#shout out to sandra

[littlemagicalstardust]

Throwback & Fun Fact When Orange Cassidy had his shoulder injured, he went to one of the designers/seamstress' in AEW and asked for an arm sling, using a pair of jeans to match his outfit. The talented lady, Sandra Gray said "of course, I can have it ready for next tv" but after saying that, OC said he needed it an hour! Without hesitation, Sandra got right to work and turned the pair of jeans into an arm sling. Making it just in time for Orange to have for tv and she even included the pocket on it for him. <3

[the-irrelevant-trumpeter]

can’t believe it’s taken me so long to make a max/sandra edit

[marshmellowtea]

lyrics of ways to make it through the wall that feel chris coded to me:

lyrics of ways to make it through the wall that feel sandra coded to me:

lyrics of ways to make it through the wall that feel robert coded to me:

[abusedog]

📂

RANDOM USELESS HEADCANONS

when they ( ken & shiv & him ) were little , their mother urged them to take music lessons as part of their complete english education . rome chose the traverse flute as his instrument . he hasn't played in years , but learning an instrument is like learning how to ride a bike , right ? RIGHT ?

[p0orbaby]

I'm so giddy for Wicked so can I request a blurb about Arsenal teen who's into musical theatre and has a show or something that the team go to watch in support???

-

It starts with Leah. It always does. She finds out because you leave your script on the bench at the training ground, a heavily dog-eared copy of Grease. Your name is scrawled in the corner of the front page, along with random doodles—hearts, stars, some vaguely car-like thing that was supposed to be a reference to the Thunder Road scene but ended up looking more like a potato on wheels.

Leah picks it up and, in typical Leah fashion, starts reading it aloud. Dramatically. By the end of her impromptu performance, Katie has joined in, doing the worst American accent you’ve ever heard and shouting, “Tell me about it, stud!”

By the end of the day, the entire squad knows you’re playing Sandy in some local production of Grease.

“Sandy?” Katie says during warm-ups the next day, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Didn’t know you were into leather trousers”

“I didn’t know you were into reading my stuff,” you fire back, glaring.

“What songs do you get to sing?” Beth asks, suddenly invested.

“All the bangers,” Katie answers for you. “Hopelessly Devoted. You’re the One That I Want. She’s probably been practising the hand jive in her bedroom”

“Can we not do this?” you mutter, stretching in an attempt to hide the faint blush creeping up your neck.

They don’t stop. Beth hums Summer Nights under her breath every time she sees you. Steph suggests the squad should do a Grease theme for a fancy-dress night. Katie spends an entire training session calling you “Sandra Dee,” much to Renée’s exasperation.

And then they buy tickets.

You don’t find out until Leah casually mentions it while you’re tying your boots. “We’re coming to your show, by the way”

“Who’s we?” you ask warily.

“The team”

“All of you?”

“Obviously,” she says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “We got the front row”

The night of the performance, you’re convinced something will go wrong. Maybe the mic will cut out, or you’ll trip during Greased Lightning. Or worse—Katie will heckle you from the audience.

As you step onto the stage, the lights blinding, you spot them immediately. They’re hard to miss. Leah’s in the middle, holding a pink ladies’ jacket that looks two sizes too small for her. Katie is beside her, wearing sunglasses indoors and a white T-shirt with “T-Birds” scrawled on it in Sharpie. Beth has a foam finger. Where she got it, you’ll never know.

The show goes on. You hit every note, every step, every wistful glance at Danny Zuko. During You’re the One That I Want, Katie lets out a cheer so loud you almost miss your cue.

By the time the curtain falls, you’re drenched in sweat and half-mortified. The standing ovation feels surreal, though it’s mostly them, clapping and whistling loud enough to make up for the other half of the audience.

Backstage, they barge in like they own the place. Leah hugs you first, grinning like a proud big sister. “You smashed it,” she says.

Beth holds up her phone. “I got the hand jive on video.”

“Delete it”

“Absolutely not”

Katie, predictably, starts singing We Go Together at full volume, much to the annoyance of the cast and crew still trying to pack up.

“You lot are ridiculous,” you say, but you’re smiling, the words softened by the warmth of their support.

Leah drives you home, Katie still singing in the backseat. And despite the chaos, the embarrassment, and Katie’s mangled rendition of Beauty School Dropout, you think to yourself: this is what family feels like.

[anamelessfool]

A Naming

Rated Teen, Papa Emeritus II’s Son and Family

Tags: Halloween Hijinks, Eldest Kid Anxiety, Suburban Dad Secondo, Disabled Secondo, Post-Retirement Life, Magic Rituals, My AU

CW: Underage Drinking

Dedicated to @kissingghouls thanks for cheering me on you’re my little Hell Pumpkin🎃 I’m on AO3 with all my other fics but Tumblr gets mad at me when I post links

Part One (of 5)

Oct 31, 2017

The Leider residence was the only one on the cheery suburban block that was bare of decoration. The house year round was neat, sensible; a single floor ranch with the occasional hearse out front. Neighbors thought the lack of decoration, especially during Halloween, was a choice made out of propriety. One would hope the family responsible for interring your loved ones would have a sober outlook on the macabre. Their entire modus seemed to be one of complete disregard for any happenings outside their own home. Unavailable, discreet, out of the way. A little fortress meant only for its occupants.

And in a way, it was. Its unassuming nature was by design. The patriarch of the house, known to his neighbors as Michael Leider, was a severe man in appearance and temper. His entire family was full of noise and cheer and life but he himself preferred to stay out of the way. The only completely peculiar thing about him was each morning just after sunrise he’d step out onto his back concrete patio and scowl at the sky. A journal would come out, he’d scrawl a few lines, and then return to his kitchen to make that morning’s coffee.

What his neighbors didn’t know was that the man had journaled daily about the weather for fifteen thousand one hundred and seventy-eight days so far, give or take a few due to illness or inconvenience. It wasn’t that neighbors didn’t know, it was more what they have not seen. Or were allowed to see. Mr. Leider’s life was carefully constructed, like the life of any true magician. He had been once the hub of arcane power as Papa Emeritus II, known as Secondo; master magician and the spiritual leader of the Satanic Church of the Void. The Void itself was closer to a true hell than any suburbanite could ever comprehend, but it had been a large part of most of his previous life. For over forty years Secondo had balanced this world and beyond this world. Spirits called to him, demons obeyed his commands. Now all that was left was the old practicum of documenting the weather, but this ordinariness was his choice.

Because a seasoned magician knows of the dangers of attracting attention.

“Yesterday…” Eden Leider’s eyes got wide. The half-nibbled pizza was abandoned on her plate as the eight year old regaled a tale slowly and with great reverence. “Yesterday…there was a kid…at my school…at recess…”

She was surrounded by her family, as always, in the kitchen strewn with handmade Halloween art projects. She had hurried home with her younger brother Sam from the bus and immediately wanted to try on her costume, only to be met with the torture of having to eat before she went out tonight. Pizza AND the green beans. If she was going to be doused in sugar later that night then at least some half-attempt at healthy food was a requirement. Her father Secondo had insisted on it.

“Oh I saw this!” hissed her younger brother Sam. “I saw this!”

“No you didn't you were in gym,” snapped Eden.

“No I saw, I saw the ambulance!”

“He fell…and his arm? His arm was like this!” Eden held out her arm crooked, a primal little grin stretching across her face. “There was his bone sticking out.”

“Bone sticking out?” Their mother Sandra lowered her pizza slice, her eyes wide in amused interest. There was nothing more she enjoyed than encouraging her younger children’s odd sense of wonder. It was like watching kittens attempt to navigate themselves out of a paper bag.

“His bone! Was sticking! Out!” shouted Sam.

The eldest brother Paul let out a too aggressive sigh, subtly glancing down at his phone on his lap. There was another message. He disguised his gasp as a cough.

Dana: u coming

Paul L: trying

Paul nervously cycled through his apps, arriving at Dana’s photo again. A perfect face, a winning smile adorned a photo of her in a theatrical costume. Below, her favorite quote that Paul recently decided was evidence of her profound understanding of reality: Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world! Let your soul take you where you long to be!

I will, Paul always thought.

His father didn’t even have to make a noise for Paul to know he was watching him. Paul looked up and met the Eye embedded in his father Secondo’s skull, white and shark-like. It was usually concealed behind a colored lens but still burned through all the same. Paul was not normally afraid of it, but in this circumstance he swore it could read his mind. It was something that existed beyond his father, an interloper perched on the man’s broad shoulder. The human eye beside it had its normal expression of cool assessment. While his father’s left eye expressed an understanding of the beyond, the rest of the body was that of an intelligent stoic. Someone not interested in seeing their son look at their phone at the dinner table. Paul smiled thinly back.

“We can't even have a jack-o'-lantern?” Eden’s whines came into focus once more. “Not even one?”

“I'm not encouraging anything or anyone to enter this house,” Secondo reminded her stiffly, releasing Paul from his gaze. “Our home is our domain and I keep it well tended.”

Secondo, known in the past as Papa Emeritus II and leader of the Satanic Church of the Void, had always been a serious man. Serious, but never humorless. His wife Sandra has gifted him a bright orange shirt that said “This is My Halloween Costume” and he wore it now as he cut his pizza slice with the grace of some sort of aristocrat. His younger children had dumped tribute drawings around him: scrawled images of him as a skeleton man surrounded by assortments of demons and pools of blood. Eden idolized him, and his youngest idolized his sister and so the two of them had become his most loyal cultists whether he liked it or not.

Paul took the chance to answer Dana back.

Paul L: my dad is

Dana: yeah

ill ask

Dana:🙂

“If you’ll excuse me,” Secondo muttered with a regal bow of his head. He unhooked his forearm crutch from the back of his chair and maneuvered himself to his feet, politely grabbing empty dishes to deliver them delicately to the sink as he left the kitchen.

Paul turned quickly to his mother. “There’s a party tonight and…”

Sandra smiled wryly. “I’m always happy when you want to be social. But your dad will have to drive you.”

Right. Secondo had retired to his study for an hour before taking the younger kids out. In Paul’s experience of suburban fathers, there was a seasonal quality to all of their domestic obsessions. Some dads fretted over lawns, or snowfall, or their collection of vehicles in various states of disrepair. Secondo’s special interest at this time of year was obscure arcane protections. Paul had never once experienced any sort of supernatural event in their home, but as he grew up he suddenly became responsible for helping his father with his weird chores. Burying recycled jars filled with nails and rat bones. Standing on ladders to hand specifically colored yarns around the outside perimeter of the house while Secondo commented on ideal placement. Collecting perfectly good specimens of mullein or rue from the side of the road with the shovel Secondo always kept in the backseat of the truck. In his mind’s eye Paul wondered what strangers thought of the impromptu highway gardening, or the digging, or all the rock arrangement. Maybe they assumed the teen was enduring some old time tough love father-son punishment.

Honestly that would be far less embarrassing.

Paul found Secondo in his office. The room was dimly lit, with scarves draped across the computer and all of his work things. There were more books and journals than wall space, and so some were stacked neatly in piles besides the shelves that went right to the ceiling. Said ceiling was stained with areas of candle soot, the walls doubly so. Secondo stood in the far corner of the room, the doors to an old TV hutch open to reveal the magical seat of his home: his altar place.

“Dad, can I go out tonight?”

Paul saw the familiar diagrams and charts taped on the inside walls, along with some twig and twine poppets right out of a horror film. Deeper into the hutch lay even more oddities: deer jawbones, rocks of Significance. Some desiccated bundles of herbs. A mason jar of old buttons.

Secondo was whispering something into a waterclear crystal skull. He lowered it and stared into Paul, the white Infernal Eye settling in to regard the teen like an old crow. “Hm?”

“Yeah uh…a party. It’s everyone from theater club. Tonight.”

“Parents will be there?”

Shit. Paul wrung his hands. “Uh…I think so?”

Secondo let out a puff of air through his nose, a wordless sign of him mulling over facts. He didn’t speak much, but his elegant movements and subtle expressions spoke more than any words could. He gently replaced the skull on his altar and closed the doors, tying a red ribbon across the knobs. Paul waited with bated breath.

“All your homework done?”

“Yes.”

“Are you certain?”

“I—” The two little ones bounded into the office. Sam launched himself at his brother’s knees and squeezed.

“Put our facepaint on, Paul!” said his sister.

“Yes, please,” Sam added. Paul looked up to meet his father’s eyes once again.

Secondo was smiling.

“What did Daddy’s face look like? I want it to look like that,” Eden insisted. In the bathroom Paul applied the white makeup to the entirety of her face while she frowned and got into character.

“I dunno, some kinda…skull or something.” Paul was deeply indifferent to their father’s past life. He didn't remember the pageantry, or the tours he was dragged on as a young child. He barely understood nor cared that his father was someone who wandered the space between two worlds, who channeled dark powers through his body, who captivated thousands with twisted tales of death and demons.

All Paul really remembered was seeing his father decline. He saw his father have days of extreme pain he chose to conceal, watched his mother help her husband as good as any nurse or wife could. As the Void wracked his body Secondo couldn't do much anymore. Couldn't play with Paul or carry him or do anything more than preserve himself for when he was on stage. So Paul was indifferent to Papa Emeritus II. In some way his earliest thoughts were of happiness now that his father could be around.

And they could finally all be somewhat normal.

Paul darked the hollows of her eyes with black face paint and added long lines across her mouth to simulate snagged teeth. He recalled the exaggerated lines across the jaw. Satisfied, he turned his sister around to show her in the mirror. She nearly jumped out of her skin the moment she saw the face that was no longer hers. But then she laughed wickedly.

“Oh I want to be a skull now!” crowed Sam, tugging at Paul’s clothes. “Make me a skull face!”

“No you're not allowed,” Eden said. “Pumpkin Skull? I'm the skull. Paul tell him I'm the skull!”

“Wouldn't make sense on you, Sammy,” Paul explained. “I'll give you a jack-o'-lantern face.”

“Yeah okay but make it scary,” Sam muttered.

Eden had worked for days on her costume. It was of course an homage to the towering glory of her father’s previous life, in miniature form. She had fashioned a cereal box into a decent miter. Secondo had coaxed her out of applying true upsidedown crucifixes to her outfit, and so wrathful skull heads scowled down the pillowcase chasuble and bats adorned the miter. “I'm a…Hell Priest.”

“She made it herself.” Sandra shrugged. “Turn around, honey, you're the cutest little hell priest I've ever seen since your father.”

Sam extended his little arms and wiggled his fingers, grinning. “And I'm a…Hell. Pumpkin.”

“My adorable little freaks,” said Sandra of her children, nudging Secondo next to her on the couch. Secondo had his usual severe frown as he watched the little ones scurry around the carpet and howl. Sandra addressed Paul. “And you're wearing that? To a Halloween party?”

Paul looked down at his jeans and band tee, old ratty hoodie and sneakers. “Halloween’s for kids, mom.”

“At least the shirt’s clean,” said Secondo.

“You two are really boring, you know that?” Sandra ribbed over the rim of her coffee mug. “But have fun? Extra fun for me.” Out of all of them she loved Halloween the most. It was a love of the macabre that drove her to join a Satanic Church, after all. Sandra held the work phone for the memorial home in her hand as her family got ready to leave for the night. She had selflessly volunteered to be on call so her brothers and husband could bring all their kids around the neighborhood. Then again, watching the goriest horror films at home without the prying eyes of her children was a decent consolation prize.

Sandra caught her youngest in her arms and brought his little body into a hug. “You know, you can die… but no one really stays dead on Halloween.” She immediately pretended to bite him all over, and Sam screamed and laughed.

“You're deeply unprofessional, dear,” muttered Secondo, yet a small rare smile hovered across his face. He gave his wife a peck on the cheek and pulled himself to his feet. “Let’s go. Paul, help me get your siblings in the car.” The younger ones let out shrill shrieks and jumped towards the door, grabbing their candy pails while already whining.

Sandra gave a soft chuckle, then reached out to gently touch her eldest son's hand. “Paul, have fun alright? You need it.”

Paul smiled faintly and returned her affection with a hug. “I’ll be fine. Thanks. I hope you…don't have to work tonight.”

“Same,” replied his mother. “But you got to take everything as it comes, right? Be always ready.”

“Paul,” said Secondo.

“Hm?” Paul had been staring out the window as they drove across town. Behind them in the backseat the younger kids were chatting wildly about all the candy they were going to eat later. By this time in his life Paul was used to drowning it out. Ever since Sam could talk, Paul finally got a break and Eden got a perfect little peon to hang on to her every word.

Secondo had both hands on the wheel as he drove sensibly. He never looked up from his task but he never had to do more than slight gestures or certain tones of his voice for Paul to know what came next. “Name it,” he said.

Secondo was talking about the feelings rolling around in Paul’s insides. From a young age this was a common ritual he shared with all of his children. Paul realized more and more that Secondo now didn’t demand a vocal response to this request anymore the way he did of the younger ones. After years of this, Paul had an automatic cool response to any sort of restlessness in his mind.

Paul let out a soft breath, imagining himself holding the feeling in his hands, like always. It felt prickly, hot. Torn right from his chest and squirming like an impatient puppy. So he looked down and named it. Apprehension. Worry.

The little feeling stopped jostling him. But there was something else tugging at him, gripping its sharp little teeth into his pant leg and pulling. Dana’s picture on his phone came to mind. He swallowed.

Crush.

The truck stopped, Secondo put it in park. High school kids idled out on the front porch of a large house cheerfully decorated with pumpkins and the warm glow of string lights. The little demons of feeling that tugged at him skittered away to wait in the shadows. Paul gave a weak goodbye utterance to his family and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Secondo spoke. “And Paul.”

“Yeah?”

The intensity of the whitened eye in his father’s skull never ceased, even when freed for an instant as he blinked. “You are a person of integrity.”

Paul gave a half-hearted nod, slamming the door. He watched the red lights of the truck veer slowly away and occasionally stop to avoid throngs of trick-or-treaters. Now before the house, before this strange new world, his nerves began to circle.

Like it? Reblog it! Thanks so much, see you in Part 2…..

Next chapter link in comments!

[niko-sasaki-dbd]

Queue Interview with the Dead Boy Detectives Cast 👻🔎

This is going to be a long post! (These are my favourite parts from the interview!)

George Rexstrew as Edwin Payne

Acting Inspiration

Oh, gosh. Well there are so many. Meryl Streep, obviously. Viola Davis, obviously. More recently, I was blown away by Enzo Vogrincic in Society of the Snow. And Eden Dambrine in Close.

Cast Camaraderie

I loved working with all my co-stars. I’m practically related to Jayden [Revri] and Kassius [Nelson] at this point. Yuyu [Kitamura] is a dream. Jenn [Lyon] is mother hen. Bri[ana Cuoco] is the cool older sister. Josh[ua Colley] is the cheeky cousin. Ruth [Connell] is the godmother who gives you a card and £20 for your birthday. It really is one big happy dysfunctional family. I’m grateful for all of them, on and off camera.

Jayden Revri as Charles Rowland

Dressing The Part

These heads of departments, and Monique and Kelli, [they’re] unbelievable. They were so collaborative. We went through different hairstyles and different things we could do with the makeup. We added a bit of eyeliner for [Charles] just to make it feel more 80s. And then Kelli, I mean, it was like she did her research on me. She added badges to the jacket which kind of represented me as Jayden, before I even got there. It wasn’t until I got the haircut, put the makeup on, put the costume on, and I was like, Okay, this is Charles.

Cast Camaraderie.

The vibe was just incredible. Me and George, we really wanted to set the tone for the series and make sure that everyone’s having fun and it’s an environment where we could all talk about how we’re feeling. We were just such a big support blanket for each other. If there was ever a time that somebody needed space, or they wanted to prep themselves for a certain scene they were going to film, we all respected that and we were each other’s cheerleaders the whole entire time. And it’s still the same to this day now. I think it really shows when you watch the series that we all knew what we were making and we wanted to make something that we would want to watch, which we’ve all done. I cannot shout out my castmates enough. Forever grateful.

Kassius Nelson as Crystal Palace

Acting Inspiration

I watched a lot of animation. I used to watch the Addams Family, the black-and-white one, because I didn’t have Disney Channel or anything. Monk, Murder She Wrote, I was watching those things, so maybe I was actually destined to play a detective, now that I’m thinking about it. I watched a lot of cartoons and animations. I just liked the idea that I could be engrossed in another world. And I always wanted to know what happened next, or when the film finished, I would be like, “Okay, but then what? What happens after that?” And now I get to be part of that question or that answer (...).

Dressing the Part

We have a fantastic costume designer, Kelli Dunsmore. I always say that she literally wove the story into the fabric of the clothes, because there are things that she foreshadowed in the clothing that happened episodes later. Or, if characters start to get in some sort of relationship with each other, that will be reflected in the clothes that they wear or the colors that they have. Or, if they’re feeling any type of emotion, (...)l. Crystal wears these massive platform boots that must be about four or five inches. They’re huge, very heavy, but it’s funny because they change the way that you walk. (...) She’s not very light, which makes sense with the things that she’s going through and the experiences that she’s having. Practically, it helped, because Jayden and George are like six-foot-something. So, if I film a scene and I’m at the bottom of the lens and they’re up there, that helped. I’ve got a good couple inches on my feet.

Yuyu Kitamura as Niko Sasaki

Acting Inspiration

Sandra Oh is a woman that I will forever be indebted to because who she was on Grey’s Anatomy was so formative for me. The most interesting thing about her character was not that she was Asian, but that she was such a fully fleshed person with flaws and amazing qualities. And her work ever since I think has been iconic, so she’s a woman that I deeply look up to.

Landing the role in Dead Boy Detectives

I auditioned from Hong Kong and my dad was my reader because all of my acting friends were in New York. My dad was able to carve out time and be an amazing reader. And in that audition side, it’s the scene where Niko gets to see the “Dead Boys” for the first time, and there’s a line in there that was something along the lines of me talking to Edwin and asking, “Do you two make out with each other?” And my dad stopped the tape and he was like, “What are you reading for?” And I was like, “Don’t give me notes, it’s fine!” And so that was the audition process! I think within a month I found out I got the part and it’s been an absolute dream ever since.

Dressing the Part

(...) I think on paper Niko can seem like a certain type of character, but even in the choice of every costume we did, every color that she wears, every meticulous little piece about everything from her nails to her room, it’s so well curated and thought out. Through her journey, we also find that she’s a woman that wears what she feels. On the surface, she might seem like the most joyful, young, optimistic girl, but it’s the inner confidence and bravery where we find that she’s layered, and she is very much a young woman coming of age.

SOURCE: MEET THE REAL DEAD BOY DETECTIVES (AND FRIENDS)

[atoltia]

What his eyes can see, part 2

In which March was annoyed when he hasn't seen a certain farmer in a while. this installment was inspired by @fieldsofwriting 's headcanons about the farmer always stopping by to chat

Original prompt for What his eyes can see is by @itsabea found here

-0-

He noticed it almost immediately.

It wasn't like he was watching for her in particular, no, no, definitely not. No matter what other people said, no matter how much his brother pestered him during their downtimes, he did not dedicate any time or brain space on her at any given time of the day.

And yet there was a subtle weight at the back of his head, a buzzing that he couldn't quiet down even in the night. It was as if he omitted something from his day to day life that his body was reacting negatively to the lack of that particular stimulus.

He knew what it was, of course.

Ever since the day she arrived, March already had the sense that she would be the cause of many headaches to come.

Like this one.

March refused to count the days that he didn't see her. Refused to even acknowledge that he's missed Sandra's daily chitchat for three days in a row, absolutely disregarded the worried chatter from the other villagers that said they haven't seen her in a while.

Ryis kept him up to date, seeing as he was one of the people helping her fix that goddamned bridge by the beach (why wasn't it him, he wondered? Why couldn't it be him, instead?)

She wasn't looking too good, his friend told him one Friday night over a big stein of beer. He could tell that she wasn't getting much sleep, with the way she would just zone out for a few beats and the dark shadows beneath her eyes.

Ryis said he tried to ask what was wrong, and if she needed any help, but she just smiled and waved him off. Just some weird noises at night, no big deal.

Both March and Ryis knew it was bullshit.

So here he was, trudging towards south of town to the farm she occupied in the annoying morning chill, hands in his pockets as he grumbled all the way.

-0-

She was exhausted.

It was one of the things that she expected when she moved to Mistria many months ago. From her time in the capital, it wasn't the first time she'd witnessed towns and villages needing to be rebuilt after a disaster, natural or man-made.

She needed the work, she admitted. Not for any monetary gains, no. Sandra already had enough of that to live comfortably for a long time. She didn't need much of anything anymore - or at least, that's what she believed. Just get busy, just get focused elsewhere.

Just forget.

And still, the heavy clang of steel against steel still resounded in her mind. The rancid stench of iron in the air suffocating, suffocating, clouding the rivers in red. They couldn't hear her amidst the shouts, couldn't hear her orders to fall back, fall back, regroup.

She lost eleven of her soldiers that night. That grueling night of holding the last bastion at the north from enemy forces alone, surrounded, without aid, without so much as acknowledgement from the Capital on the loss of her eleven valiant warriors. But they persevered and held the line.

It infuriated her when the Capital didn't care, when they were dismissed. To protect and serve. For the good of Aldaria. That was what they believed in. And yet the country that they laid their lives on the line for turned their backs against her, against her people, the moment they were needed the most.

She sucked in a breath when a wide and sloppy tongue lapped at her hand, knuckles bone white from gripping the fence gate too tightly. Sandra looked up, sighed when the large eyes of Peanut gazed up at her, breaking her from her nightmare.

"I know," she whispered as those lean fingers of hers ruffled the cow's fluffy head. She knew she had to rest, take some time for herself.

But still she had work to finish before autumn hit.

The crunching of boots alerted her, the rake she had in her other hand whirled along with her as she turned around.

"March?"

She sputtered a soft laugh as she leaned against her fence, Peanut now nuzzling into her side as both regarded the redhead. "This is a surprise visit."

"Hn." Ryis wasn't exaggerating when he said she didn't look well. There was a translucency to her skin that he didn't like, a slight tremble to her frame even when she's supported by the wooden fences. Her usual alert eyes were switching from being focused to not. At this state, a strong gust of wind would be enough to topple her over.

But then he remembered when she pinned him to the wall some months ago. She didn't look all too good back then, either. Half-dead and bleeding, if Valen asked him.

He remembered how strong she was when she had him against that wall and he wasn't sure he'd like a repeat of that.

"You look like shit."

Mirth twinkled in those exhausted eyes. It pissed him off.

"Not exactly something I'd like to hear from an attractive man so early in the morning, but thanks."

He felt the heat creep us his neck as he grumbled to her before shoving a paper bag at her. "Eat."

She raised a brow as she took the bag, tilted her head. "What's this?"

"Soup."

"Ah."

But they stood there for a number of moments, with Peanut nudging at the bag in her hands. March growled and, against his better judgement, took her arm and dragged her towards the stone bench right next to her house.

If it were another person, he wouldn't be as worried. But the way she stumbled into him, her body colliding into his back, alarmed him.

"Hey, hey." He quickly got the bag and set it down on a rock by the fence while one arm held on to her before stabilizing her into a better standing position against his body. "Oi."

Her eyes blinked rapidly before she snapped back, her brows furrowing as she lightly pushed a hand against his chest in an attempt for distance. "Shit," she breathed. "Sorry."

"When was the last time you slept?"

"Last night."

"Bullshit." Images of that time she slept over when he was sick flashed in his mind, images of her struggling to fight against a nightmare while she slept on his armchair. He swore.

Steeling his mind, he muscled her up and carried her on his shoulders as his other hand grabbed the bag before the cows decided it was their breakfast instead.

"March," she breathed, accepting her fate as she got fireman-carried towards her bench. "Warn a girl."

"If I do, you'll kick my ass."

"You don't know that."

"I do, in fact, know that."

"Hmph."

So he set her down, rather ungracefully to her chagrin, and had her eat. It wasn't often that she got to eat any breakfast so having Reina's cooking this early in the morning was a welcome treat.

"So, besides manhandling me, why'd you come here?"

March shrugged as he took the piece of bread in her hand. "You didn't say hi to me yesterday."

She sighed. "March, I was busy."

"But it's routine, damn it."

She chuckled at that, shook her head. "Well, if our local blacksmith missed me that much, then I'll make sure to add him to the schedule."

"Damn right." And he'll damn well make sure of it.

Next step: figure out how to get her to sleep for a full eight hours, damn it.

-0-

Not my best work but mmm the brain bunnies weren't working so well yesterday lol also some Sandra lore, finally

Masterlist

[charmandabear]

No Sandra Dee

Summary:

One quick little lie to your parents, and you and your hot vampire greaser boyfriend have the entire night to yourselves.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags/Warnings: reader is in high school but age isn't specified, reckless driving, 1950s greaser au, loss of virginity/innocence, vaginal fingering, piv sex, blood drinking, degredation if you squint, rough sex if you squint, praise kink if you squint, reader is a bit of a needy slut (affectionate)

I tell you the way this idea grabbed me by the collar and shoved me up against a locker and told me to give it my lunch money... I wrote it over the course of a few hours and it refused to let me go until I finished. I saw dovah_vakarian's Greaser Astarion and with some egging on from the lovely folks in the Rabid House server (join if you want a good hang) this little ditty was born. No thoughts, just greaser Astarion. (Dovah was kind enough to let me use their render for the cover photo are you SEEING IT? Are you KIDDING ME? Go give them a follow, right fucking now.)

Read on AO3

“Alright, Ma, Pa, I’m off to Suzie’s for the night!” Your heart is pounding in your ears as you shout the lie, and you can only hope it’s not in your voice, too. 

“Alright dear, have fun! Don’t forget to remind Mr. and Mrs. Johnson about the church potluck on Sunday!” your mother calls back, and without another word you slip out the front door and into the cool night air. You adjust your poodle skirt and bound down the front steps of your home, turning down the street where he’s waiting. He looks like an absolute treat, too, leaning against his shiny black convertible, the collar of his leather jacket popped, cigarette held delicately between long slender fingers. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of those fingers. You know better than anyone what they’re capable of.

“Darling,” he greets you with that adorable foreign lilt of his. You can already feel your cheeks beginning to flush as he looks you up and down, sizing you up like a piece of meat. “Ready to leave?”

You nod vigorously. “Ma and Pa think I’m at Suzie’s, and she has strict instructions for what to say if they call.” Your mouth grows dry at the sight of his devastating smile.

“That’s my girl,” he coos, running a knuckle down your jaw and under your chin. He takes one last drag off his cigarette and drops it, grinding it into the pavement with the heel of his boot. He breathes out the cloud of smoke that obscures his features, and you inhale instinctively. The acrid smell is one that you used to absolutely hate, but now that you’re starting to associate it with him, it sends a little thrill down your spine every time. He slides into the driver’s seat and you throw your overnight bag in the back. 

“So, Astarion, where are we going?” You try to keep your tone light, but the quaver in your voice gives away your nervous excitement. He slides his red eyes over to you and a mischievous smile plays on his lips as he revs up the t-bird’s loud engine.

“Can’t some things remain a surprise?” he says slyly, and the sultry tone of his voice makes you unconsciously lick your lips. You keep your hands in your lap as he fiddles with the radio, and soon the dulcet tones of Nat King Cole fill the car. 

It’s not long before he’s speeding down the highway, and you haven’t the faintest clue where he could possibly be taking you. He pulls out the cigarette from behind his ear and pops it into his mouth.

“Sweetheart, can you grab my lighter? It’s in the pocket of my jeans,” he mumbles around the cigarette, and you glance nervously at the tight denim on his hips.

“Um, sure, just keep your eyes on the road,” you say automatically, feeling like you could kick yourself for sounding like such a square. But he just chuckles as you lean over and wiggle your fingers into his pocket. You can smell his cologne from here, a heady spiced smell that makes your chest ache. After a bit of struggling, you pull the zippo out from his pocket and flip it open for him to light his cigarette. You assume he’s going to let you bring the flame to him, but instead he fully turns his head toward you, red eyes boring into yours as you light it. 

“Astarion, careful,” you hiss nervously, your fingers shaking as you try to light the cigarette as quickly as possible. There isn’t another car in sight, but you’ve heard too many stories of reckless joyrides turning fatal.

He takes a puff and laughs, a cool, velvety sound. Your eyes trace his profile, his perfect nose and jawline, and the two small puncture wounds on his neck. You’ve fooled around with him a bit before, but you’ve never gone all the way. And you’ve always been morbidly curious about what it would be like for him to bite you. His eyes flick towards you and you flush, feeling like you’ve been caught. 

“Someone is having naughty thoughts,” he sings, and a timid giggle bubbles out of your lips. 

“What?” you squeak, and then clear your throat to try to sound more cool. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Is that so?” He takes a hand off the steering wheel and gently runs his fingers down the side of your neck, and you can’t suppress the moan his touch elicits. “So you’re not thinking about…” His hand continues its journey downward and stops right at your breast, fondling lightly over your sweater. You bite your lip as he squeezes the flesh, and even through the two layers of wool and satin, your nipples grow stiff with arousal. He pinches it between his fingers and you need to press your thighs together. You can already feel the cotton gusset of your panties growing wet, and with his heightened sense of smell, he knows it, too. 

“A-Astarion, eyes on the r-road,” you stammer, but he just grins wickedly before pressing his foot down on the gas, inching up dangerously over the speed limit. 

“Darling, I promise I won’t take my eyes off the road for a second,” he says with a wicked grin, lit cigarette bouncing with every word. He keeps his promise, but his hand continues to wander southward, brushing against your thigh. You squirm and whimper, simultaneously desperate for his touch and wanting him to stop. You wrestle with your conflicting desires for a moment, before temptation wins and you let your knees fall open for him. “Such a good girl for me,” he purrs as he pulls up the hem of your skirt, and even you can smell the debauchery wafting from between your legs. 

“Just please,” you whine as his fingers skate across your inner thigh, teasing you mercilessly.

“Please what, darling?” His voice is infuriatingly innocent while he’s making the dirtiest thoughts run through your mind.

“Please be careful,” you plead, your hips bucking forward to chase his touch. He steps on the gas again, increasing the speed even more. Your heart begins to pound loudly, and you can’t tell if it’s from hurtling down the highway or his fingers dancing just outside your panties.

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I can do both,” he pouts as the pad of his thumb runs up the length of your slit, and you grip the bar on the door as a moan escapes your lips. He begins to retract his hand and slows the car down slightly, causing you to whine instinctually in protest. “So love, which will it be?”

You stare in horror at your beautiful vampire boyfriend’s face. He doesn’t have the same stakes as you, he’d be able to walk away from a car wreck just fine, but you, not so much. But your cunt is aching from his relentless teasing, and your judgment is clouded with lust.

“Just… quickly, please,” you whine, and his lips stretch wide into a satisfied grin. He slams his foot down on the gas pedal as his fingers return to your soaked panties, tearing an unseemly groan from your throat. He pushes the gusset aside and slides his fingers along your slick folds as you grip the seat. You have no idea if your primary emotion is fear or arousal, but either way it's exhilarating.

“So wet, you dirty girl,” he tuts, and you can only cant your hips into his hand in response. “If only Ma and Pa could see their darling daughter now.” He inserts a slender digit and you push a saddle shoe against the dashboard to brace yourself.

“Ah- ‘starion,” you moan, your knuckles beginning to turn white from how hard you're clutching the leather seat. He pumps his finger lazily, still looking at the dark road ahead as it flies by. 

“What would Pastor Tom say if he knew you were getting fingered by your greaser boyfriend in the front seat of his t-bird.” He punctuates the filthy statement by inserting another digit, and you squirm into his hand needily. “Such a perfect little slut for me.” He curls his fingers and palms your clit, and you rock back and forth in the seat trying to push yourself down on him deeper.

“Please, ‘starion, I need more,” you pant and you catch the speedometer breaching 100 mph as he increases the pace of his fingers. He uses the heel of his hand to rub against your clit and you can feel your orgasm building deep in your core. “Yes, please, just like that.”

“My filthy girl, so good for me,” he praises you as you whimper and moan, and you grip his wrist to control his touch. You buck desperately against him, and your hand not holding his begins to pinch and fondle your breast, chasing your pleasure. “You hungry little slut, you can’t get enough, can you?”

You’re so close, and through your half-lidded eyes you see Astarion take his other hand off the steering wheel to take a drag on his cigarette. You cry out in both horror and pleasure as you crash over the edge, fucking yourself on his hand and gripping the back of the seat. Ripples of pleasure reverberate through your body offset by your heart pounding in fear. As the waves subside, Astarion pulls his fingers out and you can feel the car slowing. You’re still breathing heavily as he pulls off at an exit, driving deeper into the woods. 

As soon as the car rolls to a stop, he growls, “Get out,” as he crushes his cigarette in the ashtray. You scramble out of the car and before you can get your bearings he’s got you pushed up against the trunk of the car, kissing you forcefully. You paw wantonly at his neck, just barely keeping up.

“Please, defile me,” you groan as he pushes his bulge into your mound. You slide your fingers into his curls and guide his mouth towards your neck. “Bite me, Astarion.”

“What a disappointment you are to your parents,” he grunts into your ear before sinking his fangs into your jugular. The pain is exactly as exquisite as you had imagined, like icy shards that melt into a warm serenity. He takes deep gulps of your blood, and with each swig his erection grows harder against you. You grind into him, desperate to know what it’s like to feel him inside you.

He pulls away from your neck all too soon, but it’s worth it to see him panting, hair disheveled, and a monstrous bloody grin on his face. “Turn around,” he snarls, but before you can comply he’s grabbed you roughly by the waist and done it for you. He bends you over the trunk and rucks your poodle skirt up to your waist. It doesn’t take him long to pull himself out of his jeans, his cock hard and glistening. You try to turn around to see it but he grabs a hold of your ponytail, keeping your head firmly forward. 

“P-please, Astarion, I need it,” you beg, standing on your toes as you present your throbbing cunt to him. He pushes your panties to the side and aligns himself with your entrance, teasing it lightly with the head of his cock.

“Their perfect little cheerleader with the perfect grades,” he growls and you can only mewl helplessly in response. He pushes into you and you both groan, the sound mixing amongst the ambience of the forest. “You’re all mine, now,” he hisses as he bottoms out, and you claw at the shiny surface of his car. He shoves your face against the cold metal and begins to thrust into you. You cry out with every stretch, the mixture of pain and pleasure becoming quickly overwhelming. 

“Harder, Astarion,” you grunt and he yanks your ponytail back further, stretching out your neck and forcing you to look at him above and behind you. He obliges your request, pounding you into the car forcefully. His face contorts with pleasure as he slides in and out of your tight cunt, and you can already feel yourself building up to a second orgasm. You push yourself back into him, desperate to feel more, when suddenly he pulls out and you whimper from sudden emptiness. But before you can protest, he forcefully turns you around again and shoves himself back into you.

“I want to see your face when I make you cum,” he growls, and you wrap your legs around him to pull him in closer. You grab onto the back of his leather jacket as he fucks you mercilessly against the back of his car. 

“Please, Astarion,” you whimper, each thrust of his cock pushing your breath out of you. “Please don’t stop.” His rutting hips begin to grow uneven, he pounds into you a few more times before you feel the pulsing of his cock against your walls. His face in the throws of passion, his mouth still slightly bloody and his hair falling into his eyes are enough to set off your second climax. You don’t hold anything back, your cries mixed with swears and his name repeated over and over echoing off the trees.

You cling to the back of his neck as you both slow, taking your time to regain control over your breathing. Eventually he pulls out and sets you back down onto your feet. Your legs quake and he laughs as you need to grab his arms to stay steady.

“You said you wanted to be defiled,” he concedes, and you pull him into a comparatively chaste kiss.

“My parents don’t expect me home until morning,” you hum against his lips, “and I can think of a few more ways to defile me until then.”

[reminiscingtonight]

Starring-fruit-goal (Jana Fernandez)

Camera Shy (Jana Fernández x Reader)

[WOSO Masterlist]

It’s Lucy’s fault.

The idea of “First Touch” with random objects which eventually devolved into a game of keepy uppies with some lettuce all came from the English big brain, pitched minutes before the camera crew arrived to film a segment for the champions league. Claudia and Patri were instantly sold, the first two to jump into the locker room at the word “challenge.”

There was one person who was less than excited about it though. 

Jana.

“Justice for the goal keepers!” your girlfriend huffed, ignoring your whispered pleas to let it go. “When do the goal-savers get to do anything fun?”

Really, it was more of a misplaced subject to defend than anything. Unlike your girlfriend, you were more than happy to sit quietly out of the spotlight. As the second goalkeeper, you’ve learned a lot from just observing. Your introverted self enjoyed coming to practice, doing your job, and leaving it at that. There was no reason to film silly videos, no reason to risk embarrassing yourself on the world web.

But it didn’t matter. 

Because it all leads to now. 

There’s an assortment of friends standing opposite you, your feet placed firmly in front of goal.

Claudia’s at the front of the line, a fruit bowl in hand as she grins mischievously your way.

“And you tested it out? This is safe?”

Jana shoots you two thumbs up, though you’re not wholly convinced. 

You nervously rub your gloved hands together. “Are you sure I have to do this? Sandra really couldn’t make it to filming?”

“Enough talking chicas. Time to save some goals!” Patri hollers, scooping up a banana and a peach into each hand before nudging Claudia to the side. 

You gulp.

The first few go fine. 

It’s a bit daunting, seeing your teammates cock their arms back to throw literal fruits at you, but you stop them with ease. Your gloves are padded enough that you can swat them away without too many problems. 

You even get into a rhythm, catch a pear here, knock away an entire cluster of grapes there. Your nose scrunches up in disgust when a bundle of strawberries explode the second they touch your gloves, splattering all over your shirt.

With each save your confidence grows. Jana never participates in chucking fruit at you, but you can see her cheering every time you manage to stop one. Between your successful stops and your girlfriend’s excitement, you feel like you’re at the top of the world.

It isn’t until Mapi steps up to the line that it all comes crashing down.

It begins just like everyone else. Back turned to you, Mapi selects her fruit, only turning around when she’s content with the one she’s chosen.

The only difference?

Mapi’s apple zips through the air with startling speed and accuracy, smacking you right in the nose before you can even blink. 

Yelping, you stumble onto your ass in shock. Your hands come up more as an afterthought, a useless attempt to stave the warm liquid you can feel dripping down your face.

The chattering and laughter instantly ceases as everyone looks on in shock. 

From across the field there’s a loud shout. 

“What are you idiots doing?” 

Alexia. 

Jana’s kneeling by your side, rubbing a soothing hand against your back when your captain makes it to you. 

Everyone else has scattered at this point, desperately trying to evade Alexia’s anger. Anger that instantly dissipates the second the Spaniard catches sight of the tears in your eyes. 

The older girl sighs, crouching down in front of you. “What did Jana and the others rope you into?”

Your girlfriend lets out a squawk of indignation. “Why do you think I did anything?”

Alexia gives her a look. “Did you do something?”

Jana doesn’t dignify her a response. 

The video never ends up getting posted.

Not that that stops Mapi from posting her own picture of you, broken nose and all, onto her instagram story the next day. 

In it you’re frowning, Jana halfheartedly trying to block you from the camera. Mapi’s toothily grinning as she shoots a thumbs up through the lens.

[In another life I would have made a good pitcher]

Alexia makes her run extra laps.

Send me a 3 word prompt

[joelswritingmistress]

Camp Crystal Lake: Chapter 7

Requested by @yellowjacketsbuzzbuzz

Joel Miller x f!reader (romance/horror)

Setting: Camp Crystal Lake

The reader is taking on the position of a camp counselor at the infamous Camp Crystal Lake. While she begins to enjoy her summer, even crushing on the camp director Joel, a killer lurks in the woods unbeknownst to anyone.

The night was low key. I could tell everyone was at least a little tired from working, and playing, in the hot sun all day. Mark sat on the porch with a book in his lap, and as I entered the cabin from exploring the grounds a little I saw Vicki wander over to sit beside him.

When I entered the cabin, Jeff and Sandra sat in the living room toying with an old record player. Scott laid the length of the couch with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. I saw he had an ear pod in and was gently bobbing his head to whatever music was playing.

Joel looked over his shoulder from where he was retrieving hot dogs and hamburgers from the fridge and smirked subtly at me as I entered. I smiled back and toyed with a few stray strands of hair by my forehead.

“(Y/N),” Sandra called, waving me over.

I wandered over toward where she held a few albums in her arm like a pair of books. “Hey, did you guys get in trouble?” I asked quietly.

She shook her head. “Nah. Joel just told us not to go back over there.”

“Did you see anything creepy?”

“We didn't get that far,” Jeff claimed. “The cop picked us up before we could go inside any of the old cabins.”

“Anyone want burgers or dogs?” Joel asked aloud. He held a package of hotdogs in the air as we all glanced over.

Jeff held a hand up and then Sandra did the same. I gave a nod and Scott sat up from where he laid.

“Food?” He asked, removing his ear pods.

Joel snickered and confirmed with a nod. “Food.”

Annie appeared at the top of the open staircase toying with her damp, towel-dried hair. “Shower’s free if anyone needs to get in.” Her croc-clad feet peppered down the stairs. “I'll be back in a little bit.”

“You want anything to eat?” Joel asked her.

“I made myself a big salad about an hour ago,” she claimed. “And I'll probably have a s'more or two when I get back.”

“Beware of Ralph,” Joel said to her, half-kidding.

“Ha ha.” Annie threw her hair up into a high bun. “If I see him, I'll give him an ice cream sandwich. I'm going to check out the ice cream inventory.”

“Take a break,” Joel encouraged. “Do it in the morning.”

She waved a hand at him. “I'll be twenty minutes.”

“Mark,” Jeff shouted through the screen of the porch window. “You guys want hot dogs and burgers?”

“One of each for me,” he called back.

“I'll take a cheeseburger if you're offering,” Vicki said next.

“You hear that boss?” Jeff asked Joel.

“Loud and clear.”

“Where's Teri?” I looked around the open floor plan.

“Upstairs,” Sandra claimed.

“Anyone want to give me a hand bringing some of this stuff out to the grill?” Joel asked.

Jeff began to raise his hand but Sandra nudged his stomach with her elbow.

“Ow,” he said quietly, glancing at her.

“Go,” Sandra whispered to me, as Joel nonchalantly retrieved cheese, lettuce and tomato from the fridge.

I chuckled and cleared my throat. “I'll help,” I volunteered.

“Great, thanks,” Joel said back.

I gazed at Sandra and we shared a smirk. I pulled her in to whisper discreetly. “We need to talk later.”

“What happened?” She whispered back.

“I'll tell you later.”

Joel and I made eye contact across the room and I wandered over to grab two oversized dishes he’d laid out. When he placed a knife on top of them I glanced up at him.

“Might need you to slice a tomato or two while I heat up the grill,” he explained.

“No problem.” I retrieved the lettuce and tomato, scooped up the plates and followed him out the back door onto a little deck. The light by the back door illuminated the grilling area as the atmosphere darkened under the cover of the trees.

I placed the plates down on a small table beside the grill and retrieved a tomato as Joel squatted to turn the gas tank on. My back was to him as I began to slice the red sphere. My body stiffened and I felt a rush of adrenaline power through me when Joel’s hand topped mine on the knife. His body brushed up against mine and I let out a breath without looking back.

Joel’s hand pressed down and I went with the motion, cutting the tomato once, twice, three times.

“You’re very good at that,” he practically purred in my ear. Feeling his breath land against my neck as he spoke made me weak in the knees, and my toes curled beneath my white Nikes.

I swallowed hard, taking completely off guard but also totally on board with Joel’s advances. “Thank you,” I choked out.

“I knew how you felt about me the second I met you,” he spoke quietly. His fingers tucked a few stray strands of hair behind my ear.

There was no use in denying it. “How?” I whispered back.

“A man can tell.”

A man. He certainly was a man. The tumultuous emotions that brewed inside of me were unlike anything I’d ever felt before when it came to sex, romance and dating. My whole body was hot and if there would have been no repercussions I would have uncharacteristically turned and jumped his bones right there. 

The knife left my hand and he turned my body to face his. Joel dove in for a kiss, an extension of what was interrupted in the shed by the sheriff earlier in the day. I had been thinking about it ever since.

Can anyone see us? The concern was a fleeting one and I continued to indulge in him until Joel was the one to pull back with a breath. When he proceeded to peck my lips just after I wasn’t ready for it and simply closed my eyes without reciprocating. His hand landed on the side of my face and my eyes flickered open again. Joel let out a breath through his nose.

“Are you involved with anyone?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. Are.. you?”

Joel mirrored my response. “No.”

“Good.” I laughed lightly as I said that.

“You, uh.. You want to agree to a summer romance?”

I laughed a little louder and Joel laughed with me. “What are the terms of that?”

“Why don’t we make them right now?”

“Okay.” I felt my body heat up even more and I couldn’t keep a wide grin from my face.

“Don’t pursue anyone else at the camp.” The statement came out sort of as a question, “And I won’t either.”

I nodded. That was more than reasonable. “I’ll agree to that.”

“Unless you’re not into this once we try-”

“I’m into it,” I said right away, making him chuckle. I added, “A man really can tell, I guess because I’m.. very into this.”

“Good.” Joel smirked, “Because I am, too.” He pulled me back to him and our lips met again. I could feel him smiling into the kiss the same way I was.

“Do we have to keep this, like, a secret?” I asked.

“Doesn’t Sandra already know?”

My eyes widened and I swallowed hard. “Well.. not.. Exactly.”

“She’s smart,” Joel said with a smirk, “She knows.”

“Well, she’s suspected.. I didn’t say anything.”

“We’re all adults here,” he reminded me, “I’m just the organizer of this place. You all seem like good workers so there’s no favoritism.” Joel toyed with my hair again, “As long as you’re not embarrassed about it, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Why would I be embarrassed?”

“Because of our age difference.”

I laughed lightly, “No guys in their twenties made me feel what you’ve made me feel in the short time I’ve known you.”

Joel looked pleased by my words and smiled smally, mostly to himself. It almost looked like he was giving himself props in his mind. It made me chuckle again.

“So.” He held a hand out in front of him, “Do we agree to the terms?”

I glanced down and shook his hand. “I agree.”

“And you’re a townie, like me,” Joel added. “So, if things go really well, maybe we can even go apple picking in the fall.”

My heart grew a size. “I’ll be around.”

“Good.” He leaned in and kissed me lips again as he reached for a spatula.

“Good.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@gissellec1 @cattt777 @mellymbee @armybts20137@bbiophiliaa @littleblackcatinwonderland @mermaidgirl30 @brittmb115 @yellowjacketsbuzzbuzz @beltzboys2015-blog blog @lwfics @pedropascal111 @mellymbee @itscatrodriguez-thepearl

[the-irrelevant-trumpeter]

making another sandra edit because i'm obsessed with her

[runawaydr3amerao3]

🎙️Idling In the Impala and the return of the 💥 Wincest Big Bang?! Part IV: The Participant Spotlight 💡

Okay, I know I said we were all wrapped up with our @wincestbigbang 2024 tales, but this one isn't about us, it's about the other amazing people who took part in the event! There was a whole gang, gang!

There were so many creative brains just waiting to be picked, but how? 🤔 Well, Sandra had the idea of putting together a survey and letting the authors and artists who were interested in sharing some thoughts have at it!

Would you like to hear what they had to say about the whole thing? Well, of course, silly question!

Listen: 🔴 YouTube 🟢 Spotify

You can also check out the Tumblr post for episode chapters if you want to tune in somewhere in particular:

Big, thankful shout-out to the generous souls who gave us an insight into their processes and finished products!

✍️ amusawale 🎨 @bluefire986 ✍️ @jld71 🎨 @morokollisyo ✍️ @fictionallemons

And special mention to 🎨 @i-already-know-im-going-2-hell, whose responses were featured in my solo interview since they were my paired artist for the event. 💖

If you haven't checked out all of the awesome fics and art from the bang, by the way, you can still do that by heading to the Wincest Big Bang 2024 Master Post. Strongly recommend. Zero bias whatsoever. 😇

Okay, now I'm pretty sure that's literally the last of the WBB stuff. At least where I'm personally involved. I'm still going to support all you crazy kids taking part this year and however many years it carries on. Cheers to all the Wincest stories still waiting to be told! 🥳

Oh, and there's still time to enter the giveaway to win an Idling In the Impala notebook if you hurry!

Did you miss the previous parts?

Part I: Sandra @talltalesandbedtimestories: 📱 PODCAST 📖 FIC 🎨 ART

Part II: Kasey @sam-is-my-safe-word: 📱 PODCAST 📖 FIC 🎨 ART

Part III: Dreamer @runawaydr3amerao3: 📱 PODCAST 📖 FIC 🎨 ART

[signorinaclaudiacardinale]

Claudia Cardinale in "LIFE" magazine:

Italian beauty takes a desert bath on location in Nevada. /In this photo Claudia was filming "The Professionals" on July 8, 1966/

Claudia Cardinale, a wary beauty is afraid Hollywood will ruin her. Claudia Cardinale has a problem. At 26 she has become the most admitted international film star since Sophia Loren. Lusciously built along Italian lines, like Sophia, Claudia also has a special tender beauty in her face. Easy to work with, she is a director's pet. Unmarried, she has no close family worries. So what's her problem? Her problem is, now that she has finally agreed to work in Hollywood, she is afraid she will be over-glamorized and exploited-as Sophia was. Her first Hollywood movie, the recent 'Blindfold', confirms Claudia's worst fears of her. And she has two more coming up soon. Between Hollywood chores, she rushes away to make films in Italy, Spain, Brazil, anywhere but Hollywood. She gets paid less in Europe. "If I have to give up the money, I give it up," she insists, "I don't want to become a cliché."

She'd rather lose money than be a cliché In high spirits at being out of Hollywood and back in Italy, Claudia stopped her car to join villagers who had shouted "Claudia, Claudia", Then they all joined their favorite star for a picture.

Claudia likes the sun of Italy more than of Hollywood. Always rushing from one picture into another, she grabs five minutes to back on her Hotel Excelsior Lido balcony in Venice.

Anthony Quinn, who has acted with both Claudia and Sophia says: "I adore them equally But if I had to say, well, I relate easier to Claudia; Sophia creates an impression of something unobtainable but Claudia-She's not easy, still she's within reach".

Helping pick Miss Italy, Claudia lunches with each judges at Salsomaggiore. She got her own movie start by winning a rather specialized contest as "Most beautiful Italian in Tunisia". In Las Vegas, working on her next Hollywood picture, 'The Professionals'.

In Brazil a waiter proposed to her by mail, posted a marriage notice in his church, and changed his name to "Mr. Cardinale".

Claudia gobbles up a pile of magazines. She reads them to improve her English and keep up on fashions.

Claudia hangs on the words of Luchino Visconti, who directed her in 'Sandra', which won a Venice Festival prize.

Claudia says: "He sees me as cat that someday will turn into a tiger."

Credits:

📷 Photographs by Howell Conant. 📰 Text taken from the magazine "Life" in 1966. 🎥 My Gifs are behind the scenes of "The Professionals" memories.

[idlingintheimpalapodcast]

New Episode Alert: Happy 3rd Birthday, Idling in the Impala!

Holy heck y'all! We turned 3 on the 28th of December. Where has the time gone.

This week we look back on 3 years of Idling in the Impala, how things have changed, what we've learned, what we're thankful for and what's coming up in 2025 Stay tuned to the end for a special announcement!

Oh, and Happy New Year everyone!

Listen on Spotify

Watch on Youtube:

Chapter Timestamps

00:00:00 - Intro

00:00:50 - The Podcast Mascot

00:03:31 - Happy 3rd Birthday IITI!

00:04:29 - Making ourselves presentable for a video for our supporters

00:11:36 - How it started, how it’s going

00:17:55 - Long-Time Listeners

00:19:09 - Having More Creators on the Podcast

00:20:41 - Our little corner in the SPN podcast offerings

00:23:56 - Finding our Work/Life/Podcast Balance

00:25:17 - We came for the smut and stayed for the story

00:30:41 - The farther away we get from the show ending…

00:32:25 - Listener Shout-Outs and Updates

00:43:24 - Ko-Fi Supporter Roll Call!

00:44:10 - Podcast Guest Blorbo Tally

00:47:46 - Kasey’s Secret Question Results!

00:59:17 - Special Announcement!!

01:05:05 - Reminiscing over our old intro skits

01:05:54 - What have we got planned for 2025?

01:09:56 - Outro

[kore-arts]

Au where Janet Drake lives

Tim was relaxing with Dick on the hedge between their houses when they both heard it.

Now Tim had a grin, knowing he wasn't the Drake who released that growl and shriek as he heard the click click of the heels he and his mother favored. Now if he could just figure out what she said, his mandarin being rusty. He giggles as he jumps down with grace to follow the beautiful fury his mother trailed

But Dick's hair rose on his arms. His eyes wide as he watches what had to be a demoness push open a gate that even he never knew was there. No alarms, no surprise yet to be seen on the gardener's face.

But Tim's reaction was… reassuring. As he follows his brother by emotion and vigilante bond his heart races.

Tim knew his mom. Janet Drake, the Dragoness of Artifacts and Business. Her eyes honed in on the sunbathing Bruce as she steadily walked with grace. Ah she screeched Bruce's name. He hides a grin as he perches on a chair, his mother long used to his eccentricity while in a comfortable place. Bruce's eyes are wide, truly caught off guard as Janet taps her nails on the seat she took. Her hat shading her face with her blood red lips twisted in displeasure.

“Do tell me dear Bruce. Whenever were you going to let me know my son is following you officially” Janet's nails click as her fire like tone wrapped around her words.

Tim… did not expect that. He already told her. His eyebrow raises as Janice grins

“I- wait. Tim, you didn't tell me that your mother was Jannie?!” Bruce exclaimed “whenever did you move back?”

Tim mouths ‘Jannie’ the nickname, feeling weird. Dick does the same and they look at each other.

He blinks slowly before it hits him

“Bruce. Please don't tell me you thought I was just a random kid named Tim Drake” Tim groans as Janice looks even more disappointed

Bruce's eyes look away.

Tim decides to be a menace and his mom nods in approval “Bruce. Bruce, did you even think about where I learned my detective skills? My ability to stalk you for years?”

Dick's little ‘’what the fuck' goes ignored

Bruce does look ashamed. His face red but not from the sun “I thought you just were a natural”

Janice and Tim both laugh at that. Both knowing that talent was earned not given at birth.

Tim presses on “oh and what about my knowledge of the Arkham Family? or how I already knew tiny bits of the league?”

“History hyperfixation?”

Tim blushes, yeah thats true. But he still shakes his head “No you Deaf Bat!”

Janice shakes her head “I understand you keeping me away because of the night activities Bruce. But no calls? I just have to see our boys on the hedge like the family version of Romeo and Juliet?”

“Hey! The hedge is comfy” Tim and Dick say at the same time. Tim winning the Jinx and getting handed ten bucks as Bruce sputters

“Jannie! No no! I thought you cut me off! Jack said so”

Janet's scowl deepens into something murderous. Her hair spilling out like black ink as she takes her hat off and holding it as she holds back her fury.

Dick's confused shout startles her “Uh! Little explanation here?”

Her eyes blink slowly as she looks at a shrugging Tim.

“Oh. That's right, you never actually met me. My maiden name was Janet Arkham-Woosan. I am one of Bruce's cousins. Albeit what most would say I am a Bastard born out of an affair in a very tiny village. Not that my sister is any different.” Tim giggles as Dick's face slowly cycles throughout emotions. Janet gently ran her hand through both boys' hair.

Bruce shoves his hands in his face and slowly drags them down “Jack's lucky to be dead.” It's a whisper before he straightens “well. It's lovely seeing you Jan. But yeah, This is my son Dick, The rest are inside”

Tim smiles and helps her stand “you gotta meet Cass! Oh and you'll adore Damian! He's such a serious little guy, almost killed me three times! Oh and Babs!”

Dick stares at Bruce as Tim practically drags his mother into the Manor

Bruce shrugs “Janet and Sandra were probably the two most important people to me other than Alfred. I did wonder where Tim got his penchant for the more subtle things. I am glad to see her. Honestly it wasn't even us finding out we were blood related that connected us as teens.” Bruce looks happy and haunted at the same time “we separated still, I was still out to discover myself and train. And they had a different path to that.”

Dick nods as he walks alongside Bruce “and that was? She looked weirdly familiar”

Bruce hummed. “Let's just leave it as Janet was not her birth name and Barbara is going to be even more surprised then I was to see her”

Dick startles hearing a shriek

“Lady Shiva?”

“Oh you've worked with my sister!”