#not giving the bakers enough time or enough information

[theoptimisticdaydreamer]

Now that the season is over and everyone is released from the constraints of the bake off tent, things need to be discussed.

The final highlighted an epidemic within bake off that has honestly been growing ever since it moved out of the BBC.

Which is that bakers are never given enough time to complete the tasks set for each challenge. 

Challenges get ridiculous and more difficult year after year as if they are trying to one-up the year before (which is not what bake off is about). 

The judges have become very subjective in their judgments. It is very biased and not at all fair and cohesive.

The hosting has felt very stagnant and the hosts (mainly Matt Lucas) fail to deliver on their entire purpose which is to uplift the spirits of the bakers. The hosts help set the entire tone of the show for the bakers themselves apart from when their bakes are being judged by Paul and Prue. Their “comedy” and their dialogue has really fallen flat and so instead of being lighthearted, they contribute to making the atmosphere even more stressed and tense. 

This is not a professional baking competition. This is not Masterchef 2.0. This should be a celebration of home bakers. And its veering further and further from that core purpose.

Everything essential to home baking which is flavor and flavor only is being overshadowed by all of these other criteria. They are being judged on creating dishes that they have never made before and will never replicate in a million years at home. 

What value is this serving?

You are not teaching them any valuable skills to take home and use with their families - simple things they can make in a short period of time that will taste delicious.

Instructions for the technical never include essential information and the judges just expect them to know all of these niche details- completely forgetting that they are all AMATEUR BAKERS who bake at HOME and who have busy lives. 

Baking is their hobby, it is a love language, it is not their career.

It is increasingly evident that Bake Off is setting up their contestants to fail and purposefully creating situations that bring out the bakers’ stress and anxiety.

I don’t watch bake off to see people fall apart over cake. I find no enjoyment in watching them struggle.

Bake Off has remained special to me because of the atmosphere between the bakers. The baker community.

I love it for the fact that the bakers are never competing against each other truly and help each other out at any given moment. The warm cozy vibes. 

That spirit is not found in any other baking show. Period. It is unique and so precious.

But that spirit is being overshadowed by the rotten framework of this new Bake Off.

There needs to be a fundamental restructuring of Bake Off before it loses everything that makes it special.

[sfznyxio]

❝ 𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃! ❞

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’re a new employee at saboten bakery. your regulars are quite interesting, a bunch of delinquent high school boys who fight with good intentions. this time, they didn’t come just for the bread; they came in hopes to impress the cute newbie at the counter.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. sakura haruka, suo hayato, nirei akihiko, umemiya hajime, togame jo

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. gn!reader. canon-compliant. fluff. 1.6k wc. inspired by episode 10, and idk if this counts as a minor spoiler but it's a specific moment about anpan in togame's section. slight possessiveness (suo). nicknames (adorable baker, cutie - suo; my trusty bodyguard - nirei; my little bread roll - togame). reader was dismissed for being creative at their old town (umemiya).

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐀. reached 100+ followers! binged this series and now i’m obsessed. suo is a little shit but he’s my little shit. the title has been rotting in my mind after learning that dr. ratio’s en va bakes bread so what a perfect opportunity lol. just curious, is anyone planning to play zenless zone zero in a few days?

𝄞༉‧₊˚. SAKURA HARUKA

“don’t just stand there. it looks like you’re gonna shit. in broad daylight too… how embarrassing.” sakura is quick to defend himself, flustered as usual. teasing him has become the norm whenever he visits, seeing that his friends have fun doing so and his face turns red. speaking of which, he wouldn’t go to the bakery unless they drag him along, so you wonder what brings him here today.

“nu… num… forget it! i’m outta here.” as sakura reaches for the exit, you notice his phone on the counter. before giving it back to him, you input your number and send yourself a message. the gossip from suo is true; he’s shy to ask for your contact information. when you return his phone to him, he transforms into a volcano, ready to explode any second. “hey! who the hell gave you permission?”

“there wasn’t a password, so you should set that up for next time. you’re welcome.” sakura loses his entire firepower when you present to him his favorite pastry with a smile, snatching it from your hands while looking away from your face. he really is weak to any sort of open affection. “oh, you’re in luck. this is the last one for now. i’ll text you when we have our next batch ready, so stop by when they’re done!”

although the bi-colored boy swears that he won’t, sakura finds himself at the bakery again with his friends this time. as soon as he receives the text about the new batch, he rushes out of class with everyone following suit. they catch their captain gawking at his phone with flushed cheeks and sweaty hands, glancing at the very person who turned him into this mess just by texting a simple question - enough to destroy his pride all in one go.

“so, when are you gonna ask me out on a date?”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. SUO HAYATO

“jeez, you scared me. when did you get here? you should’ve said so like any normal person would.” it’s ironic for you to say normal, because suo is anything but. so is this town. while pouring a drink for the eyepatch boy, you glance at your window to see gangsters bowing before leaving the premises. it’s obvious that suo is responsible for their behavior, but he just flashes his signature smile as he always does.

“aw, isn’t that nice? they saw the adorable baker with someone already and didn’t want to interrupt.” suo’s mug overflows, and waterfalls spill to the floor. he’s unpredictable, always finding the right time to verbally jab at opponents and friends alike to throw them off balance. whatever’s inside his head is a mystery, as his friends don’t know either. that being said, he saved you, and now you’re hung up on his compliment toward you.

“i taught them a lesson like a good teacher should.” suo sounds satisfied with the refreshing taste of his drink, but the underlying darkness in his eye is hard to ignore. there’s no point in asking him for a translation as he doesn’t plan on telling the truth anyway. but what he says afterwards is as close as it gets. “it’s not nice when people touch what’s not theirs, don’t you agree?”

the same group of gangsters are annoyingly persistent, loitering at the bakery to score chances with you. their attempts at flirting are horrible. suo wishes they’re like him, who’s beside you with an arm around your waist as a warning. he appears grounded, but judging from the reactions of his patrol partners, this isn’t a joking matter. he’ll make this fight one those guys will forever regret. 

“this cutie here isn’t yours, remember?”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. NIREI AKIHIKO

“thanks, you’re a lifesaver. your timing couldn’t be better.” you’re about to be crushed by a tower of boxes until nirei yells from afar to watch out. he’s confused for some reason, but apparently, someone in his class told him that the bakery was trashed by gangsters. the first years know about his crush on you but he chickens out every time, so lying is the best way to go for the blonde boy to confess.

“i’m really glad that nothing bad happened. turns out you’re just sorting out those boxes for the managers.” the possibility of fighting some scary gangsters makes nirei extremely nervous, but his tenacity matters to you the most. it’s all thanks to him that you’re able to finish errands safe and sound. although he may not stand a chance against sketchy strangers on the streets, regardless if reports are factual like today, he’s ready to give his best, which is admirable. not the strongest, but got the spirit.

“the managers want me to run to the grocery store. do you want to keep me company?” nirei eagerly agrees, too eagerly than he himself realizes, but he’ll get to spend time with you. it becomes a source of motivation, already on it to calculate the safest route based on the rumors gathered from this neighborhood. he gives you a thumbs-up, signaling that it’s all clear and he’s all set. “alright then. lead the way, my trusty bodyguard.”

on a patrol day, nirei’s group happens to pass by the bakery and see you stack boxes outside. while the blonde boy goes to your side to help, suo pulls sakura to a spot where they can spy on the two of you. on your way going back inside for another round of boxes, you trip behind nirei but manage to clutch onto his arm to save yourself. sakura blushes profusely and suo nods in approval. nirei welcomes the idea of you hooking your arm around his while walking around town during your break.

“i’ll be counting on you to protect me from now on!”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. UMEMIYA HAJIME

“are you running errands for kotoha? then i won’t bother you. i can just ask later when you’re done.” knowing umemiya, who bears the greatest responsibility for being a leader of bofurin and protecting the town, he doesn’t consider any detours as inconveniences. because his sister cares about everything inside the bag, especially eggs, whatever happens to it will get him in trouble.

“want me to be your test taster? sure, i don’t mind!” your hands begin to tremble as you bring out a tray of your newest invention. your managers are kind in encouraging you to add anything your heart desires on to the menu. in your old hometown, creative opportunities like this don’t come by often. when they do, you get ridiculed. so naturally, you’re nervous to hear what umemiya thinks. he takes a bite, and you then hear sounds of yummy satisfaction.

“it’s really good! you should make it for the others. i’m sure they’ll like it too.” umemiya splits his pastry in half and gives the unbitten portion to you. a huge believer of food tasting better when eating with friends, he wants you to believe that you’ve made something delicious. he’s right; it even melts perfectly in your mouth. “it’s really good, isn’t it? you can let me know which ingredients you used if you ever run out. i can help with baking if you want.”

your creation quickly becomes a hit but on high demand. blame bofurin for trying to hog the supply at least once a day. however, you manage to sneak one into your pocket and eat it in peace. or so you think, when the white-haired leader steals a piece of the pastry with his teeth, near your lips. while the boys go crazy about what he has done, umemiya laughs, bashful for startling you like that. 

“sorry, i think i like it way too much.” 

𝄞༉‧₊˚. TOGAME JO

“oh, you’re alone? i made extras, but i guess more for you then. go wild.” hearing about the amniosities between bofurin and shishitoren through rumors, you’re confused as to why umemiya requests anpan for the guys wearing golden jerseys with embroidered lion logos. that’s how you met togame, along with his energetic friend tomiyama. he devours the anpan like a vacuum, so good thing the extras aren’t for naught.

“do you like festivals? there’s gonna be one soon. wanna come?” there’s much to explore around makochi and any places beyond town, so might as well accept the offer. you have a lot to learn while living here, such as opening a ramune which you still can’t do. lucky for you, togame is here to take care of that. if it weren’t for him and everyone in this town, you don’t think you’ll be able to survive this peaceful life subjected to gang violence on a daily basis this far.

“thanks for the anpan, my little bread roll. see you then.” his farewell is so close to your ear that you had to do a double take. that nickname too, because you flinch when he refers to you as such. you’ve been caught up by his boldness that your managers start freaking out upon their arrival, thinking you might be sick and wanting you to have a check up. togame will be the death of you.

at the venue, you bump into tomiyama and the others from shishitoren. tomiyama stares at you and togame and is about to blurt out something, until togame distracts him by saying he should challenge the others on various tossing games. whatever it may be, it’s the least of your worries. what you’re focusing on is togame holding your hand, and he seems to enjoy it. not that you mind. it’s warm, and he’s happy that you like it.

“can we hold hands like this when we go out again?”

[petermorwood]

Recent article on NPR about the history of artificial light somewhat frustrated me -- they portrayed all of pre-kerosene history as dark and heinously expensive at all times. Thing is, the writers based their findings solely on tallow candles, & ignored oil lamps, beeswax candles, clever use of refraction & outdoor light including moon/starlight... Also seemed to ignore the ubiquity of hearths / cook fires. Was wondering if you'd be willing to talk about non-tallow light? This isn't to ignore that truly, artificial lighting WAS much more difficult & expensive for much of human history, but acting like tallow candles were the ONLY light source seems very silly! (Plus your other lovely post about bottles of water used to make those candles more efficient via refraction & focus)

I'm betting the article you mean is this one - which refers back to this one.

For matching reference, my own posts about period lighting are here, One and Two, including observations about painting walls white, how to light candles and lamps without matches, and several other matters.

*****

It didn't take too much listening before I got tetchy, because the first half of this podcast seems more about mocking how WEIRD and PRIMITIVE old-time people were, than passing on any useful information.

Despite the presence of Jane Brox (author of "Brilliant: The Evolution of Artificial Light") whale oil only gets touched on in passing, and olive oil isn't mentioned at all.

Instead she starts talking about using oily seabirds (stormy petrels) as "candles", despite this scholarly study concluding that it was something talked about far more than done, besides being so very, very localised that its relevance to the history of lighting is very, very small.

But hey, WEIRD and PRIMITIVE, right?

*****

By contrast, making candles was so commonplace that it was another of those jobs which created surnames. Fletcher once put feathers on arrows, Cooper made barrels, Fisher, Miller, Baker and Farmer are obvious, and Chandler used to make candles.

Lampier, of course, made lamps, which helped keep those naked candle-flames away from anywhere they shouldn't touch. The man on the left is making the lantern bodies, the one on the right is shaving sheets of horn as windows.

It's cheaper than glass, less easily broken yet is translucent enough, when shaved properly thin, to give quite adequate light.

*****

The podcast has a digression about measuring the light output of a reproduction Ancient Babylonian lamp. Here's an original and a repro.

Yet that too says nothing about what fuel the lamp is or should be burning - olive oil, traded all over the Mediterranean by ancient olive-growing cultures.

These are Roman oil-lamps, from simple and cheap to elaborate and costly.

As for beeswax, so far as the podcast is concerned might as well not exist, despite being a by-product of honey, which was THE principal pre-sugar sweetener for centuries when not being made into all that mead whose existence, production and quaffing nobody questions.

Oh yeah, and then there was the amazed discovery (2:40 / 1:25, depending on which you're listening to) that melted beef fat "...smells really nasty, like, ANIMAL nasty,"

Why is this guy surprised? It's part of an animal!

*****

It's the same sort of infotainment ignorance as displayed by this TikTok twit, right up to complaining about the effort involved in preparation of anything because not having powered appliances was so labour-intensive, oh woe. Yes, it was, welcome to any historical period before about 1920. That's where "the daily grind" originates.

However the implication (listen, it's there) that cattle were raised just to provide fat for candles is ludicrous. The fat was a by-product, not a main one, and was often a butcher's side-line, while members of the Chandlers' Guild only worked with superior beeswax.

I don't think you could make candles like these with tallow:

...and you definitely couldn't make one meant to be hand-held.

Picture evidence shows, by their clothing, the class of society who bought these, and tallow-greasy fingers would have been a no-no.

A Chandler didn't make individual candles. By the time that fresh batch is hung up, the first batch away down at the end is cool enough to be dipped again.

A chandler's shop in a medieval city would look very similar, and often had a horizontal wheel on which to hang each batch of candles, rotating them up and around to cool, then back to the dipping pot. Non-modern people may not have had modern tech or time-and-motion studies, but they weren't stupid.

*****

By contrast, the podcast's disparaging attitude of WEIRD and PRIMITIVE is emphasised by what seems a deliberate avoidance of anything which counters it (examples of that in my own posts) and finally at 11.24 / 9:50 came this:

"Even when you get all the way to the 1700s (...) most people are still subsistence farmers, living in some kind of hut, trying to grow enough food not to starve to death (...) and light? Light still comes from finding stuff that's lying around and just lighting it on fire."

Some kind of hut...

Stuff that's lying around...

After making such a declaration, I'm surprised - since they'd been implying it for half the podcast - someone didn't just go ahead and announce that "there's some lovely filth down here..."

That's when I stopped listening.

Enough is enough, and I'd had it.

*****

ETA:

cc: @asmuchasidliketo :->

Here's a photo of what purports to be a Petrel (not petrol, that's something else) Candle, held in the Pitt-Rivers Museum, Oxford. It's mentioned in that scholarly article I linked above.

Just as "one swallow doesn't make a summer", so one - and only one - known example of this, which may have been a fake-up to spoof the Southerners, doesn't prove it was a common or even rare practice.

There's another reason to take this with a big pinch of salt, so maybe Jane Brox was on a low-sodium diet when she wrote her book.

Creatures with a layer of fat or blubber for insulation all have it like any other form of insulation, on the outside, where it does some good. A wick passed through the inside couldn't draw on it for fuel since there's a layer of muscle and another of internal organs for the oil to get through first.

The cropped-off bottle just visible to the left is a far more likely way seabirds became lamp fuel: by rendering out their oil. This oil is from the Northern Fulmar, Fulmaris glaciaris (or glacialis, I've seen both. Same bird regardless).

Incidentally, the Wikipedia article on European Storm Petrel mentions a supernatural connection, that the petrels were the souls of drowned sailors, and killing them is unlucky.

Not just killing them but making them into candles sounds like A Bad Idea, and is yet another reason why, IMO, the candle thing may be a folktale, or a deliberate leg-pull, or...

Let's just say "improbable" and leave it there. :-P

[darkmold]

The Hunger Games d!ck analysis post because i have severe brainrot rn

Warnings: d i c k

Finnick “The Peacock” Odair

Finnick’s cock is an average length but it is so PRETTY- it’s tan like the rest of him with a slight tone shift towards the tip and no particular curve. Thick enough to give his partners that little stretch when he first pushes in

He has a neat patch of curly blond pubes above his cock, probably no treasure trail

The skin is silky and very pleasing to run your tongue along. He has a sensitive spot on the underside near the base. Use that information as you will.

I feel like he cums a lot and it tastes good. He seems like the type of guy to eat a lot of fruit

Haymitch “The Alcoholic” Abernathy

Longer than average but a bit on the slim side, his dick is lined with veins and the head gets purple when he’s close to cumming. Has an upwards curve that hits all the good spots

I don’t see him as the shaving type, so he probably has a good amount of hair on his belly and thighs

His depression makes it difficult for him to get in the mood, but when he is, he has good stamina. He’ll make the session worth your while.

He produces a good amount of cum, but it probably doesn’t taste very good cuz of the alcohol. He’s aware of this though, and prefers to finish outside the mouth

Cato “Career Girl” Hadley

A bit shorter than average but makes up for it in other ways. Decently thick though! There is a vein running up the side of his shaft that’s most prominent at the base

Sensitive at the tip and loves getting head, his cock blushes a pretty pink color when he’s hard

Shaves as often as he can manage because the hair is uncomfortable in his training gear back in district 2

He cums suddenly (though not prematurely) and gets embarrassed and a little upset when someone mentions it. Yes, he’s tried to fix it. No, he hasn’t been successful.

Peeta “Baker’s Boy” Mellark

Another smaller than average lad, but anyone who doubts him will quickly learn otherwise.

Values the warmth and connection of sex, it’s like he’s trying to meld himself with his partner and never leave. The heat of his skin quickly takes over the mind of his partners and they’re left in a puddle of orgasmic affection

His cock blushes red when he gets worked up and it’s very fun to stroke (especially when he feels safe enough to make some noise- the whimpers will melt your heart)

He cums a normal amount, but it leaves his mind mushy every time. Eyes unfocused and everything. Something tells me he’d want to finish inside but he’s wary about doing so. Cum tastes sweet and a little salty (almost like if trail mix were a fluid)

[gloryofroses19]

Johnny Boy

“Let’s go, let’s go. Get the lead out boys!” Major John Egan ordered as he clapped his hands together.  

“Excited to see Harding that much, Major?” Ken Lemmings asked rhetorically, parking his jeep. 

“More like a certain lieutenant.” Blakey commented, lighting a cigarette.  “All I heard on the flight back was [y/n] this and [y/n] that. Almost as if we weren’t staring down the face of Nazi fighters.” 

Coming up behind Blakey, Douglass slapped Blakey on the back.  “Don’t be too jealous Blakey, maybe Tatty will forgive you for saying her sister is prettier.” 

“It was a joke!” 

“Jokes are meant to be funny, Ev.” Crosby deadpanned from his place on the ground. 

“Get in the truck, boys! This war ain’t gonna stop because of your romantic problems.” John Egan was not known for being a patient man. And at this moment, his patience was as thin as his fort’s wings, which were currently shot to shit thanks to the Luftwaffe.  

“You know all about romance, right Major?”  

With an eye roll, the Major squared his shoulders ready to yell at his men. However, his irritated expression softened as he watched two figures coming his way.

Noticing the attentive blue eyed gaze across the field, [y/n] smiled as she drew nearer. She had not planned to visit the airfield today. Despite knowing that the 100th Bomb Group would be out flying, she had intended to stay in her office. But when Johnny asked, with a hopeful request and a sweet smile, she knew she couldn’t say no. She seemed to have soft spots for Johns she mused, as a pair of small hands tightened their grip on her right hand. 

“She read me a book and colored with me!” 

Bucky’s eyebrows raised at the British voice informing him of how he was losing the battle for [y/n]’s attention. Six year old Johnny Baker was as formidable as the Germans,  the blonde had met Lieutenant [full name] on his first day moving to base and imprinted on her like any good duckling would. 

“And she said that she’ll watch me play footy!” 

However, Major John Egan was a flyboy and they were not so easily defeated. Crouching down to be eye-level with rival, the major crossed his arms. “Well, she told me I’m clever, funny and..." With a dramatic pause, he continued, "and handsome.” 

Stomping his foot at his competitor, the blonde took on a tone of conceited immaturity. “Well she told me that I give the best hugs!” 

“Well,” John mimicked, “She kissed me.” And with a mischievous glint in his blue eyes, Bucky added in a lyrical voice, “On the lips.” 

With a gasp and whine of her name, the blonde buried his face into [y/n]’s stomach as her hands patted his back comfortingly . 

“Are you really arguing with a child?” She asked sternly, as John stood up. “Again?” She pressed, restraining the grin trying to surface at his easy smile. The times she had found them competing for her affection were becoming too numerous to count. Just last week, she had to kiss him better when he scraped his knee racing Johnny across the blacktop of the airfield.  She was thankful he was kind enough to let her kiss his lips instead of his bloodied knee. 

“No, I’m not arguing with a child.” John watched Johnny stick his tongue out at him, “He’s arguing with me.” With a chuckle, he mirrored the action back at Johnny.  

Alive and as charming and tenacious as ever she reflected, assessing his wellbeing . The weight of the war had become harder to bear on their shared tree branch as more flyboys left and didn’t come back. She hadn’t realized her breath had been stalled in fear of his safety until she felt herself lose it again by his adoring look. 

John ran a hand through his hair, enjoying the evaluating look on her face “So where’s my reason?” 

“Where’s my souvenir?” She responded, meeting his unwavering gaze. It had become their greeting, a promise of a gift that kept them both grounded.

Removing his head from her stomach, Johnny looked up. A pout sprouted on his lips as the adults seemingly ignored him, focusing instead on making what his big cousin Susie called “googly eyes”. With a tug to her hand, Johnny whined. “[nickname]!” 

John watched as [y/n] turned her attention to the baby duck calling her name. The blonde’s hair had become ruffled as feathers from his fight for her attention and John knew like any mama bird she would fix it. However, she wasn’t a duck, she was a different bird. His bird to be exact so the only hair she would be fixing would be his curls. Therefore, before her raised hand could fix the strays, an Army Air Corps Officer cap covered Johnny's head. 

Taking advantage of his enemy’s distraction, John’s hand gripped [y/n]’s face and momentarily brushed his lips against hers. While a moment on the lips, it spoke of tenderness, love and promise for more. 

“Hey!” Removing the cap from his head, Johnny glared at the taller male who seemed wholly unperturbed.  

“What?” The innocence in his smile and tone betrayed the mischief inside. The bashful smile he sent her all but confirmed [y/n]'s suspicions. That he did always love when she ran her hands through his curls. And that he was jealous, even of a child. 

“Interrogation, Egan!” 

Bucky sighed theatrically at the commanding voice behind him. Though the sigh was a sign of acknowledgement, he made no move to leave. If anything it made him more resolute. 

“Jack,” Facing his fellow major, John motioned toward the pair at his side, “The good lieutenant and this fine soldier need a ride back to the HQ.”

Major Jack Kidd could use many adjectives to describe John Egan, however, since becoming Air Exec the most he would offer was 'a royal pain in my ass'. “Now, John!” 

Though Kidd didn’t seem to be moved, John pressed on. “We can’t just leave them, Jack.” 

Biting her lip, [y/n] attempted to maintain a neutral expression. His baritone voice was as pleasant as ever, but the tone of pleading reminded her of times when he pleaded for other things. Some which he had no shame in doing in front of other people, like a dance or smile, and some that were reserved for just the two of them, like a kiss and other intimate notions. 

Turning towards the gentle tug on his sheepskin’s sleeve, John leaned down. 

“Can we ride in the truck?” Johnny whispered poorly, allowing those close enough to hear. 

“If you look sad you can.” John replied conspiratorially, enjoying the giggle it elicited from [y/n] who’s attention had been off him for far too long. 

“Get in the truck, Egan.”  Though Kidd offered John a look of utter lack of amusement, he sighed.  One day he’ll learn to not wipe John’s ass, Jack promised himself.  “You too,” he finished gesturing toward the pair.

Breaking out into a wide smile, John’s hands wrapped around [y/n] and Johnny’s shoulders. Guiding them to the awaiting truck, John pulled himself into the truck bed first. With his attention on Johnny, John offered instructions where to put his feet and hands to safely enter the truck all the while, his hands gently hovering his smaller body to offer assistance if needed. 

Unbeknownst, [y/n]’s expression was soft in a way she only ever let it be around John. War was not the time to think of a future full of little feet and miniature giggles, but John Egan was a man who inspired hope. 

“Need help, Lieutenant?” A deep baritone voice interrupted her thoughts.  Though capable and confident, [y/n] took the calloused hand that was offered to her. Allowing herself to be pulled into the warmth of the sheepskin, she brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth. 

“Think Cros can take him?” He whispered, nodding to the navigator currently being interrogated by the Brit. 

With a laugh, she guided John by the hand to his rightful place next to her on the truck's bench. Bumping her nose against his, she whispered, “You certainly weren’t.” 

John laughed gently and easily as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders before taking her hand in his again. Pulling her as close as they could, he leaned into her ear. Planning to defend himself, the pilot opened his mouth but stopped when a sudden weight dropped on him. 

“Johnny!” 

Ignoring the scolding tone, the blonde pushed his body weight against Bucky and wedged himself between the pair. “You forgot your hat, Major.” Johnny mocked, throwing his hat at the elder. 

“Why you little….”

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy! I appreciate all the positive feedback from my other works!

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 12

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Word Count: 5,700

Tags/Warnings: Violence and peril, angst central, a touch of PTSD, and a surprise ending… 

Part 12: All Your Wicked Ways

Something was wrong. 

It was a gut instinct, but yours was far too often right. 

Ben had been sleeping for a long time. After he’d fallen asleep yesterday, you did shortly after from the combination of fatigue, pain from your broken ribs, and the painkillers in your system. 

But even after your keepers had woken you with a tray of food, Ben still hadn’t woken up.

“Ben?” you tried calling to him, but he didn’t rouse from where he laid in his cot, one arm pillowed behind his head and the other across his stomach.

You got up, your pain making you slow as you made sounds of struggle. 

You went to the large window and supported yourself with your hands on the glass. You called his name again, louder.

His face scrunched a little, but your voice couldn’t penetrate the Novichok haze—the poison being pumped into his cell to dull his senses and keep him too drowsy to function.

You paused as you heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. It turned out to be several, in fact, as a team of Vought security guards came to your cell. 

“What’s going on?” you asked. No one answered you as they grabbed and handcuffed you with your arms in front of you. You struggled, but you didn’t have the strength or energy to give much of a fight. 

They wheeled in what looked like a large metal casket. You had only seen one of these in pictures, but it had to be a cryochamber. 

A doctor in her mid-fifties accompanied them, giving directions on how to safely enter Ben’s cell. Your eyes widened.

“What the hell are you doing?” you shouted. Panic trilled down your spine as the guards fitted themselves with special suits and gas masks. The doctor turned toward you as the guards led you out of your cell and into the hall.

“You’re being transported,” she informed you. 

“Where?”

“To a lab with better security.”

“Why? Where’s my father? I know that bastard’s still alive,” you demanded, but it seemed you weren’t interesting enough for the doctor. 

You spied her last name, Baker, embroidered above the breast pocket her lab coat. You finally recognized Dr. Tonya Baker; you hadn’t worked with her much during your time at Vought, but you knew her by reputation.

Your heart fell into your stomach. 

You struggled against the stern grip of the guard holding you and shouted, “Ben, wake up!”

Between your voice and the commotion outside his door, he started to rouse.

“Get her out of here,” said Dr. Baker. 

Your guards tried to drag you, but you dug your heels in and made it as difficult as possible. Meanwhile, Ben could hear you—when you called his name and now, while you were struggling. He finally drew enough energy and strength to open his eyes and sit up in the cot. 

Once he saw you being manhandled against your will, his fury sparked. 

“Hey!” he barked. He managed to rise off his cot and draw himself to his feet. The first door of his cell slid open for the guards in their hazmat suits. Once that closed, the second one disengaged, and they came pouring in. 

Ben fought them. He managed to punch the first one into the far wall, shaking the fortified glass. He snapped the second man’s neck and broke a leg on the third, but they just kept coming in batches of three or four. The room was misty as hell, slowing Ben’s stamina, and he gritted his teeth in frustration. 

Their strength was in numbers, and gradually, they were able to latch onto his arms, kick behind his knees to bring him down to the ground.

He saw the mask coming towards his face, and the well of panic, hearing your distressed yelling of his name—it gave him the strength to break the chain of men holding him down. 

That’s when he noticed the star bolts zipping outside his cell. 

You were still fighting against the guard’s hold. You ripped back his sleeve and bit into the man’s wrist, eliciting a yell of pain. His grip eased up enough for you to steal his secondary gun on his belt, and despite your cuffed wrists, you shot him in the leg twice to bring him down. 

You raised the gun at your next attacker—Frenchie, who raised up his hands in friendly surrender. 

“Cherie! It’s surprising to see you alive,” he said. You grinned.

“A good surprise?” you asked, and you shot another guard approaching from behind him. 

Frenchie flinched slightly, but after he watched the man fall to the ground, screaming and clutching between his legs, Frenchie’s lips raised in a more genuine smile. 

“Yes, I think so,” he teased. 

You looked past him and watched as Kimiko, M.M., Annie, Hughie, and Butcher took out the rest of the guards. You didn’t see Dr. Baker anywhere; in all likelihood, she’d fled the scene when she saw her opportunity. 

Ben still remained in his cell, and you went to the glass window. He looked all right as he met your gaze, but there were about ten bodies lying around him. His face was firm and assessing. Still, you read the uncertainty behind it.  

You sighed and turned to your team. “Hey, guys. Good to see you.”

Annie went to you first, grasping your shoulders. Her large eyes peered into yours.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Well, more or less,” was your weary reply. Your ribs were throbbing, but you raised your cuffed hands. “Think you can help me with these?”

Annie raised a hand over your cuffs and concentrated her powers into melting them, just enough for Kimiko to strike through them. You slid off the remaining metal pieces and rubbed your stinging wrists. 

“All right, let’s get a fucking move on,” said Butcher.

“Hello to you too,” you replied, raising a brow. 

“Oh, just you wait. You’ve got plenty of fucking explaining to do,” he said, leveling a finger at you. He slid it over to Ben, who watched him right back. 

“Ello, gov.” Butcher smirked. “Look at you, all gift-wrapped for us.”

He turned to M.M., who approached with an especially terrifying-looking gas mask. Your eyes widened. 

“Ready?” Butcher asked him. 

“Ready to knock this motherfucker out and bring him into custody,” M.M. grimly agreed. 

“Wait,” you said, stepping past Annie to get between M.M. and Butcher. 

With your back to the glass, you didn’t see how Ben’s eyes followed you. They hid a thread of uncertainty. He had a feeling you might do this, but he didn’t know what to expect from your team. 

“It doesn’t have to go down like this,” you told them. “He took out Homelander. He could help us bring down Vought. This fucking tower, the whole thing.”

“Is that why you ran at the airport?” M.M. asked. Then he shook his head. “Never mind. We don’t have time to debate this.”

You held out a halting hand. “Look, clearly they're not done making supes if they brought back a new and improved Black Noir. Now they’re selling V24 to the military. They need to be stopped, and with our help, Ben could do it.”

“Oh, it’s Ben now, is it?” Butcher stared at you shrewdly, then at Ben himself. The latter just tilted his head, his mouth quirking with an edge of cockiness. 

Butcher raised a brow. His gaze returned to you, noting the way you stood your ground, but pursed your lips. You were hiding something…a guilty conscience, perhaps. 

“Bloody hell. You two’ve been fucking,” he realized. 

Shocked silence spread through the rest of the team. 

Your embarrassment radiated off your flushing cheeks, and it took everything within you to resist looking back at Ben. You didn’t want to see what kind of expression he wore, but you could guess.

“No,” Annie regarded you with shock. 

“Seriously?” Hughie remarked in a high voice. 

“That’s…well, that’s none of your goddamn business, is it?” you tried to be stern, but your embarrassed shuffling made it lose some of its effect.

Kimiko shared raised brows with Frenchie, who just looked amused. M.M., on the other hand, grimaced with disgust. That actually stung, but you crossed your arms. You didn’t have a good answer for them. Not one you wanted to say in front of Ben, anyway.

“I think we can come to an agreement here,” Ben said at last. 

You turned around, and he gained the attention of the others as well. He briefly met your gaze before he shifted to Butcher. 

“Worked for us once, before you tried to double-cross me,” Ben said. 

“You want to take out Vought.” Butcher glanced at their surroundings, specifically Ben’s cell. He gave a snort of amusement. “I could understand that.”

“Butcher,” M.M. said sharply. 

“We–we should probably get out of here now,” Hughie pointed out. He looked back down the hall nervously. You agreed with him; any moment now, more guards could be coming. 

“Think about it,” said Ben. “The only way you’re getting that mask on me is with a fight. One you’ll probably lose, fucking miserably. We can have the same deal as before, no strings. Until Stan Edgar and Noir are dead.”

It took Butcher all of seconds. 

He turned to Frenchie and said, “Open her up.”

“Butcher, what the fuck!” M.M. argued. 

“What do you fucking want from me, eh? Their special ops security will be all over us soon,” Butcher said. 

But he shared a meaningful look with the other man that you didn’t miss. It sparked your suspicion.

You stepped back as the first door unlocked after Frenchie hacked the commands. Then the gas misting up the cell receded.

There was an immediate reaction from Ben. He blinked in relief as he started to breathe easy. The brain fog making it almost impossible for him to stay alert slowly ebbed. 

He took one step into the hall before it happened—all in a rush, but not unexpected. He blocked M.M.’s punch and tossed him across the hall. 

Someone jumped on his back. He heard you shout, but before he could rip off the hanger on, Kimiko slipped the mask over his face and deployed a heavy dose of nerve gas. It was enough to drop him to his knees as his eyes rolled back into his head. 

Lights out. 

On the way to Supe Affairs, you weren’t happy, but there wasn’t much you could do. 

You were still in your Vought-issued gray pajamas, bare footed as you rode along with your friends in Frenchie’s van. In the very back was the haul of Ben, laid to rest in a chamber keeping him sedated. 

You had to explain to the rest of them that your father, Jonathan, was Stan Edgar’s Chief of Security. You were a cog in Vought’s wheel once upon a time, but joining the S.A. helped you escape. Ben offered you a way to achieve what you couldn’t at the S.A.—taking it all down.

Still, M.M. looked at you like he didn’t even know you. 

“How do you explain fucking him?” he asked.

You shot him a tight frown.

“First of all, none of you know what the hell I went through,” you said. “At first, I was just trying to learn how to read him. How to survive and somehow get back home.”

Emotion clogged in your throat when you thought of seeing your sister again soon, and your mom. You thought of all you had gone through in past two months, and knew that it had changed you…

For better or worse, you didn’t yet know for sure. 

“But for all his arrogance, his chauvinism, his massive ego and general bastardry, there’s still humanity in Ben,” you said, looking up at your team. You thought they had become your friends…but you supposed you would see. 

“Why else would he save me?” you said. 

They didn’t answer. You turned your head to Annie, but even she didn’t look convinced. Though you could see she wanted to be on your side, it was difficult for her to reconcile her own feelings about Soldier Boy. You certainly understood that. 

“He’s too powerful to kill,” you also pointed out. “Putting him to sleep like this will just make it worse when he wakes up…but if he’s properly motivated, he could do some good.” 

“Or off anyone who looks at him sideways,” Butcher wryly replied. “He’s dickmatized you, love.” 

You could tell the others sided with him on this. 

“You can disagree with me,” you said, “but do you have a better way to kill Noir and take down Vought?”

At the S.A., you were able to shower and get on proper clothes in a black tracksuit and some sneakers. You weren’t allowed to find out where they’d taken Ben yet, but Grace Mallory oversaw the transport, just as she called you into her office for your immediate debriefing.  

It felt more like an interrogation, not unlike the one you underwent to be recruited for the manhunt of Soldier Boy.

You felt like a different person sitting across from her. This time you sat up tall, not intimidated by the ice blue stare that greeted you. The lines in the older woman’s face were drawn, but there was an unyielding wall within the woman that you could admire. 

It just didn’t change the fact that right now, she was your opponent. And the chess game had begun.

“You went way off-road with this assignment,” she said at last. You raised a brow. 

“I’m sorry my kidnapping inconvenienced you,” you remarked. 

“Don’t be cute. You know what the hell I’m talking about,” Grace said. “At this point, I’m debating whether to bring you into custody along with Soldier Boy.”

“I’m the one who got him back to the States,” you pointed out, sitting back in your chair with your arms crossed. “I had to get in contact with my father to make that happen. Do you know what that cost me?” 

You resisted an uncomfortable shudder. They’d given you more painkillers for your ribs, but it wasn’t enough the relieve the damage of that encounter. Not to your mind. 

“Aside from any other self-debasing tactics I used in order to do my job, not to mention save my own life. Without me, and the sacrifices I made, Soldier Boy wouldn’t be in a cell downstairs,” you finished. 

Saying those words stung. Like you were somehow betraying yourself. 

“That doesn’t fool me,” Grace said. In fact, her shrewd gaze was much like Butcher’s. It saw straight through you as she tilted her head in wonder. “You care about him.” 

Your lips tightened. 

After a moment, you answered.

“He was tortured for forty years,” you said. “Whether he admits it or not, he’s got scars just like the rest of us…but more importantly to you, he can help us take down Vought once and for all.” 

Grace considered you with a shifting light. “I didn’t think that mattered to you.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you retorted. “But make no mistake. You will pay me what you owe me for this mission. If you think you’re going to welch on your end of the deal, then I’m about to be your long-term problem.” 

Grace huffed in wry amusement. 

“I have a feeling you will be, regardless,” she said. 

“And to that end, I will be checking in on Ben,” you replied. “He’s a person, not a weapon or a lab rat.” 

“Mind yourself, young lady,” Grace snapped, her eyes narrowing. “I admire your sense of loyalty, but in this case, it’s misplaced. That man is a bastard and a murderer, with a devastating power he can’t hope to control. And you, frankly, don’t have any standing to make demands.” 

“And what’s your body count, agent?” you challenged. “Have they all been sanctioned kills?”

When she didn’t answer, merely staring back at you, you stood up.

“You’re right, he can’t control it. Yet. Maybe that’s something productive you can get your damn scientists on,” you said. 

And before you left, you added one more thing. 

“I may not have your security clearance, your power, or your money,” you said. “But I’ve got a big fucking mouth. So unless you want me to use it, my clearance now includes seeing Ben.” 

Grace stared back at you for a moment. 

Her nails tapped on her desk as she assessed you. 

Releasing a long sigh through her nose, she relented. A little. 

“Fine,” she said. “If you can convince him to ally with us on the Vought issue, I’ll allow you to see him.” 

You nodded. For all that Grace hated Soldier Boy, she was a practical woman. She saw the same opportunity you did, and was willing to take advantage of it…even if you both knew that convincing Ben to play ball would be damn near impossible. 

In fact, this would probably be your biggest challenge yet. But this, you were willing to fight for. 

“I can start tomorrow,” you said.  

It seemed that Vought and the CIA had been thinking similarly on how to confine Soldier Boy. 

You spent one strange night back in your musty apartment before you returned to the S.A., bright and early, so that Grace could lead you to a lab below the main building. It was dark and made of pure concrete, encased in titanium. 

In it was a state-of-the-art cell with three metal walls that had to disengage before you could reach the inner room. Inside those four corners of fortified, bullet-proof glass were scarce furnishings. Ben himself was strapped to a bed, with a mask held over his face. 

At least he was out of the coffin, but it was difficult for you to watch, even as the scientists and guards unstrapped him and left the cell. The mask disengaged from his face, allowing him to breathe real air as he started to wake. But gas flooded into the compartment, not unlike Vought’s setup. 

You and Grace stood outside the glass. She glanced at you with sharp nod. Then she left you alone. 

Well, relatively speaking. There were guards posted at the entrance of the three walls behind you, controlling who got in and out of the cell area. 

Once all the walls were back in place after Grace’s departure, you let out a shaky breath and stepped forward with the plate of food you brought, along with a few bottles of water.

Ben was moving off the bed, trying and failing to clear his head as he took in his surroundings with a furious glare. It only dimmed slightly when he realized you were there. 

He made his way toward you, and you pressed a button that would allow you to safely pass his meal to him without letting any nerve gas escape the inner cell. Ben removed the lid from the plate, inspected the chicken and vegetables with an unreadable expression.

Then, with a burst of force, he took the plate and tossed it as hard as he could into one of the glass walls. 

You flinched. But by the time he looked back at you, you’d schooled your expression, merely raising a brow. 

“That was real fucking mature.” 

“Suck on my balls, sweetheart,” he retorted. He cocked his head to the side.  “Oh wait, you did. Last Tuesday.” 

You glared at him with a hot blush spreading across your face. That was not, in fact, last Tuesday. But you didn’t rise to his bait.

“Are you really willing to partner with the S.A. to take down Vought? Or was that just you bluffing?” you asked. 

Ben started to pace in irritation. You knew he was upset, and itching for revenge on anyone that would dare confine him again. You could guess what being in a cell was already doing to his mental state. 

Which was why you were here, desperately trying to help him.

“Really, would you rather be hunted all your life, or would you rather just play ball here?” you tried to reason. “Become a real ally with the S.A. Show Mallory that you can operate within the law.”

Ben looked up from his pacing just to glare at you.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to with all these demands, huh?” 

“You, Ben. I’m talking to you!” 

He ignored you, resuming his pacing. “I’m a solo act for a damn reason.”

Oh really? you wanted to say. That’s why he needed your help to try and get to Stan.

“That got you here, now didn’t it?” you asked. 

He didn’t answer. It made you think you weren’t going to get anywhere with him today. Maybe he needed some time to cool off.

You sighed and turned to leave, but his voice stopped you.

“You’re just going to leave me in here?” he asked in disbelief. And you thought you could read a throughline of hurt behind his eyes. “I saved you…shit, I’ve lost count how many times now. And still, you fucking betrayed me.”

“Don’t you do that,” you warned. Though you felt a prickle of guilt run down your spine. “You know very well what got you here. I tried to stop it. And I’m the only one who’s on your side right now.”

“Doesn’t fucking look like it from where I’m standing.”  

You sighed in frustration. “I’ll tell you the truth, I don’t want to leave you in here. But if I can’t trust you, they never will.” 

“I don’t know what delusions you have about me,” he said, coming closer. 

“But when I get out of here, I’m slaughtering anyone who gets in my way!” he shouted savagely. 

He banged his fists into the glass so hard that it trembled, making you flinch with a gasp. A more concentrated fog smoked up the cell. Ben coughed and cursed as he stumbled back, and eventually, he fell unconscious right there on the floor. 

You watched in dismay. Despite his rage, it still hurt you to see him like this. Like a caged animal. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you forced yourself to leave the cell before the cameras caught them. You knew Grace would be monitoring this exchange later. 

She would probably feel vindicated at what she saw. 

The thought disgusted you as the outer walls parted, allowing you to leave. M.M. was waiting for you at the exit. He’d seen the entire thing through a monitor at the control desk, where two guards sat eating their lunch. 

“You want to protect that piece of shit?” M.M. said, jerking a thumb towards the cell. “That’s what he really is. And he clearly don’t give a fuck about you.” 

Your jaw tightened. 

“I’m not going to justify my actions to you, M.M. I know what he’s done, especially to you," you said. "But he didn’t just let me live. He protected me, saved me, more than once. From his own men even. And…he was kind to me, in his own way. I have to think that counts for something.” 

M.M. shook his head at you in disbelief.

“Maybe he went soft for a pretty girl, but that doesn’t mean he ain’t a monster,” he said. 

“That’s not all there is to him,” you said. “You didn’t see it, M.M.”

The other man watched you for a moment, before he let out a deep sigh. 

“You actually think he can be saved,” he said. 

“Maybe,” you said. “We’ll see.” 

He crossed his arms. You understood how he felt, but you couldn’t deny what your instincts told you about Ben…and your heart as well. 

“He’s right about one thing,” M.M. said. “You are delusional.”

A few days went by as the team went back to work at the S.A. as usual. But your days during your first week home became marked by your strenuous visits to Ben.

Once again, he’d rather pace than look at you. You had a feeling it helped him stay awake.

“I fought for my country,” he groused. “I don’t fucking deserve this.”

“Oh, would you stop lying?” you said in annoyance. “You’ve only ever fought for yourself. You didn’t even fight in World War II! You’ve never been a soldier. And unless you get a fucking clue, you’re going to continue being the massive man-child your father saw in you.”

Maybe it wasn’t kind, but you were fed up with his stubbornness. You turned to leave. 

“Don’t you fucking walk away from me!” Ben shouted. 

You raised a brow, and you turned on your heel. The man was livid, standing in the center of his cell.

“Or what?” you challenged. 

But you soon relented at the way he withdrew–into himself. 

You had checked the monitors before you came in; he was trying not to sleep, wasn’t letting his body rest. This place was like an open wound: complete wall-to-wall glass, no privacy, nowhere to go, and nothing to do. He couldn’t distract himself with drugs, or TV, or good food, or even good sex and conversation. 

This was terrible for him, and you knew it. 

“Ben, I want to help you,” you said, letting out a shaky breath. You laid a hand on the glass. “Let me help you.”

His gaze was angry and unyielding. 

“There’s only one way you can help me,” he said. “But you won’t fucking do it.”

The team was giving you a wide berth. Even Annie greeted you in the office with more politeness than warmth. 

Above all else, you remained professional, but it was a simple fact that your team was no longer your team. They didn’t trust you, or your judgment. And you refused to show how deeply that hurt you. 

However, until you all got a breakthrough on taking down Vought and Noir, there was still work to be done. So you fell into step back in with the Surveillance team.

That meant taking your place as second-in-command to your manager, as well as returning to your cubicle next to your coworker Jess. She hugged you when she saw you, even shed tears. 

You’d hugged her a bit awkwardly, but you were touched. You hadn’t thought she cared about you that much. 

She told you that the entire Surveillance department had been worried about you. That they’d missed you, especially your calm, supportive leadership. (Apparently your manager had been stressed handling the entire department without you.)

That at least buoyed you throughout the rest of the week. 

When you returned home on Thursday, however, you received an unexpected call. But when you saw the caller ID, you inwardly kicked yourself before you answered. 

“Louisa?”

“What the hell is wrong with you!” came your sister’s sharp voice. 

So many things, you thought with a weary sigh. You held your phone to your ear while you tried to find something to cook for dinner in your pantry. All you found was a box of spaghetti…which dragged up bittersweet memories you’d rather not think about. 

“I meant to call you as soon as I got back,” you tried to explain. “But I’ve been in full debrief mode. It’s been a circus since I got back, Lou.”

You slammed the pantry shut and went for the frozen dinner in the freezer.

“I don’t care. I didn’t hear from you for almost two straight months…” 

You knew the S.A. hadn’t told her anything about your kidnapping, but you knew she had to have been worrying when you didn’t check in at all after that first time in Medellin. The sound of her emotion-choked voice made your own eyes sting. 

“I’m sorry, Lou. I’ll come visit you this weekend, okay? I’m still taking care of some things at work.” Namely a grumpy supe on lockdown. “How’s school?”

“School is fine!” she snapped. You heard her take a breath, presumably to calm herself. She had a bit of a temper, just like you, but your sister managed herself much better than you. You supposed being more well-adjusted had its perks.

“Mom was worried too, but I kept her calm. Focused on work,” she said. 

“I appreciate that. Thanks,” you replied. You knew you had to call your mom soon as well. Maybe you’d stop in on her after your sister. 

“I better see you this weekend,” she grumbled. You smiled. 

“Love you too,” you said.

“Love you…okay, I’ll let you go for now. But don’t forget!”

Once you said goodbye and hung up, you held the phone to your chest and heaved another sigh. You were exhausted, really. Sleep hadn’t been coming easy to you ever since you got back. But you knew it was nothing compared to what Ben was going through.

Which was why you visited him every day.

The next morning, you made your pitstop to the “cellar,” as you’d been calling it in your mind.

You’d brought whatever Grace allowed you to give him, like books and magazines, and an old iPod to listen to music on, but he mostly ignored you.

This time, however, he seemed in a different mood as you sat in a plastic fold out chair and ate your breakfast with him, on your side of the cell of course. You took another bite of your blueberry muffin while he pushed aside his bland-looking eggs. 

“So, how much did you get paid?” he asked. His tone was nonchalant, but his gaze was accusing. You let out a breath and looked up at him. 

“Enough to put my sister through college and pay off my mom’s debts,” you told him. “I took this job for my family, Ben.”

His finger tapped on his arm, but he didn’t relent. “Selling out is selling out.”

Wow. He really had the nerve to compare you to the way his team sold him out.

You’d tried to be nice. You really did. But he could be such a massive pain in the ass.

“You don’t seem to understand just how much shit I’m in for trying to help you right now,” you said. 

Ben mustered up some strength and got up from his cot. He drew near to you, crossing his arms.

“If this is your idea of doing me a fucking favor, then I don’t need it,” he said angrily. “I don’t need a naive little girl like you to help me do jack shit.”

You set down your muffin and stood to your feet, matching his glare. 

“Like you didn’t need my help to get into Vought Tower?” you pointed out, satisfied by the way he piped down. Silently simmering. 

“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be awake right now,” you added. “You’d be back in an ice coffin.”

And that could still happen if you couldn’t convince him to cooperate with Supe Affairs.

“Fuck off,” he snapped. “And fuck you.”

Oh really? You frowned. At this point, you wanted to slap him. It seemed to be his sheer stubbornness and ego that was keeping him from his own freedom, and that, you just couldn't tolerate.

“You know what?” you said, grabbing your muffin and your fold-up chair. “Suck my dick, Ben. When you’re ready to talk to me like a human being, tap on the glass.”

You left him behind to do your real job, and this time, you didn’t let him halt your steps.

You’d scarcely entered your apartment that evening, when a shadow on the living room sofa gave you a small heart attack. 

You flipped on the lights and found your younger sister, arms crossed with a raised brow. On the coffee table in front of her was a glass of soda. It looked like she’d made herself comfortable while waiting for you.  

“Louisa! What are you doing here?” you exclaimed, with a hand on your chest. “Why the hell are you sitting in the dark?”

“I heard you coming up those rickety stairs and thought I’d pay you back for disappearing in South America,” she said. 

But soon enough, wide grins took over both of your faces. 

You pulled her into a big, warm hug. Tears burned in your eyes, and one or two slid down your cheeks as you tried to get ahold of yourself. 

“I missed you so much,” you confessed. You were just slightly taller than her, able to comfortably pet her hair and press a kiss to her cheek. Louisa was just as emotional, her pretty eyes filled with happy tears. 

She was about to speak when the glass on the coffee table suddenly shattered. 

You both flinched, and your sister gasped. You held onto her shoulders tighter, more protective as you assessed the room. You listened closely. 

A shot rang out, but it hit the wall beside your head. You moved at the last moment and narrowly avoided the third shot that would’ve struck you between the eyes. 

“Get down!” you yelled, forcing your sister to crouch along with you and move across the living room. 

Bullets tore with a vengeance through the windows, crashing into vases, picture frames, shattering the surface glass of the wooden coffee table, and ripping into the sofa until its internal fluff rose into the air like cotton confetti.

You protected Louisa’s head as you both took shelter behind the sofa. 

“What’s happening?” she shouted over the cacophony, but you didn’t have an answer for her yet. 

Your front door burst open and shattered the lock. You tensed, looking for where you stashed the spare gun you kept at home. The S.A. hadn’t gotten around to issuing you a new glock yet.

Heavy boots came through your apartment. You grabbed a piece of broken glass and told Louisa to stay down.

But when you stood and met your attacker, he was nearly three times your size. He grabbed your wrist in a firm, but not painful hold. He pulled his black ski mask down with a hand and revealed a familiar face. 

Your eyes widened, your mouth gaping in shock. 

“Frank?”

AN: 😏 Did I get'cha? Did I? Let me know in the comments. 😂

Next Time:

“Wait, wait. You’re not getting out of this.” Louisa leaned over and grabbed your hand. “What’s the deal with you and Soldier Boy? I thought the whole point of your mission was to capture him.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. 

“I was on the job, things went sideways, I got captured, and things got…complicated.” 

Frank huffed. “I think the kids are calling it Frenemies with Benefits.” 

Keep Reading: PART 13

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann83 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

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@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @beautiful-life-coded @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

[laroserie]

— characters : Alastor, + the hotels residents (vague mention - expect for Charlie)

— content : x gender neutral reader - reader is a baker, reader is naive (for a sinner), Alastor manipulate reader into coming to the hotel, Alastor is Alastor but he's also OOC (kinda but uh who write canon Alastor anyways)

— author note : this is the second part of an (potentially yandere!) alastor x baker reader - the first part is here (also the words count is : 1.7k ) (saying that because i outdid myself lol) (also yes i know Alastor canonically do not like tea idc this mf is gonna drink tea) ++ honestly considering doing a third part because I have so much more to say and write about this

After Alastor came back from his seven years hiatus and he came for at your bakery again, he could come so often, like once every two days.

But it could take him a while to make a 'move', try to get closer to you or talk to you about the hotel but one day, he comes to your bakery and asks for an unusual amount of pastries. You don't comment on it as it's not your place - you are just a simple baker ! But you can't help but raise an eyebrow.

Alastor meant to talk to you about the hotel, not because he wanted you to reedem yourself or because he wanted to do it for Charlie - well maybe a little but he won't admit it - but more or less to keep an eye on you. By then, he isn't sure as to why he wants to keep an eye on you - his assumption is that he feels the same way toward you as he does toward Rosie. He sees you as a friend but not quite - you are the sweet baker who makes quite good pastries and you are by far one of the less annoying sinners he ever spoke to. But he feels some kind of protectiveness over you - probably because he sees you as quite meek and weak.

So obvious what could be better than inviting you to stay at the hotel ? A place where he can both protect and keep on eye on you at -nearly- all time.

Alastor took this opportunity, 'These aren't all for me, dear. They are for ... my friends ?' he started while you were wrapping up what he purchased, 'You see ... Have you heard of the Hazbin Hotel ?' he asks.

'Uhm ... The hotel run by the princess ? Yeah I've seen a bit of talk about it, why ?'

'Well ! I am the facility manager of that, hotel ! And the ... pastries are for my fellows workers and residents.' He stopped for a second to gauge your reaction to that information - which was a simple nod and a 'ohh' - he continued. 'Hm, the goal of the hotel is to help sinners redeem themselves ... could you be by chance interested ?'

This question probably takes you by surprise. By then you already finished packing Alastor order - you push it toward him on the counter. You respond hesitantly 'Ha, well ... Is it possible ? To even redeem yourself ... ?' Your smile falter a bit and you look in the void for a bit. 'I don't think redemption is for me ... If I'm here it mean I deserve it and that it's already too late ...' Alastor didn't fully expect you to react like this - he did expect that you could say 'no' at first but not that.

'But ! Anyways, there is your order, enjoy !' You said trying to end the conversation there. But alas Alastor was not the type to give up so easily.

He took his order but continued on, 'If you couldn't mind dear, please just come and visit once, to be truthful, we haven't had a whole lot of sinners coming, you just simply visiting could be wonderful, and you could help bring Charlie mood up, oh and you both could get along so well !' As he finished his sentence he turned and walked toward the door and threw you a 'Goodbye!'.

Alastor knew you enough to know that he could pull at your heart strings to get what he wanted - you were always the sensitive type, the type to care even about strangers. He was sure that he could see you 'visit' in the near future.

And well he was right ! A mere three days after you found yourself at the doorstep of the hotel. You had been waiting for a few minutes already - you were still debating on entering or just turning on your hells and going back home.

But before you could do anything the hotel door in front of you opened in a big 'slam'. And once again before you could do anything, you were dragged into the hotel in a very enthusiastic manner.

'Hello !! Are you interested in the hotel ?' A cheerful voice asked you, as she dragged you into the hall, you recognised quite easily who is was - the owner of the hotel - Charlie Morningstar. It wasn't your first time seeing her, but it was your first time seeing her up close. You had to restrain a laugh at her over-enthusiasm, you didn't want be irrespectful toward the princess of hell.

'Good morning, I am simply visiting as it was recommended by ... a friend of mine.' You saw her be a bit disappointed hearing that. 'Oh. Is there anyways you could I don't know change your mind ? Maaaaybe ?' She asked.

You a small smile appeared on your face 'Maybe. If your convincing is good enough.'

Charlie took it as a challenge, she started by showing you around the hotel, and then made you meet the residents - you spoke a bit with everyone - at the exception of Alastor how was visiting his friend in Cannibal Town. To say you were surprised knowing that the two sole residents of the hotel were one of the biggest pornstar of hell and somekind of mad inventor could be an understatement. The staff of the hotel was also something - you knew already Niffty and Husk having heard about them from Alastor and you saw and spoke with Husk a few times when he picked up orders at your bakery for Alastor. And then there was Vaggie, she seemed to be quite suspicious of you and it feel like she could gut you out as soon as you do something wrong.

By the end of the day, Charlie asked you once again if you wanted to join the hotel - you struggled to answer her - a part of you seriously started to consider joining the hotel and trying to get redeem but the other one was still wary of the idea.

But you asked her if you could come every once in a while to visit and she was overjoyed by it - you didn't join the hotel but it was still an advances to have someone visit the hotel.

You did end up visiting the hotel a lot - at some point you could come once a week - you ended up befriending most people from the hotel.

One of those day, most of the hotel residents were out - only Alastor and Niffty were at the hotel. Niffty was running around chasing cockroachs - you were having tea with Alastor.

Alastor had finally decided to move to the next steps of his plan - to have you under his grip. He started by asking you a few questions about how you felt about the hotel.

'I told you, you could get along with Charlie !' You nodded as you sipped on a cup of tea. 'Are you thinking of joining the hotel officially ?' You sighed and shake your head, 'Alastor, you already know my answer ...'

'Are you sure dear ? I truly think it could be beneficial for you to join.' He persisted. 'But, I have a bakery to run, I, I have responsibility.'

'You can continue to run your bakery while being a resident here darling ! Honestly, why don't you want to ? Please don't tell me you seriously believe you cannot be redeem, we all know that it's not true. You by far one of the most ... redeemable sinner there is' Alastor tone of voice was serious - the atmosphere shifted and suddenly the way you were sitting became uncomfortable. 'Alastor please ... Don't.' You managed to utter, your looked down at the cup between your hands.

'What, I am simply saying the truth. I am just asking you to enlighten me as to why you don't think you should at least try to redeem yourself and join heaven.' You looked up to see Alastor with his usual smile plastered on his face - it felt wrong, you felt yourself crack. 'There is no real reasons to be frank, I just know that it's not possible, that it's not right ...'

Alastor shacks his head, 'If you don't do it for yourself please do it for Charlie, you both are dear friends now right ? Couldn't you like to make her happy by becoming a resident and attempting to cleanse yourself of your sins ? Ah, it could even make me happy ...' He pulled out the last card in his deck - once again he knew that playing with your feelings could be the easiest way to get you to stay - and so he did.

He could see you hesitate a bit, 'Are you sure ...? What if she learn that I don't believe in it truly ? I do not wish to be hypocritical ... isn't that a sin itself ?' Alastor laughed a little hearing you, 'You shouldn't worry about that darling. The important thing is the end result - not how you got it. Who cares if you aren't honest ? And if it's stay between the two of us, Charlie will never know.' You took a few minutes to think - weighting the pros and cons.

You sighed and nodded your head, 'Sure, I mean what could go wrong ... ha.'. Alastor smiles 'Exactly dear !', he took a sip of tea, 'Now, shall we do the paperwork now ?', he didn't wait for an answer and just pulled out a stack of papers and a pen out of Satan know here and slided them toward you.

You didn't brother to question him and just took the pen in hand, 'Do I really need to read all of that ?' you said pointing to the small toward of papers in front of you, 'Oh of course no, it's just good 'ol paperwork, you don't need to read anything ! Just sign the bottom of each pages and ... we should be good.' you probably didn't notice the way his smiles twisted as he uttered those words or if you did you just preferred to not question it.

Looking back you probably should have - it could have saved you from the collar and leash attached to your neck and the overall pain that was having your soul being owned by Alastor - with the added layer of being a full time resident of the hotel.

[look-at-the-soul]

A night at Delux

Modern Tommy Shelby

Master list

Author’s notes: This story is for you, in no particular order @zablife @runnning-outof-time @red-riding-wood @teenwolf-theoriginals @justrainandcoffee @brummiereader I’ve had the main idea in my mind for weeks after driving past a luxury restaurant daily, I think it’d still haunt me if I didn’t write this one down lol… anyways I decided to a few names of lovely mutuals. This is a small nod to you all for the amazing work you do and in an attempt to cheer you up or anyone who might need it at the moment. If for whatever reason you feel down, without inspiration, worried, or anything else, know that it will pass. This particular moment that feels like too much won’t last forever ✨I just hope/wish you get what you are looking for. And to anyone else going through anything hard right now, this is for you too!

Ps. Don’t panic the fandom isn’t falling down, I just felt the need to dedicate this story to lovely mutuals to spoil and cheer them up a bit 🤗

Last but not least, extra 🌟 to @blondie-22 for creating this gorgeous moodboard!! 💖

Word count: 3,245

Friday night had been quiet compared to today, it seems like everyone decided to go out on Saturday and go to that club, as if there wasn’t enough options in the city.

Y/N swallowed hard feeling worried, this was her second weekend working at the club and she wanted to give a good first impression and save as much money as possible.

Her other job as secretary paid for the rent and services, but she needed to have this second one on the weekends to support her grandmother and her medicines.

As the hostess, she was requested to wear a total black outfit, so she thought her little black dress was the right choice, it was fitting for her shape, it wasn’t too revealing or short and one of the girls, Red had suggested spraying some lidocaine on her feet to be able to stand all night in those heels. She quickly adapted well to the group of girls that worked there, they were all so nice to her and welcoming.

“Ready? I’ve an amazing list prepared.” Lee, one of the girls walked past her, ready to take her place at the DJ booth.

“Last week was hectic, I’ve a feeling this will be crazier.” Y/N expressed fiddling with the guest list for the night.

“Here, drink this.” Brummie, another of the girls came closer placing a glass next to Y/N. After a week, Y/N learned the reason for that nickname was her strong Brummie accent even after all the years she left the place.

“Go easy on the drinks, she makes them strong.” K chuckled. She was the first one to welcome Y/N into their little girls-gang as they called themselves. The only ladies working in a place owned by men.

“Doors opening in ten.” The manager advised, taking one more look at the place, waiters were ready. “Make tonight a good night everybody.”

Lee started playing the music then, experimenting with some new beats, she mixed a couple of the new hits. Lights down, Y/N took a deep breath, approaching the door.

“They better leave good tips tonight.” Red raised her eyebrows. She was in charge of promos, she was great at convincing people to order another round of shots, or if it was ladies night and they got 2x1 on special drinks.

“We’re in your hands Red.”

“I’ll do my best ladies.” She replied through the device they shared to communicate.

“Alright, it’s about time.” Y/N rolled her neck. “Lee, we’ve a party of six tonight, celebrating a bachelorette, could you include some anthems?”

“Absolutely darl.” Lee then turned up the volume of the music.

“If someone sees that baker, let me know?” Rose appeared then at the bar, she had been hiding in the office, she was in charge of detecting any potential trouble from the monitors.

“Sweetheart, everyone knows he’s not a baker.” Lee informed her, talking about Alfie.

“I haven’t seen him, so I wouldn’t know.” Y/N called from her place.

“Oh he’s just the most handsome man ever.” Rose swooned.

Y/N chuckled, the club would be the last place where she’d find love, she just knew that. Walking towards the door, the guard opened it for her.

She started searching for the name she was given in the guest list. A group of girls wearing exaggerated make up and deep cleavage plus the shortest skirts or dresses where the firsts ones to make it in. She was totally against it, but it was an unwritten rule to let people in, the more skin, the better.

But she wasn’t there to judge anyone, let the girls dress as they preferred, in the end she wasn’t the one getting wasted and dragged in the end of the night to throw up outside. She was there just for the money. Another table was filled by three men, they were older and dressed in button shirts with ripped jeans, as if it was an uniform for them.

Y/N thought how it was funny to try to guess their backgrounds, where they came from and with whom they might leave the club. She was just trying to make the time pass faster.

In no time, the club was packed, but outside there was still a bunch of people trying to make it.

People tried to give Y/N money to get in, some were even rude to her but the guards took charge into the matter and invited them to leave.

“I made a reservation, could you check again?” The young guy requested politely.

Y/N started reading the names again, but by the corner of her eye, she caught someone skipping the line. “Ah, excuse me? Sir?”

The man who was already by the door, turned around slowly, opening the zipper of his jacket. His death stare made Y/N feel a shiver running down her back.

“There’s a line you’ve to make and wait.” Three more men arrived and stared at her with amused expressions. “Name?”

The man blinked and rolled his tongue over his lower lip. “Shelby. But you won’t find my name there, love.” Y/N saw him stopping the three other men with his hand.

“Then you’ll have to wait in the queue.”

For an instant, his expression was so transparent and Y/N knew he was offended.

“I’m sorry, but I’m just following orders.” She apologized and shuddered under his intense blue irises.

“Oi!” One of them, the one with a mustache tried to step closer.

“Arthur, leave it, we’re going to follow this lovely lady’s order and wait.” He then turned to face her again. “Accept a sincere apology for trying to get in.” He then winked.

The well dressed men followed his instructions and stepped back. Then she focused on the next people on the guest list, guiding them inside.

Barely a minute went by when Lucas, the manager grabbed her by the arm, dragging her inside in a blunt movement that made her go alert.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Lucas snapped, spit flying from his mouth. “You left the Shelby brothers outside! The fucking owners of this place.”

Just as Lucas was explaining Y/N her mistake , Tommy walked behind her, with his brothers following his steps.

“That was a first Tommy.” John grinned. “The first woman who doesn’t let you walk in as the owner of the place, and you did nothing.”

John was definitely having fun at Tommy’s expense. Arthur couldn’t help the smirk on his lips, but he tried to hide it behind his hand.

“Yeah, yeah she was only doing her job.” Tommy tried to excuse the hostess.

There was something that took him by surprise and startled him.

“And you walked back to the queue like a dog with the tail between the legs.” John went off again.

Tommy dragged his eyes across the club, he needed to know more about her. So he walked towards the bar.

“The usual Mr. Shelby?” Brummie asked her boss from behind the bar, he always waited to be served at his table.

Slowly, he posed his eyes on her, considering his options. “Please.” He replied then, clearing his throat.

“Here you go, I’ll take the other drinks up in a second.”

“Thank you.” With a nod, he turned his back at her and slowly strolled across the club. Although he had security, he always checked his surroundings.

After a while, he found the manager. “Lucas, come here.” Patting him on the back, Tommy asked him about the hostess, she was just passing by in that very moment, but Tommy noticed the quick glance she threw at him.

“Again, I’m sorry it happened Mr. Shelby, she’s new but it won’t repeat.”

“No problem.” He added calmly. “What do you know about her?”

Lucas shook his head, he didn’t care about the staff personal life. “Not much, but I’ll investigate her.”

In that moment, Tommy’s eyes found her, arms linked with the girl in charge of the checking the credit cards records.

“Damn it, I made a huge mistake, I’m so so done.” Y/N cried in a low voice. Worry written all over her face.

“What did you do?” Rose squeezed her shoulder.

“I didn’t know it was him.” She babbled. “I asked Mr. Shelby and his brothers to wait in line for their turn to get a fucking table.” Y/N explained over the music.

Rose stared at her for a split second and then bursted into an incontrolable laugh. “No you didn’t!”

“I did Rose! I did… and now he’s going to fire me.”

But she kept laughing. Trying to take a deep breath she sent their chat group a message urging the other girls to meet in the back.

You’re not gonna believe what Y/N did, she’s a hero! - she announced proudly.

“I can’t imagine the face he put on, must’ve gone like a stone.” Rose pinched her arm playfully.

Lee programmed a couple of songs to play automatically, Brummie left the bartender in charge while she claimed a quick bathroom trip. Red rushed the guys on the table to pay her for their drinks and tip.

As the group gathered in the back, they we waiting eager to hear what had happened.

“Our newest friend here, made the boss wait in line to get a table.” Rose announced ceremonially, pointing at Y/N.

She wasn’t trying to make fun of her, just trying to have a moment to relax.

Y/N groaned mortified, she kept shaking her head. Overthinking of what would happen.

“Nice way to get the Shelby’s attention.” Red pointed at Y/N with a smile, enjoying the teasing.

“Can we ask for the CCTV footage?” K asked. “I want to see him in the line.”

“I was looking for you,” Isiah one of the blinders appeared suddenly, “ladies how are you doing? Y/N… Mr. Shelby wants to see you.”

A chorus of ohhh’s from the girls filled the space.

Then, the girls started cheering on her.

“There she goes.” K sighed.

“Do you think she’s in trouble?” Lee looked around the group.

“Well it depends…” Red crossed her arms. “Hopefully he’s in a good mood.”

“I doubt it to be honest.” Rose raised an eyebrow skeptically. “But maybe she knows how to tame the beast.”

“Oh oh, if there’s group meeting it means something happened?” Mia joined the girls, she asked permission to arrive later that day. She had some personal affair to attend.

K placed her hands on Mia’s shoulders. “You just missed the fun, but I’ll make a short version while we prepare some drinks.” They were both in charge of the bar.

“Last time we had an urgent meeting, Michael got arrested.” Mia remembered with a chuckle.

“Oh, this is better than that.” Red assured before going back to the crowded tables.

As Y/N followed Isiah, her heart was pounding, grabbing her phone she texted her friend, Heidi.

I think I messed up, BIG.

A quick answer appeared on her screen, in the background a themed photo illuminated the phone, beautiful shades of green reminded her of nature and hope, it was made by a really talented friend.

What happened?! Are you OK?

Yeah. No… I confused the owner of the club and asked him to wait outside and make the line!

Her phone buzzed again.

No way! Tell me how it goes.

If I don’t reply back he probably let me blind. Carries a peaky cap with a razor blade.

Y/N took a deep breath and checked her phone again.

Don’t worry, I’m sure it will be fine. Her friend encouraged back.

She just prayed to not mess it up again and start babbling, arriving at the private area where the Shelby’s were she quickly tried to fix her short hair and bangs.

“Good evening,” her voice was shaking, her legs and her heart, everything! “I’d like to apologize for what happened earlier, I’m new and didn’t know any of you.”

Her eyes landed one more time on who seemed to be the leader, those icy eyes boring into the deepest part of her. His lips were pursed in a tight line.

“It’s okay, love. Don’t worry.” He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Yeah, now me brother wants to find a way to speed the line up.” One of them explained, blowing his smoke towards the ceiling.

“John.” The man with the blue eyes warned. “Nevertheless, I’ve to thank you for keeping the line in check.”

His deep accent and the way he dragged each word gave her chills.

“Thank you, well that’s my job.”

“Here drink this.” Another of them, the one with a mustache offered her a glass. “To a very good job!”

The two youngest were whispering something and staring back at the leader.

“It’s alright, really.” Tommy assured her after seeing the fear in her eyes.

“Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.” The one he called John a moment ago suggested.

“Again I’m really sorry.”

“Y/N is it?” He rolled his tongue over his lips after saying her name. “It’s alright.”

“Just so you know, I’m John, so you don’t mistake me again.” He had a huge grin on his face. “This is Finn, Michael and Arthur.” He started pointing out at everybody. “And that’s Tommy.”

“I won’t forget your names.” She repeated them mentally. “Enjoy your night, I’ll bring you another round.”

Y/N excused herself and went back to work. He was wearing a simple white shirt with a jacket and black jeans, but somehow he made it look effortlessly good. She was trying to focus on the people in the guest list instead of those eyes that reminded her of the most beautiful sky.

She smiled at a couple that walked past her dancing to the beat of the music.

A table next to her exploded in shouts and claps as K and Mia arrived with their shots and sparklers.

From the second floor, Tommy was watching her every move, eyes following her everywhere, studying her moves and the way she approached clients.

Arthur waved his hand in front of Tommy’s eyes after he didn’t listened to what he said.

“Tom? What do you think?”

Finn nudged John’s arm, tilting his head towards Tommy.

Tommy took a long puff of his cigarette, pretending to be part of their conversation.

“Hmm?”

“Earth calling Tommy.” John teased. “He’s still waiting outside in the queue.”

Shooting John a death stare, he asked Arthur to repeat himself.

“Shall we call some women up?”

“Whatever.” He cleared his throat and stood up making his way through the club.

Talking to security, they informed him they kicked out a customer that got noisy and aggressive, but other than that, it was a quiet night. Everything seemed to be under control, the place was packed, everyone wanted to get in, live the experience and have the status only Delux could offer. He knew it was the best club in town, many club owners tried to copy his place, but they all failed, they tried to copy the details that made his club unique, it screamed luxury and good taste.

Eyeing Y/N across the club, Tommy decided to walk towards her, she was focused on the list before her eyes, swaying her hips to the beat of the music, pouting her lips murmuring the words… he could only imagine how would them feel against his, while his fingers tangled in her short hair.

Before he could reach her, she then turned her back at him to walk in the opposite direction, but abruptly, she changed her mind and turned around again, bumping into Tommy’s chest in the process.

“Mr. Shelby! I’m really sorry.” He could tell she was mortified, embarrassed.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Tommy reluctantly took a step back.

Y/N hoped her voice wouldn’t crack. “Do you need something?” Battling her lashes slowly at him. “Can I take you your drinks upstairs?”

He was startled by her overwhelming beauty, under some kind of spell by her voice and smile. It had been so long since he felt so captivated by someone… Shaking his head slowly to clear his mind, but she thought he was saying no to her.

Taking that as her cue to leave, Y/N started walking away. “Well if you need anything, let me know.”

“Actually I do.” Tommy managed to say, making Y/N turn to face him once more.

Everything happened in a blink, he grabbed her by her face and kissed Y/N, not able to resist the desire any longer. But when she answered the kiss with the same eagerness and placed her hand on the back of his neck to pull Tommy closer he lost it.

Guiding Y/N towards the wall, he trapped her between it and his body.

Kissing her hard, he tilted his head to the opposite side, relieved to feel her matching his desire. Feeling one of his hands, brushing down from her waist to her hip and then down her leg, she added some pressure on his shoulders.

“Someone can come.” Y/N warned him breathlessly, his lips barely away from hers, just what was really necessary for her to speak.

“I don’t fucking care, I own this place.” Tommy told her right before kissing her again with passion.

Squeezing the flesh of her thigh and he felt as if he had whiskey injected in his veins.

Y/N moved her head back slightly, that left Tommy with his mouth hanging open in an almost sensual kiss that had just slipped away from him. Opening his eyes after the failed mission, he found her bitting her lower lip playfully.

His blue irises darkened under the dim light.

“I really need get back to work or my boss might fire me.” Y/N explained before stealing one more quick peck on his lips and bending down to free herself from him, left Tommy leaning against the wall with his heart pumping so fast that it felt like he was having a heart attack.

He chuckled quietly at her statement.

Going back up, he stood looking down at the people at the club, his eyes scanning the place until he found that pretty little thing that with just one kiss, made him feel more than anyone else.

Feeling som eking of pressure on 5e back of her head, Y/N turned around and lifting her eyes, she found Tommy staring at her from the second floor. Raising his glass at her, he added a wink.

Y/N felt her cheeks blushing and smile quickly spread on her lips. Checking the clock, she walked towards the door it was about time to not let anyone else in.

“Your lipstick is smeared dear.” Mia pointed out.

“Damn it, really?” Worryingly she went back to the bar, to check her reflection on the mirror behind all the booze bottles.

As the girls started to ask her what had happened, she got another message on her phone.

Think you can send me back to the line twice and get away with it twice? Meet me in my office once you’re done. -Your boss.

She gasped. He oozed trouble from every angle, the one that won’t let you get up from bed after several rounds.

He was practically the bad boy your grandmother warned you about.

✨ thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed a little spiced story 🔥

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@ironpen @holacia3 @narlytude

[thelustybraavosimaid]

Margaery hailed them when the two columns met and fell in beside the queen's litter. Her cheeks were flushed, her brown ringlets tumbling loosely about her shoulders, stirred by every puff of wind. "We have been picking autumn flowers in the kingswood," she told them. I know where you were, the queen thought. Her informers were very good about keeping her apprised of Margaery's movements. Such a restless girl, our little queen. She seldom let more than three days pass without going off for a ride. Some days they would ride along the Rosby road to hunt for shells and eat beside the sea. Other times she would take her entourage across the river for an afternoon of hawking. The little queen was fond of going out on boats as well, sailing up and down the Blackwater Rush to no particular purpose. When she was feeling pious she would leave the castle to pray at Baelor's Sept. She gave her custom to a dozen different seamstresses, was well-known amongst the city's goldsmiths, and had even been known to visit the fish market by the Mud Gate for a look at the day's catch. Wherever she went, the smallfolk fawned on her, and Lady Margaery did all she could to fan their ardor. She was forever giving alms to beggars, buying hot pies off bakers' carts, and reining up to speak to common tradesmen. (Cersei VI, AFfC)

--

"You're not supposed to leave the column," Sansa reminded her. "Father said so."

Arya shrugged. "I didn't go far. Anyway, Nymeria was with me the whole time. I don't always go off, either. Sometimes it's fun just to ride along with the wagons and talk to people."

Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody. This Mycah was the worst; a butcher's boy, thirteen and wild, he slept in the meat wagon and smelled of the slaughtering block. Just the sight of him was enough to make Sansa feel sick, but Arya seemed to prefer his company to hers. (Sansa I, AGoT)

[rosanna-writer]

Karma Is My Boyfriend (2/?)

Summary: Elain Archeron saved countless lives by vanquishing Graysen Nolan, her literal demon of a fiancé. She's a hero, but it's just not fair that being a good witch destined to rid the world of evil has left her tragically, painfully single. Enter Lucien Vanserra, the best cupid in the business, who's been sent by the universe to balance the karmic scales and find Elain the perfect new partner…

Happy day two of @elucienweekofficial!!! The people I can't thank enough include both the wonderful event organizers and ALSO the friends who generously allowed me to mine their dating app horror stories for fic potential <3

The whole fic can be found Here on AO3, or you can start with chapter one here on tumblr and read the second chapter under the cut.

Lucien was waiting with his feet up on her desk in the back of Roots 'n Shoots the next day. After her conversation with Rhys, Elain had loosened the wards around the store, though she hadn't expected Lucien to just…winnow directly into her office before she arrived.

But he already had steaming cup of her favorite herbal blend ready, so Elain decided not to give him an earful, even though she disliked being relegated to the spare chair she kept for guests.

"Are we on some sort of deadline?" she said, dropping her bag on the floor. "It's still quite early."

Lucien gave another elegant shrug. "I hate burning daylight."

In the past year, the Archeron manor had been full of…well, night people. Elain appreciated that Lucien seemed not to be another one. "Likewise," she said, taking a sip of tea.

He'd stirred in the amount of sugar she preferred, and she decided not to ask whether that information was contained in her file as well. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Lucien produced a cell phone seemingly out of nowhere and held the screen up for her to see. "I've already gotten started on making you a Tinder."

If Elain had been any less of a lady, she would have spat her tea all over him. Lucien was supposed to be an expert at helping people find love—but apparently all he had too offer was a dating app she was perfectly capable of navigating herself.

"It's quite helpful of you to be so on top of it," she said, though the icy chill in her voice made it clear she wasn't grateful at all.

"We'll cover more ground using an app. And with a cupid helping you screen your matches, you're guaranteed not to meet up with any douches, dirtbags, or demons."

Elain hesitated, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. It was true that she'd sworn off dating since Greysen—no matter how much Nesta and Feyre reminded her that the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else. With a busy shop to run and innocents to save, she'd insisted that she'd rather spend her precious few nights out catching up with friends.

Which was true, of course. But it wasn't the whole story, and the way Lucien's smirk melted into something softer told her he knew it. "You'll be safe with me," he said more gently. "I promise you're in good hands, Elain."

"Thank you," she said, taking the phone from him with a sigh.

Elain scrolled through the beginnings of the profile he'd set up for her. The photos of her seemed to be stolen from Feyre's private Instagram, but her artistic little sister had such a knack for finding good lighting that Elain decided not to question how Lucien had gotten them. His information was accurate, too: 5' 9", interested in both men and women, looking for something serious, plant mom, avid baker, all of it.

"I think this will do," she said.

"Is there anything else I should know before we get started?"

Elain took a moment to consider it—he'd covered everything. Well, almost. "No women named Elaine with two e's."

"Understandable. When I dated before becoming a cupid, I wouldn't touch a Lucian with an a. Moaning your own name in bed feels wrong."

"Exactly," Elain said with a laugh. It was a relief he understood, but at the same time, a bit irritating to find herself warming to him after what an ass he'd been the day before. But then, she thought again about what he said, and… "Cupids can't date?"

His mechanical eye clicked a few times, and she didn't know what to make of it. "It's not strictly forbidden, but that's…not something that's in the cards for me anymore."

There was a finality in his voice that Elain wasn't brave enough to question. Besides, Lucien's love life was hardly her concern, anyway. She handed the phone back to him and let him finish setting up the profile.

Something in Elain's chest went uncomfortably tight as they began looking through matches. Maybe this was a mistake. Surely it was better to stay single forever than to risk another disaster…

Not that she'd be going anywhere with the first man whose profile appeared. His face was hardly visible under the brim of an ill-fitting camo baseball cap, and he was holding up a fish.

She swiped left. And the next profile belonged to another man holding up a fish. And the next. And the next.

After five near-identical profiles of would-be fishermen in a row, Elain was beginning to wonder if there was anyone out there even worth messaging.

She let out a huff of frustration. "Do these people have any other hobbies besides fishing?"

"Clearly none of them are getting assistance from a cupid. Any of us would tell them there are better ways to give off the impression that they're well-endowed," Lucien said, picking at his nails.

"Is— Is that what they're doing?" Elain felt her cheeks go pink despite herself.

"Trying to, at least. And speaking from experience, it's really only impressive when that fish was caught with your bare hands."

Lucien was so….well-groomed that Elain struggled to picture it. He struck her as the sort of person who'd insist the Sidra was disgusting even though plenty of people happily swam in the clear blue river every summer. She couldn't imagine him just wading right into a lake or a stream. "Is it?"

"Those big fishing poles are a crutch for people who aren't skilled with their hands."

Elain couldn't help but glance at his hands. She hadn't quite noticed how big they were when he'd first come into her shop the day before, but now that he was closer, she found herself wondering how much they'd dwarf hers if she interlaced those long, elegant fingers with her own…

Not that it mattered. Lucien was there to help her find true love, not hold her hand.

"I see," she murmured, swiping to the next profile. This man, at least, wasn't holding a fish, which would have been a relief if it wasn't something a million times more mortifying.

Tamlin Springfield—Feyre's ex-fiancé.

He was staring into the camera, a violin tucked under his chin. Elain supposed the expression on his face was meant to be soulful, but truthfully…he just looked constipated.

"Please tell me you aren't insane enough to seriously consider your sister's ex," Lucien said, wrinkling his nose. "I'd rather not deal with the drama."

Elain stilled. "How do you know he's my sister's ex?" There was no way that file was extensive enough to list out her sisters' dating histories, too.

Oh gods, had she been too quick to trust him?

Annoyingly, Lucien just smirked despite the suspicion that had crept into her voice. "Most cupids stopped using arrows a long time ago, but we still learn to shoot because the elders grumble about tradition. Feyre's the most patient archery instructor to come along in centuries, so of course we all pitched in to help her out with Rhysand after that nasty business with Tamlin's curse."

Whatever the cupids did had worked. Last night, Nesta and Cassian were out teaching their weekly judo class, so it had just been Elain at home with Feyre and Rhys, who'd cuddled up on the couch, his wing wrapped around her shoulders while they made disgustingly cute heart eyes at each other. She'd retreated to the kitchen to bake and avoid them.

It still seemed too much to believe that with Lucien's help, she could find love like that, too.

"Well, I'm not matching with him, but hold on a second," Elain said, taking a screenshot and sending it to her sisters.

She quickly muted the chat before Nesta or Feyre had a chance to ask how things were going with Lucien. The last thing she needed was an interrogation.

The next profile after Tamlin's was a woman—and finally, someone who looked promising. In her picture, Briar was standing in a greenhouse, and her smattering of freckles, floppy straw sunhat, and fresh-faced beauty were exactly Elain's type.

There was some sort of audio player embedded on the page. Odd. Elain hadn't seen that before, but perhaps Briar was particularly conscious about making her profile accessible to the visually impaired.

She looked a question at Lucien, who just gave another one of those elegant shrugs she was beginning to suspect were his calling card.

Elain hit play. And the sound of Briar, greeting visitors to her page in a voice that sounded exactly like Kermit the Frog, filled the room. Elain clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. Her eyes slid to Lucien, silently asking him if he was hearing this, too.

He somehow managed to keep a straight face until Briar began to sing, and his shoulders shook with laughter as she painfully warbled her way through "One More Sleep 'til Christmas." Elain couldn't hit pause fast enough.

"I know the conventional wisdom is that you'll have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince, but…" Lucien said, trailing off as Elain's giggle grew in to out-and-out laughter.

The fist that seemed to always be clenched around her chest these days loosened just a bit. If Elain wasn't mistaken, she was having…fun. Since Greysen, she'd felt that way so rarely that she'd almost forgotten what it was like.

After a few more quick swipes left, Elain finally paused on the profile of a man who had the kindest blue eyes she'd ever seen. Tarquin Sommers was an oceanographer who spent his free time attending beach cleanups and teaching children to surf.

And it certainly helped that he had a gorgeous, muscular swimmer's body, too.

Elain's finger hovered over the screen, and Lucien noticed, his mechanical eye seeming to whirr with excitement. "Tarquin is a sea witch," he said gently, "so he'll be perfectly understanding of the whole slaying demons thing, if that's your concern."

"That's good to know," Elain said. "He's— He's very pretty."

"And not on the cupids' no-fly list, either. I recommend you start with him."

Elain told herself that the knots in her stomach were just excitement and swiped right.

A few days later, Elain found herself waiting outside a coffee shop—one of the cute local ones that advertised fair trade beans and used biodegradable cups. She was so out of practice that Feyre did her makeup, and her lavender romper had needed several rounds of Nesta's wrinkle-removal spell after being relegated to a heap at the back of her closet for so long.

But Elain made it. She was going to do this.

Lucien was already inside, sipping a dirty chai while pretending to read a book but really keeping an eye on her through the window. He'd offered to keep his distance and give them some privacy, but there was something about his presence that Elain found incredibly reassuring. She'd asked him to stay.

And honestly, he was probably the only reason she hadn't panicked and cancelled at the last minute.

Tarquin greeted her with an easy smile. He'd swapped out the board shorts in his picture for jeans that hugged his ass and a crisp white t-shirt that matched his hair and made his dark skin glow. Elain let him lead her inside.

They ordered their drinks, and somehow, the world didn't end as they made conversation. Elain had been good at this kind of thing, once. Before her life had been demonic crisis after crisis, she'd hosted parties and loved flirting and getting to know new people.

But now, she hardly spent any time with anyone who wasn't Feyre, Nesta, Rhys, or Cassian. She loved her family, but…she'd shut herself away.

It helped that Tarquin seemed like the sort of person who was easy to love. Barely a few minutes into their date, they'd already found common ground in a shared interest in aquatic plants.

In fact, Elain was so interested in coastal seagrass that she excitedly gestured with her cup. The lid went flying, and suddenly Tarquin's white shirt had a bright green matcha stain that extended all the way from his collar to his hem.

Elain wanted to disappear on the spot. She should have just accepted that she couldn't date without mucking everything up, and it was better to cut this short while the mess was still small enough that it could be taken care of with bleach instead of a vanquishing spell so complex it drained all of her power for weeks afterward. She'd been so monumentally stupid for—

Lucien caught her eye from across the café. "Elain," he said gently, but still loud enough that his voice carried to her. "It's quite alright."

Something inside her settled. She managed a weak smile in his direction. Lucien grinned back, snapped his fingers, and then Elain found herself in the same spot she'd been thirty seconds prior.

Their drinks weren't finished yet. Tarquin's shirt was still perfectly clean.

Lucien had turned back time to fix her date.

Elain repeated what she'd already said about seagrass meadows, and Tarquin didn't seem to notice anything was amiss. This time, she was careful not to spill her drink as they talked.

The whole thing was…nice. Tarquin's stories about swimming with dolphins back home in Adriata were charming, and he listened with intent, genuine interest as Elain explained how the ratio of white to brown sugar in a cookie recipe affected the texture of the final product. And he was even better-looking in person.

But still, a spark was missing. When it was time to leave, Elain turned her head at the last moment so that the goodbye kiss intended for her lips landed on her cheek instead.

Lucien was already in the living room of the Archeron manor when Elain winnowed home that evening—somehow, he'd secured a dinner invite from Nesta. He was lounging on their sofa, looking strangely at home as he fixed the fletching on one of Feyre's arrows. His auburn hair looked molten in the golden hour light streaming in from the windows.

"Well?" he said, looking up as she walked in.

"It was good," Elain said.

Lucien turned to face her fully, placing his feet flat on the floor and his hands on his knees. He tilted his head, and the glint of metal in his golden eye looked strangely predatory. "Just good?"

A pleasant shiver skittered its way down Elain's spine. "Yes."

"We should be doing a hell of a lot better than 'just good.'"

He stood, tapping the arrow on his palm as he approached her. His gaze traveled slowly down her body, and Elain's throat bobbed. Lucien came closer and closer, until she could feel heat radiating off of him.

A spark had been missing with Tarquin earlier, but Lucien was a gods-damned inferno of a cupid.

"Should we?" Elain breathed.

"I'm not giving up until you've been thoroughly swept off your feet. You deserve nothing less. But I think you're blocked, and it's time to try a different approach."

Before she could ask what that meant, Feyre called them into the kitchen for dinner.

[dustofthedailylife]

I’ve got an prompt for roommates AU,

Y/N craved her favorite dessert so she invited both men to have some on her treat, Anyway she gets sad because the place that makes her favorite dessert stopped making it and closed since the ingredients are expensive and the place doesn’t do well!!

y/n return home sad both men had there own Idea on how to make y/n happy by making the dessert, to there own surprise the dessert itself and its Ingredients is not from Sumeru but from Inazuma ( Either sakura mochi or dango … choose one of them )

We know kaveh is the one who would try to make it at home while Alhaitham simply order the ingredients from a merchant he trusts 🤣 or ask someone to make it maybe not Your choice haha~

[-> Roommate AU brainrots]

I approve of this idea haha! 🤭

You drag them to the bakery in Sumeru because you love going there to get some Sakura Mochi and you want to treat them to your favorite treat. And yes, they may be a bit pricier because they require ingredients directly imported from Inazuma but they're your favorite!

Anyway, the minute you get there and order three Sakura Mochi, the owner of the bakery pulls a sad face and informs you that they no longer sell them because the demand was not high enough in comparison to how much they cost.

So instead you order three Padisarah Scones. And while Alhaitham and Kaveh start bickering about something again you completely zone out. Already worrying about where you could get your favorite treat from in the future or how you could make it yourself.

"Guys, you just keep going, I'll be heading home. I want to lie down and listen to music a bit." You interrupt them and leave.

Naturally, both of them know what weighed your mood down and each of them independently made it their personal task to recreate the mochi for you.

While Alhaitham takes the approach of taking a hefty sum of mora to buy both the ingredients and the secret recipe from the baker who used to make them while also reading at least three books about Inazuman cuisine until he ultimately commissions said baker again to make a couple just for you; Kaveh takes the more spontaneous but loving approach of just winging it. Because he neither does he know nor can he afford the right ingredients. He reads some things about mochis in some cooking books he found in the House of Daena and eventually produces something that comes very close to the original thing.

Sure it's a bit bumpy and doesn't look perfect, but he gave it his all and it tastes pretty damn good. And what isn't perfect now, can still be perfected over time, he sure has the needed ambition for it.

Kaveh also makes sure you accompany him in the process and he informs you that he plans to recreate the dessert for you. And since you two like to bake together anyway, you two might as well spend some time together for this.

Much to the dismay of Alhaitham, who now sees that trying to make them with you together would've been the better approach to take as well. Instead, he commissioned someone because he wanted to give you the original ones you missed so dearly. But seeing you now, covered in flour and giggling and laughing in the kitchen with Kaveh makes him seethe.

[yukidragon]

Just wondering, in terms of the Sunny Time Crew Show, we know who’s Jack, but who are the other characters and what were their respective roles? Where can we find more information on what the TV show itself was about?

I’m afraid our clues so far are pretty limited. What we’ve been able to scrape together so far is some of the teaser tweets and the artwork Sauce made of the cast, one of which is used for official merchandise.

As always whenever I include some of the official publicly posted artwork for the series, I want to give full credit to Sauce for drawing it. They put a lot of hard work into this and deserve to be credited.

Remember, don’t repost the privately posted images from the SnaccPop Patreon. Let’s give our full support to Sauce and the team where we can, okay?

We know the names of the rest of the cast members thanks to a map of Cloudy Town. There were big, big plans, according to this map.

Starting us off is the star of the show, Sunny Day Jack, the main man himself. Even on the map, his school house is right there at the top, drawing immediate attention. It’s in his signature primary colors, though the print shown is worn with washed out colors.

Luckily, Sauce was kind enough to post a version of the map on their twitter that didn’t go through the aging process. Since the twitter is gone, allow me to show it here.

Directly from the school house is Knackadan Drizzle’s field. Quite the name, huh? It’s a pretty sporty place, fitting for a sports themed clown... or rather a coach themed clown?

While nothing has been confirmed for certain, it looks like Knackadan Drizzle was responsible for the lessons on the show that related to sports, likely also teamwork and cooperation as well. Fittingly, he is colored in shades of green and yellow like his field. I imagine even his green mustache might be something of a nod to the green grass on the field.

The playground isn’t associated with any one person, but right next to it is Daisy Chain Jane’s Joke Shop. Like Jack’s school, the joke shop sports primary colors, similar to Jane’s design.

Now Daisy Chain Jane is a pretty interesting character. Those who remember this post I made about the SunnyTime Town AU might recall that Daisy Chain Jane is a character exclusive to that AU rather than the fictional world of the show.

Then again, Buddy existed in the show as a belt puppet that apparently could talk, so it’s possible that Jane might exist in the show’s canon as well.

My guess is that there were plans to have her character introduced during the next season as Jack’s big sister. After all, the map itself was posted with the caption that there were big plans. Jack’s murder certainly scrapped any future for the SunnyTime Crew Show... at least 40 years ago.

Next we have Rory Rainberry’s Bakery in shades of purple, pink, orange, and red. Some of you might know his actor Jean Laurent, but the character he plays seems to be a lot more wholesome than this candid shot.

As suggested by this picture and the map, Rory is a baker. I’m sure he teaches kids about nutrition, staying healthy, eating sweets in moderation, and maybe a few simple cooking recipes they can do at home like putting peanut butter onto celery.

Finally we have Cloudy-Belle Sue and her white, pink, and pastel blue library. Sadly, we don’t have a picture of her alone, but I suspect that she was in charge of story time with the children, likely using fables to teach important lessons that are outside the scope of the more grounded parts of the show.

Overall, the show seems to have been aimed at young children, teaching life lessons in a way they can digest easily, with cheerful clowns in bright colors acting as both their teachers and friends. CloudyTown was meant to be a place of fun and learning. It’s hard to say for sure what the age range of its target demographic was exactly, but I’m sure we’ll find out in the game’s full release when we get a look into the backstory of the show.

I will point out though for those who might not have caught it - the colors of each character’s locations seem to correspond with the main colors in the characters’ clothes and hair. The main colors of the show, as shown by the logo and at the bottom of the map, seems to make it clear that Jack was always intended to be the main character, no matter what he says that there is no leader of the crew during the interview.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

The Silence of the Lambs is an unnerving film with memorable scenes, intense performances and terrific characters… along with plenty of gore. This makes it a horror film - the only one to ever win an Academy Award for Best Picture - so far. On its own, the central mystery would be enough but we get much, much more.

25-year-old FBI trainee Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) is assigned to interview Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins), a former psychiatrist and cannibalistic serial killer apprehended six years ago. Officially, Jack Crawford (Scott Glenn) wants her to convince Hannibal to fill out a questionnaire. Unofficially, he hopes she can convince Hannibal to help find “Buffalo Bill” (Ted Levine), a serial killer who has been abducting and murdering women.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that director Jonathan Demme isn’t simply giving us another serial killer detective story. When Clarice hops into an elevator at the academy, all of the men inside tower over her. While she isn’t the only woman studying to become an FBI agent, there’s a recurring theme of her being debased or disrespected because she is a woman. Jack Crawford makes an unintentional remark to some police officers, Dr. Frederick Chilton (Anthony Heald) at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane doesn’t take her seriously and makes certain assumptions about her interview with Lecter (considering what Crawford says later, he might be slightly right), at least one inmate gets particularly lewd once he sees her. The theme continues with Buffalo Bill, who has a fundamental misunderstanding of what a woman even is, which leads him to commit his gruesome - and bizarre - murders. The only person (besides a female student played by Kasi Lemmons) who seems to treat Clarice with respect… is Hannibal.

Labelling Clarice as nothing more than "the film's female aspiring FBI agent" would be a mistake. Starling is a memorable character. She’s resourceful, smarter than she looks, doesn’t easily get rattled, and develops this odd sort of relationship with Lecter that says a lot about who she is and why she wants to join the FBI. At one point, Hannibal is offering her clues that could help her apprehend Buffalo Bill but in exchange, he demands to know more about her childhood. Obviously, he's using the techniques he learned as a psychologist to gather more information than even we could understand. During the interrogation, we learn where the movie's title comes from. Considering all of the grisly sights we see, it’s telling that the most chilling moment is that exchange. There’s something about Lecter that’s so dangerous. He’s classy. He’s smart. He always seems to have the perfect remark whenever anyone says anything to him. He’s alluring but just as you start getting close to the glass, you remember that he’s a monster.

With Clarice and Hannibal sufficiently covered, we can now talk about the mystery. If it took me this long, it's because if the movie was just a conversation between those characters, it would be enough. You’re glued to the screen watching them interact. You’re having a great time putting the pieces together, trying to figure these people out. Then, they part ways and you remember "Oh, right! The mystery!" How could you have forgotten? Buffalo Bill has captured another victim (Brooke Smith as Catherine Martin, who actually creates a memorable character with her few scenes). There’s only so much time before he does whatever it is he does to her. We've seen the other victims. We don't quite understand what it is that's going to happen, but we know it's not good. Martin’s mother, a U.S. Senator (Diane Baker) has the power to accelerate processes - anything to get her daughter back. Hannibal knows it. So does Clarice. Jonathan Demme and screenplay writer Ted Tally (who bases it off of the novel by Thomas Harris) keep playing tennis with you, moving you from the interviews with Lecter, to the mystery with the FBI and back again.

The Silence of the Lambs is a thriller that makes you sweat. Its horror elements will make you uneasy and one thing’s for sure, there’s no forgetting this movie once you’ve seen it. The performances are exceptional and even some of the smaller parts are far and above what you’d expect to see, even in a classy horror film - well, as classy as you can be when you have severed heads in bottles and rotting corpses dug out of rivers. I'm returning to the idea that it is a horror movie because it's an important quality of Silence of the Lambs. It's gruesome, it's thrilling, it's filled with engaging characters and it is undeniably frightening. (On Blu-ray, January 16th, 2023)

[elysianightsss]

Baker!Techno x reader

Wont ever stop plum.

Warning: beware of the honeycomb, PTSD, hinted drugging, mention of gunshots.

Your eyes blink open taking in the sight of the white sheer curtains flowing softly in the warm breeze, the feel of the gentle cotton sheets against your body did nothing to pull you out of your hazy sleep.

Things you don’t remember, places you’ve never been, a true dream if you’ve ever had one full of fiction and mistrustful information. It could never be true so you don’t dwell on the fragments of you in the desert that are fracturing your already fragile state of mind.

Your delicious baker always tells you not to think too much, with everything you’ve been through all you should be doing is relaxing.

But what had you been through is the real question.

You breathe deeply taking in the breath taking smell of cinnamon sweet buns downstairs, ears twitching at what you think is the radio playing in the background. Someone muttering something about India, hotel alpha victor echo, hotel echo Romeo, you don’t know not paying attention to such frivolous matters.

Instead you roll over onto your side eyes going to the French doors that are open giving you a full view of the blue sky, sun shining but not high enough for it to be midday. You recon it’s nine, possibly ten. The smell of fresh cut grass tells you that Techno had been up since about six am to do all the chores before you could even offer.

He was very passionate about you finishing the last two books of your favourite series and you can’t do that if you’re distracting yourself with silly things like chores. His words, not yours.

Breathing deeply once more not wanting to spike your heart rate, somehow your man always knows. It’s rather strange but it’s another thing on the list of things you shouldn’t dwell on. Catching a wiff of rain in the air, you can tell that the vineyard, you have as your beautiful back garden, got the drink it desperately needed last night.

Finally thinking you’ve given your baker enough time to ice those sweet buns you pull yourself from the sheets however groggy, you manage to slip on a silk robe and stagger your way through your home.

Your kitchen was Techno’s pride and joy, besides you of course, he designed it and got some friends of his to help build it. It is the definition of a baker’s dream, equipped with a state of the art pizza oven and four electric ovens for his exquisite bakery dishes adding a crisp texture, to delightful cookies and puffs.

Your tired eyes scan the kitchen quickly latching onto the sight of sixteen sweet buns waiting for you. You pad over ready to reach for one of the freshly iced cinnamon buns only to be stopped by your baker.

“Ah ah ah, this first.” A smooth piece of golden honeycomb appears in front of your face instantly making you salivate. You take it putting it to your lips, taking small licks before sucking on an edge missing the way Techno groans under his breath.

“Take such good care of me.” You mumble mouth a little full, eyes fluttering shut with a soft hum.

“Won’t ever stop plum.” His lips skim your forehead. He’s so sweet and so sincere. He’s genuine and loving. Everything he is always is. Not even a hint of darkness swirling in his eyes. Not even a spec.

Gunshots and the smell of dusty sand echo through his senses as his darkening orbs dart around your face while you suck on the sweet honeycomb.

“How’d you sleep plum?” He asks an arm curling around your waist pulling you against his warm body. With no shirt covering his hairy chest and a bit of pudge from all the taste testing. Wearing a simple pair of basketball shorts you whimper at the feel of him pressed up against you.

You nod eyes still closed, taking more of the honeycomb into your mouth to suckle on laying your head on his chest too. “Maybe you could use a bit more of it hm?” He hums in your ear before sucking your earlobe into his mouth, raking his teeth over it. “I think that’s a good idea, why don’t we cuddle for a while hmm?”

You nod, feeling disoriented letting Techno guide you to the bed you’d just left. His thick fingers stroking your head gently as he slips in behind you, holding you tight. “Let it happen plum.” He whispers, and you do eyes fluttering shut. All memories of that desert that had started to form in your head, gone.

[tunastime]

the various skills of ethoslab and how he learned them and when. the list of a man who's lived a bit longer than he should have. (inspired by this post)

field meals: it's just soup. he never makes them for anyone else, not until they lose the grainy texture they start with. he learns from a man in a village that questions why he covers his face. etho laughs, but he never tells him why. the man doesn't ask again. he tells him that if he lets the vegetables soften for longer that they won't make a gritty soup when mashed. he learns spiced pumpkin, beetroot, chicken and potato.

(he stays for two weeks. he rids the nearby temple of infestation in repayment. when the temple master tries to repay him with gold, he tells him that he only wants a written recipe of how to bake bread. the baker’s son gives him one with honey in it.)

soap making: is something he learns pretty early on in his career in machinery. it's no good just to rinse your hands in water and it's still no good just to be buying soap up-charged, and lye isn't any good alone. lye doesn't smell, or worse yet, smells heavy and thick and doesn't come off your skin or out of your clothes properly. he picks up a book somewhere about it. one part lye. one part oil. one part anything else. beeswax and honey. pine tar and coconut oil. he learns what mixtures get redstone out of his clothes and what he can use to wash his hair with so it doesn't frizz. he washes his clothes in a basin of warm water and honey and rosemary soap, as he does his blankets and his sheets until his whole home smells like rosemary and honey and lye and beeswax. he washes his hair and it smells like pine.

plant identification: it takes one bad meal. one bad berry before etho starts learning. pause gets sick in the snow, really sick. he doesn't cough up blood but the sheen of sweat never leaves his face for the entire week that he lies shivering under two coats and a blanket. every time etho and beef try to say something comforting, he says, “stop fussing over me, i'm fine, just food poisoning. beef cooked the chicken wrong.” (it wasn't the chicken. it was the elderberries. etho spends time figuring out what the ripe ones look and taste like. he learns mistletoe, nettles and hogweed, rosary peas and lily of the valley. he doesn't see any of them except the lily again. but he keeps the information for later.) pause gets better after a week of his eyes far away, glazed over, sweating, of him unable to keep down fluids, of shaking awake in the night, holding etho's hand. they get sick, but nobody gets sick like that again.

sewing: pause steadies his hands. he tells him that if he messes up he'll poke himself and beef tells him to stop fussing. etho can thread a needle, can't he? (he can't.) he stabs his index finger three times poking it through the fabric to make a crude patch with their initials on it. then he sews shut a tear on beef's jacket, then he affixes a handful of new buttons to an old shirt of bdubs'. bdubs has him sewing squares within the week, and they stitch together a quilt of scrap fabric big enough for them both. there isn't a cold night that the quilt doesn't stave away. it's in a different spot each time etho sees him: draped over a chair, lovingly folded on the bedside, pulled over his shoulders. they wear it threadbare.

braiding: his hair gets too long. he ties it back himself the first time, some loose thing that falls out as soon as he does it. he says to himself (a reminder): “you break it into three. you're always crossing over the middle most strand. right over middle, then right becomes middle, so left over the middle. and repeat. pulling tight.” he gets better at it, until he can tie a strong three strand braid that he learned from tying twine together to make a stronger rope. bdubs sees him pull it back a few times and braid it like that, and one of those times, late, when they're both tired and leaning on each other, he turns and takes his loose hair and asks if he can braid it. etho shrugs and says “sure.” (and his voice says only you can do that). bdubs says “sit still.” etho sits in front of his crossed legs and bdubs combs out his hair. he tells him as he works: “it's different than the three, but not that different. you pull an extra strand in each time. it looks like fish scales, so people call it a fishtail.” bdubs braids and pulls it tight. he leans forward into etho and etho leans back into him.

(etho spends two days knotting fraying ropes in fishtail braids so his hands learn (and he fidgets, and he fidgets, and it becomes his new fidget, to tie rope together) before he attempts it on his shoulder-blade length hair. bdubs guides his hands, starting him off until he can braid the top too. he only cuts it once—right before the second death games, and even then, bdubs manages to braid a little braid into his hair.)

tea specialist: it's methodical. that's what he learns, when he travels out further than he had in a long time and wanders into the city. he, like many adventurers, takes refuge, and he, unlike many adventurers, stumbles into the tea shop and takes it all in. steady hands (beef taught him that) keep him from crushing the leaves too fine to strain. he learns what hot water feels like in a tin kettle and how to prop it properly on the coals so it heats even and doesn't char the underside of the tin. he buys two wooden cups there, sealed with wax, and brings them with the kettle. it stays on the countertop.

(he uses it every night. later, in a snow fort in the middle of nowhere, he sets one of the wooden cups into the calloused hands of his partner and friend, and bdoubleo looks at him with eyes wide and round and red. he doesn't kill him when he sleeps.)

staving off the effects of sleep deprivation: there's a body sleeping next to him that needs him awake. there's a place someone can sit between wake and dream that makes sure that the body doesn't tire and it's here where he stays. his heart slows way down, but his eyes stay alert through a bleary haze. there are things he hears that aren't real. when his partner (partner, the word feels weird on his tongue now that bdubs is a red life. if they were anywhere else, he would be safe to sleep) wakes two hours from now, then he will rest. he will lie there and listen, waiting to hear him stop breathing. he never gets to that point, but he certainly sleeps very little. beef and pause never told him off for doing it, but when there were sections of the day that he didn't remember and he sat up and there was a coat draped over his knees with a tag that had VB written in chunky letters, he smiled to himself. he's tired now, but he's good at pretending he's not.

separating the things that are dreams from the ones that are not: he's still waiting for someone to tell him how to do that

[stocious]

bisexual carl thoughts

so listen, we got robbed of some bisexual content in the show with fiona’s exit so me and nosho ( @creepkinginc ) got talking and you know what? bisexual carl. we’re here for it. so we made him a boyfriend. meet ben.

carl brings his first ever actual boyfriend to sunday family dinner and at first the gallaghers are kinda confused because ben looks like a nobody. he has a boring name and a boring look, very average, nothing special about him. carl has had a slew of very interesting women and he’s with this guy? makes zero sense.

until ben opens his mouth. it makes sense then.

they learn he’s a baker and works at a bakery close to the police station and that’s how they met (”cops and dounts, huh?”) but ben had to give his number THREE times before carl got the hint. because why would a guy flirt with him? it took him a minute alright.

but ben also tells them he’s been a park ranger in new mexico where he’s from, a construction worker, for a while he worked with removing snakes and shit from peoples houses, you know, normal ben stuff.

at which the gallaghers tell him the story about carl killing the bald eagle hoping to get a laugh outta the guy

but he looks dissapointed and says he wishes he was there so he could show them how to prepare it properly. which then send him into a story about that time he killed and ate a poisionous snake.

the gallaghers just stare but carl nods and looks like its the most normal thing ever. ben informs them that they have to remember to bury the head should they ever have to do that because you can still step on it and get poisoned.

he then goes on to tell them about other wild animals you can eat. seagulls, snails, bugs, possums. and how to best prepare them.

alright so ian spots his tattoo and asks about it. its a ruler on his forearm and ben just shrugs and tells them he uses it to measure fish he catches sometimes. you never know when you have to measure something. its handy at ikea and when you gotta make sure a hole is deep enough. a hole for what? oh you never know when you need a hole with just the right size.

they keep talking and frank/monica/parents comes up and ben tells them about his survivalist father who dropped him in the woods one time with a swiss army knife and a lighter and he had to find his way back home. by himself. at 12.

(thats also the time he ate the snake. ya boy had to eat)

there’s just this distinct feeling ben could build you a house and do your taxes, but he’s also the typa guy who could tell you the best way to make a body dissapear and how to make a deadly weapon out of a paperclip and a stick. mcgyver style.

eventually it turns into this thing where everybody just waits for him to piggyback of whatever story they tell with a ”that reminds me of that one time…” and they all just KNOW its gonna be something outta the left field. just ben stories.

ian voices his concern about ben being a red flag to mickey but mickey’s like ���firecrotch, you married ME. if we turned out fine im sure ben and carl will be fine too. he’s weird as fuck but i kinda like the dude. good for carl the little pyschopath”

eventually they wanna add him to the gallagher group chat but he doesnt use facebook. or any social media sites. but he does have 17 different apps for hiking trails and apps for identifying plants you can eat or not eat and a compass app and— all the apps but not facebook. sorry.

so yeah, ben looks like he wouldnt make sense with carl but they get it now. he makes total sense with carl.

(i wrote this on my phone and didnt spellcheck so take it for what it is)