#one of my bigger asks. yippie!

[great-god-bugs]

May you do sunflower dreamboat as bugs please?

The sunflower dreambugs~

Might need to stay around and listen to their music more, who knows what groovy tunes they could be playing next

[im-so-tired-sorry]

look! it’s you!

kiribaku x gn!reader

synopsis: you + bakusquad at the carnival! yippie!

————————————————————————

you and the bakusquad were at the local carnival that had just opened for the summer. you all decided going opening day was best for having the ultimate experience of the foods, games, and rides.

earlier that day you had gone on the swing ride with kirishima; and while kaminari, sero, and mina were on some of the bigger rollercoasters, you and kiri dragged bakugo to try some classic fair food. collectively, the whole group went on the spinning cups ride. yk, the one where you have to spin the cup yourselves while the cups are also spinning around the mechanisms of the ride. you thought that bakugo didn’t care enough to participate since he was dragged by the group, but to your surprise, he decided to fully commit. he dedicated full force into making sure your cup spun at its fastest speed, to the point where it almost broke. while you, bakugo, kirishima and kaminari spun the wheel at the center, mina would be laughing and making sure her stuff didn’t fly away while sero would be vlogging catching everyone’s energetic and joyous faces.

after rides, you all landed in the alley full of game booths, so the boys tried to win the giant prizes. sero and kaminari were mainly doing it for fun (and kind of losing terribly), kirishima was trying to win you the stuffed shark you were eyeing every time you passed it, and bakugo only played a few games to prove that no “rigged game” was going to work on him. in the end, you were given the stuffed shark and mina a big stuffed kirby.

“it’s so you.” you say to kirishima as you cling onto the stuffed shark he had just won you.

“oh my god it’s me!” he responds with a giggle.

“yeah it’s dumb.” bakugo adds on as he pops some kettle corn into his mouth.

“hey, don’t be mean! plus, you’re just mad cause you couldn’t win me the stuffed cow-“

“who said i was trying to win it for you??!?”

you laugh as you and your boyfriends walk slightly ahead of your other three friends. night was falling and neon lights were starting shine your way through the various alleys of food stalls and rides.

eijirou nudged on your arm and pointed at the koala painted on the side of a ride that was meant for smaller children. it was in a cartoonish style, with a big smile. “look, it’s you! cause you always give the best hugs!”

“and cause you’re clingy as hell.” you slightly shove katsuki as you laugh at eijirous compliment.

“shove me again and see what happens brat!” with katsuki’s invitation to a challenge, you pass your stuffed shark to eijirou and use both hands to shove katsuki to the side, making sure you don’t push him towards some random stranger that happens to be walking by. scoffing at your boldness and audacity, katsuki grabs you and effortlessly throws you over his shoulder.

“katsuki!!! put me down!!” you lightly kick your legs as he continues walking, your other boyfriend laughing at the sight. “no way brat. you’re paying the consequences of your actions. you wanted to test me, so your being picked up and carried.”

“katsuki be careful-“

“look! it’s you!” you point to a dragon plush that’s hanging in one of the game booths. it has an angry expression but it doesn’t make it any less cute. you hear eijirou try to stifle a laugh.

“that’s it.”

katsuki starts spinning around, which didn’t help you since you were already kind of upside down. you start scream/laughing as katsuki laughs at your panic and eijirou tells him to be careful.

“katsuki!! stop spinning!!!! you’re making me dizzy!! i will vomit on you if i have to!!”

after a solid thirty seconds of spinning, he stops and katsuki asks, “you gonna stop being annoying or should i keep you over my shoulder?” you beg bakugo to put you down, and it didn’t take him a lot of convincing.

you continue walking around the fair comparing each other to the variety of characters that you saw, and at one point your other friends joined too.

“look man that’s you!” eijirou would say to kaminari about a pikachu plush. “it’s me!”

“that’s definitely bakugo.” sero alludes to the small dog barking at everyone passing by.

“look it’s you.” you point out a pink butterfly that happened to float by to mina. “ugh, i’m so pretty.”

you continue walking for a bit next to bakugo while everyone else is ahead. it’s fully night now and the energy has shifted from an energetic ambience to one of a casual vibe.

“look it’s you.” bakugo points at the balloon stand selling clear balloons that have light up butterflies inside of them. a boy and a girl reach up as the vendor hands them a balloon. the children, all giddy of their new shiny thing, run back to their mom.

“why is that me?” you’re curious as to why katsuki would make that kind of connection.

“cause.”

“cause what?”

“just cause! that’s…that’s how you make me feel… the whole butterflies in your stomach thing. you and eijirou make me feel like that… sometimes… i guess.”

flustered on how romantic katsuki is being, you decide teasing him would only make him take it back, so you give him a kiss on the cheek instead. you notice the apples of his cheeks turning more pink, but you know pointing it out will only make him deny it.

“guys look!” eijirou runs over to you two with something in his arms. once he’s closer, you see he has three small teddy bears; one red, one black, and one orange.

“what about them?”

“i saw they were selling them and i knew i had to get them! look, it’s us!”

you gush at your boyfriend’s considerate heart and take your respective teddy bear. bakugo takes his bear and calls it a “waste of money” before putting it along the other prizes you three had one earlier that day. you know he secretly admires the thought, but you think to tease him about it later.

“come on lovebirds! the fair is about to close!”

“yeah hurry up or we’re leaving without you!”

you grab your partners hands and enjoy your last bit of the stroll through the fair, with the lingering smell of popcorn and neon lights replacing the stars.

————————————————————————

a/n: ah! had this idea for a bit so i hope you enjoyed!! endings are not my strong suit so pls forgive 🙏 also, i kind of wrote it in the beginning, but i don’t think it would be that out of character to have bakugo to commit to the spinning cups ride instead of just sitting their, crossed armed and not participating. but that’s just me!

anyway, pls leave suggestions as to what i should write next! i love one shot plots so any ideas help :) goodnight!

[gurl-pls-evn-the-sharks-fear-me]

Hello this is my fandoms list of what i write for and what i write

please read if your going to request a lot of it is important either post your request in the notes/comments or ask me anything box in bio I only do chrXrdr or chrXchr or ocXoc

Newsies (broadway and 1992)

Ride The Cyclone

Grey Anatomy (i'm only on season 3)

Any Slasher that i know i'll tell you if i know them or not

Docter who (10th, 11th and 15th and maybe some companions aswell)

Torchwood

Hazbin Hotel

Helluva Boss

Tuck Everlasting broadway (this musical needs a bigger fanbase)

maybe falsettos i'm not to big in the fandom but i know of it

i can do actor x reader but doesn't mean it guaranteed kinda weirds me out even if i used to red em

rocky horror picture show

I WILL NOT DO ANIME (ofc watch it i just don't like writing it)

i can do oc if you dm their backstory, their names and what the look like

Two Broke Girls love the show to bits

Ghostbusters mainly the newer ones i love the older ones i just find it easier to write the newer ones (I FINALLY WATCHED FROZEN EMPIRE YIPPIE. be free to request asmuch froze empire stuff i mainly really like anything todo with lars pinfield lol)

i can do modern au's and afterlife au like the limbo type place

i can do fluff and angst

NO R@PE, NO-CON OR SMUT, i will do angst just not severe abuse or violence unless the character has an abusive background i can mention abuse but just cause i can doesn't mean i will

dark romance, slow burn and enemies to lovers

TLOU (i love the game and want to watch the show so bad)

Harry potter/fantastic Beasts

good omens (i love the show but i just don't know how to write for it for some reason)

Mary poppins (only the second movie tho)

greatest showman maybe idk

Descendants (3&4)

disney/pixar movies that i havn't mentioned

NO MARVEL OR DC (the fandoms allright i just don't like writing for it i like the movies tho)

i can also do fantasty i will love for you to request fantasty oc's if you want

fantasy romance would kill for it

How To Train Your Dragon 2 & 3 maybe 1 if it's a flashback

[social-muffin]

22 & 24 for Habiki

The last committee Ask in the inbox, yippie! :D thank you so much for the great Asks Jojie!

Habiki Ask!

How would you describe your character’s life in one sentence?

My gosh, how to describe Habiki's life in one sentence... I rewrote this five different ways, but the real core of his character is really just:

"Kindness is its own strength!"

Habiki is a bigger sweetheart than Tetsuya and he keeps that kindness until the day he dies!

What’s the first thing they would buy if they won the lottery?

Gosh, for Habiki to win the lottery, he maybe found a ticket on the floor or one of his brother's many friends gave it to him and Habiki forgot who did before he scratched it free and found out he won.

The first thing he buys immediately after is a cold bottle of water to pour on his own head to get out of the frozen shock! And to drink too, to combat the instant stress! Though if we are talking about bigger purchases, that would be when Habiki invites his whole family, his brother's closest friends and the Committee out to a fancy restaurant that weekend. To more easily tell everyone the news and to ask for advice. Because this much sudden responsibility is gonna make him cry actually!

[peninkwrites]

Before: Tubbo's First Friend

Tubbo heard there was a child in his basement, how exciting!

[CW: hostage situations, child endangerment, implied neglect]

The Mafia AU

crossposted to ao3

~

This wasn’t the first time his father had brought home a hostage, but it was the first time it was someone around Tubbo’s age.  Tubbo had snuck down the hall, looking over the railing curiously as a small figure––bigger than him, but still small––was all but carried inside and back through the house to the cellar, head covered by a hood, and arms pinned back.  It wasn’t just any kid, as Tubbo had heard through his occasional eavesdropping, it was the Police Captain’s kid.  Tubbo, not out of any personal experience, rather word of mouth, had heard that the Police Captain was an “annoying bitch” who “didn’t know how to stay out of the way.”  Somehow, taking her kid was meant to fix that.  Tubbo was nine years old, and he thought he grasped the family business relatively well, but he thought taking away her kid would probably be an annoyance at best.  He knows if he disappeared, when his father eventually noticed, he’d probably be pissed off, but that wouldn’t stop him from acting as he did, but his father was good at his business, apparently, so maybe it did something.

Tubbo lurked for the first few days of their new guest in the basement.  This one was a hostage, so, thus far no gunshots or screaming, just a rather eerie quiet from downstairs.  Tubbo only asked about the kid once and had gotten very lucky, all things considered.  Not a question directly towards his father––god forbid––but he happened to be in the kitchen when one of the lackeys came in to go downstairs and feed their captive.  Tubbo had, when it came down to it, despite having lurked in the kitchen deliberately, panicked and instead of asking anything that might have made sense, he’d asked the man, “do they seem nice?”

The man seemed startled by Tubbo being there at all, let alone speaking, so instead of a more expected scolding, the guy just went, “what?”

“The Captain’s kid.  Are they nice?  How old are they?  Are they my age?  I’m nine, by the way.”

Silence, Tubbo shifting nervously, and the man staring at him like he was a particularly yippy dog.  “Uh.  Quiet.  The kid is fuckin’ quiet.  Obviously,” the man says dryly.  He glances back to the cellar door, which he had been about to unlock behind him, before he reconsiders.  “D’you wanna..?” He nods from the kitchen to the cellar.

“Can I?” Tubbo asks eagerly.

The man still looks quite uncomfortable.  He doesn’t seem to know that the Boss’s kid doesn’t get any respect, and if he wanted he could just tell him to fuck off, and isn’t sure if he’s supposed to treat Tubbo like a dangerous little mob prince or not.  “I dunno, I don’t see why not…”  He says sheepishly.  “Just, get some shit together, whatever kids eat, I dunno, guess you’d know, huh?  And I’ll be up here to lock up after.  Don’t– Don’t stay down there too long, though, okay?” He said warningly.

Tubbo was already flitting around the kitchen like an excitable, jittery moth.  He pauses only once, looking briefly worried.  “Are they allergic to peanut butter?”

“Do you think I fuckin’ asked?”

Tubbo considers this gravely.  He thinks he read somewhere that peanut allergies were alarmingly common and quite fatal.  “I’ll assume yes just to be safe,” he nods astutely, like this man is at all invested.

“Yeah… yeah, you do that…” the man sighs, leaning against the cabinets.

Tubbo has a wooden tray, because he might as well do his best on the presentation, he has a feeling he’ll only be able to do this once, and he places a glass of water beside a juice box––one for hydration, one for leisure––and he’s arranged a pile of goldfish and chicken nuggets on the plate with the utmost care.  He is careful with his last additions, debating between condiments, before deciding to bring along ketchup, as that’s what he tended to use, before, with an unusual joy in actually being able to share with someone, he added a coveted pudding cup to the tray.  The man had watched this display in wry amusement.

“What, you’re not gonna put a flower on it for your girlfriend?” He said dryly.

Rather than embarrassed, Tubbo took this critique thoughtfully.  “Should I?”

The man sighed, his wit apparently unappreciated, and unlocked the cellar.  “Again, it’s not a fucking playdate, so don’t take too long.”

“You got it, sir!” Tubbo said brightly, descending into the darkened cellar with only mild apprehension.

A single bare bulb lit the room, it was otherwise sparsely furnished.  A mattress on the floor with a blanket on top of it, but otherwise, Tubbo noted, there wasn’t much to do down here.  He wishes he’d thought to bring down a puzzle or something, but it’s too late for that now.

“Hey, you’re not the usual guy!” The Captain’s kid is quite chipper for a hostage, sitting on the edge of the mattress, chin resting on their palm.

“N-No!  No, I’m not,” Tubbo hoped his excitement wasn’t too obvious.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen another kid, let alone spoken with them.  “Hello!  It’s– it is nice to meet you, I am Tubbo Underscore, but you can just call me Tubbo, obviously, and I– I’ve brought you food!” He holds out the tray.  “And– And water.  Um.  Obviously…”

“Cool, concierge, could you, like, bring it here?  I think you’re just outta my range,” the kid waved, and Tubbo recognized the chain around their wrist, it at least padded with some cloth between the metal and their skin.

Tubbo nodded sharply, quick to come closer.  The kid was much tanner than he was, which made sense, considering their entombment had only been a matter of days now, and Tubbo did not go outside much, and they were also clearly older than Tubbo.  “What’s– What’s a concierge?” Tubbo asked with something like awe.

The Captain’s kid considered this thoughtfully.  “Um.  I don’t actually know!  Like, a waiter or something?  I dunno.”  A shrug.  “Dude!  You got me chicken nuggets?!  This is way better than the crap they’ve been feeding me so far!”

“Yeah!  I’m nine years old––ten in December!––how old are you?” Tubbo wanted to sit next to them, but he held back, sitting on the ground across from them instead, all warning of not taking too long having left his mind.

“Whoa!  What is this, 20 questions?  I can’t be giving info to the enemy,” they said, cracking open the juice box.  “I am… older than you, though,” they seemed to think that was important to clarify.  “By a few years, alright?”

“Right, right, and what’s your name?” Tubbo asked eagerly.

“Now that is an interesting question, Tubbo Underscore,” they say his name a tad mockingly, but Tubbo doesn’t notice.  “Because, see, I’ve been down here forever now, and it’s given me a lot of time to think.”

“It has?”

“Yeah!  It has!  About, y’know, life and stuff, and you know what, Tubbo Underscore?  I’ve figured some stuff out.  I think I might be a dude.”

“Ye–Yeah?” Tubbo asks, puzzled.

“Yep!  A total dude.  Big ol’ mano-a-mano, manly man, right here!” The kid flexes, arms not all that impressive.  “Well, okay, not yet, but I’ll get there, anyway, I think I’m all dude-ified now.”

“Cool.  I– I didn’t know you could do that, to be honest,” Tubbo says, intrigued.

“So, the ‘nouns I got all sorted out, the basic kit will do, the he’s and the him’s, and the his’s, all that good stuff,” he pauses for a mouthful of goldfish, “still a bit caught up on the– the nomenclature–”

“What’s gnome-men-clay-sure?”

The Captain’s kid considers this thoughtfully.  “I am not sure, actually.  Something to do with names, that’s the point, basically, dunno what name to go with––Actually!” He cuts himself off, distracted, it makes Tubbo jump.  “Other issue, side-issue to the name thing, my one issue, my one hangup on gettin’ dude-ified, is,” he shakes out his hair, long and dark.  “Long hair!  Long hair is rad!  So, there’s a debate goin’ on up here,” he knocks on the side of his skull.  “About how I’m gonna be dude-ified if I like my longer hair,” he rubs his hands together, leaning forward conspiratorially, Tubbo leaning in to listen.  “I’m pretty sure… I’m pretty sure guys can have long hair,” he nods, as if revealing some great wisdom.

“Yeah, yeah probably, I mean, if you don’t cut it, it gets long,” Tubbo tries to contribute, thinking only of literal biological matters and not the social matters the Captain’s kid seems caught up with.

“Exactly!” The kid laughs again.  “And like, that’s cool now, isn’t it?  That’s what all the hippies are doing, right?”

Finally, a topic Tubbo has something to say on, he adds excitedly: “My dad says hippies are useless bums with no self respect!  So, yeah!  They’re probably cool.”

“Sweet,” the kid nods.  “Very cool.”  He eats another mouthful of crackers.  “‘fish?” He offers the plate to Tubbo.

“No, thank you, all yours, man,” Tubbo declines, more intrigued by the conversation.  “I didn’t realize you could change it.  You know, I’ve never put much thought into being a girl.  I haven’t really been around many girls, though, or, any girls, so I guess I wouldn’t know.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” the kid shrugs, crushing the juice box and tossing it across the room as one would a beer can, before eyeing the pudding cup next.

“I dunno.  As of, I’m quite happy being a boy, so.”

“My thoughts exactly!  Being a guy rules.  Like, I’m sure being a chick rules too, but I just don’t feel it, y’know?” He ignores the spoon Tubbo had brought so nicely and takes a swig of the pudding as if drinking a thick beverage.

“Yeah, I guess me neither.”

“So, dunno what I’m gonna do with names––thanks for your help, though, Tubbo, that hair conundrum was bugging me a bit, glad we settled on something––but I dunno about names.  I kinda want it to be something silly, something fun, y’know?”

“Oh, that’s nice!”

“Yeah, so, when I’m a big strong dude, people will still underestimate me, so I can still take ‘em by surprise when I, I dunno, stab ‘em or whatever.”

“Oh.”  Not what Tubbo was expecting.

The hostage squints across the room, contemplating something, clearly enjoying having an audience after days of isolation, “what’s the opposite of bright?”

“Um, dim?”

“Hm, close, but no cigar.  What’s, like, sorta like dim, but not the opposite of bright?”

Tubbo has quite the repertoire of such language.  “Oh!  I know!  Stupid, slow, dumb, idiotic, r–”

“Nah, close!  We’re really close, but no cigar!” He nods thoughtfully, pausing for a goldfish.

“Yeah, what’s that mean, too?  No cigar?  I mean, my dad smokes cigars sometimes, but it doesn’t make sense in what you’re saying.”

The hostage exhales air from his cheeks.  “No idea!”

Tubbo laughs.  “I don’t think I’ve met anybody that talks like you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tubbo shrugs.  “I dunno.  I think you’re… you’re pretty cool.”

“You’re goddamn right I’m cool!”  He takes it all in stride, pointing at Tubbo approvingly, the chain around his wrist rattling as he does so.  He takes another swig of the pudding, it creating a chocolate mustache on his lip.

“Why do you have a chain on your wrist?  Most hostages don’t need that,” Tubbo asked.  “Not the littler ones, anyway.”

“Uh, ‘cause I bit ‘im,” he says around a mouthful of pudding.

“You– You bit who?” Tubbo’s eyes widened, because there’s no way in hell he meant Schlatt.

“Dunno, some guy.”  Another halfhearted shrug.  “I’m a– I’m a fuckin’ shark, Tubbo!  Smell blood in the water, and I just gotta–” the kid bites down on nothing, as if to demonstrate, before delving back into the pudding cup.

“Cool,” Tubbo says breathlessly.

The kid nods, basking in the praise.  “My mom gives me shit for it.  Oh, you’re gonna get in trouble if you get in fights all the time, oh, your teachers called again, what do you mean you held that boy’s head underwater?” A high laugh that was honestly far funnier to Tubbo than what the kid had actually said.  “And, well, I mean, she was kinda right, I did end up in trouble for it.  Word of advice to you, kid, kicking a dude in the balls is not a catch all answer to your problems, especially if it’s a grown-ass man.  And, also, this shoulda been obvious, but forgive me, I’m young, definitely do not tell them your mom is the Police Captain and she’ll arrest them all if they mess with you.  That gets you thrown in a trunk, and that is no bueno,” he nods sagely.

“Right, no bueno,” Tubbo pretends to understand what that means.

“It’ll be kinda cool now, though, instead they’ll call her and be like Captain, your son has gotten into trouble again, and she’ll be all like of course, my son is a real rascal!  I should’ve been a better father!”

“Father?” Tubbo giggles.

“Yeah!  Yeah, ‘cause it’s all switched around!”

“I don’t think that’s how that works, bossman–”

“Kid, what the fuck?” An exasperated voice calls down the stairs.  “I said it wasn’t a playdate, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Sorry!  Sorry, I’m coming now!”  Tubbo still wavers, staring almost longingly at the boy across from him.  “It was– It was really nice to meet you Mr– Whatever your name is gonna end up being?  Yeah!  So, um, bye!”

Tubbo was halfway up the stairs, an ache in his chest, when he hears one last word from downstairs.

“Foolish!” Followed by a high cackle of delight.

“Foolish…” Tubbo murmurs the name.  He doesn’t know what to do with the fact that he feels happy and sad at the exact same time.  “I think I made a friend,” he tells the man brightly at the top of the stairs.

“That’s… that’s great kid,” the man says dryly.  “Hope your little buddy doesn’t get shot, I guess.”

[georgiapeach30513]

we really need a to see a conversation between Poppy and Daisy.. our sweet bunny loving girl was so fond of the baby but scared about her sissy. how are the now that Daisy is talking likes akl the attention

Lord, Poppy loves Daisy, almost as much as Daisy Flower’s mama and daddy.  Plus, she gets to spend time with her own sissy.  Even thought Poppy is Daisy’s aunt, she’s more like a sister/cousin.  

🖤🖤🖤🖤

PapPop

Summary:  Daisy gets to spend time with her PapPop

Pairings:  Jax/Posie X Daisy/Poppy

Rating:  ���🥺

Warnings:  Daisy, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  800

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Posie Rogers Masterlist

Posie gives a big stretch, turning into Jax’s body, before kissing on his chest. Loving to hear his morning chuckles, while she showers him with her lips. He lets out a bit of a groan when he hears Daisy chattering in her bed over the monitor that Posie can’t get rid of.

“Dada, me wake,” Posie can almost picture her covering her mouth with both of her hands to stifle a laugh. “Mama, hold you.”

“You gonna get her or me?” Jax gives his wife a kiss on the forehead, and she just flings the blankets off of her to get her baby.

Walking in Daisy let’s out a squeal of laughter. Rolling off her bed to run to her mama. “Mama, hold you!” picking her up, she lays her head on her shoulder, running her fingers on the barely swollen belly.

“Guess who is coming to see you today?”

“Me no know,” giving her mom a shrug she looks out to the door, and doesn’t see her daddy. “Dada at?”

“We’re going in there. Poppy is coming to see you, miss flower!”

“PapPop, yay. Me see PapPop,” still clapping her hands when Posie carries her into hers and Jax’s room. “Dada my PapPop see me.”

“I know! Papa and Kitty are taking Abel…”

“No,” she pouts at him. “My Bub. No no.”

“Abel is going with them to the fair. Do you want to go with Abel? Poppy said she didn’t want to go.”

Daisy’s brows furrow looking at him, “Ouch?”

“Yes, baby,” Posie gives her a long kiss on her cheek, “the fair is loud. But we can try.”

“No no ouch. My PapPop.”

—————————

Posie leans back on Jax, his hand petting around on her stomach while the two of them dreamily watch Poppy and Daisy. Poppy had proven to be one of the most patient people with Daisy, and she adored her little niece.

Where most people struggled to understand Daisy, Poppy always seemed to get what she was trying to say. Posie typically would find her sissy in Daisy’s bedroom sleeping on the floor. To the point, they got her a bed for the room.

Daisy was all giggles with Poppy, stomping her feet in a dance, “Yook it, my magi toos. Yook my toos.”

“What do your magic shoes do?” Poppy asks leading her out to the bunny cage.

“No see me, no want.”

Poppy looks back at Jax and her sister questioningly. “I usually get it. But I don’t.”

“If she doesn’t want you to see her, then she can be invisible with her shoos.”

“Oh!”

“Yep, boom, no see me.”

The little girls lay on their bellies playing with Poppy’s bunnies. Daisy even able to whisper with the bunnies now. “I want porky.”

Jax snorts, and looks over at Posie, “You put her up to that.”

“I did not. Daisy flower,” her bright blue eyes look at her mama with a big smile. “A hedgehog.”

“Yep henchhog. Mine,” she gasps when a bunny hops to her, causing her guard dogs to look at her. “Me otay Yippy. Me otay Spink. Mama!” she waits to make sure Posie is looking at her before nodding. “Me otay. No hurt heart. Me otay.”

Leaning over Jax gives Posie a nibble to her neck, “You know she’s going to use that hurt heart line for everything right?”

“Leave my baby alone.”

“We need to let her know about the Lily flower.”

“Shh, just let her play with PapPop, Jaxy. We’ll talk about what’s in my belly later. She already senses it,” Jax lifts her shirt up, and gazes at her little bump. Much bigger this time around than with Daisy. Rubbing his hand over it, he laughs. “What?”

“She knows because you got a big ole belly and you’re always holding her. She feels the change.”

“Shh,” she giggles looking up at him. Admiring his beautiful blue eyes and how their Daisy girl got them. “Are you happy?”

“I’ve never been happier,” he leans to give her a kiss to her forehead while Daisy and Poppy giggle. “What?”

“Yats yucky, dada. No no. Me kiss,” puckering her lips she walks over giving her daddy a big kiss before her and her magic shoes walk back to Poppy. Plopping down in her lap, where Poppy can let her hold a bunny.

“Oh, I love how sissy is with her. I wonder who Lily’s special one is going to be?”

“As long as it’s not Tig I’m good.”

“Dada, Yibbs?”

“No, we’re not going to see Chibbs baby. We’re talking about Tig.”

“Otay.”

“If they find them a biker, I’m going to die.”

“Chances are high,” Posie sighs rubbing her belly. Feeling those little flutters, and getting excited about Jax feeling them soon. “We just got to stay away from good looking bikers.”

“That didn’t work out well for you.”

“Shh. Let’s just enjoy the day Jaxy. It won’t be much long until Daisy isn’t the baby.”

Masterlist

[yanderepuck]

What if the fur babies had babies????

Imagine MC having the same pet as their vampire boyfriend

Jupiter 

He??? Decent dad.  Tho at one point he’s like “k kids.  Time to learn how to fly” and pushes a baby out the nest and Napoleon luckily catches the baby.  Jupiter gets a mouthful.  The nest is so much bigger and Bunta is a little upset he isn’t allowed in the nest anymore.  They are very noise however.  At one point Napoleon considers moving the nest to the barn, but who knows how they would react to the nest moving.  Good thing he’s a heavy sleeper

Schelm 

To say the least.  He was very confused by these fluff balls.  Mozart absolutely ADORES the babies and makes sure they have everything they need and more to be comfortable.  But when someone asks him about them or Schelm he goes “Who?  Tho dumb owls?  Yeah they’re doing alright I guess”  Then he goes back to his room and cuddles the babies and helps feed them and helps keep the nest cozy.  But Schelm doesn’t leave the babies side.  Only because he trusts Mozart does he let him near the babies.  Sebas isn’t even allowed in Mozart’s room during this time.  Eventually Schelm takes them all tot he music room.  He had been working on making a nest in there for them since that is where Mozart spends most of his time, and plus the open windows make it a more comfortable atmosphere.

Lumière 

First of all???  Where is the mother cat even going to nest??? Leonardo’s room is a mess.  Either way.  At first Lumiere could have cared less.  He was like oh, babies.  But since he realized they were there to stay and not visiting he started to become really helpful and would bathe them and make sure they don’t get into anything in Leonardo’s room.  But once they start walking it is chaos.  They end up getting out of the room and running through the halls.  And maybe even end up in Theo’s room because they saw that big fluffy thing and wanted to see what it was.  Vinc loves them all and gives them all kisses as Theo is yelling for Leonardo to get them out.  Mozart has made sure to keep the music room door closed once he saw them in the hallway.  Jean absolutely loved them and thought they could be friends with Cherie.  Lumiere chases them through the hall trying to get them back to the bed room, but by the time he gets one back another one has escaped.

 Vic

He can’t believe they are smaller than him!  Something finally smaller than him!  He’s a vvv good dad though.  Having kids sorta calmed him down but he is still very yippy.  He picks up his children and shows them of to Arthur.  He’s like “DAD!! LOOK!! ITS MY BABY!! LOOK HOW CUTE!!” and his tail and going WILD.  I imagine Arthur would spoil them.  Theo would too because, well, puppies.  Vic is a little cautious of King going near them just because of how big he is, plus King forgets that he is that big.  But once the puppies start walking around and getting into trouble Vic can’t seem to keep them away from King.  They just crawl all over him.  But their little yips??  The rest of the mansion is slowly hating the puppies from how loud they are.

Brush 

Ohmygod.  Baby raccoons.  THEY GET IN SO MUCH TROUBLE WITH THEIR LITTLE THUMBS.  It is at times like this Vincent wished he had a bed, because they all insist on sleeping with him.  He doesn’t mind being buried under baby raccoons.  Brush likes to carry as many of them as possible and show them to the residents, especially when they were first born.  When they were born he took Vincent’s hand and dragged him over and made him sit down and handed him each baby to look at.  Mama raccoon was not too happy, but trusted Vinc and so she let it happen.  Then Brush went into the hallway, first person he saw as Isaac so he dragged Isaac in and had him look at the babies too.  But once they start walking around on their own they are CHAOS.  lil thumbs to get into things.  Sebas thought having one raccoon being able to get into the kitchen was bad.  Now he has to lock everything.  They enjoy getting Vic worked up and chasing them around.  If King wasn’t so much bigger they would do it to him.  Occasionally you will find them cuddling with Lumiere.  But a resident will wake up to having a baby raccoon int heir face.  Napoleon has kissed one occasionally. 

 King 

King is already Vincent in dog form, BUT NOW THERE MINI ONES.  They are very goofy and trip over their feet when running.  Theo wasn’t sure if having puppies was going to be a good idea, but the moment they were born he regret everything he said.  The man is a dog lover and he will allow any chance of being covered in puppies happen.  He tells them they can’t sleep on the bed, but by the time he wakes up in the morning they are all there with him, including King.  He can’t be mean to those cute puppy faces.  Vinc isn’t too much of a dog person, at least not big dogs, but he loves the puppies and plays with them.  King lets them climb all over him while playing and he watches over them when they are outside so they don’t get hurt.  They are very well behaved expect when it’s dinner time, and they running into the dining hall where everyone is eating and is trying to beg for food.

Bunta

Honestly?????  Bunta would probably be so confused.  Dazai would hold Bunta and be like “Look, Bunta.  Those are your babies.” and Bunta just tilts his head.  But once they can leave the nest they follow Bunta or Dazai around.  Bunta has taught them that Theo is bad and to stay away from the cat.  He brings Schelm and Jupiter into the room to see them, and Schelm is like “.....food???” and Bunta screams.  Soon they are doing the same as Bunta and sleeping int he other birds nests.  It annoys Schelm to have tiny cheeping blobs in his nest, but if they are quite then they aren’t too bad..  Jupiter enjoys them and can’t understand how a bird can be even smaller than Bunta.  Bunta is already so smaller, and they come even smALLER??

  Harry 

Smol bby hedgehogs all scurrying around Isaac’s room because he refuses to let them go out into the hallway because he’s worried about them.  Isaac was so deep in his work he forgot to tell anyone about the babies.  Sebastian happened to come by to drop off his lunch and heard the squeaking of the babies.  The babies were already like two weeks old at this point.    Whenever a bug gets into the bedroom they start to run after it trying to eat it and then they start fighting for it.  So as much as he hates it, Isaac will intentionally bring bugs into his room because he knows they want to eat bugs.  Harry however teaches them how to sneak out of the room to go exploring.  This is how they all end up getting stuck in the basement. . . again. They just can’t seem to be able to go up stairs.

Cherie

No one but Jean knew about the two cubs for the first few months.  Then he took them to show Comte to show him how cute they are.  Comte just looks at him and isn’t quite sure what to say.  There is no way they can keep up with four tigers.  But while they are cubs they are adorable and lay in the sun and sleep with Lumiere and they all play fight.  They know when Sebas is in the kitchen and run in and squeak for food, especially if it is meat they smell.

Puck 

Oh god.  How many would there even be.  Will and MC thought her rabbit was a boy, but then a month later there were babies.  Will just looked at Puck and went “Don’t you dare do it again,” and Puck is just munching on some greens.  So many zoomies.  The babies were extra hyper and Will had to extra rabbit proof the house.  Puck wouldn’t just munch on anything he saw, but who knows with these babies.  They started to chew the legs of Will’s writing table and made it wobbly.  They will all pile up on Puck and sleep.  Have you tried getting nearly a dozen bunnies back inside?  Impossible.  They are all over Vinc when he comes over to visit.  At first they weren’t sure about him, but since Daddy Puck seemed to like him and not be bothered, they decided to investigate.  Que Vinc cooing them all.  Most of the babies picked up on Puck’s needy and yandere habits  and must get fed when they want fed, or else they hangy.

Time/Thyme

THE CHAOS.  Mini thymes running around biting your toes and climbing up your legs.  Mozart has pulled one or two out of his piano and yeeted them out.  They were running back like AGAIN AGAIN but he closed the door shut and never opened it when they were around.  Somehow Leonardo always ends up with one in his pocket.  Even he isn’t sure how.  They will attack anyone but Comte is always the first option.  They were all hidden in Vincents coat, he has a lot of layers, and then they heard Comte and suddenly all their little heads pop out.  Vincent likes when they sleep on him.  At least three times a day you hear Comte yelling “STOP BITING MY TOES”  Thyme doesn’t help bc he bites too.  He taught them well.  Thyme doesn’t even try controlling them.  He joins in the chaos.  Sometimes you’ll even see them climbing up the curtains.  At night Sebastian gets a basket and goes around the mansion to collect them all and puts them in Comtes room so everyone can sleep in peace.

Lotte 

They are just so little what the heck.  They baa and hop around like there’s nothing wrong in the world.  Sometimes Sebas will bottle feed them just because he loves doing so and finds it adorable.  They love to follow Sebas around when he’s cleaning.  He will shoo them outside to go play but they just baa at him and keep following.  If there is a table int he room you damn well be sure that they are going to stand on that table and baa at anyone who walks in.  Theo and Arthur get baa’d at alot.  Lottie basically lets them do what they want as long as it isn’t dangerous

Masterlist

[sambergscott]

a peralta guarantee

“I promise I’ll come home safe, Ames. That’s a Peralta Guarantee.”

(missing scenes from 7x08 - amy worrying about jake)

hUge thanks to johanna for inspiring this fic and helping when i had a lil breakdown halfway through

When he approaches her desk mid-afternoon with a decaf coffee and the white chocolate chip cookies she’s been craving from the bakery across town, she knows he’s either a) broken something, b) wants something or c) has bad news. She narrows her eyes suspiciously, detecting an excited bounce in his step which can only mean it’s b and c; he wants something she’s not going to like.

“Hey, babe,” he tries to play it cool, clearing a butt-sized space on her desk on which to sit. “I come bearing gifts.”

“What do you want, Peralta?” She cuts to the chase.

“Damn it, you know me too well,” he mutters. “OK, so, here’s the thing: Doug Judy’s gettin’ married. He invited me to his Bachelor Party this weekend and I know he’s a criminal, Ames, but I really wanna go. Like, so bad. Would you be cool with that?”

She conjures up a mental pro and con list. On one hand, Doug Judy is The Pontiac Bandit, known felon, committer of God knows how many crimes, an overall bad dude. On the other, he’s Jake’s friend, singer of the smush songs CD in the glove box of their car that they always forget to take out, giver of the Le Creuset pot she adores. He’s always been nice to her and—.

“Sarge?” Gary interrupts her decision-making process with a quick question about a perp he just brought in, snapping her back to reality. She’s a Police Sergeant, her job is to serve and protect the city they call home and as much as she loves cooking her mom’s beef casserole recipe in Judy’s awesome wedding gift, she has a responsibility to bring him in.

“I’m sorry, babe. I just think it’s a bad idea.”

His face falls, his disappointment coming through loud and clear.

“What were you expecting me to say? Ignore the million arrest warrants out on this guy, many of them submitted by you, so you can drink beer and go to strip clubs?”

“You’re right,” he sighs. “You’re obviously right. Man, being good at your job sucks.”

She nods in agreement. “Remember last month when I had to shut that binder store down for running a secret drug dealing operation out back?”

“How could I forget? You cried for three days straight.”

“They had the best binder collection I’ve ever seen!”

(It was actually what was so fishy about it. In four trips to buy pregnancy binders, she hadn’t seen any of the founding members of the Brooklyn Binder Babes blog — Mary Sue, Catherine, Margaret or Jane — once. And there’s no way a stationery start-up would attract such long queues without their recommendation. It was a pretty easy solve from there).

“The point is, you can’t go to a criminal’s Bachelor Party.” She pats his hand. “You’ll just have to come maternity clothes shopping with me instead. None of my jeans fit me anymore.”

“As much as I would love to, you can take Kylie. I’m going to the party.”

“What?” She double-takes. “Jake, did you not listen to what I literally just said? We’re cops. We cannot be friends with criminals.”

“But we can be friends with informants who have helped us catch numerous, even bigger, more dangerous criminals,” he says with that look on his face, the one he gets when he finds a loophole that he can use to his advantage. She recognises it from home videos Karen has shown her where, instead of tidying his room like she asked him to, seven year old Jake shoves everything under his bed and carries on enacting a police chase with his race cars. “Captain Holt has given him immunity before, so technically I should be able to go party it up with him in Miami!”

“Wait... It’s in Miami? Miami... Florida?”

It’s a stupid question, she knows. Of course he means Miami, Florida. It’s just... they both promised on the flight home that they would never, ever go back there. After everything that happened with Figgis and not knowing if they’d ever see each other again, a statewide travel ban seemed a good way to put it all behind them, focus on all their future moments together, not on all the moments they missed.

“This isn’t like last time,” he reassures her. “It’s only for a weekend and then I’ll be coming straight home for snuggles with you and —,” he lowers his voice to a whisper because they haven’t told anyone she’s pregnant yet, “the baby.”

Her eyes fill with tears and she bites her lip so hard to stop them overflowing in front of all her uniformed officers. It’s pretty clear that he wants to go and she never wants to be one of them wives who control their husbands’ every move. All she wants is for him to be happy. And if going to Doug Judy’s Bachelor Party makes him happy, he should go, no matter how much she hates the entire state of Florida. She agrees, on one condition: “You have to text me hourly updates to let me know that you’re still alive.”

“Don’t I text you constantly anyway?”

“I guess so,” she sniffs.

He lifts her chin so she’s looking him in the eyes. “I promise I’ll come home safe, Ames. That’s a Peralta guarantee.”

“You better,” she warns, tears suddenly flowing down her face at the thought of him not coming home, not being there to watch Property Brothers with her, not raising their baby and proving to everyone what a great dad he will be.

Used to her extra strength pregnancy hormones shifting her emotions from 0 to 100 faster than John McClane can say “Yippie-Ki-Yay, motherfucker”, he pulls her into a tight hug, careful not to crush the precious cargo that is behind said mood swings.

He strokes her hair and whispers that he’ll be home before she knows it and that nothing, not even the worst state in the country, will tear him away from her.

When it’s time for him to leave, she follows him out to the street and, after a brief argument over the fact he packed his bag before he OK’ed the trip with her and another hormone-induced cry when his cab shows up, reluctantly waves goodbye.

True to his word, he texts her before the car is even out of sight. Miss you already 😘.

--

Her phone buzzes periodically throughout the rest of the day.

In a meeting with Holt and Terry: flying on mark cuban’s dope ass private plane!!!!! ✈️

Cooking dinner: florida is HOT (not as hot as u babe, dont worry)

Doing her crossword in bed: g’night ames, g’night baby, love u both SO MUCH

She smiles, tells him she loves him too and braces herself for the barrage of drunk texts and selfies coming her way.

--

Sleeping without him sucks. The bed is cold, her pregnancy pillow is not as good of a cuddle buddy and she tosses and turns all night worrying about him, where he is, what he’s doing, whether he’s safe.

Her eyes finally slip shut around 1 am when her phone buzzes. Again. And again. And again.

She tries to ignore him, bury her head under her pillow and go back to sleep, but the messages keep coming thick and fast. She groans, giving up and unlocking her phone.

There are 47 new messages from him.

Forty-seven.

Her initial annoyance at being woken up quickly disappears as she scrolls through the thread. He’s mostly sent her random, meaningless emojis and keysmashes, interspersed with the odd “I love you”, “you’re my best friend” and “I’m thinking about you” that warm her heart. He mentions something about their proposal, about crying with Doug Judy, which obviously makes her cry too.

(Dumb pregnancy hormones).

By the time she reaches the bottom, he’s sent her 10 more.

She decides for her sake — and the sake of all of her officers who would have to deal with a tired, emotional pregnant lady — to turn off her phone and reply to him in the morning.

She returns her phone to her nightstand, settles back into a comfortable position and closes her eyes.

She lies motionless for what feels like hours, unable to fall asleep. She tries the breathing technique her brother David brags about constantly, counting sheep like little Matthew, even reciting police codes like Teddy used to go to sleep after sex. Nothing works. She’s still awake.

She turns her phone back on to see what Jake’s up to now, only to see his messages ended abruptly with a caterpillar emoji over an hour ago.  

She immediately panics, dialling 911 into her phone.

Her thumb hovers over the green call button.

She’s heard thousands of crazy operator call stories, frequently reminded the general population to only call in a genuine emergency and watched the YouTube compilations for fun. She deletes the number, positive that if she told an operator her husband was missing because she hadn’t heard from him while he’s at a Bachelor Party, she’s positive she would be added to those videos.

In an attempt to stop her spiral, she contemplates the possible scenarios in which his constant texts would cease.

Scenario 1: He’s living in the moment and has put his phone away (something she has been encouraging him to do lately to reduce his screen time)

Scenario 2: He’s very drunk and has completely forgotten about his promise

Scenario 3: He used up all his battery texting her and his phone has died

Scenario 4: He’s fallen asleep (although a quick check of Trudy Judy’s insta reveals the party is very much still in full flow)

Scenario 5: Judy’s criminal buddies have killed him and thrown his body into the ocean

Once the thought pops into her head, no amount of squeezing her eyes shut will make the image go away.

Holt giving an emotional eulogy about wearing ties and being an amazing detective/genius.  

Some rookie taking over his desk.  

The sympathetic looks when she tells all the other moms in baby group that her husband died.  

Usually Jake is there to hold her when her nightmares get bad. She rolls over, expecting to see his kind eyes and soft smile, the untouched side of his bed only serving to make her cry harder.

She can’t lose him. Not yet. Not until they’re old and grey, and maybe not even then. She spent so long denying her feelings for her dorky partner, rueing every missed opportunity to be together, and when they finally, finally took the plunge, she had never been happier. She can’t lose him yet. They have so much more life left to live.

She can’t lose him because he promised her he would come home safe. He guaranteed it.

She clings onto the tiny grain of hope like one might cling onto a raft in the middle of the ocean.

He would never break a Peralta guarantee.

--

Her phone finally buzzes again an hour later.

From: Unknown

Ames, it’s me, Jake. Judy’s buddies found out I’m a cop + destroyed my phone. So sorry I couldn’t text before. Hope you didn’t worry too much, although I know you probably haven’t slept. You can stop worrying now. I’m safe. Love you + see you tomorrow.  

Love you too, she responds, yawning as she places the phone back on the side table.

Relieved that he’s OK, and exhausted from all the worrying, she falls into the easiest sleep she’s ever had.

--

Before she knows it, it’s the next afternoon, Jake’s keys are turning in the lock, he’s dropping his holdall on the floor and rushing to her side to kiss her all over her face.

“I missed you too,” she laughs, kissing him properly.

“Sorry it took so long — Doug and Trudy made me fly commercial —.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re home now. That’s all that matters.”

“I’m never leaving you two again,” he swears.

“You’ll have to leave us eventually to go to the bathroom and stuff,” she points out, raking her fingers through the unruly curls that she so hopes their baby will inherit. “Just don’t go back there.”

A solemn understanding passes over his face and he nods. “Never again. Not even if our kid wants to go to Disney World. We’ll take them to the California one instead.”

“Smort,” she says, stealing his line and in an instant, that familiar grin is back.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

A dozen memories flood back, of oldies in short shorts and shuffleboard and Doug Judy getting away again. Of noice and smort and saying “I love you” for the very first time. Her eyes fill with tears — dumb pregnancy hormones strike again — as she buries her face in his shoulder.

“Let’s go to bed,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and lifting her bridal style to carry her to their room. He places her carefully onto the mattress and flops down next to her.

She snuggles into him, eyes closing once more. “Did we even get an invite to the wedding?”

“Not even close,” he sighs.

“Damn it. I would’ve loved to see that trainwreck.”

“You and me both, babe. You and me both.”

[reddie-fangirl24]

Deadlights but it's flipped ? Eddie's caught in them and Richie's stabbed ? I can't find anything like this !

NOTE: Thank you so much for this request! I always wanted to flip the perspectives in this scene. Enjoy!

Finding his courage, Eddie threw a rock at the clown with spider legs who was right about to capture Mike in its deadlights. “H-Hey fuckface!” Eddie called out. Shooting its frightening monstrous face towards him, and releasing Mike throwing him painfully against a rock, Eddie was about to run off and hide from how inside this idea was. Where was Richie anyway? He just dropped his flashlight, right? What, was it going to take him a year to pick it up?

“You don’t scare me, pukeface!” Eddie screamed, picking up the fence post this time. “You’re just a pomeranian, bitch!” Stupid comeback, but he’d accept it. “Take this, motherfu-”

Pennywise was one step ahead of him, shooting its powerful deadlights at Eddie. Immediately Eddie’s whole body went limp, his eyes turning into the back of his head, not in control of anything. The fence post dropped to his feet. Gasping, Mike watched helplessly from where he was as Eddie was lifted off his feet, floating in the air, hypnotized by the bright ray of the deadlights. 

Oh no, this was not good! Bill’s heart swam in a sea of darkness, which he literally already had. How could he have yelled at Eddie earlier? Was it helpless to save him? Could they do anything?

Finally, making his way back to the entrance of the tunnel, Richie gasped. Avoiding looking into the deadlights, Richie saw his best friend, the love his life since he was thirteen, dangling in the air, completely helpless to fight off those deadlights.

No, the clown wasn’t going to take him! On the ground was the fence post that Beverly had given to Eddie right before they entered the dark tunnels. Picking it up and then taking a long hard look at the clown’s deformed mouth filled with more sharp teeth than any animal he had ever seen, Richie scowled. No, he was not going to have another taken away from him. That clown ruined his life and his chance for love. 

“Yippi-kay-yah, motherfucker!” Richie belted shooting the fence post through the air. With one perfect hit, Richie hit the clown right through its mouth. Wow, when did he become a baseball player? 

The clown fell backward, choking. Now that the deadlights stopped, Eddie dropped to the ground, landing roughly on his back, dazed. He grasped his head. Ugh, what happened? Why were his eyes spinning?

Tripping up, the clown impaled itself against one of the rock spikes where they had done that pointless ritual earlier. Now, its face turned back into its hideous form, its head falling backward in pain, getting weaker. 

Did he really just do that? “Holy fuck!” A mesmerized Richie uttered.

Richie ran over to Eddie’s side, whose eyes were still swirling, trying to connect. “Eddie! Eds!” He bent down, leaning over the man shaking him by the shoulder. Richie was so excited about what he did. He had to tell Eddie. Eddie was still dazed. “Hey, Eds, wake up!”

Just then, Eddie came around, his eyes focusing on Richie. They were big and wide. What the fuck just happened to him? In the deadlights, he saw... saw...

“There he is!” Richie rejoiced, interrupting Eddie from his thoughts. “Eddie, I killed him! I think I killed him!”

Stepping out from their cave of nightmares, Ben and Beverly took everything in. The clown, not moving, was impaled. Was it dead for real? And on another side, they could hear Richie hollering at Eddie who was on the ground. What happened to him?

“I did!” Richie kept on celebrating. Finally comprehending what he was saying, Eddie smiled up at him, happy to see Richie in absolute glee. “I think I killed it for re-”

Slicing right through Richie’s stomach, very close to his chest, Pennywise’s sharp claw went right through Richie, ruining the mood. Covering his eyes from having a red liquid sprayed all over him, it didn’t take long for Eddie to realize that it was Richie’s blood. He gasped, a scream unable to come out of his throat when he witnessed the claw protruding from Richie’s body. 

“NOOOOOOO!” Bev screamed in horror. No, not Richie! That nightmare she had long ago... they were true. And this could have been avoided. 

“R-Richie...” Eddie uttered in horror, trying to blink his eyes to see if it was just a trick made by the deadlights. No, this is what he saw. And it actually happened. He could have prevented it from happening!

Richie didn’t utter a sound when it first happened. Slowly, Richie looked down, his lips quivering when he saw the claw dripping blood, his blood, sticking through his body. His hands shaking, Richie locked eyes with Eddie, his breathing already shaking, staring into his eyes with this horrible expression. Eddie’s eyes were still big. That’s all they could do. Stare. 

“Eddie...” Richie’s voice trembled his name. He sounded like a child. A child calling to their parents to help them. Blood dribbled out of Richie’s mouth as his hands enveloped the claw. “Eddie...”

Pulling him away, Richie screeched as Pennywise hung him in the air. Eddie tried to grab for him, but Pennywise was too quick. Everything was happening too fast. Once again, the clown tricked them. It was a dirty trick. It was still stuck against the sharp rocks, however.

Now, all the Losers saw what had happened. Beverly cried as Bill shouted, begging for Pennywise to stop. He was only making his condition worse. Richie grasped the claw so his body wouldn’t get slashed through more. That and to try and free himself. Feeling faint, he had already lost blood. The consequences weren’t going to be good if he didn’t attempt to remove the claw.

“Richie...” Eddie’s voice was barely a whisper, being forced to watch as Richie was shaken through the air roughly as if he were a puppet. That was the man who saved him. First Stan’s head and now this. Was he just going to sit there again? No, he had to do something. Odds were that he was outnumbered even though it was six against one.

Flying him around, Pennywise chortled, acting as if Richie was a doll, spinning him violently. “Noooo!” Bill chanted.

As if responding to the Losers begging to let Richie go, It did. But It threw Richie off to the side, right into an open cave. Richie smashed against the ground, disappearing down a stairway of rocks. Like a ball, Richie roughly bounced off each rock, painfully falling against the hard ground. Briefly passing out from the pain, Richie collapsed to the ground, his head facing the floor of the rocky cave, painful tears dripping from his eyes.

Eddie got right up, ignoring the pain in his back, and he ran in the direction where he saw Richie disappear. No, not like this. Not alone. Why did he think like that? Richie was not dead! All the Losers met back up managing to avoid Pennywise who was struggling to detach itself from the rock.

Flying down the rocky cave, Eddie was the first to reach Richie, his heart shattering when Richie came into view. The situation didn’t look very promising. Richie wasn’t moving, his whole body splayed out as a hole ripped right through the backside of his black leather jacket. No blood. Yet.

“Rich, can you hear me?” Eddie collapsed at Richie’s side, touching his shoulder. Richie made an incoherent noise. He was alive! With help from Ben and Mike they carefully lifted Richie up from the ground. “Be careful!” Eddie ordered them. Groaning in pain, they seated him in a sitting position against the wall. The Losers got a look at the awful injury.  

Blood. Everywhere. Richie coughed up blood, sputtering as a river of blood covered his yellow Hawaiin shirt, growing bigger. Beverly gagged, but she did not recoil, holding Richie’s head so he had something comfortable to lean against. His glasses broken, Richie looked down to see what everyone else was looking at, hardly having the energy to react to such a horror.

Throwing off his sweatshirt, Eddie folded it up and pressed it hard against the wound to stop the bleeding. “Don’t move, you’ll only make it worse!” He told Richie.

Belting out, and swearing under his breath, Richie was in great pain, almost whacking Eddie’s hand away, but letting him do what he needed to help him. Eddie put a hand against his shoulder to relax him, to steady him, and help him breathe normally. Rapid breathing only worsened blood loss.

“We got to get him to the hospital now! He’s losing blood!” Eddie was close to hysterics. No, not his best friend.

“How are we supposed to do that, Eddie?” Beverly asked him, smoothing Richie’s hair.

Beverly did make a point. Feeling the cave shaking, Pennywise had found them, digging at the tunnel far above trying to get inside. “Come out and play, Losers!”

The Losers tried to think of a plan. Clearly, they didn’t have much time. Richie was quiet which was very unlike him. Shutting his eyes, Eddie thought he heard something.

“What Richie?” Eddie asked him again. He wanted to avoid making Richie speak, but this was important.

“Rip out Its heart,” Richie whispered, giving all his strength. “That fucker’s small heart...”

That’s right! “I almost killed him!” Eddie announced, getting everyone’s attention. “The Leper! My hands were around his throat. I could feel him choking. And I made him small. He seemed... so weak...”

Having their plan together, and finding another passageway to sneak away, Pennywise was clawing at the cave to the point that an avalanche of rocks dangerously fell towards them.

No, they shouldn’t move a person who is critically injured, but again this was important. Bill and Eddie struggled to lift Richie, holding both arms over their shoulders for support. Eddie giggled when he realized that the two smallest Losers were lifting Richie who towered over them. 

“Man, you weigh a freakin’ ton! What have you been eating? Rocks?” Eddie joked to try and make Richie smile.

Richie was still struggling to stay conscious as his feet slightly dragged along the ground. He did smile at Eddie’s joke. He was never the type of person to be so vulnerable, fearing it would ruin his macho mask. Eddie could always see right through him.

Once they got to the other side of the cave, they were still hidden by a wall thankfully. As if they were in a war, some of them just glanced around the corner to see that Pennywise was still hammering at the other tunnel. This was it. Now to put the plan into action.

Eddie looked at Richie, sweat falling from his face. Not a good sign. There was no way he could take part in any of what they were about to do. For his sake, Richie would have to remain here until it was safe to make a break for it. Not like it was going to be easy getting him out of here in the way they came. “Rich, want to sit down?”

Richie didn’t object. Carefully, Bill and Eddie helped him sit with his back against the wall. Eddie still kept his sweatshirt pressed against the wound. It was covered in blood. Richie’s painful wails were awful to listen to.

“Rich?” Eddie caught his attention.

“What?”

“I’m not leaving you,” he assured him. No, he would never do that. He remembered when Richie had grasped his face, telling him to only look at him when Pennywise was looming towards them when they were kids. Richie never left him.

“Hey, Eds?” Richie asked him. “I need to tell you something.”

“What? What is it?” Eddie asked him.

Richie struggled to open his eyes all the way to look at him. “That was more blood than your mom’s vagina on Halloween.”

Turning up his nose as Richie laughed, mixed with coughing, Eddie kept a hand against Richie’s beefy shoulder, settling him.

“Hey, Rich, I gotta tell you something,” Eddie said in a mischievous voice.

“What’s up?”

“I fucked your mother!”

Now it was Richie’s turn to frown as Eddie laughed.

Whatever happened next, Eddie remained close to Richie’s side, their hands touching to stop the bleeding.

[dramabitposts]

The best movie quotes of all-time

Here are some of the best Hollywood movie quotes of all time. Talk about dramatic one-liners!

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn (Gone with the Wind, 1939)

“Here’s looking at you, kid” (Casablanca, 1942)

“You’re gonna need a bigger boat” (Jaws, 1975)

“May the Force be with you” (Star Wars, 1977)

“Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore” (The Wizard of Oz, 1939)

“I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse” (The Godfather, 1972)

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.” (Casablanca, 1942)

“You talkin’ to me?” (Taxi Driver, 1976)

“There’s no place like home” (The Wizard of Oz, 1939)

“The first rule of Fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club” (Fight Club, 1999)

“I am your father” (Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, 1980)

“Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.” (The Princess Bride, 1987)

“Why so serious?” (The Dark Knight, 2008)

“I’ll have what she’s having” (When Harry Met Sally, 1989)

“This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship” (Casablanca, 1942)

“We’ll always have Paris” (Casablanca, 1942)

“Bond. James Bond” (Dr No, 1962)

“I see dead people” (The Sixth Sense, 1999)

“I’ll be back” (The Terminator, 1984)

“You can’t handle the truth!” (A Few Good Men, 1992)

“E.T phone home” (ET, 1982)

“Yippie-ki-yay, mother f**ker!” (Die Hard, 1988)

“To infinity and beyond!” (Toy Story, 1995)

“Houston, we have a problem” (Apollo 13, 1995)

“You had me at hello” (Jerry Maguire, 1996)

“There’s no crying in baseball!” (A League of Their Own, 1992)

“Here’s Johnny!” (The Shining, 1980)

”I am serious. And don't call me Shirley.” (Airplane, 1980)

“Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me, aren't you?” (The Graduate, 1967)

“Carpe Diem. Seize the day, boys” (Dead Poets Society, 1989)

“Leave the gun, take the cannoli” (The Godfather, 1972)

“Show me the money!” (Jerry Maguire, 1996)

“Say hello to my little friend” (Scarface, 1983)

”You've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya punk?” (Dirty Harry, 1971)

“I love the smell of napalm in the morning.” (Apocalypse Now, 1979)

”Fasten your seatbelts. It's going to be a bumpy night.” (All About Eve, 1950)

“Roads? Where we're going we don't need roads.” (Back to the Future, 1985)

”You don't understand! I could've had class. I could've been a contender. I could've been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am.” (On the Waterfront, 1954)

“I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!” (Network, 1976)

”The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.” (The Usual Suspects, 1995)

“Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.” (The Godfather Part II, 1974)

”Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.” (It’s a Wonderful Life, 1946)

“I am big! It's the pictures that got small.” (Sunset Boulevard, 1950)

”What we've got here is a failure to communicate.” (Cool Hand Luke, 1967)

“Shaken, not stirred” (Goldfinger, 1964)

“I’m the king of the world!” (Titanic, 1997)

“Mama says, 'Stupid is as stupid does.’” (Forrest Gump, 1994)

“Just keep swimming (Finding Nemo, 2003)

“If you built it, he will come” (Field of Dreams, 1989)

“I'm not bad. I'm just drawn that way.” (Who Framed Roger Rabbit, 1988)

“I’m having an old friend for dinner” (The Silence of the Lambs, 1991)

”Play it, Sam. Play 'As Time Goes By.’“ (Casablanca, 1942)

”I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too!” (The Wizard of Oz, 1939)

“Hasta la vista, baby” (Terminator 2: Judgement Day, 1991)

“The Dude abides” (The Big Lebowski, 1998)

“I'm also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.” (Notting Hill, 1999)

”Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!” (The Wizard of Oz, 1939)

“Stella! Hey, Stella!” (A Streetcar Named Desire, 1951)

“After all, tomorrow is another day!” (Gone with the Wind, 1939)

”You is kind. You is smart. You is important.” (The Help, 2011)

“You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve? You just put your lips together and blow.” (To Have and Have Not, 1944)

”Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope.” (Star Wars, 1977)

“I mean, funny like I'm a clown? I amuse you?” (Goodfellas, 1990)

“Go ahead, make my day” (Sudden Impact, 1983)

”I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” (A Streetcar Named Desire, 1951)

“It’s alive! It’s alive!” (Frankenstein, 1931)

“Argo f**k yourself” (Argo, 2012)

“My precious” (The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, 2002)

“Good morning, Vietnam!” (Good Morning, Vietnam, 1987)

“I wish I knew how to quit you” (Brokeback Mountain, 2005)

“That’ll do, pig, that’ll do” (Babe, 1995)

“Elementary, my dear Watson” (The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, 1939)

“I don't want to survive. I want to live.” (12 Years a Slave, 2013)

”Gentlemen, you can't fight in here! This is the war room!” (Dr Strangelove, 1964)

“You ain't heard nothin' yet!” (The Jazz Singer, 1927)

“Wax on, wax off” (The Karate Kid, 1984)

“Yo, Adrian!” (Rocky, 1976)

“Nobody’s perfect” (Some Like it Hot, 1959)

”Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.” (The Godfather Part III, 1990)

“Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?” (Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, 1937)

“They’re here!” (Poltergeist, 1982)

”They call it a Royale with cheese.” (Pulp Fiction, 1994)

“I'm just one stomach flu away from my goal weight.” (The Devil Wears Prada, 2006)

”Badges? We ain't got no badges! We don't need no badges! I don't have to show you any stinking badges!” (The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, 1948)

“It was Beauty killed the Beast” (King Kong, 1933)

“I'm walking here! I'm walking here!” (Midnight Cowboy, 1969)

“These go to eleven” (This is Spinal Tap, 1984)

“Forget it, Jake. It’s Chinatown” (Chinatown, 1974)

“Chewie, we’re home” (Star Wars: The Force Awakens, 2015)

“As if!” (Clueless, 1995)

“You make me want to be a better man” (As Good as It Gets, 1997)

”Get your stinking paws off me, you damned dirty ape!” (Planet of the Apes, 1968)

“I drink your milkshake!” (There Will be Blood, 2007)

“My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions and loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next.” (Gladiator, 2000)

“You complete me” (Jerry Maguire, 1996)

”If you let my daughter go now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.” (Taken, 2008)

“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” (When Harry Met Sally, 1989)

“They call me Mister Tibbs!” (In the Heat of the Night, 1967)

”They may take our lives, but they'll never take our freedom!” (Braveheart, 1995)

“Love means never having to say you're sorry” (Love Story, 1970)

For plenty more dramatic content, check out www.dramabit.com.

[peraltasames]

Top 5 jake moments on b99 and top 5 (or 10 your choice) cold opens :)

jake moments (most of these are like more character development than funniest moments bc there are too many funny ones to choose!!)

1. when he finally calls out his dad for being shitty

2. in the last ride when he decides to get the bigger arrest instead of saving the precinct

3. the oolong slayer scene where he gets holt back by giving up his credit

4. when he pulls off the proposal in halloveen bc honestly incredible

5. all of yippie kayak when he’s living his die hard fantasy!! comedy gold

top 5 cold opens:

1. i want it that way

2. wiest infection

3. oldest bag

4. holt in jake and amy’s bedroom in halloveen

5. when amy gives holt a gift and he thinks its a bomb sjshjks

ask me my top 5 anything

[textales]

“Louisiana Crackdown.”

“You can say no.” Those were the first four words from Sabrina when she got me on the horn.  I knew it must have been important because she called me on the mobile phone (a “transportable” in a black nylon bag) just seconds after paging me. This one-two punch usually meant it was either to book me for a paying gig, or it was some sort of emergency requiring me to drive (which I was clearly unfit to do at that point).   It was Sunday on a three day weekend and she was interrupting my poolside drinking and fashion show session.   

My roommate Robert and I were house-sitting for a friend at a big house with a giant pool and private tennis court.  He and a couple of his gorge friends were showing-off their new Speedos and I really wasn’t in the mood to work at that moment. At 25, like most of my contemporaries, my priorities were parties and getting laid.  

But Sabrina sounded desperate.  She’d committed to a big job without checking with me, knowing she could handle it herself if she had to. But with Tom away in Iraq and the kids starting school the next week, a three-day out-of-town gig was the last thing she needed.   

“Oh Sabrina…are you kidding me?  I would LOVE to do a TV Show in New Orleans,” and with that I told the Speedo boys the show was over since I’d have to be up at the butt crack of dawn to load the gear for the first flight out.  Love Field would have been so much more convenient, but something about Southwest and the likelihood of getting stung with excess baggage fees made American Airlines via DFW the more sensible option. I carried thirteen cases of crap essential for the job, so baggage and its handling were always a big concern.  

Call me clairvoyant, but I knew this would be a good gig from the get-go when loading my gear onto the curbside conveyor.  Sabrina’s tried and true “peel” method of bribing the skycaps proved effective once again….and this time I skated-by with $40 instead of the customary hundred.  Yippie…more beer money for New Orleans!   

“What the hell?  Are those caskets?” 

“Since this town is basically under water, the graves are above ground.”   

The instant answer suggested I wasn’t the first to ask him this as we made our way from MSY to my hotel in the French Quarter.   

It was nice being greeted at the airport by the Executive Producer. A crew loaded my gear into a van and took it directly to the TV station. This was a first; usually I rent my own van and haul around my own damn Anvil cases.    

What gives?  Was it southern hospitality, or was it because I was willing to jump a plane from Dallas with barely an overnight notice? Or did this royal treatment come because I had a great reputation for putting talent at ease (I came highly recommended, having worked high profile productions for Xerox, Dr. Pepper and 7-Eleven).   It didn’t matter … it was great being perceived as a bigger deal than I was used to - not as some expendable roadie.  

He was imported from Los Angeles to make a TV show to prove that law enforcement and local government were doing something to address the crack epidemic that was devastating New Orleans.  He’d be responsible for saving more than a few crack babies and he’d be the reason why hundreds of residents would call-in to narc on their neighbors for dealing.   

“Don’t worry, you’re safe with me,” he uttered as he opened the glove box of his rented Chrysler Le Baron convertible to grab a pack of Camels. I couldn’t help but notice the silver handgun inside.  I had no idea what type of gun it was, other than it was a pistol that looked a whole lot bigger than my dad’s .22….it was like the guns I’d seen on TV cop shows.    

He noticed I noticed. “I probably won’t need it, but … just in case. Nobody knows me now, but by Thursday there will be a price for my head so I will have one of my guys take you back to the airport.” This was exciting shit for a simple white kid from Montana.      

For years I’d heard stories about the ‘heathen haven’ of New Orleans with its whores and fortune tellers and voodoo dolls and black magic.  I knew about Mardi Gras and what girls did to get beads thrown their way. There was something sensationally sinister about this place – they spoke French for fucks sakes! – and there were tons of black folk.    

Having grown up in Montana I hadn’t had much exposure to African-American culture.  Most of the black kids I knew ended up there because of Malmstrom Air Force Base.  They were just like me – fairly conservative and really quite lily.  But I knew there were “different” types of black people in the world…the kind I saw in videos on MTV or read about in the articles of Penthouse I’d sneak from my Dad’s private stash.    

I also knew about guns and crime and drug taking and although I didn’t necessarily want to partake, I had a curiosity about it all that wouldn’t be easily quenched. Not unlike kids that chase an ambulance down the street to see what happened, I found it thrilling to live vicariously through others.  Almost like doing the “crime” without the time, I wanted to watch without participating. Not that I’m a pervy voyeur…I’m just curious in a “National Geographic/Discovery Channel” sort of way. Was it the reporter in me, or was I just a “wholesome heathen” simply seeking the truth? 

I couldn’t wait to hit the streets to see for myself what the fuss was all about. After a bit of business chit-chat with the Executive Producer at the hotel bar, I was finally free to explore. I slammed a shave & shower, splashed a dash of Drakkar Noir, and I was good to go.  New Orleans, show me some of that Southern Decadence! 

It’s not like I was fresh off the farm.  I’d been doing this gig for a while now, and felt relatively confident in my ability to maneuver in strange places.  I’d been dropped in at least a dozen cities from Austin to Chicago….but this town….this town was gritty.  I arrived to a total mess with garbage and empty red plastic cups and beads and shit strewn everywhere all over the streets.  It was late in day three of a three day weekend, so the streets, like many of the people walking them, were a little strung out.  The smells were rich and the humidity high.  I couldn’t have been more energized – this was scintillating.  

I was happy this place wasn’t like Atlanta. I remember being put off by the black people I’d met there – they were too sappy and way too nice and way too accommodating. I wasn’t used to being called “sir.”  After all, I am just a poor white kid from Montana. “I’m just like you,” I thought to myself.  “There’s no need to go out of your way for me, I can get my own door. Please, after you.” 

New Orleans was so very different.  Those courtesies were left at the hotel lobby and I couldn’t have been more content with that.   

As I looked for the nearest rainbow flag I was approached by a twitchy sketchy dude insisting my cowboy boots needed shining.  “No thanks,” I said with confidence.  I thought “he just tried to rip me off.  I JUST had these things done in the hotel. See…I ain’t no stupid.”   

I stumbled into a corner bar called “Good Friends”. This place was warm and welcoming and there were Gargoyles.  What’s not to like about Gargoyles?  As I asked the bartender what cheap beer he had on tap I couldn’t help but notice a smoking hot dark-haired dude having some sort of fancy something. “What’s that?” I asked with the innocence of a bumpkin. “It’s a Hurricane,” said the absolutely striking patron who looked like he just walked off a Hollywood movie set.  “Hi, I’m Larry from Dallas,” and with that began a meaningful relationship that would last at least as long as the three day TV gig I was about to do. 

Braden was a 29-year-old dark-haired stunner with a British accent and abs you could use to scrub laundry.  Somehow he ended up in my room on the 33rd floor of the Sheraton on Canal street. I’m not exactly sure what happened the night before, other than my learning those Hurricanes weren’t just weather events but were also drinks served by smooth Southern slingers of sin.  

It was quite an ego boost getting all that attention - I was “fresh meat” after all. Why else were people noticing me?  Perhaps having my equipment shuttled for me by someone else’s roadies and hob-knobbing with the Executive Producer had gone to my head? Plus I was not-so-subtle in mentioning to the bartender, and anyone else within earshot, that I was in from Dallas to work a couple of days on a big TV show.   

But how or why didn’t matter…I scored with a guy who looked like a model and smelled really, really good.  

That didn’t take long - I’d been in town for all of six hours and lucked out on my first foray into the gay district of “The Big Easy.”  (Isn’t it all gay?  It’s New Orleans, for crimmany sakes!)  Although I was casually dating a flight attendant back in Dallas, we weren’t at all serious. I was on the prowl and I was going to make the most of this trip no matter what.  

“It’s the longest bridge in the world,” he said while nonchalantly exhaling the smoke from a Benson & Hedges Gold 100.  OF COURSE he smokes, he’s British!  We gazed at Lake Pontchartrain while I fumbled with the coffee maker, awestruck that this beefcake with a chiseled jawbone and terrific teeth knew how to form meaningful sentences.   

It was unprecedented. The New Orleans affiliates of all major television networks would turn their respective stations into one, pre-empting all of their regularly scheduled programming to make way for a show called “Louisiana Crackdown.”  The three hour special would be simulcast on a dozen cable channels as well, making it practically impossible for anyone channel-surfing that night to NOT notice something big was going on.  The evening news anchors from the local affiliates of ABC, CBS, FOX and NBC would set aside their rivalries for a few rehearsals and one big blockbuster night when the show would shock viewers with stories of how crack cocaine and its consumers were killing the community.   

The show was shot, no pun intended, at the studios of the PBS affiliate - neutral ground in what was otherwise a ratings turf-war among fighting factions that would rather slit the throats of their competition than sit across from them at a news desk on camera. Surprisingly, cat fights and sarcastic remarks were kept to a dull roar…this was a good cause, after all, the talent and their respective producers and handlers would “bury the hatchet” in the name of safety and security for the citizens of the community the FCC had granted them license to serve.  

The purpose of the show was to increase awareness, raise money, encourage people to narc on their neighbors, turn in their guns, seek rehabilitation and otherwise confess their sins as they related to illicit drug use.  Reporters did pre-recorded segments on everything from “Symptoms of Drug Abuse in Teens” to “Where to Seek Help for your Addiction.” There was a bank of telephones just like I’d seen on the Jerry Lewis MDA Telethon.  But here volunteers would take not just donations but the names and locations of suspected drug dealers and their nefarious activities – info which would be given to the police who’d dispatch a patrol car right then and there.   

My job was to run the teleprompter.   Unlike a lot of other people behind the scenes like camera guys or lighting or sound techs, I got to work closely with the talent, often making suggestions on how they might re-word their scripts or even add or remove content critical to the conveyance of the message. 

Working production gigs like these you get to know people over the course of multiple days of rehearsals and the show …you learn to cherish the quick, short relationships that disappear as fast as they start.   

I might as well try meeting up with Braden again - he was so friggin’ hot - so why not go for round two? After dinner I stumbled into Good Friends again (why NOT return to the scene of the crime?) and sure enough, there he was by the Gargoyles, slurping a hurricane, smoking a Benson and Hedges and talking up the bartender.  And once again, shock of all shocks, we ended up on the 33rd floor of the Sheraton.  

The next morning was interesting…. magically overnight he lost his British accent.  In our morning after coffee confessional he said although he lived in London for the past ten years he was not FROM there.  He was from the affluent burbs of Houston, and clearly now I recognize the accent was fake.  

Oh my…what else didn’t I know?  He said he’d done some modeling (which I still totally believed) but otherwise he remained a mystery.  No wonder my instincts told me to sleep with one eye open and to keep my cash buried deep in a shoe in my locked luggage. 

I was explaining what I’d learned about crack and coke in yesterday’s rehearsal.  He felt compelled to tell me about how he and his former partner, a rich older guy (whom I suspect was his sugar daddy) had tried heroin in a controlled setting, administered by a doctor who released the juice in the IV to both of them at the same time (something about a butterfly valve or bandage)? 

All this drug talk is making me feel so naïve and innocent…all I had ever done was beer, aside from trying a whiff of pot in high school. I’m sure there was more I didn’t know. Now I am totally fascinated with this guy and must continue the interview.  We exchanged numbers and I agreed to fly him to Dallas to be my date for a divorce party in two weeks.   

Meanwhile, back in TV Land…..

The main anchor of Louisiana Crackdown was Warren Bell of WVUE channel 8.  He told his own tale - drugs almost destroyed his career.  He was the first black prime-time TV anchor in New Orleans and recited a story he told EBONY magazine about days in the early 1980s when he’d go home between the 6 o’clock and ten o’clock newscasts to freebase cocaine.   I’d never met anyone in person who’d done that before.  Talk about satisfying my “National Geographic/Discovery Channel" curiosity.   

There were guns…lots of guns.  Multiple pistols, rifles and even machine guns were placed on a table for a camera close-up, each one being described so the viewing audience would know how to explain what they were looking at when reporting said guns to the authorities. Warren seemed to have an above-average interest in the guns, “I’ve got one just like this,” he told me privately off camera.  Even respectable white-collar news anchors have their own guns? Wow. This is a real city. 

Show night was quite a spectacle – the parking lot and surrounding grounds of the studio looked like a crime scene.  There were multiple trucks with Satellite dishes sending and receiving signals to the outside world.  There were cops on horses and at least a dozen patrol cars ready to move when the calls came in to send the next set of officers to catch dealers in the act.  

There was a bomb threat at one point (doing a show like this must have certainly pissed off more than one cartel).  But, as we say in the business, “the show must go on” – and it did.  Nobody in the viewing audience watching from the comfort of their living rooms had a clue. 

And just like that it’s eleven o’clock…the most successful show I’d done to date happened without a hitch. Now it’s time to strike the set and get my gear loaded for the roadies to take back to the airport in the morning.   

The show was over – literally.  It was kind of anti-climactic after all that excitement. I was disappointed I wasn’t going to see Braden again until Dallas and I called it a night, settling for a beer by myself at the hotel bar.  Boo.  

The next morning the roadies took me and my 13 Anvil cases back to the airport as promised. 

After clearing security I noticed a crudely made sign made on a paper plate and written in crayon: “Louisiana Rice & Beans:  $3.95”.  To this day that remains the world’s best airport food I’ve ever had EVER! 

Looking back – over 25 years ago now – it’s fun to remember this hurricane. The storm came out of nowhere, a whirlwind of delicious excitement.  Then just as quick as it came – poof, it was gone.  

All I got out of it were some fantastic memories and a plastic ID card that said yes. To be precise, it said: 

“Guest Staff – WYES”.  

I’m sure glad I said yes to Sabrina that day when she interrupted the poolside fashion show.

#WYES #Louisiana Crackdown #Warren Bell

[iammarylastar]

6. Sweat and blood

“Hit me.“ Jack said, fists in front of his face, getting his gloves up. This bitch could be sneaky sometimes. "Come on, don’t be shy Babe.”

He was sure to piss her off. She hated when he called her Honey, but giving her some Babe or Love would throw him into bigger troubles.

“Never call me that again.” She growled, throwing a side kick in his ribs. He blocked her kick easily with his elbow and waved at her to fight harder.

“Show me what you’re made of, Love.” He teased her, blowing her a kiss.

She attacked him, punching restlessly in his abs, hard as stone. She was not known to be a fragile pussy, she had been taught to fight like a tigress but something was keeping her from knocking him down.

“Shut the fuck up McClane. Fight back!”

Jack smirked and threw a punch towards her face which she avoided by bending her upper body to the side.

“Come closer Honey, don’t hold back. I won’t bite. Unless you ask me to.”

She had asked him to practice a bit, all those weeks spent to do nothing but filing files and snapping shots was nerve wrecking. She needed some action. Adding the frustration to have this asshole teasing her with some fucking ridiculous pet names and she was ready to kill anyone with her bare hands. Glancing at McClane doing his daily hundred push ups, muscles tight and glistening with sweat, along with the low grunts escaping from his throat from the effort didn’t help.

Fighting seemed to be the right release. So wrong. Being so close to him, touching him even through punches or elbow kicks, made her feel weird. Why did he have to practice shirtless ? Dammit!

A slap in the face made her come back to Earth.  “Honey! You should focus on my eyes, this way up!” He laughed at her, pointing two fingers at his fucking blue eyes.

Why had he to wear a so damn adorable smile? Cheeky bastard!

She startled and blushed furiously. He took her off guard and hit her, which had never happened before. Which should never have happened. And he caught her in the act of staring at his abs. Goddammit McClane! Stop being so sexy, asshole!

“Don’t worry Love, let’s say those cute cheeks got red because of the slap!”

Her blood boiled, both by anger and desire. She clenched her teeth and her fists and growled.

“Shut the fuck up McClane!”

She throws a backspin kick, aiming at his damn cute face with her heel, but Jack swiftly caught her ankle and hooked her leg on his shoulder, grabbing her waist to keep balance.

A devilish smile of victory taped on his stupid face, Jack stepped forward and closed the distance between their panting and sweating bodies.  Years of yoga, gymnastics and martial arts practice had her amazingly flexible, so she didn’t flinch where her thigh almost touched her shoulder.

“You’re damn loose-limbed Honey. I could already figure out nice ways to benefit from such a skill.” Jack whispered in a sultry ton, so close to her face they were breathing the same air.

“I’m tired of you McClane. Don’t you have any other focus in life than my ass and what you want to do with it?” Jack gasped for air at the thought and narrowed his eyes to stay tuned. He wasn’t sure he would be able to keep his cock in his pants if she teased him like that.

“I’m only focused on one goal: have this mission done so I could fly back home, pleased and delighted to get rid of you. Honey. ” He emphasized the last word, and leant forward, his nose grazing along her jawline.

She chuckled to hide the shiver that was running through her spine and laced her hands behind his neck. His musky scent was intoxicating and she could feel the heat coming from both their waists.

Damn, aren’t sweaty men supposed to stink? Why is he SO attractive?

Her face softened and she sighed in his ear. “Do you think you could handle me McClane?

He swallowed hard, thought hard, every piece of his body was rock hard before such a challenge. This moment was worth the wait. She’s so sexy, promising him Heaven, stuck in his arms.

"I’m so fucking ready to handle you, however you like, Honey.” His heartbeat raced twice, as the heat rose from his body. Jesus they were so close…

Shade purposely brushed her lips across his jawline, moaning and tugging on his neck.

Her knee crushing his balls knocking him out. Using her grip on his neck, she jumped and threw her knee straight in his crotch, making him drop her waist and mew like a lost kitty. Falling heavily on his knees, his face twisted in an awful grimace, his hands cupping his late crashed balls, Jack winced in pain, and growled loudly before resting his forehead on the ground.

Shade crouched down and patted his back.

“I warned you not to call me Honey.

"Bitch!” He groaned through his teeth.

“That’s better."  She laughed then became serious again. "I told you, you couldn’t handle me, McLane.”

Jack rolled on his side, still curled up like a wounded animal, helplessly rocking his three set. Watching his so-called wife turning on heel and leave the living room, he just yelled in anger.

“Fuck! Shade!” *

The next couple of days were nightmares.  Shade hadn’t been very talkative or receptive to Jack’s jokes before the ‘incident’, but now it was worse. Jack was pouting, mute, and humiliated. He looked so miserable Shade even didn’t want to mock him. They shared their lunch without a word and shifted silently.

Around 8 pm that day, Shade finally opened her mouth and ordered:

“They’re moving. Les Bains Douches. One hour. Get ready.” She threw her Phone for him to read the text their French contact just sent.

“What? Like bathhouse? What the fuck are they going to public bathhouse at night?”

“Jack” she sighed. “Les Bains Douches! like the famous VIP nightclub. Parisian nightlife: Champagne and cocaïne. Our friends have an appointment with their contacts. ”

“OK.” He just grumbled, somewhat happy to go out of the room. Paris had been waiting for them for weeks and they barely had put their feet on the cobbled streets since they arrived.

Shade magically showed up less than fifteen minutes later, moulded in a stunning mid thigh black dress, bare back and deep dip, the cut to the side forcing Jack’s eyes wandering along her endless thigh, his mouth suddenly dry.  She was walking towards him, confidently perched on silver stilettos, with the movements of a tigress… slow, soft and swaying. Her long hair dancing around her face, cascading over her plump breasts.  She stopped in front of a crumbled faced Jack and handed him a sparkling necklace.

“Please. ” she just said, turning her back to him and gathering her hair to the side.

Jack swallowed loudly, biting his lips not to blurt out some shit about her being drop dead gorgeous or eating her neck up. He was too scared to losehis freshly healed nuts.

Shade hooked matching earrings to her ears and said.

“Let’s get the party started McClane.”

“Yippi kay yay” Jack thought to himself before following her partner.

Waiting for the lift to pick them up, uncomfortably shifting on their feet, both avoided the other’s look. Shade broke the ice first.

“Jack, I’m sorry for…” she looked down at his zipper" … my kick. I shouldn’t have…It wasn’t fair.“

"I deserved it. I behaved like an asshole and it was not good. I totally understand why you don’t like me and I’m sorry.” Jack apologized.

Shade smirked and pecked his cheek.

“I like you, Jack.”

She noticed the red mark her lipstick had left on his cheek and rubbed it with her fingertips.

“Now you’re gorgeous. You forgot to compliment my outfit. What do you think?” She striked a pose like a top model.

“Shade, you’re absolutely stunning, I think… breathtaking, but…” he hesitated.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was so scared you’d kick me in the nuts again.” He chuckled.

Shade laughed heartily, her laugh sounded like cristal.

“As long as you stop calling me Honey, your nuts are safe, Jack.”

“I’m glad you call me Jack. McLane refers to my father and I swear it’s harder to ear than Honey.” His smile was goddamn adorable.

As the lift ringed and its doors opened, he reached out his hand she gladly took, intertwining their fingers together.

“Mrs Sinclair, I’m in your debt.” He led her inside the lift and smiled.

*

Shade was all over Jack, one knee on the Louis XVI armchair he was loose spread on.

“Here you go. Like new.” Shade finished cleaning up Jack’s cut on his lower lips, drops of blood still resting on the front of his open shirt.

“Thanks.” He hissed in pain, his jaw still burning from the punch he received.

“No, thank you…” Shade looked straight in his eyes. “You saved me…”

“Nothing you couldn’t have handle all by yourself.

* The nightclub was hot and dark, jam-packed with glitter, Louboutin, jeroboams of Champagne and Cartier’s watches.

They spotted the Mafioso’s, gathered in the VIP square, and sat at a table next to them. French’s police had them put on the right list.

After a few alcohol free spy-drinks, Jack and Shade headed on the dance floor, as Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, obviously a young couple in love.  They danced together, sometimes touching, sometimes staring. Mrs  Icecube seemed to finally melt, gracing Jack with some of stunning smiles of hers.  Jack was forced to glue himself to her to whisper smart words in her ear, his humour hitting his target. Shade’s cristal laugh was music to his ears and he sneaked a hand successfully on the small of her back.

At one point, Shade had to go the bathroom. She needed to pee, check her make-up and free her sore feet from her stilettos for a minute. On her way to the ladies room, she jumped into the wrong guy.

"Sorry.” She said, brushing past him.

“Ohhh! Quelle beauté!” The guy forced her, grabbing her chin and scrutinizing her face. He stinked strong vodka and was obviously drunk. “Princesse…I Love you” he leant over to steal a kiss but Shade escaped his grip and kept walking away. The asshole turned mad and threw both his hands towards her, fisting his fingers in Shade’s hair and shoulder and yanked her back. The strap of her dress broke and her thighs spread to keep balance tore up its side. Shade screamed in surprise, and turned around ready to knock the guy down. A glance to the side, mobs are staring at the scene. No way she could beat him up without drawing attention on her fight skills. She had to play the trembling lamb.

“I’m just worried to know you’re  alone. I don’t want you to spend the night all by yourself.” He growls, coming closer.

Nausea invaded her stomach at the memory. The 6 year old self had to deal with her terrifying drunk father, ordering her to be a good girl before slapping her for whatever reason, her mother too busy to sleep off her hangover in the couch to help. She needed someone to protect her but there was none.

“Elle est avec moi.” Jack popped up from nowhere and grabbed the fucker’s wrist, keeping him from touching Shade again. She was with him. She was his.  And he wouldn’tlet any-fucking-one threatening her.

“Dégage connard!” The guy barks at Jack, throwing his fist in his jaw. Jack bent down to grab his gun taped on his calf but Shade stopped him.

“Don’t… put ourselves on the show, Cupcake. People are staring at us.” She insisted. Jack glanced at the men,  laughing out loud at the Cupcake thing. She’s right. He couldn’t blow their cover.

Lifting both his hands in sign of abating,  Jack calmly said to the drunk guy.

“It’s OK man, we don’t wanna fight and waste the party. Just let me check if my wife is OK and ̀ we’re gone.”

My wife.

Facing Shade and brushing her hair out from her face, he lovingly inquired. “Are you OK Boo?”

She nodded, took his hand and they got the hell out of the club.

* “Take off your shirt.” He followed, amazed, Shade’s fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt. “It’s covered with blood, I’ll clean it up before it’s too late.” He helped her to get rid of his clothes she carefully hung on the back of the armchair.

“It’s a shame he ruined your dress. You looked stunning in it.” Jack played with the broken strap and glanced at the extended rip that exposed the skin of her hip. Showing the tiny thin string of the thong she was wearing.

“I’ll make it. You’ll make it. Big boy. ” Shade says, pecking the wound on his lips. And again. And again.

Jack’s hands landed softly on her hips, eliciting a light moan from Shade. Jack said nothing as she let her lips press a little longer on his. He groaned when she darted her tongue through his parted lips.

“Boo, please don’t start something you shouldn’t.” Boo. He was dead serious. She loved the way his low tone ran through her core.  “I’m not sure I could stop….”

“Stop rambling and kiss me, Cupcake.”

Jack could have laughed or chuckled if his lips weren’t busy tasting Shade’s tongue. She was fighting for dominance, dauntless tigress, but he let her have the lead. All those sleepless nights spent on that fucking sofa, looking at the ceiling to force his brain not to picture hot sex scenes with Shade, the hours spent fighting against his need to knock at her door, tiptoe into her bed and sneak a hand under her silky nighties. So many times forced to the shower for some quick releases, the ghost of Shade silhouette wandering across the suite with nothing but boy shorts and tight tops.

He still couldn’t believe it was really happening and didn’t dare to wake up from this sweet, perfect, hot dream.

Shade cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer, her tongue dancing with his. He sat up to deepen the kiss, his hands flying to her ribs, where they stopped, just below her delicate breasts his thumbs caressed. She tilted her head back to moan loudly, Jack took advantage of her offered breasts he covered with his mouth. Tugging on her wasted dress, he placed wet kisses on her bare stomach, while she racked her fingers through his short hair. Her feet back on the ground, Shade trailed open kisses down his neck and chest, and further down. She licked his navel while her hands unhooked his belt and unzipped his pants.

Jack shivered in anticipation and lifted his ass, his teeth hard dug in his lower lip as he witnessed his pants and boxer disappear down his legs. Shade didn’t tease him more and took his length in her mouth, twirling her tongue around the soft skin of his shaft.

“Fuck Shade!"  Jack tangled his fingers in her long hair and lowered his gaze to enjoy the show, gently guiding her head as he fucked her mouth. Her moans mixed with his grunts added more fuel to his fire and he quickly felt like he couldn’t handle more of those sweet ministrations.

In a swift but rough movement, he flipped her in the chair and captured her mouth in a searing kiss.  Kneeling down between her feet, he slowly slid his hands along her thighs, up to her ass and hooked the hem of her thong he pulled down and threw to the side. Shade mewled and opened her thighs for him. Grazing and nibbling at her thighs, he took his time to be met with the little patch of hair that covered her soaked pussy. Sneaking his hands back to her bottom cheeks, he roughly pulled them to his mouth and lapped her folds like his life depended on it.

Arching her back under the heavenly sensation, she clung at his neck and forced him to lick harder. Jack was losing his mind and his hardness screamed for more. He nonetheless did his best to make her pleasure last longer.

Lifting her ass up, he almost threw her on the floor, catching the force with his hands. He hovered his taut body over her and lay on her, his heavy body melting with Shade’s.

Shade could taste her own juices on Jack’s tongue as he explored her mouth again. She felt her body liquefying when Jack entered her gently and started to fuck her as slowly as he could.  Resting on his elbows he broke the kiss and plunged his eyes in Shade’s. Her green wild eyes were sparkling with lust. Jack couldn’t fight the urge to eat her neck and grazed his teeth on her pulse point.

The agonizing slow pace with which he was making love to her was quickly impossible to keep, Shade was wiggling her hips under him, inviting him to free the beast he had held back for so long. Shade slammed her hands on his ass, pulling and pushing hard to emphasize his thrusts. Jack grunted in her ear, this was thousands times better than he had imagined. "Shade…” he painfully hissed, losing control.

Shade pulled at his hair, forcing him to stare at her again. Her face twisted in pleasure but she needed more time. She parted her lips and captured a sweatdrop on his forehead. The salty taste in her mouth, the tortured sounds coming from Jack’s throat, his fucking scent were sending her over the edge.

“Shade…” he couldn’t hold on anymore. “Yes!” She cried in ecstasy, her thighs tightening around his waist as she came. Her walls crushed his cock as he spilled his load out, deep inside her. In a final thrust, Jack felt his orgasm run through him, powerful and devastating.

“Jesus!” She gasped for air once Jack had rolled to her side.

“Sorry but my name is Jack…” he joked, one hand resting on his chest, breathing heavily. His other hand played with her hair, before he rested on his elbow, staring at her flushed face.

She just chuckled, enjoying the last shot of pleasure traveling down her spine.

He leant over her to taste her lips once again, and sighed.

“Shade… I…” She stopped him, her fingers on his lips.

“Don’t say something you shouldn’t.” She whispered in a smile.

She stirred up then relaxed.  “I told you, you couldn’t handle me.”

Jack rolled to hover over her again but Shade was already on her feet, combing her long damp hair back, her head tilted backwards, offering the breathtaking sight of her perfect body to a crumbled-into-pieces Jack.

Without a word, she swaged to her bedroom, leaving poor Jack alone on the floor.

His short dream was over but it was fucking worth it. It was a shame he couldn’t have shown more of his skills, his hardness was quickly back at the thought.

Shade leant on the frame of the door, her sexy ass swaying to the music of her voice.

“Round 2. Now Cupcake.”

Thank God

@kenzieam @pathybo @tigpooh67 @beautifulramblingbrains @oddsnendsfanfics @frecklefaceb @badassbaker @jaihardi @angelswannawearmyredshooz @bookwarm85 @societalfailure @beltz2016 @pernilleals @captstefanbrandt @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @zarkanic @kaybou902-blog @liendre50 @sporadichologramblizzard-ed17414 @red-diary @singingpeople @writingismyhappytime

[aion-rsa]

Aaron Sorkin: Donald Trump Made The Trial of the Chicago 7 Movie Possible

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Aaron Sorkin always wanted The Trial of the Chicago 7 to be a movie. Ever since Steven Spielberg first broached the subject of adapting the story of how eight men were charged with conspiracy to incite a riot during the Democratic National Convention of 1968, it’s been a project Sorkin has thought about, toyed with, and rewritten over the last 14 years. But what finally led Sorkin to forego his stage play for something bigger and more cinematic is when the events of the heady days of 1968 began seeing echoes in the 21st century. What happened was Donald Trump ran for president.

“I asked DreamWorks if I could try writing this as a play,” Sorkin said Monday during an industry talk for The Trial of the Chicago 7 at the Toronto International Film Festival. By this time, the film had already gone through several drafts, with directors like Paul Greengrass and Ben Stiller attached at various stages. But the project never seemed to get off the ground. Still, in his heart, Sorkin knew he wanted it to be a film—he even noted earlier in his conversation with moderator Elvis Mitchell that “in the end I wanted to show was the riots and [that’s] really what it came down to.”

And sadly the treatment of protestors, especially at national political events, soon became very relevant.

“What got it made were two things happening at once,” Sorkin explained. “I directed my first movie Molly’s Game, and Steven was sufficiently pleased with it. He said, ‘You know, you should direct Chicago 7.’ That happened at the same time Donald Trump was holding huge rallies and was getting nostalgic for how in the old days they used to take that guy out of here on a stretcher. They used to beat the crap out of him, punch him in the face, talking about protestors that way. Trump started telling people to go back where they came from.”

Sorkin is referring to Trump’s first presidential campaign, which began when he descended on an escalator to say most Mexican immigrants are rapists. Throughout the following 18 months, the man who would become the 45th President of the United States campaigned with rhetoric that celebrated committing violence against protestors at his rallies. He even mused he’d “look into” paying the legal fees for a supporter who sucker-punched a protestor at a North Carolina rally in 2016. (He didn’t.)

All of which Sorkin sees echoes of in the pressure-cooker that was the summer of ‘68 and the carnival-like atmosphere created by the trial of seven protestors who were being blamed for the riots that broke out in Chicago during the DNC Convention.

“There’s a black and white photo of both Chicago Seven supporters and Chicago Seven haters,” Sorkin said, “and in this photo were three signs, and this was in 1969: ‘America Love It or Leave It,’ ‘What About White Civil Rights?’ and ‘Lock ‘Em Up.’ So we just thought this is relevant. This isn’t a history lesson; this is going on now. And as I said, the world just kept more and more mirroring the events of the movie.”

The actual events of the trial of the Chicago Seven are well-documented, even as their story has been obscured by time. Following a tumultuous year already rocked by riots and protests due to the Vietnam War—and then the assassination of Civil Rights Leader Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and anti-war Democratic contender Robert F. Kennedy—tensions were high in the summer. Hence a coalition of anti-war activists gathering in Chicago to stage protests during the convention for soon-to-be Democratic nominee Hubert Humphrey, who’d been President Lyndon B. Johnson’s vice president during the Gulf of Tonkin. Among the anti-Vietnam protestors were the Youth International Party (Yippies) and the Students for a Democratic Society.

Mayor Richard Daley denied protestors permits, thinking it would dissuade them from gathering—not to mention calling in 12,000 police officers and 5,000 Illinois National Guardsmen. Instead conflict broke out in Grant Park on the afternoon of Aug. 28. Soon tear gas was deployed, and clubs, and the police were quickly attacking innocent bystanders who were watching. The Walker Report, written by a National Commission created by President Johnson, ultimately attributed blame for the riots and violence to an aggressive police force instigating a “police riot,” yet still eight men were rounded up for the high-profile trial that Sorkin’s movie dramatizes.

Among the defendants were Abbie Hoffman, Tom Hayden, Rennie Davis, Jerry Rubin, David Dellinger, and Bobby Seale, the latter a co-founder of the Black Panther Party who did not know the other seven men and called for having a second trial… which eventually occurred after Judge Julius Hoffman attempted to make an example out of the Black man. Talking about it now in regards to The Trial of the Chicago 7, Sorkin noted that most of the eight (and soon seven) men didn’t know each other, which made charges of conspiracy fairly incredulous. However, the defendants were carefully selected to best sway the jury.

“It’s cast by the government like a great caper movie,” Sorkin said with a hint of grim humor. “It’s as if the government foresaw there would be a movie about this one day and they wanted it to be good.”

It’s a movie that might also shine some light on a subject that even Sorkin was hazy on for most of his life. When Spielberg first mentioned the project to him, he had only the faintest idea of who the Chicago Seven were.

“It was in 2006 when Steven Spielberg asked me to come to his house on a Saturday morning,” Sorkin recalled. “He said, ‘I really want to make a movie about those terrible riots in Chicago in 1968 at the convention, and then at the crazy conspiracy trial that followed.’ And I said that sounds great, I’m in! And I got in my car, and on the way home I immediately called my father and said, ‘Dad do you know anything about riots that happened?’”

He also noted during the conversation that the movie was written and shot before the familiar but heartbreaking tragedies of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Rayshard Brooks dying at the hands of police. Those recent events have sparked a new, generally more widely accepted wave of protests that are demanding equality and an end to anti-Black violence.

“The similarities between [this] and today are chilling,” Sorkin said. “The movie was relevant when we were making it. We didn’t need it to get more relevant, but it did.”

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The Trial of the Chicago 7 premieres on Netflix on Oct. 16.

The post Aaron Sorkin: Donald Trump Made The Trial of the Chicago 7 Movie Possible appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3hwwKwq

[specialchan]

[Breeds] Looking for a dog for our young family via /r/dogs

[Breeds] Looking for a dog for our young family

Looking for a dog that would like hiking and would enjoy living in our London suburb mid-terrace house with our 2 year old son and our cat. A rescue would be wonderful if we could make it happen.

Introduction

1) Will this be your first dog? If not, what experience do you have owning/training dogs?

My wife and I both had medium sized dogs growing up (a retriever and a some sort of lurcher mutt). We both remember our parents training them and are pretty confident we'll do okay. My wife dog-sat for neighbours as well

2) Do you have a preference for rescuing a dog vs. going through a reputable breeder?

We'd love to rescue, but with a toddler (2 yr) and a cat we may be out of luck. The dog homes here in the UK are notoriously cautious. Would love recommendations on how to handle them and adopt the right dog!

3) Describe your ideal dog.

Cheerful and playful, safe around kids and grandparents. Ready to play fetch or wrestle a bit. Perhaps a bit smarter than the average. Doesn't need to run constantly, but will happily come along with us on hikes around 10 miles.

4) What breeds or types of dogs are you interested in and why?

Some spaniels seem like a good balance of this. Considering schnauzers, bigger terriers or beagles as well, though I'm not sure how well they hike.

5) What sorts of things would you like to train your dog to do?

I'm not fussed about tricks, but it would be super useful if it was comfortable traveling on public transport. Fetch would be great but plenty wonderful dogs won't even let you near their sticks.

6) Do you want to compete with your dog in a sport (e.g. agility, obedience, rally) or use your dog for a form of work (e.g. hunting, herding, livestock guarding)? If so, how much experience do you have with this work/sport?

No thanks

Care Commitments

7) How long do you want to devote to training, playing with, or otherwise interacting with your dog each day?

We don't expect to do much training beyond basic obedience, housebreaking and public transit. In the post-covid world at least one of us will be working from home every week day so they won't get lonely, but we will need to work during that time so a dog needing constant attention would be a problem.

8) How long can you exercise your dog each day, on average? What sorts of exercise are you planning to give your dog regularly and does that include using a dog park?

We are expecting as much as an hour's walk including a dog park in the morning, with a shorter walk in the evening. Plus running in our back garden during the day (~30 meters), and longer walks at weekends.

9) How much regular brushing are you willing to do? Are you open to trimming hair, cleaning ears, or doing other grooming at home? If not, would you be willing to pay a professional to do it regularly?

We would happily do the grooming as necessary and there are plenty of professionals in our area. I think we lean away from the truly hairy breeds, but more guided by their comfort in our climate.

Personal Preferences

10) What size dog are you looking for?

Probably small to medium. We love large dogs, but while our house is decent size for London it is not huge and will need to be shared with 2 adults, a toddler and a cat.

11) How much shedding, barking, and slobber can you handle?

Slobber and shedding is fine and fun and part of dog life. Barking we are less keen on (and we also have neighbors with whom we share walls)

12) How important is being able to let your dog off-leash in an unfenced area?

The dog will have to be able to behave itself at a basic level to handle parks and country walks. I would say this is probably pretty important.

Dog Personality and Behavior

13) Do you want a snuggly dog or one that prefers some personal space?

Probably medium? Love having a dog that puts their head in our lap and tries to lick our face. But again we will need to work from home around them, so yapping until we pick them up could become a problem.

14) Would you prefer a dog that wants to do its own thing or one that’s more eager-to-please?

I like anywhere on that spectrum, though perhaps not fully aloof. I would say it's more important that they are able to relate to kids. Guess would probably be more eager to please, but not really sure.

15) How would you prefer your dog to respond to someone knocking on the door or entering your yard? How would you prefer your dog to greet strangers or visitors?

I'd rather they be open to strangers. Having a dog with a guard mentality might be tricky in a mid-terrace house with neighbors close by. Barking a bit when someone knocks is fine, but they should accept people when we bring them inside.

16) Are you willing to manage a dog that is aggressive to other dogs?

I don't think that's a good idea. Just too many around here.

17) Are there any other behaviors you can’t deal with or want to avoid?

Avoiding too much barking is probably the main one. We can manage if they turn out to be yippy (you never know) but we are keen to be kind to our neighbors.

Lifestyle

18) How often and how long will the dog be left alone?

One of us should be working from home every weekday and we will be around weekends. I would say that it would be good to be able to leave them for half a day sometimes, but we should be able to get people to look in on them if it's longer than that. We have good neighbours and friends locally who could help.

19) What are the dog-related preferences of other people in the house and what will be their involvement in caring for the dog?

Us two adults are both very keen. We will see about our toddler as he ages but mostly seems fine.

20) Do you have other pets or are you planning on having other pets? What breed or type of animal are they?

We have a rescue cat (normal british short-hair) whom we have had for 3 years now and is about 5 years old. She has a cat-flap and we are planning to keep the dog out of at least a room or two to help her.

21) Will the dog be interacting with children regularly?

Yes, being good with our kid and their friends is essential.

22) Do you rent or plan to rent in the future? If applicable, what breed or weight restrictions are on your current lease?

We own and are planning to stay.

23) What city or country do you live in and are you aware of any laws banning certain breeds?

London, UK. There are laws about breeds which are said to be violent.

24) What is the average temperature of a typical summer and winter day where you live?

Summer hovers around 20°C most days, but gets up to 25-30°C, almost never more than that. Humid but not muggy. Winter is not below freezing all that often. A week or so of light snow in total is not unusual, but fairly mild overall.

Additional Information and Questions

25) Please provide any additional information you feel may be relevant.

We would really love to rescue a dog, but are not sure how we could do that since we have a toddler and a cat. Rescue charities here are very restrictive and we have so far not seen any dogs listed as ok for both small children and cats. Should we just give up on this approach? Is there anything we should try?

26) Feel free to ask any questions below.

I loved my mutt growing up. I recognize breeders would probably not call any of their dogs mutts, but is there any way to let breeders know we would be interested in, let's say unconventional cross-breeds?

Submitted July 26, 2020 at 06:43AM by subsetOfInsanity via reddit https://ift.tt/39wwknm

[klancefanwithfeelings]

Klance fic (should I continue with it?)

Dog dad seeks same

“Do you think Kosmo gets lonely?” Lance traced a finger over the rim of his cocoa mug. They were sitting on Lance’s porch, just watching the sunset. Kosmo was gnawing at a particularly hard rissole by their feet that Lance had kind-of overcooked, too busy arguing with Keith. The little happy growls and wet smack of lips on meat sounded gross, but Keith was watching his cosmic wolf with a soft, proud look.

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed hard at the question. He seemed to be chewing it over with the same intensity that Kosmo was decimating his burger. “Of course, he does. Didn’t you hear me over the comms on the way home to Allura? He needs company. Otherwise he gets a bit—

“Chewy?”

“Destructive.” Keith leaned down, hand gently carding its way through Kosmo’s thick fur. Kosmo stopped chewing to turn his upper body to face him, muzzle nuzzling into his palm with his eyes closed in utter bliss. Keith’s face was almost mirroring his wolf as he rubbed behind his ear. “Why are you asking?”

Lance took in the gentle sight and blundered. Scratched his cheek. “No-no reason.”

Keith dropped his hand, much to Kosmo’s displeasure who tried to lift it with his nose back into the doing the good scratchies. He turned to Lance with a look of utter horror. “Has he said anything to you?”

“No! What—Keith? No! No talking space wolf here. Just, curiosity.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. The scar on his cheek caught the porch-light and looked like pure scalding flame. “And what’s prompted this curiosity?”

“And what’s prompted this intensity? Buddy, Keith, in all our years at space I’ve just never seen another wolf like Kosmo. I was just wondering if there were any other tamed teleporting cosmic wonder wolves around that would be up for a doggy meet-and-greet. Has your mu—has Krolia said anything to you? About his species?”

“Just that he’s a cosmic wolf. And that he seems to like me.” Keith leaned back into the bench seat, looking up at the moths as they were attracted into their own demise with a pained ‘zap’ of the light. He winced. “And that he makes for a delightful pillow, now that he’s bigger.”

Lance snorted the rest of his chocolate milk through his nose at the image of the large, intimidatingly serious Galra woman cushioned into the warm folds of Kosmo’s fur in-between missions.

Keith blinked at him, cocking his head in question. Lance wished he hadn’t gone back to drink more as Kosmo mirrored the adorable expression and thus more hot milk wound up on the floorboards.

Keith tsk-ed a chuckle, which grew as he took in the utterly mortified look on Lance’s face and his drenched shirt. “I know why I’m laughing, but why are you laughing?”

“Just,” Lance gestured vaguely at the air. “Your mum doesn’t strike me as the cuddly type.”

Keith bristled and Lance sighed, motioning with his hands to calm down. “It’s just nice to get an extra side for her. We don’t—I haven’t heard much from her. She’s always struck me as intimidating, so it’s nice to know she has a softer side.”

Keith sat up and scowled. Kosmo rolled over for belly rubs which were generously given. “Where do you think I get it from.”

Lance shrugged. “Your own lifelong sweetness?”

Keith stared him down until Lance cracked. “Has she taught him any tricks? She seems like she knows how to teach discipline.”

Keith shook his head. “She is a good leader and teacher,” there was a sadness to his gaze, as if imagining the lost years they had. “But Kosmo only really listens to me. Even then, it’s more of a partnership than anything.” Keith—he pouted. He full on pouted and Lance felt his heart pinch out a little ‘aww.’ “He doesn’t even play fetch with me.”

“Really?” Lance blinked. “Well, maybe he just needs a bit of ol’ Lancey-Lance’s training expertise.”

“You, an expert dog trainer?” Keith snorted. “Next you’ll be saying you can herd kittens.”

Lance scowled. “It’s a very important intrinsic skill, Keith. Don’t mock my kitten herding. It’s what Blue responded to, clearly.”

Keith shook his head, his bangs falling into tussled disarray. “Clearly.”

“Hey, I trained Kaltenecker to moo on command. Ask Pidge. She can even moo out an old Altean melody. Got her to sing it when Allura was over last time from New Altea. She loved it. Don’t knock my skills.”

A sobered Keith was a worryingly quiet Keith. “How are you guys—

“We’re still good friends,” Lance replied curtly. “And she’s still the best lady.”

Keith rubbed the back of his neck under his mullet—it’s not a mullet, Lance, Keith’s voice said in his head—and sighed. “So like, do you have a stick available, or?”

Lance blinked at him. Slowly. “There are so many trees around. Worst comes to worst, we can snap off a smaller branch, and Kos-mo-mo can have a wonderful time chasing sticks. Isn’t that right, boy?” He turned to the wolf, who looked up at him with its big black and gold eyes, blinked, wagged his tail weakly, and then slumped his head back into his curled up body.

“I think he’s a little tired. That last mission took a lot out of him.”

“What happened?”

“A township on the planet we were on got stuck in a flood, deprived of resources. Kosmo,” Keith rubbed that delicate indent in-between his eyes with the tips of his fingers and Kosmo let out a yodelling happy aroo. “Was called onto the scene to bring them to the other side. On top of that, we had to do a lot of food distribution. Wasn’t too strenuous, but I think he must be feeling the effects of the teleportation now.”

Kosmo gazed up at Keith with utter respect and loving and seemed to nod. The understanding between the pair would have been uncanny, but Lance had seen much stranger things than a near-sentient teleporting wolf.

Lance whispered in pure awe. “He really is the best boy,” and dived into his back fur.

Keith smiled fondly, the scene filling him with nothing but love.

Buried in the long ruff fur of cobalt blue, Lance felt surrounded by warmth and dog smell. It reminded him of his own childhood, playing on the beach with his yippy Jack Russell who would always slyly trip him up so he could lick his face. He buried his face deeper, giving Kosmo’s back little fake kisses. “I love him so much.”

“Me too,” Keith said, walls down. He put his finished cocoa down, having regularly sipped it during Lance’s antics.

“He’s such a good boy, the best boy, the biggest boy. More Clydesdale horse than dog at this point, right buddy?”

The utterly blissed out Kosmo huffed a bark, his backfoot twitching as Lance found an itchy spot on his shoulder to rub. Keith looked between them, appreciating the symmetry of the dark slate-blue of Lance’s eyes against Kosmo’s darker fur.

“He is the best boy.”

Lance smiled up at Keith, looking up as he was at knee level, lying on his ex-rival’s dog’s back. “How old is he now? Six?”

“Eight,” Keith corrected. “Had him since he was a puppy. Believe it or not, he used to be smaller than Pidge.”

Lance gasped. “I don’t believe it! He was never gremlin-sized! And I can’t believe what a regal and esteemed old gentleman he is. Can’t believe it’s been that long since we lost the Lions.”

“Since we beat Honerva, you mean?”

“Eh, I focus on the important parts. Miss my girl Blue. And our boy, Red.”

Keith sighed. “Me too. He’s—he’s still out there, you know? Allura says he’s woven into the fabric of reality.”

“Quilted Lion corpse sky? Morbid.”

“No but like—” Keith closed off again, pulling at his long hair. “Can’t you feel them? I wake up to flashes of red and black sometimes. Images of time long passed that aren’t my own memories, but the Lion’s. Yellow eyes, that aren’t just the Galra who tried to cut us down. Shiro and Hunk said they both feel it. Do you?”

Lance’s tongue felt dry and heavy in his mouth. “Sometimes. Or a warm, comforting purr from Blue. Telling me everything’s going to be okay. That I’m a good flight instructor. A good seasonal farmer. That I should stop being so hard on myself.”

“I used to think you were so arrogant. That you could be knocked down a peg or two. But she’s honestly right.”

“Says the guy who works himself to exhaustion every day.”

Keith shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

“Yeah,” Lance breathed and looked out across the night sky. It was a thick navy blue, freckled with stars. A shooting star slashed open the sky like a scar, fading as it went. In the distance, he swore he could see flickering blues and reds, the red star bursting bright as a sun. Their lion. “Do you think Red’s watching over us?”

Keith snorted. “I’m not religious.”

Lance gasped. “Neither. But magic space cats kind of defy the usual parameters.”

Keith had that faraway, dreamy look again. It reminded him of their last day on Earth all those years ago, sitting on top of black, watching the sunset and not knowing if they would ever see it again. The uncertainty was both frightening and beautiful, and had left them both feeling vulnerable. “I like to think so.”

Lance flopped his head back into Kosmo’s fur. The wolf’s heartbeat was constant as clockwork. The furry body radiated heat like the Castle of Lions many processing units. Lance’s hand drifted through fur, feeling the muscles shifting beneath. He counted hairs for a distraction. “Getting some grey hairs there, Kosmo.”

Keith sat up in alarm. “What?”

“Here, see?” Lance pointed at one, then another. The more he looked, the more they seemed to multiply. Kosmo snorted in disgust at Lance’s accusations of age.

Keith found his hands shaking by his side. “Maybe I should ask Krolia just how old space wolves live for.”

Lance looked up at him in alarm. Taking in his friend’s distress, he spoke softly and calmly. “Keith, buddy, he’s in the prime of his life. Teleports like a champion, runs like an Olympic athlete. Heck, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was immortal. Space canine and all. He’s in no pain at all. Heck, my bones creak more than his do and I’m a sprite twenty-four. It’s all good.” He gave Keith puppy dog eyes that Kosmo looked up and imitated.

Keith worried a hand through his hair again. “Maybe I should look for a playmate for him, though? Another wolf that speaks his language and can teleport, too. Maybe I’ve been selfish not looking before.”

“Keith, it’s not every day that a teleporting wolf appears in the universe. I think you were lucky just to meet Kosmo. It’s not selfish to be a good friend to him when you don’t know where any others roam.”

“Maybe I should set out a personal ad. See if anyone across the galaxy has a laid-back one like Kosmo.”

“Single dog dad seeks same?” Lance said with a leer. “Get yourself a man out of it too.”

The tips of Keith’s ears went red, a tell that Lance had gotten under his skin. “Not like that! I’ve got no time for romance.”

“Only time for Kosmo and work?” Lance chuckled, ignoring Keith’s ‘I’m here with you now, aren’t I.’ “Relax buddy. What could possibly go wrong?”

Keith looked at him in disbelief.

As it turned out, everything.