddy Yankee, Justin Bieber

Dile al Amor - Aventura

Dirty Little Secret - The All-American Rejects

DJ Got Us Fallin’ In Love - Usher

Does He Know? - One Direction

Doin’ Dirt - Maroon 5

Don’t Forget - Demi Lovato

Don’t Stop - 5 Seconds of Summer

Don’t Stop the Music - Rihanna

Down - Jay Sean, Lil Wayne

Drunk In Love - Beyoncé, Jay Z

Dusk Till Dawn - Zayn, Sia

Earned It - The Weekend

El Amor - Tito “El Bambino”

El Amor Que Perdimos - Prince Royce

El Malo - Aventura

Eres Mia - Romeo Santos

E.T - Katy Perry, Kanye West

Everytime We Touch - Cascada

Fallin’ For You - Colbie Caillat

Familiar - Liam Payne

Feelings - Maroon 5

Fifteen - Taylor Swift

First Time - Liam Payne

Flicker - Niall Horan

fOoL fOr YoU - Zayn

Fool’s Gold - One Direction

For The Nights I Can’t Remember - Hedley

Friends - Justin Bieber, BloodPop

FU - Miley Cyrus, French Montana

Genie In a Bottle - Christina Aguilera

Get Back - Demi Lovato

Gimme More - Britney Spears

Girls & Boys - Good Charlotte

Girls Like You - Maroon 5, Cardi B

Give It Up To Me - Sean Paul

Give Me Everything - Pitbull, Ne-Yo, Afrojack, Nayer

Gives You Hell - The All-American Rejects

Good Girl Gone Bad - Rihanna

Good Girls - 5 Seconds of Summer

Good Girls Go Bad - Cobra Starship, Leighton Meester

Gotta Go My Own Way - High School Musical 2

Half a Heart - One Direction

Handcuffs - Prince Royce

Hands to Myself - Selena Gomez

Hate That I Love You - Rihanna, Ne-Yo

Heartbreak Girl - 5 Seconds of Summer

Heartless - Kanye West

Hearts Don’t Break Around Here - Ed Sheeran

Here We Go Again - Demi Lovato

Hero - Enrique Iglesias

Hips Don’t Lie - Shakira, Wyclef Jean

History - One Direction

Hold It Against Me - Britney Spears

Home With You - Liam Payne

Hot Mess - Cobra Starship

Hot N Cold - Katy Perry

I Don’t Wanna Live Forever - Zayn, Taylor Swift

I Fall Apart - Post Malone

If I Can’t Have You - Shawn Mendes

I.F.L.Y - Bazzi

I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace

I Knew You Were Trouble - Taylor Swift

I Know You Want Me - Pitbull

I Like It - Enrique Iglesias

I’ll Take You There - Sean Paul

I Love You 5 - NeverShoutNever

I’m a Slave 4 U - Britney Spears

I’m Yours - Jason Mraz

In My Feelings - Drake

In My Head - Jason Derulo

Into You - Ariana Grande

Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls

Irreplaceable - Beyoncé

I See the Light - Mandy Moore, Zachary Levi

I Think We're Alone Now - Tiffany

I Wanna Love You - Akon, Snoop Dogg

I Won’t Give Up - Jason Mraz

I Won’t Say (I’m in Love) - Hercules

Jealous - Nick Jonas

Juego Prohibidos - Nicky Jam

Jungle - Drake

Just Like You - Louis Tomlinson

Just the Girl - The Click Five

Keep Holding On - Avril Lavigne

Kill My Mind - Louis Tomlinson

Kiss Me - Ed Sheeran

Kiss Me Kiss Me - 5 Seconds of Summer

Kiss Me Thru the Phone - Soulja Boy, Sammie

Kiss the Girl - Samuel E. Wright - The Little Mermaid

Kiwi - Harry Styles

La Bella Y La Bestia - Romeo Santos

Last Kiss - Taylor Swift

Let Me - Zayn

Let Me Love You - DJ Snake, Justin Bieber

Let Me Love You - Mario

Lights Up - Harry Styles

Like I’m Gonna Lose You - Meghan Trainor, John Legend

LIKE I WOULD - Zayn

Listen To Your Heart - DHT, Edmee

Little of Your Time - Maroon 5

Little Things - One Direction

Love While We’re Young - One Direction

Llevame Contigo - Romeo Santos

Love Me Harder - Ariana Grande, The Weekend

Love More - Chris Brown, Nicki Minaj

Love On the Brain - Rihanna

Love On Top - Beyoncé

Love Song - Sara Bareilles

Love Story - Taylor Swift

Love The Way You Lie - Eminem, Rihanna

Love You Goodbye - One Direction

Love You Like A Love Song - Selena Gomez

Lucky Strike - Maroon 5

Mad - Ne-Yo

Makes Me Wonder - Maroon 5

make up - Ariana Grande

Mercy - Shawn Mendes

Midnight Memories - One Direction

Mine - Taylor Swift

Mine - Beyoncé, Drake

Misery - Maroon 5

Miss Independent - Ne-Yo

Miss You - Louis Tomlinson

Moments - One Direction

Mr. Brightside - The Killers

My Boo - Usher, Alicia Keys

My Favorite Part - Mac Miller & Ariana Grande

My Happy Ending - Avril Lavigne

Nice To Meet Ya - Niall Horan

Needed Me - Rihanna

Need You Now - Glee Cast

Neighbors Know My Name - Trey Songz

New Rules - Dua Lipa

Next To You - Chris Brown, Justin Bieber

Night Changes - One Direction

No Air - Chris Brown, Jordin Sparks

No Control - One Direction

No One - Alicia Keys

Odio - Romeo Santos, Drake

OMG - Usher, will.i.am

Once in a Lifetime - One Direction

One Dance - Drake, Wizkid, Kyla

One More Night - Maroon 5

One Thing - One Direction

One Thing Right - Marshmello, Kane Brown

Only Angel - Harry Styles

Only Girl - Rihanna

On The Loose - Niall Horan

Ordinary People - John Legend

Paralyzer - Finger Eleven

Partition - Beyoncé

Payphone - Maroon 5

Perfect - One Direction

Perfect - Ed Sheeran

Photograph - Ed Sheeran

Picture to Burn - Taylor Swift

PILLOWTALK - Zayn

Pills N Potions - Nicki Minaj

Please Don’t Go - Mike Posner

Polaroid - Liam Payne, Jonas Blue, Lennon Stella

Pop Princess - The Click Five

Potential Breakup Song - Aly & AJ

Princesita - Aventura

Promiscuous - Nelly Furtado, Timbaland

Promise - Romeo Santos, Usher

Propuesta Indecente - Romeo Santos

Red - Taylor Swift

Reply - Iyaz

Right Here, Right Now - High School Musical 3

Right Now - Akon

Rocket - Beyoncé

Rock Me - One Direction

Rock Your Body - Justin Timberlake

Rolling in the Deep - Adele

Rude - MAGIC!

Rude Boy - Rihanna

Same Old Love - Selena Gomez

Say OK - Vanessa Hugdens

Senorita - Shawn Mendes, Camila Cabello

Set Fire to the Rain - Adele

Shake It - Metro Station

Shape of You - Ed Sheeran

She Looks So Perfect - 5 Seconds of Summer

She’s Kinda Hot - 5 Seconds of Summer

[sadoeuphemist]

A Catalogue and Comparison of Common Elements Found in Three Different Boys’ Detective Stories:

Being,

Alfred Hitchcock and The Three Investigators in: The Mystery of the Stuttering Parrot, by Robert Arthur Harvey’s Wacky Parrot Adventure, by Eth Clifford Private Eyes: Adventures with the Saturday Gang, by Lee Kingman

(spoilers for all to follow)

1. The Mystery-Solving Gang:

Stuttering Parrot: Bob Andrews, Pete Crenshaw, and Jupiter Jones

Harvey’s Parrot: Harvey Willson and his cousin Nora

Private Eyes: Teddy Tibbets, Fizzy, Normie, Pokey, and Clud

2. Ages:

SP: Deliberately left ambiguous, but not old enough to drive

HP: Both eleven years old (Harvey to be twelve in three months)

PE: Twelve, thereabouts

3. Expensive Vehicle Improbably Available to Transport Children:

SP: The use of a gold-plated, vintage Rolls Royce, complete with the services of a chauffeur ferrying them wherever they want for the next thirty days, a contest prize won by Jupiter Jones

HP: None

PE: A Turnabout sailboat ominously christened The END, gifted to Teddy the year before by Mr. Sherburne as a reward for recovering his chess set

4. Smug Rival / Potential Ally:

SP: Skinny Norris

HP: Harvey and Nora, to each other

PE: Randy Russell

5. Talking Parrot that, if Prompted Correctly, Will Utter a Clue Pointing Towards a Hidden Treasure:

SP: Not one, but six different parrots, each named after a literary character, plus a mynah bird to round them all out

HP: Sinbad, an African gray, former pet of Captain Corbin and left with Uncle Buck due to seasickness

PE: Despite the story taking place in Clam Cove, and having a ship called the Jolly Pirate, and a character called Pirate McGob (legally having changed his name), no parrots, talking or otherwise, appear in this story

6. An International Art Smuggling Ring:

SP: Yes

HP: No

PE: Yes

7. Secret Passageways:

SP: Four different passageways hidden amidst the junk of the Jones Salvage Yard, leading to their Headquarters

HP: Various hidden passages and underground tunnels throughout Uncle Buck’s historical home, the house having served as a station on the Underground Railroad. Notably, a secret doorway in the back of the wardrobe in Captain Corbin’s room

PE: No hidden passages, but their clubhouse consists of a chicken coop with a doorway too narrow to squeeze through for anyone much larger than a child

8. Grown Adult Threatening a Child with a Gun, Which After the Situation is Resolved is Revealed to have been Fake:

SP: Mr. Claudius brandishing a “large, old-fashioned pistol” revealed to be a novelty cigar lighter

HP: Mr. Singh herding the children around using a water gun (“Naturally,” he told her. “Real guns are dangerous.”)

PE: Jackson attempting to kidnap Teddy using a “shiny, tin, water pistol”  kept largely concealed in his coat pocket

9. Foreign Accents & Ethnic Stereotypes:

SP: Multiple. The English accents of Mr. Claudius, and Worthington the chauffeur, and all of the parrots. Art thief Huganay’s slight French accent. The “liquid Mexican accent” of Carlos Sanchez (“The au-to, it is where? May I see it?”). Hans’ and Konrad’s husky Bavarian ‘Hokay’s. 

HP: The “Indian singsong” of Ranvir Singh, and the “lilting speech” of Paddy O’Gowan

PE: Though the painter Heironomous Brinker is identified as a Dutchman, and his syntax is somewhat odd, accents are never noted in the story

10. Historical Engravings:

SP:

          Here  Lie                13 Nameless  Travelers       Struck  Down                by           Indians    June  17,  1876

HP:

Free at last    Aaron 1859

PE: Though a bronze marker exists designating part of Clam Cove as a Public Landing, the marker was at some point pried loose from its stone, and the engraving was never recovered over the course of the story

11. The Treasure:

SP: A painting of a shepherdess tending to a lamb, by “one of the great masters of painting.” Estimated to be “not worth less than one hundred thousand dollars”.

HP: Various jewels, namely “a large diamond, a huge blood-red ruby, a black pearl, a luminous opal, a blight blue sapphire, and a brilliant green emerald”. Said to be worth enough to retire rich

PE: Nine lost paintings of David Pringle, done between the period of 1850-1855 and featuring a hesitant shift towards lyric realism. Appraised to be worth approx. $45,000 all together

12. Meals Enjoyed Over the Course of the Investigation: 

SP: “[B]aked cup custard with a nice brown crust on top”

HP: Pancakes, “drowned in maple syrup”. Peanut butter sandwiches, one with jelly, one with banana

PE: Lobster. Four peanut-butter sandwiches (in one sitting). A three egg omelette. Fresh hot pancakes drenched with butter and some jam. Cookies and tea with crushed ice. Two more eggs, scrambled. Potato chips. A tall glass of iced ginger ale. Cream cheese and crackers. Hamburgers and hotdogs roasted over hot ashes, with buttered rolls. Ketchup and mustard and pickles and relish. Baked beans. Coke. Boiled hotdogs, wrapped in buttered pancakes. Hot tea. A big beef stew.

13. Occasionally Antagonistic Older Sister:

SP: None (among all three boys)

HP: Georgeann

PE: Jean

14. Loyal Canine Companion:

SP: None, but one of the secret entrances is marked by a painting of a dog named Rover (”Red Gate Rover”)

HP: Butch, “big and fat and real old”. The same age as Harvey. Lazy and cowardly. Spends most of the story begging for food and napping

PE: Hans, a beloved mongrel owned by Mr. Brinker. Adopted by Teddy when Mr. Brinker was assaulted and hospitalized, getting around his mother’s refusal to let him have a dog

15. False Identities & Aliases:

SP: Retired actor Malcolm Fentriss, revealed to have actually been desperate art dealer Claude Claudius impersonating the man

HP: Ranvir Singh, revealed to have been Paddy O’Gowan in disguise

PE: Local fisherman, Windy, revealed to be Benjamin Jackson AKA El Greco, registered as having bought the shore rights to Clam Cove from the Clam Cove Pier Company

16. Eccentric Mastermind who Assembled the Treasure Hunt:

SP: Otherwise unemployable puzzle-maker and art purchaser John Silver (pseudonym)

HP: Jack Corbin, captain of the Seven Seas, Uncle Buck’s best friend and possible life partner. Presumed lost at sea

PE: None. Pringle’s declining self-confidence during this period led him to develop a smaller, almost unnoticeable signature, leaving behind his paintings as payment for rent without record of their sale

17. Villain Making His Departure, Having Graciously Accepted Defeat:

SP: Yes (”’You outmaneuvered me,’ said Mr. Huganay. ‘Few people have done that. If you boys ever come to Europe, look me up. I will show you the French underworld and perhaps you may have a chance to try your wits on some mystery there. No hard feelings on my part, if there are none on yours. Agreed?’“)

HP: Yes (”Meanwhile, Patty O’Gowan scooped up his turban, placed it firmly on his head, walked to the front door, gave us all a brilliant smile, and was gone.”)

PE: No 

18.  Reaping the Windfall - Returning Home:

SP: Mr. Claudius, having retrieved his painting, paid Carlos and his uncle Ramos the promised one thousand dollar reward. Ramos Sanchez used the money to return to his native village in Mexico to recuperate from his illness, while Carlos got a job washing cars at the Rent-’n-Ride Auto Rental Agency. He is studying to be a mechanic in his free time.

HP: Captain Corbin dedicated his savings towards the restoration and preservation of Uncle Buck’s home as a historical landmark. Aside from maintaining it together, he and Buck plan to extend their home to other retired sailors, constructing a neighboring building to provide their fellow ex-seamen a safe harbor on land.

PE: From the proceeds of the sale of the Pringles, Mr. Brinker returned to his native village in Holland and his two sisters. As it was too hard to take a dog along, he left Hans behind with Teddy. All ends well.

[toomanyfeelings5]

the definitive ranking of pulp! the classics covers and summaries, from worst to best

(Note: Pride and Prejudice was not included in this list, as there were only poster and greeting card options for the work, and not an actual book or summary. Had a book and summary been provided, it would have ranked lowest for unoriginality. It’s literally just 1995 Colin Firth staring moodily at you. The caption is “Lock Up Your Daughters...Darcy’s in Town!” which is just unfortunate, frankly, and honestly laughable.) 

16. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte 

You take a novel that’s positively overflowing with drama and give it THIS cover? THIS summary? Absolutely uninspired. 

Here’s looking at you Cathy...

Childhood sweethearts turned star-crossed lovers, fuelled by bitter jealousy and dark revenge. She’s pretty and posh, he’s a moody brooding bastard. Heartbreak, alcoholism and plenty of illegitimate kids – it’s a perfect Northern drama.

Where is the feeling? The screaming violins playing as we read? The moors? The time skips? A hint of the positively bonkers plot that only a Bronte could compose?

15. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde 

 Oh, the heterosexuality of it all. On an Oscar Wilde novel, no less. 

Hey girl...I’d sell my soul for you!” 

Dorian Gray might be as pretty as a picture, but he's paid a devilishly high price for it. He'll stay drop-dead gorgeous, but there's something nasty festering in the attic...

Pretty as a picture and still lusting after ladies? Please. Pulp! Classics, you can do better. 

14. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald 

Again, we must speak the ancient chant: Oh, the heterosexuality of it all. 

When it came to loving...He knew which Daisy to pick! 

Sorry old sport, but Gatsby has a bigger house than you, prettier friends than you and a Rolls Royce to cart them all round in. To a backdrop of popping champagne corks and orchestral jazz, our hero bids to buyout his old adversary, perennial jock, Tom Buchanan and reclaim Daisy, his favourite bit of High Society totty.

Nick Carraway gets not one mention, which is odd given that he’s the narrator, the protagonist, and Gatsby’s most ardent love interest. Also strange is the cover’s insistence that Jordan Baker, known lesbian, would swoon over Gatsby. Doubly strange is how tiny the women are in comparison to Gatsby’s massive frame. What is, again, bamboozling, is how the slogan on the cover seems to imply that Gatsby knows how to pick a woman. He doesn’t know how to choose anyone, let alone love them. All Gatsby truly knows is the desperate pursuit of a fruitless dream. 

13. Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare 

Romeo looks like he could be Juliet’s father. Juliet looks like an Upper East Side Widow, not at all like the tween girl she really is.

Too wild to live...too young to die!

Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou…. Oh wait, he’s hanging around in the garden again. Will young Romeo and his Juliet ever be able to express their raging hormones? Or will their feuding families make this romance blossom into a poisoned flower? Either way, both their houses are totally plagued!

“Wherefore” means “why,” not “where,” though I do have to award points to the summary for placing the blame squarely on the feud and not on these doomed young lovers. Though again, young isn’t the operative word I’d use to describe this version of Romeo and Juliet. 

12. Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe 

This is what one would expect upon seeing a pulp cover of a classic novel. Not much originality or flair is present, but at least some sense of the story is conveyed. 

Solitude was driving him nuts!

Cannibals! Captives! Coconuts!

One man’s love of the sea leaves him stranded on a desert island with nothing but a few goats, a bible and a parrot for company.

Will he ever escape? Will his new pal Friday learn to efficiently press a goatskin jerkin? Or will solitude send him totally barmy?

WILL Friday learn to efficiently press a goatskin jerkin? One must read to find out, I suppose...

11. Tess of the D'urbervilles 

Marilyn Monroe?????

She’s...no angel.

The original Wessex girl!

Tess is just a humble milkmaid when the local landowner has his wicked way. Her new beau, the smarmy Angel Clare, is none too pleased when he finds out she’s already been deflowered. What is a girl to do? Bloody revenge of course, and an ending to touch the hardest of hearts.

At least the summary blames the terrible men in Tess’s life rather than Tess herself, unlike the tagline on the cover. And while Marilyn Monroe seductively lounging about with a drink doesn’t recall the faintest essence of Hardy’s novel, one would like to imagine Tess relaxing in whatever clothes she pleased, a straw dangling out of her drink, a smile on her face as she answers to no one and spends her quiet evening in solitude. 

10. Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome

An innocuous cover; the men’s faces hint at the comedic nature of this novel, and yet...something nags the brain upon looking at this.

To say nothing of the dog...

Incompetence, embarrassment and general disaster - no it’s not PMQs, it’s a trip down the Thames! Three hapless fellows and a world weary dog decide they need a holiday from their exhausting hypochondria. Hilarious mayhem ensues.

To say nothing of the dog indeed: Why does the dog on the cover have a human face?

9. The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka 

All one can say upon viewing this cover is: Jeff Goldblum, is that you?

Change really BUGGED him! 

Poor old Gregor. One day he's depressed about his dreary travelling salesman gig, the next, he's roaching around the apartment and disgusting his family. All that's left is creeping the walls and eating garbage. How's his sis ever going to find a sugar daddy with her grotty bro in tow?

Gregor isn’t grotty, he’s our six-legged hero in this tragic tale. 

And yet in the end, the question that haunts us all echoes in our minds in an unceasing echo: is that Jeff Goldblum? 

8.  Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland 

Alice as a hippie is eye-catching, but not particularly creative. 

This cupcake was off her head!

What HAS happened to little Alice? Taking 'shrooms, hanging out with hookah smoking ne'er-do-wells and being dragged to court. That's gonna be one hell of a hangover!

As much as I’m intrigued by Alice wearing heart-shaped sunglasses and a peace sign necklace, the summary and the cover consist of one joke and one joke only. 

7. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde 

I just like how Dr. Jekyll in this cover looks equally as fucked up as Mr. Hyde. 

No more Mr. Nice Guy... There’s a sinister man about London town with something of the night about him. Mr Hyde is mad, bad and has a penchant for bumping off MPs and other kindly innocents. Will his friend Dr Jekyll be able to stop him? Or is there something more to their relationship than meets the eye…? Only the intrepid Utterson can get to the bottom of this mystery, but what will he find in Dr Jekyll’s lab?

Points to this summary for including Mr. Utterson, and for insinuating that Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde may be clandestine lovers. 

6. A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens 

Ladies, gentlemen, and otherwise, don’t we love it when a greedy rich man gets bludgeoned by a mace into being more generous and kindly towards others?

This cat was a drag....’til a midnight wake-up call...

Christmas?! What a load of Humbug. Mistletoe and Wine just don't do it for Scrooge; he's a workaholic miser with an attitude problem. If he doesn't change his ways, he'll end up with no friends and Tiny Tim won't last the year. Let's hope some spooky night-time visitors can put the jingle back in his bells!

Ring-a-ling-a-ling, Mr. Scrooge. The mace is raised and the bells are ringing.

5.  Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad 

The tag-line made me, as the youths say, laugh out loud. 

Whoops! Apocalypse....

The horror! The horror!

Kurtz might be the apple of every brutish imperialist’s eye, but his God complex is getting wildly out of hand in the depths of the jungle. What on earth will Marlow find when he finally gets downriver? Devil worship? Savages? Heads on sticks? Or just another nutty white man with his knickers in a twist?

Surprisingly anti-racist summary made this jump to the higher echelons of this esteemed list, though of course that doesn’t excuse this novel’s abhorrent and embarrassing fake-deep racism. It also must be noted that the tag-line should have been “Whoops! White supremacy!” and the text of the novel should have entirely consisted of Chinua Achebe’s essay on the work. 

4. The Hounds of Baskerville by Arthur Conan Doyle

The cover alone is a winner. A rabid chihuahua out for blood? Inspired. 

Murder...Mystery...Walkies!

A desolate moor, a diabolical dog in need of a muzzle and some inbred locals; Sherlock Holmes is really up against it. With the help of his trusty sidekick Dr. Watson, Holmes pieces together a mystery that has captured the imagination of readers across the decades. All whilst practising a serious coffee and cocaine habit.

The tag-line is fun and catchy, but sadly this summary must be admonished for insisting that Dr. Watson is merely a “trusty sidekick” to Sherlock Holmes. Heterosexuality strikes again, reducing the impact of the striking cover design. 

3. Dubliners by James Joyce 

Finally! Some style, some panache, some flair to accompany these short stories about being sad and horny in Ireland. 

Stuck in the Liffey with you...

Booze, Sex and Hot Floury Potatoes… Those Dubliners are at it again!

Liars, thieves, whores and priests… James Joyce sure knew how to throw a party! This relentlessly downbeat collection explores the very worst aspects of human nature, and doesn’t leave out the juicy bits. It might not be in the best possible taste, but who doesn’t want to get down and dirty in Dublin?

The summary and cover work in tandem to wholeheartedly convince me that Dubliners is an action-packed, slick collection of stories detailing the wild escapades of a motley cast of ragamuffins, and I gotta hand it to the folks over at Pulp! Classics for injecting some bonafide vintage cool into Joyce’s work.

2. Othello by William Shakespeare 

I have so many thoughts on this. Mr. T. as Othello is fascinating, as is the tagline, “Some kind of Bard...aaaaasss.” Is this a commentary on blaxploitation media? One can’t help but recall Mr. T.’s reasoning behind his mohawk, his gold chains, to honor his ancestors and assert his living, unshakable humanity in a racist society. Is this is a genuine effort on the part of Pulp! Classics to imply that a blaxploitation-influenced adaptation of Othello could reveal deeper truths to the play that we have had yet to glimpse? 

Some kind of Bard... aaaasss

He’s a bardass brother with the love of a fine woman. That is until some cloven hoofed honky starts talking crazy about variously hued sheep tupping the hell outta each other! You gotta pity the fool who gets shafted by the green eyed monster. Let’s hope Othello can work out who to trust before it’s too late…

The fast-paced alliterative language of the summary harkens to Shakespeare’s own wit-fueled dialogue and penchant for creative language. The summary also calls Iago a devil, which is apt, and implicitly criticizes his racism, hinting at the play’s greater tragedies to come. The cover and summary also work in tandem to emphasize Othello’s jealousy and destruction: the “green-eyed monster” is mentioned, and the cover itself is a putrid green. An excellent example of what a vintage cover and summary can achieve. 

1. Frankenstein by Mary Shelly 

You all knew this was coming. 

This kid was born on the wrong side of the lab...

Frankenstein’s monster is on the rampage; terrorising the locals, unleashing murderous hell… and reading novels in his spare time. Can his petrified creator stop this reign of horror before his girlfriend gets the chop?

A James Dean-inspired creature, thereby making them a queer icon? Masterful. The creature being “born on the wrong side of the lab?” A stroke of genius; that they’re called a kid puts the poignancy of the monster’s plight into even greater relief, while simultaneously emphasizing their tragic charm. The clear distinction between Frankenstein and the creature? Reader, I exhaled in a cathartic release of tension. The loving detail that the creature reads novels in their spare time, like any other leather-jacket wearing, motorcycle-riding ruffian with a heart of gold? Beautiful. 

Truly, the obvious queer energy of this cover and summary highlights an overlooked dimension of Shelly’s great work while also paying homage to what draws us to this Modern Prometheus time after time. Do we care about the petrified creator in this summary? Not at all. He’s not on the cover, appearing both rebellious and gentle. We are here for the creature, in their leather jacket, on their motorcycle, novel sticking out of a back pocket on their jeans, ready to whisk us away to a place where even monsters like us can find solace, and be at peace, and commune with each other. We need only take their outstretched hand, and be willing to leave the mundane world for something better, for the chance to no longer be alone.