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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years ago

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Club Takamagahara (Part 1) Z

This is probably going to be the hardest to shove the MC into to be honest. But I think my premise is good, but let me know what you think!

MC sat on the edge of a mossy cliff that was covered in scrubby, grey grass. Rocks were patched with bright orange lichen that were splashed on like paint. The sea was blue with fresh melt water from the ice caps that defrosted, a pale blue that didn’t quite reflect the sky. You learned that it was the minerals from the earth that gave the sea this unique color. The breeze caressed your dark hair and drew it across your face.

You’re back in Black Swan Bay in midsummer. You feel that it should be night, but like the winter months were dark with the sun never rising, in summer, the sun never set and the sky was always bright. Most people would never understand how a place like this could be so familiar when for them it was like living on an alien planet, but for you, even though the sky was always brilliant in the summer, you could tell the time of day by the level of light in the sky, a technique acquired by someone who grew up with exposure to an eternal day.

You’re not alone. Boots crunched in the pea gravel and approached. They were black, and lined with fur and half covered with a long, black fur lined coat worn by a young man a few years younger than you. He sat down, stretching one leg in front of him and resting one arm on his knee.

He had dark hair like you, but his eyes were a bright gold in his pale face. You always thought they were beautiful eyes, but now you understood what they meant. He had dragon blood flowing in his veins. He turned to look at you.

You remembered him being reclusive, not talking to you much unless it was to exchange witty banter. He was relaxed, always smiling cryptically, never bothered by the nurses or the rules, but never really getting into any trouble either. He knew your name when you met despite never having met you before. He reached up and brushed your hair back with one gloved hand to tuck it behind your ear.

Your expression goes deadpan. “I’m not dead, am I, Z.”

The golden eyed boy’s expression reflects surprise and then breaks into a hearty laugh. He covers his face with one hand while you watch him try to get control of himself, a warm feeling spreading in your chest that teases a smile out of you.

Z finally stopped laughing and sighed wistfully, looking out over the ocean. “I missed you.”

He turned to you again with a look that was affectionate but calculating, like he was holding in a secret but barely. “No, you’re not dead.”

Your smile fades and you turn back to the ocean. “Why not?”

Z reached to one side of him and lifted a thick book in black leather. On the cover, a golden cross was embossed on it, but the cross didn’t look like a crucifix. Instead, it appeared to be on fire, with the flames appearing to be like a dragon’s wings. Z lifted the golden ribbon that marked a spot near the beginning.

He read from the book, his voice rose over the wind and the crashing waves. “And in very deed for this cause have I raised thee up, for to show in thee my power…”

“You’re doing this?”

Z clapped the book shut and it vanished in a haze of golden dust. “I can’t explain everything. The pieces are not in place yet and it won’t make any sense to you. You won’t understand until the very end. That said, I can’t do everything. You had a very close call. So I wanted to warn you not to be too reckless.”

You sit up straight. “You’re alive? Where are you, Z?”

“I am alive but… Like I said, you won’t understand. Just be more careful. Alright?” He’s staring at you seriously. Back in Black Swan Bay, most people ignored his existence, but you felt he was calling you, drawing you to him for some unknown reason. At times, he would just appear next to you, like he was following you around like a ghost. And now you feel lost in those eyes once again in this strange dream world.

“Okay. I promise.”

“Promises are meaningless.” He shook his head. “Just do it.”

You nod again. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

“One more, hurry.”

“Why me of all people? Why not Renata or Vera? Or Anton or...”

“Because you were the strongest … second to Renata.” The world started to go dark, like a curtain was falling over the sea, the rocks and the grass. The wind grew still and you felt a bit stuffy and tired. Soon all you could see were those golden eyes.

“And well… you make me laugh.”

You relax into the darkness and for a moment your mind goes blank. But then your mind revives again. “...was that a Roger Rabbit reference?”

“Dammit, MC! Wake up!” He says in a harsh whisper.

Your eyes open wide. Lu Mingfei - not Z - is leaning over your head, appearing upside down in your view, arms on either side of your face. You blink wearily. “Mingfei?” Your voice is hoarse coming out a dry and scratchy throat.

He puts one finger to your lips. “Shhh… You’ve got to stay quiet. No one knows you’re here!” He’s wearing very fancy clothes, the type of suits you see in photos of weddings and official events from magazines that depict life in Moscow. A black suit, a button down shirt with a stiff collar. Diamond studded earrings were in his ears. His hair was swept back and gelled. "If you keep moaning like that you'll get discovered! The walls are very thin and if you’re discovered we’ll be in BIG trouble!" Lu Mingfei was indeed keeping his whisper very quiet.

You’re surrounded by walls on all sides of you, made of dark wood paneling and covered by shelving from floor to ceiling. Your bed takes up the rest of the space. In fact, Mingfei is leaning over you like this because he can’t squeeze his legs between the narrow space between the bed and those shelves. As you look up at him, you can’t help but notice Mingfei’s resemblance to Z. Perhaps if Z had grown older and been able to eat more, he would have grown as tall as Mingfei.

You examine the curve of his eyes and the lift of his nose and squint. You didn’t notice this before because Mingfei does look different, he talks differently, and he acts differently. He doesn’t give off Z’s mysterious, mischievous, and dangerous aura. Z always looked like he had something up his sleeve. It could be good or bad and you didn’t know until you had it in your hand. The way he talked made you want to know however.

Lu Mingfei always looked fearful, reactionary and caught off guard. If Z was the prankster, Lu Mingfei was the pranked. So it was no wonder that you never noticed the physical similarities between someone so different until you woke up from one face to another face.

He sighed, hanging his head. When he looked up again, deep concern was reflected in his eyes. “I’m so glad you’re alright. I seriously thought you were a goner.. If we hadn’t been picked up and taken somewhere they had a nice kit, you probably would have died out there on the street.”

He lifted your hand. A clear IV tube was running from it to a bag of fluid hanging from a hook nailed into one of the shelves. “Where am I?”

“I.. '' Lu Mingfei’s lips pulled down and he looked ill. “Ugh. It’s better you see for yourself. I don't even know how to begin.”

“Caesar?”

“Oh, he’s fine. And so is Senpai. I’m the one suffering here!” He whispered, casting his eyes to one side bitterly.

He held a clean cloth to your hand, and removed the IV and bandaged it. “I’ll give you the rundown of the situation because we’re seriously up a creek. The Hydras are labeling us as dangerous foreign terrorists, gangsters, and everything else under the sun. They’re running the news to look out for us 24/7. If we show our faces anywhere we are absolutely doomed. They have the whole country after us. We can’t use any credit cards, we’ve lost contact with the college and as soon as we try to get into contact with them, Kaguya is on us like a ton of bricks.”

Ton of bricks. The phrase reminds you of the fact that you managed to get a bootleg copy of “Who Framed Roger Rabbit'' and watched it over and over on a TV hidden in a shed. If you could get your chores done quickly, you could watch the movie there without being noticed. “Mingfei… have you ever seen ‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit?’ Do you like it?”

“What? Are you feverish?” He put one hand to your forehead. “Please try to focus! This is important! None of us can touch the network because we’re traceable. Except you!”

“Me?”

“Yes. You’re the only one of us with zero internet presence. You’ve never had so much as an email. Almost all the information on you is held by EVA and not even Kaguya can breach her system so you’re more likely to be able to log in and find some way to contact the College without getting caught, so we need you to stay safe. Got it?”

“Yes, Senpai. I understand.” You nod. Z’s warning to you in a dream seemed even more relevant now. He was protecting you by some form of mystic way, but the danger now was so great that even he had to warn you to be careful.

Mingfei stared at your deferential response in shock. “Are you sure you’re alright? I expected you to sneer at me.”

“It’s just… you remind me of someone else just now.” You whisper, you lower your eyes. “I’m sorry if I made trouble with you. I had to do it. I’m glad you’re okay. I’m glad everyone’s okay.”

Mingfei took a deep breath. “We’re all grateful for you too, MC. So don’t worry about anything. Senpai told the boss about what you did in the Trieste. He owes you twice now. There’s no way he’d rat you out in the reports. You’re fine with everyone, okay?”

“Even Zihang?”

“Zihang doesn’t take anything personal.”

There’s a stiff knock on a door beyond the closet. “Little Sakura! You’re needed on the floor!”

Mingfei turned around, his voice squeaking loudly. “Coming!” He turned back to you. “Okay, can you walk?”

He helped you up out of bed. You were wearing a thin nightgown and your feet were a bit wobbly but you could stand on your own.

“Good, Caesar prepped some clothes for you, but I suggest you stay down here for now. I have to go back to work.”

“Work?”

More knocking. “Little Sakura?”

“Why are they calling you that?” You whisper.

Lu Mingfei growled low. “Why is my life so terrible all the time? I don’t know!” He returned his eyes to you. “Stay here okay? The Boss will be back once his shift is over.”

He hurried out of the closet. You notice he’s wearing some sort of shiny loafers. The type worn without socks.

You hear a sliding door open and then shut and then the murmur of a television. Once you were sure everything was quiet, save the very muffled beat of music somewhere above the ceiling, you venture out.

You peer out from the closet into what looked like a bathroom with wood paneled walls and a tiled floor. Three barrels with metal bottoms were suspended over wood fired stoves. A shower was in one corner. The TV in the other corner was on, likely to mask any noise you might have made while you were unconscious. A woman was sitting behind a desk, speaking Japanese, dressed in smart business attire. It looked like a newsreel of the destruction of Chizuru -- the wrecked streets, the firetrucks and the body bags.

You start to think maybe you overdid things a bit. Your eyes scan over the date. You’ve been out cold for 3 whole days.

On top of the TV was a small comb that looked to be made of real ivory and adorned with a blue jeweled flower. Underneath was an envelope with your name on it. Inside the envelope was a note. “I hope the offer of lessons over sake still stands.”

You smile. Of course it did.

Hanging behind the TV was another cheongsam, this time, silver and blue with embroidery of flowers. There’s also fishnet stockings and a pair of blue heels. You take the dress off the rack and step into the shower. Once you were dressed you listened hard to the sounds outside the hall and heard footsteps.

Another knock. And there’s a shouted warning before the door slides open. A short old woman is holding a mop and walks by you as you press yourself to the wall. She’s pulling a pile of logs on a cart. Her ears are stuffed with earbuds and she’s so focused on her work that she walks right by you on the way to the rack where the wood for the stove is held.

Heart racing, you dash out the door.

Outside is a European style promenade, completely different decor, but with the same level of luxury. The floor was covered with golden teak wood. The walls were covered with paintings of naked young people drawing water from a well. The ceiling hung with crystal chandeliers, one after another.

“Wow.” You whisper.

At the end of the corridor was an elevator with wooden doors inlaid with swirling bronze motifs of ferns. You’re supposed to stay put, but so much for that! You probably couldn’t be seen out in the hall! You pressed the only button available on the elevator - Up - and school your face cool to pretend you belong there.

Already a story is in your head, you’re an heiress to a fabulous estate. You’re orphaned at a young age and just gained your freedom to escape your stuffy household! As the elevator rises, the sound of the bassline of the music gets stronger and stronger.

Your mind is still writing your backstory when the wooden doors part and you’re hit by the bass line full force. The heat from hundreds of bouncing and gyrating bodies rushes into the elevator. Right in front of you, a man is holding up a flute of that golden sparkling liquor - Champagne. His shirt has puffy sleeves and open to reveal dark curly hairs on his muscular chest. He’s surrounded by three women in colorful half masks who are climbing on him, grabbing his hands to get at the champagne. They were all wearing skin tight, sleeveless, low cut dresses and dangerously high stiletto heels that made your demure blue cheongsam look like a formal maid’s outfit in comparison.

“Ladies! Ladies! One at a time!” He’s shouting with a brilliant smile. One of the girls bares her teeth as if she were trying to bite him and you move away.

A crowd of people, women outnumbering men 10 to 1, were all dancing in front of a brightly lit stage that was smoking with dry-ice that poured over the edge.

The elevator doors start to close and you slip out, looking for Lu Mingfei - that is, Little Sakura. Everywhere is more of the same. There’s a circular couch where drunk women were reclining over another man while holding out money for passing waiters who seem to know what it meant. They took the cash from their delicate painted fingers and passed them another bottle of liquor in exchange. All of the women turned, shook and then uncorked the bottle, spraying the Champagne in the air! It all fell in a shower while they laughed and squealed with glee!

You take a breath. You were going to stand out like a sore thumb unless you did something right now. The beat of the music was jarring your rib cage but people were bouncing to it while shouting on the stage. “Ukyo! Ukyo! Ukyo!”

You had no idea what Ukyo meant so you do the same all the while looking for any sign of Mingfei in this scene and realizing he might not even be on this floor.

“Who wants glitter?!” Someone shouts next to you. A man with a bowl of silver glitter holds it up while people stuff money in his low cut shirt and press their hands into the bowl to turn around and smash it into the sweaty chest of another man, leaving their marks on him. Your mind makes a leap to a story you heard about human and animal sacrifices in Satanism and wondering if that was what was going to happen next.

You also realize you don’t have any money. Your voice is trained by terrible punishment to be quiet so you can only let out a weak little “Woo..” and “Yay… Ukyou” while your eyes search the crowd.

What happened next was that the music suddenly ended and the sound of a Asian music, something you might hear played in a period drama, replaced it. Rather than being subdued, the crowd flooded the quiet with screams so loud your ears rattled and you had to fight to keep your hands from covering them and stand out as an outsider.

The curtain opened and there stood a lone figure on the stage. The lights all went out, leaving a single spotlight descending to illuminate him. He’s in a white cloak with flowy sleeves, with a blue hakama and long hair that covers half his face. Cherry blossoms blow from an unseen fan, fluttering his sleeves in the wind.

#Dragon Raja

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un-holyangels · 4 years ago

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Pike

General Information

Michael’s demon alter ego, if you want to call him that, well that was what he was intended to be but it went a little off and now he is his own person.

Height: 210-215 cm, exactly the same as Michael

Date of Birth: 1st May

Likes: social media, skincare and being clean and proper in general, attention, sex

Dislikes: Michael, Acies, horribly scared of Hesediel but would never admit that, being ignored

Favourite food: Peas, everything sweet but isn’t as picky as Michael

Least favourite food: hates bitter food as much as Michael, raw fish/meat

Hobbies: engaging in what he likes

Favourite Animal: Betta Fishes, can’t keep them alive for the sake of him tho so he just lurks around in pet stores.

Origin

• was made by Michael and Acies, who stole a book with the necessary spells, so that Michael could keep a better eye on Lucifer and actually talk with him in one way since he was controlling Pike • he is an exact replica of him, completely made by angels but supposed to represent a demon and slowly turned into one • is supposed to infiltrate RAD on their behalf • Raphael helped in the sense that he added some spells so that none would be able to recognize that it’s a copy of Michael • only Diavolo is able to smell that something is wrong with his existence, even though he is a full demon he still smells like angel and it doesn’t make sense • took some time to convince Michael to actually try and go along with this plan but also none else was strong enough to pull this off • solely Acies’ fault. • Hesediel’s the one with the orders to get rid of him if he acts up and goes out of control and he knows • he just doesn’t know that Michael’s secretly attached to him and wouldn’t let it come to that • Michael blames Diavolo again for ruining him, he thought he was fine for a demon as well, still keeping himself back and having some self restraint engaging in sins, that didn’t last long however

Personality

• was first completely controlled by Michael so essentially being the same as him • slowly but surely turned into more and more of a true demon thanks to Acies teaching him how to blend in and started to develop his own personality, being and soul • was only supposed to by a spy and to keep a low profile, but he can’t do that, he stands out and his actions don’t help much with that • has a nice habit of bursting into people’s rooms without knocking, now matter their status • he behaves like the strongest demon and has no respect for anyone because he thinks he is • even though none believes it, he actually managed to befriend Lucifer, Michael really didn’t like that • especially thinking about how much Lucifer actually detests Michael those two get along just fine • is actually quiet cunning and the only one who can see through Acies’ plans, that’s why he started to hate them so much, he got them figured out and knows what they are up to, would snitch on them if they didn’t cover his living costs • people find him a lot more likable then Michael, he has no restraints to say what he likes and whats unlike his Original, resulting in too much confidence and Pride, but most people are actually attracted to that • used to like being tucked into bed by his parents but someone told him that’s not cool so he doesn’t do that anymore, he has his own apartment now he doesn’t need affection • was actually supposed to stay far away from Diavolo not to be found out but his ego didn’t agree with that so he just burst into his office one day to see what he even is about [found him less scary then Hesediel] • is extremely dominant and even though he is a lot weaker he made pretty much all of RAD submit to him • everyone is talking about the weird new transfer student • newspapers are after him but he has a weird habit of undressing himself if he knows someone is going to take his picture, thanks Acies • was as insecure about feeling comfortable showing himself like Mike, but the convidence training was a little excessive • has set a goal for himself to become member of the student council • is a weird and unhealthy mixture of both his parents • very sexually active but also very vanilla, he doesn't like things like orgies and is not very romantic • he's honest with himself and decided to not have the same stupid boundaries as his maker. That probably makes him very sad deep inside, probably one of the few good things Acies taught him was to accept himself how he is and not be ashamed of it, so why is Mike rejecting him? • Pike thinks Mike is ashamed for the wrong reasons, he isn't of him but more of himself for not being able to have confidence in things like that, it gets more apparent to him seeing how easy it is for Pike to make friends. And Mike can't accept this side of him because he just sees it as wrong and bad, since that's what he's been thought all the time. Pike can't understand that since he doesn't have access to all of Mikes memories to understand him so he doesn't know where the feelings are coming from that he feel and he thinks they are against him. Maybe deep down Mike likes him in a way but just can't accept him being himself because he can't himself • but Michael actually likes him, a version of himself confident enough to take what he wants, but sadly Mike doesn't think of him like that, he sees wrongness and shame when it comes to giving in to his desires just the opposite of Acies whos all about getting what one wants,"the end justify the mean"Pike would being the middle, he knows what he wants and even though he is more prone to evil bc he is a demon, he know the way to get what he want not being as censored as Mike or as psycho as Acies • He gets what he wants with a bit more class and finesse then Acies, more like Mike does things, just that Mike never does things for purely himself :o So Mike is a bit envious of him in that way • when Acies and Michael were busy or fighting what they were going to do with him now a certain angel had to watch over him with might’ve resulted in him swearing too much and being a bit too obsessed with how he looks

Powers

• very weak, lower level demon • they could’ve made him stronger but as a spy it was easier to hide him, well they thought that • they just didn’t know that Michaels personality, completely unhinged, made up that • the type to pick fights and then just get annahilated • well he has other tools to win ~

Fashion

• really likes tight and revealing clothes • edgy teenager that’s in a phase - fashion [well that’s kinda what he is] • wears leather pants two sizes too small, idk looks like he likes that • saw it in a fashion magazine and thought it was cool he couldn’t read properly at that time that the headline said that it’s the seasons no-go • actually dies his hair dark grey, would otherwise be blonde like Michael

#oc:pike

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thebaconsandwichofregret · 5 years ago

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Happy False Value Day everyone!!!

As many of you know Ben Aaronovitch used to work for Waterstone’s, a bookshop chain in the UK, and because he’s quite proud of having worked there (and they are proud of having once employed him, no seriously, every time I even look at one of his books in one of their shops a member of staff spontaneously appears to tell me “He used to work here you know!” If I had a pound for every time I’d heard that I could afford to buy the Folly) he gives Waterstone’s a special exclusive short story in the first run of every new Rivers of London book.

Obviously this is great for those of us who are UK fans.

It’s less great for those of you who are international fans. However in the spirit of International Magical Cooperation I managed to get my hands on my copy ever so slightly early and so I have here for your reading pleasure, the exclusive short story from False Value - A Dedicated Follower of Fashion

Please note that this story contains mentions of sex and drugs and rock’n’roll

A Dedicated Follower of Fashion

By Ben Aaronovitch

You know that song by The Kinks? Not that one. The other one. No, not that one either. Yeah, that one- ‘Dedicated Follower of Fashion’. You wouldn’t believe it to look at me now, but that song’s about me.

These days my daughter does her best to keep me looking respectable, and I haven’t the heart to tell her that I’d much rather wear my nice comfortable corduroy trousers, with braces, and leave my shirt untucked. But back in the sixties I was the dedicated follower of fashion. And it’s true that they sought me here and they sought me there but, as Ray Davies knew perfectly well, that was probably because of the drug dealing. What can I say? Clothes aren’t cheap.

I was a middleman buying wholesale and supplying a network of dealers, mostly in and around the King’s Road. I rarely sold retail, although I did have a number of select clients. And of course nothing lubricates a soirée like a bowl full of alpha-methylphenethylamine. It was all going swimmingly until some little shit from Islington stiffed me on a payment and I found myself coming up ten grand short. And, believe me, ten grand in 1967 was a lot of money. You could buy a house in Notting Hill for less than that - not that anyone wanted to, not in those days.

Now, I’ll admit that as an entrepreneur working in such a volatile industry, I probably should have ensured that I had a cash reserve stashed away against such an eventuality. Mistakes were definitely made. But in my defence, not only had I just discovered the joys of blow, I was also distracted by my infatuation with Lilith.

Now, I’ve always cheerfully swung both ways and, to be honest, I’ve always been more attracted by the cut of someone’s trousers than what was held therein. But when I met Lilith it was if all the cash registers rung out in celebration. She was so like a man in some ways and so like a woman in others. I’d love to say that it was the best of both worlds, but looking back it was a disaster in every respect. Although a completely exhilarating disaster, like a roller coaster to an unknown destination. I tried explaining what she was like to Ray Davies and that beardy writer who ran that sci-fi magazine, but they both got her completely wrong.

So there I was, suddenly ten grand down to people whose names you’re better off not knowing - let’s just call them the Deplorables and leave it at that. If I tell you that their nicknames were Cutter, Lead Pipe and Gnasher, that should give you a flavour of their character. You could call Cutter the brains behind the gang but that would be risking an overstatement. Organised crime in the good old days required little in the way of actual brains and relied much more on a calculated defiance of the social niceties vis-à-vis psychotic violence. Terrify your rivals, bully your customers, and hand out a bung to the local constabulary and you were away.

And it goes without saying that aesthetically they were a dead loss.

The Deplorables had a straightforward approach to those that owed them money which I will leave to your imagination - suffice only to say that it involved a sledgehammer and, of all things, a marlinspike.

But I had no intention of losing my knees, so I had arranged a couple of new deals that would net me a sufficient profit to cover both what I owed the Deplorables and the same again to appease them sufficiently to save my poor knees from a fate worse than polyester.

I know some of you are thinking that polyester was hip and groovy back in the Swinging Sixties, but trust me when I say that it was an abomination from the start - whatever the elegance of its long chain polymers.

In order to keep body and wardrobe together while I waited for these deals to come to fruition I decanted, along with Lilith and my faithful sidekick Merton, to a squat in Wandsworth just off the Earlsfield High Street. Now, I normally shun the transpontine reaches of the capital. But my thinking was sound. With my reputation as a flower of Chelsea and the King’s Road, I reckoned that nobody - least of all the dim members of the Deplorables - would think to look for me across the river.

‘No fucking way,’ said Lilith when she first saw it, ‘am I living in this shithole.’

Squats come in many flavours. But political, religious or student, they are almost always shitholes. However, I could see this one had potential and Nigel, God bless his woolen Woolworths socks, had at least kept it clean.

But not particularly tidy.

Outwardly Nigel was definitely one of the children of Aquarius. Inside he had the soul of an accountant, but alas none of the facility with numbers.

According to Nigel, who could be dull about this sort of thing, the building we were squatting in had been built in the eighteenth century as an inn that specialised in serving the trade along the river Wandle. This was news to me, because I had assumed the rank channel immediately behind the house was a canal.

‘There used to be factories up and down the Wandle,’ he told me despite my best efforts to stop him, ‘all connected up with barges. And this is where the wartermen used to get their drinks in.’

With the collapse of that trade it was converted into a grad town house, a status it retained for a hundred years or so before providing slum housing for the unwashed multitude. Occasionally on its hundred-year odyssey it would surface into the light of respectable society before descending once more into the depths of squalor.

Which is where yours truly arrived to bring a touch of colour and a modicum of good taste to the old place.

Looking back, I believe that might have been the start of the whole ghastly business.

Now the thing about the drug trade is that it overlaps with the general smuggling industry. As a result a man with the right contacts can acquire much in the way of valuable cloth - Egyptian cotton and the like - without troubling the good people of Her Majesty’s Customs and Excise. Then such an individual might use his reputation for fashion to sell on said items to the East End rag trade at less than wholesale, cash under the table, no questions asked and no invoices raised. Not as lucrative as a suitcase full of horse, but safer and more dependable.

Cloth, even expensive cloth, takes up considerably more room even than Mary Jane, so the fact that the old building had a beer cellar capacious enough to store the stock was the other reason I’d chosen it as a bolt-hole. Merton and I pressed Nigel into service to help us carry the bales, wrapped in tarpaulin for protection, down to the cellar, which proved to be mercifully dry and cool.

It was surprisingly cool - you could have used it as a pantry.

‘That’s because of the river,’ Nigel explained. ‘It’s just the other side of that wall.’

I touched the wall and was surprised to find it cool but bone dry.

‘They know how to build houses in those days,’ said Nigel.

Once we’d moved the good in, it was time to deal with the ever simmering domestic crisis that was life with Lilith. In the latest instalment of the drama, she had ejected Nigel from the master bedroom and claimed it as her own. This was less of a distraction than it might be because Nigel, like nearly all men, was clearly smitten with Lilith and acquiesced with surprisingly good grace.

And so we settled in companionably enough, especially when Lilith and Nigel discovered a common in the works of Jack Kerouac. I could see that at some point I would be bedding down with Merton for a night or two. I won’t lie and say that I didn’t find Lilith’s peccadillos upsetting but Merton, bless his acrylic Y-fronts offers compensation in his own rough manner.

Things started to go wrong the night of the storm and consequent flood. And while our decision to drop acid and commune with the thunder- Nigel’s idea, by the way - probably wasn’t to blame, it certainly didn’t help.

I don’t normally do hallucinogenics as they often disappoint. You go up expecting Yellow Submarine and get a lot of irritating visual distraction instead. My colour sense is quite keen enough, thank you, without having a pair of purple velvet bell-bottoms start to shine like a neon sign.

The master bedroom - now Lilith’s domain - contained, of all things, a king-size four-poster bed that was missing its curtains. But since I’d arrived, it at least had matching cotton sheets in a tasteful orange and green fleurs-de-lis pattern. They matched the old wallpaper with its geometric tan and orange florets that still showed the retangular ghosts of long vanished photographs and paintings.

At some point - Nigel had said the 1930s - the owners had installed an aluminium-framed picture window that ran almost the length of the room and looked out over the canal, or more importantly, up into the boiling clouds of the oncoming storm.

Lilith started on the bed with all three of us, but I can’t take anything seriously when heading up on LSD, least of all sex. So I quickly disengaged and chose to sit on the end of the bed and watch the storm. I doubt the others were troubled by my absence.

I watched the storm come in over the rooftops of South London with lightning flashing in my eyes and that glorious sense of joy that only comes from something psychoactive interacting with your neurones. I lost myself in that storm and, in it, I thought I sensed the roar of the god of joy, whose acolytes dance naked on the hilltops and rip the goats apart.

But the mind is fickle and darts from thought to thought and I became fascinated by the patterns the raindrops traced down the window glass. Then the play of light and shadow drew me to the walls, where I found myself pulling at the torn edge of the wallpaper. Like most squats, damp had gotten into the room at some point in the past and the top layer peeled away to reveal another layer below - a vertical floral design in red, purple and green on a pale background. Carefully I stripped a couple of square feet away. And while behind me Lilith howled obscenities in the throes of her passion, I started on the next layer. This revealed a faded leaf design in silver and turquoise. The colours pulled at me and I realised that if I could just find the original surface I might open a portal to another dimension - one of style and colour and exquisite taste.

But I had to be patient. Clawing the walls would disrupt the delicate lines of cosmic energy that flowed along the pinstripes of the layer of blue linen-finish paper. Delicately, I peeled a loose corner until I uncovered a beautiful mustard yellow bird that glowed with an inner light. Gently and meticulously I revealed more. A trellis design overgrown with olive and brown brambles sporting red flowers and crimson birds. I knew it at once as a classic design from ‘the Firm’, the company founded by William Morris to bring back craftsmanship to a world turned grey and smoky by the Industrial Revolution.

I was ready for a hallucination then, and willed my mind into the pattern in front of me, but nothing happened. The wallpaper shone out of the hole in the wall, the light shifting like sunlight through a real trellis, real birds, but that achingly rational part of my brain stayed aloof. Chemistry, it said, it’s all chemistry.

At some point Nigel escaped the bed and fled whimpering into the cupboard and closed the door behind himself.

The trellis and its mustard-coloured birds mocked me from the walls,

‘I think we’re sinking,’ said Merton, for what I realised was the third or fourth time.

I was still coming down and it took concentration to focus on Merton, who was stark naked and pacing up and down at the foot of the bed. Lilith was sprawled face down, arms and legs spread like a starfish to occupy as much space as possible. There was no sign of Nigel, and in my elevated state I seriously gave consideration to the thought that Lilith had devoured him following coitus.

Merton rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, as if testing his footing.

‘Definitely sinking,’ he said, and ran out of the door.

I flailed about a bit until I found a packet of Lilith’s Embassy Filters and a box of Swan Vestas, managed to not light the filter on the second attempt and dragged in a grateful lungful. A burst of head-clearing nicotine helped chase away the last of the lysergic acid diethylamide and I was just trying to determine whether I’d hallucinated a naked Merton when he reappeared.

‘I’ve got good news and bad news,’ he said. ‘We’re not sinking but we’re definitely flooding.’

The cellar was divided into two parts. The stairs led down to the smaller part of it, essentially a wide corridor which used to house, so Nigel insisted on telling me, the coal chute - now bricked up. A big metal reinforced door opened into the larger part of the cellar - the part with over ten grand’s worth of fabric stored in it. The door was closed but the corridor part was two inches deep in filthy water.

‘Don’t open the door!’ called Nigel from the top of the stairs.

I had no intention of leaving the dry section of the stairs, let alone risking the cuffs of my maroon corduroy flares in what looked to me like sewage overflow. Merton, who’d been trying to force the door open, now splashed back as if stung. For a man who I’d once seen cheerfully batter a traffic warden for awarding him a ticket, it was odd how he never argued with Nigel - not about practical things to do with the house anyway.

Nigel, resplendent in a genuine Indian cloth kaftan - or so he claimed - passed me and stepped gingerly into the water. Reaching the door, he rapped sharply with his knuckles just above the waterline, then he methodically rapped up the door until he reached head height. After a few experimental raps to confirm, he turned to me and told me I was deader than a moleskin waistcoat.

‘The whole room’s flooded,’ he said. ‘Probably not a good idea to open this door.’

I sat down on the stairs and put my head in my hands. I did a mental inventory of what I’d stored and how it had been packed. It was bad, but if we could pump out the room half of it could be salvaged - especially the silks, since the individual rolls had been wrapped in polythene.

Thank God for Hans von Pechmann, I thought, and got to my feet.

‘We need to drain the room,’ I said. ‘Nigel, get a pump and enough hose to run it back out to the river.’

Nigel nodded.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said, and practically skipped up the stairs.

‘Put some clothes on before you go out!’ I called after him.

I told Merton that when we had the pump and the hose, he would have to cut a suitable hole in the door - near the top.

‘Will you need tools?’ I asked.

Merton eyed up the door.

‘I have what I need in my bedroom,’ he said.

‘Good,’ I said. ‘Let’s have a cup of tea.’

It took Nigel the best part of the day to source the suitable equipment. In the meantime, I sent Merton out to the local phone box to see if I couldn’t rustle up another life- and kneecap-saving transaction. Ideally, I should have been making the calls myself but I didn’t dare show my face on the street - it’s a well-known face, even in South London. I spent the time cataloguing my wardrobe, alas much reduced by my exile, ironing that which needed ironing and casting away those items that had fallen out of style since my last purge.

Some things never go out of style - some things, thank God, will never come back. Let us hope that the lime-green acrylic aquiline button-down cardigan is one of them. I really don’t know what I was thinking when I bought it.

Apart from a spectacularly noisy toilet break, Lilith stayed blissfully asleep in the main bedroom until teatime and then vanished into the bathroom for the next two hours.

Once Nigel had returned with the pump and the hose, Merton used his hammer and chisel to cut a rough hole, six inches across, near the top of the door. Nigel had brought down the cream-coloured hostess trolley and mounted the pump on that to keep it out of the water. Once it was rigged we ran a hosepipe up the stair, down the hall, across the kitchen and poked it out the back window. Merton stayed to supervise the outflow while I returned to the top of the stairs and gave Nigel the nod.

It looked ramshackle and was, indeed, held together with string and gaffer tape. But like most things that Nigel built, especially his improvised hookahs, it was perfectly adequate. The pump puttered into life, the pipe going through the hole in the door stiffened, there was a gurgling sound and I followed the passage of the water upstairs and into the kitchen. There, an arc of water shot from the hose and into the river beyond.

‘How long until it’s pumped out?’ I asked.

‘A couple of days,’ said Nigel.

When I objected, he pointed out that it was a small-bore hosepipe, that the cellar was large and that we didn’t know how the river water was getting in.

Some things you can’t control, I suppose, such as Lilith - who I found sitting in the kitchen in a loose yellow kimono, drinking brandy and letting her assets hang out.

‘It smells different in here’ she said.

I pointed out that the window was open to allow egress of the hosepipe and was thus allowing fresh air, to which Lilith was generally unaccustomed, to enter the room. Lilith grunted and said she was going out that evening to meet some friends in Soho.

I tried to talk her out of it but she insisted, and there was no stopping Lilith when she was set on something.

‘What if the Deplorables see you?’ I asked.

‘Darling,’ said Lilith, throwing an orange ostrich feather boa around her neck, ‘the Deplorables never frequent the places I do and in any case - I’m invisible.’

I was making another calming cup of tea when I realised that Lilith had been right. The kitchen smelt fresh and, oddly, sun dappled - of you thought sun dappled was a smell. I went to the open window and took a deep breath. Not normally something I’d recommend given the foetid nature of the Wandle - which still looked more like a canal to me - behind the house. The air was fresh and another thing I noticed was that the water shooting out of the hosepipe was clear. I pulled the pipe in a bit and had a closer look and then an experimental tate - just the tip of the tongue, you understand. It was plain, clean water. Perhaps, I thought, the cellar had been flooded by a burst mains pipe. If so, then there was a chance that much of my stock might survive relatively intact.

I also noticed that the house had a small back garden, or rather a side garden, an overgrown patch of weeds and brambles that filled a roughly triangular space between next door’s garden wall, the river and the side of the kitchen. I replaced the hose and went looking for the door that led to the garden. I’m not a horticulturalist myself, but to a man in my position, knowing there’s a back door - for egress in extremis - is always a comfort.

It took three days to drain the cellar, which passed as quickly as two quarters of Lebanese cannabis resin could make it. Now I’ve never been one to get the munchies, but Nigel could consume an astonishing amount of fish and chips, and poor Merton was forced to make several supply runs. On the morning of the fourth day, Nigel declared that we could force the door and I went to fetch Merton.

Who was nowhere to be found.

His room was as he always left it, the bed made with military precision and knife-edge creases. Merton was a thoroughly institutionalised boy, but what institution - the navy, prison, the Foreign Legion - I’d never thought to ask. His clothes, though dull, were hung or folded with the same admirable care. His tool case was missing but the canvas bag containing his baseball bat, bayonet and the long wooden stick with the stainless steel barbs that I didn’t want to know the purpose of, was tucked into the wardrobe next to his two spare pairs of Doc Martens boots.

I returned to the basement corridor, which Nigel had mercifully mopped clean once the muddy water had soaked away. Nigel was standing by the door to the cellar, stock-still and staring at something on the floor.

‘What is it?’ I asked.

Nigel pointed mutely at a battered blue metal toolbox sitting by the door. Its top was open and its trays expanded to reveal its rows of neatly arrayed tools and boxes of screws and nails.

‘He must have gone inside,’ said Nigel. His voice dropped to an urgent whisper. ‘Inside there!’

Since I had no idea why Nigel was so agitated, I reached out and pushed the door open. It opened a fraction and then pushed back - as if someone was leaning against the other side.

‘Merton,’ I said, ‘stop fucking about and let me in.’

I shoved harder and the door opened a crack and out poured a weird sweet smell like cooked milk. And with it a sense of outraged dignity which so surprised me that I jumped back from the door, which slammed shut.

‘Is he in there?’ asked Nigel.

‘Must be,’ I said, but I wasn’t sure I believed it.

Neither of us could match Merton - because that’s who it had to be - for physical might. I mean, I employed him precisely because he could intimidate your average creditor just by breaking wind. So we trooped upstairs for a cup of tea and some pharmaceutical reinforcement.

‘Got any more black beauties?’ asked Nigel, who never could separate his biphetamines from his common or garden amphetamines. I swear, you try to educate people but there are limits. I gave him a couple of ludes, and given the day we’d had so far, took a couple myself. Lilith returned fabulously drunk at two in the morning, and we all piled into bed and didn’t get up until the next afternoon.

The door to the cellar remained closed and Merton’s tool case was still where he’d left it. I tried the door, but it was stuck fast with no give at all. I even tried knocking it down, like they do in films, but all I did was bruise my shoulder.

If Merton was in there, he wasn’t coming out until he was good and ready. And since I wasn’t getting in, I had to accept that I wouldn’t be realising any value from my stock of fabrics any time soon. Still, I’d already written down their value and put other deals in motion to generate cash flow - another drug deal, as it happens. A stack of Happy Bus LSD out of Rotterdam. A little bit riskier than my normal deals, but needs must, as they say.

Without Merton, I was forced to rely on Nigel to go out and make the necessary phone calls. Unlike Merton, who followed instructions without question, I had to explain everything to him as if he were in a spy movie with Michael Caine. Once he had the gist, he darted out the front door wearing an RAF surplus greatcoat. As I watched him go from the upstairs window, I realised that his hair had grown long enough to reach between his shoulder blades and wondered why I hadn’t noticed.

The next couple of days went past with no sign of Merton, and I only managed to keep anxiety at bay with the help of my dwindling supply of cannabis resin and long punishing nights with Lilith.

The door to the cellar remained closed.

When I had nerved myself up to go look, I noticed that something had been jammed into the cracks around the edge of the door - as if it had oozed out from inside the cellar in liquid form and then set on contact with air. I took a set of pliers from Merton’s tool case and worried a fragment out. It’s a long time since I’ve prepared a slide in earnest, but while I didn’t have a microscope I did have a jeweller’s glass I keep for checking crystal shape. Under magnification the fragment revealed itself to be a tangle of threads - blue cotton, my good Egyptian cotton at a guess. I picked at the tangle with a pair of tweezers and a strange notion struck me - that the threads weren’t tangled randomly, that there was a pattern to the knots.

I could imagine a circumstance where the pressure of water could both shred the original weave of a cloth and then tangle the threads. I could even imagine water pressure forcing the threads around the edge of the door, but it seemed unlikely. Before I discovered fashion and pharmaceuticals I did a degree in chemistry. Started a degree, to be precise - I stopped paying attention in the second year. But I always thought of myself as rational even when under the influence.

If I’d known what I know now, I would have run screaming from the house and taken my chances with the Deplorables. But I lived in a much smaller world in those days.

Although large enough for my Rotterdam connection to agree to a deal. Not only that, but it seemed my credit was good enough for me to procure a sample shipment on good faith. With the profit from that sale I could finance a larger shipment and thus dig myself out of my financial predicament and quit the squat - and it’s creepy basement.

The only catch being that I would have to provide my own mule to bring the sample in. Normally you don’t use your friends as mules, not even friends of friends. What you really want is a gullible person who’s been talked into it by someone you only know through business. I knew a guy who could meet a girl at a party and have her on a plane to Ankara the next day. He made a living recruiting mules and didn’t mind some wastage at all - right up to the point someone’s mother gave him both barrels of her husband’s grousing shotgun. The police never caught her and only Merton and I turned up for the funeral.

It wasn’t hard to persuade Lilith to fly to Rotterdam - especially first class - and the beauty was that wherever she touched down, she paid for herself. Or to be strictly accurate, other people took care of her needs for her. The downside, of course, was that you had to allow her time to party - in this case, at least a week. You’d think that without Lilith sharing the high thread cotton sheets of the four-poster bed I’d be getting more sleep, but I found myself spending most of every night staring at the underside of the bed’s canopy.

It didn’t help that I had to ration the Quaaludes - I needed them to keep Nigel functioning.

‘There’s something in the cellar,’ he said, and refused to go down into the basement.

I, on the other hand, found myself increasingly drawn to the cellar door. Especially when it started to flower.

It started with a spray of cotton around the door frame, overlapping triangular leaves of white and navy-blue cotton that stuck to the bricks of the wall as if they’d been glued in place. I took a sample and found that instead of regular weave, the cloth was formed by the intertwining of threads in a complex pattern. Some of the threads amongst the white and blue were a bright scarlet and spread through the fabric in a branching pattern like streams into a river basin. Or, more disturbingly, like capillaries branching out from a vein.

I did make an attempt, cautiously, to scrape one of the ‘leaves’ off the wall with a trowel I found in Merton’s tool case. But even as I pushed the blade under the edge of the cloth I felt such a wave of disinterest - I cannot describe it more clearly than that- that I found myself halfway up the basement stairs before I realised what had happened.

The next day the cotton leaves had spread out at least another six inches and surrounding the door were tongues of crimson and yellow orgaza. Individual threads had begun to colonise the door proper - curling into swirling patterns like ivy climbing a wall. I spent an indeterminate amount of time with my back to the opposite wall, staring at the pattern to see if I could spot them moving.

I wondered what it meant. Perhaps Nigel was right, and the Age of Aquarius was upon us and we had entered a time of miracles.

When I was upstairs I tried to put the cellar out of my mind and concentrate on plans for the future. I had fallen into drug dealing almost by accident and had always found it an easy and convenient way to keep myself in the sartorial fashion I aspired to. But if my run-in with the deplorables was an indication of the future, then perhaps it was time to pack it in. A boutique of my own instead, one in which I could serve both as owner-manager and inspiration. Before the merest thought of doing actual work, no matter how supervisory, had filled me with disgust but now … now it seemed attractive.

I didn’t trust these feelings.

I needed out of the squat. I needed to be strutting down the King’s Road or Carnaby Street. I wanted back out into the world, where I could be as dazzling and as splendid as the first acolyte of the goddess of fashion.

But you need working kneecaps to strut your stuff. And so I stayed where I was.

By the third day the door was completely obscured behind a tapestry of red, black and gold thread, and wings of cotton spread out across the walls and ceiling. The organza had likewise spread and a third wave of pink and yellow damask now framed the doorway. By the sixth day the entire corridor was curtained in swathes of multicoloured fabric, so that it seemed a tunnel to a draper’s wonderland.

I no longer dared leave the safety of the foot of the stairs and yet I still found myself walking down them three times a day to look. The urge to walk into its warm comforting embrace was terrifying.

On the seventh day, Lilith failed to return. I started to seriously worry on the eighth; on the ninth, I fell into such a despair that no amount of near pharmaceutical-grade Drinamyl amphetamines could lift me from it. On the tenth, a postcard arrived with four jaunty pictures of a tram stop, a fountain, a town square, a gigantic statue of a man holding up the sky and Groeten uit Rotterdam written across the front.

On the back Lilith sent me love and kisses, explained that she’d met a splendid sailor or three and would be staying on in the Netherlands for a bit, but not to worry because she’d found a perfectly wonderful Spaniard to courier my product back to London. Thoughtfully she’d written the travel and contact details of the Spanish courier on the postcard - in plain English.

With a heavy heart I sent Nigel out to pick up the package and when he failed to return I was not surprised.

We live in a universe constantly assailed by the forces of entropy. Nothing good, pure or beautiful can stand up to the relentless regression towards the mean, the dull and the shabby. A minority have always striven to be a beacon in the gloom, a constant source of inspiration to those around them. Some worked through the medium of paint, or music, or literature, but I have sought to make myself the living embodiment of style and culture.

God knows it hasn’t been easy.

But a man should always know when he’s been beaten. That morning, as I sat in the kitchen, futilely waiting for Nigel to return, I realised that that time, for me, was nigh. I went upstairs, stripped myself down to my underwear - not nylon and not frilly, thank you, Ray - and after taking a deep breath to steel myself, donned a pair of brown corduroy trousers and a matching moleskin shirt. A pair of Hush Puppies and one of Merton’s donkey jackets completed my transformation. I looked in the mirror - I was unrecognisable.

Stuffing the last of my cash reserves in my pockets, I headed for the front door. I paused by the basement only long enough to ensure it was closed. From behind it came a noise that might have been a giant breathing, or water flowing, or shuttles running back and forth across lines of thread.

I shuddered and walked boldly out into the sunlight.

My plan was simple. Take the train to Holyhead, the ferry to Dublin and then, via a few contacts I still had, to America and freedom.

I didn’t even get as far as Garratt Lane before I ran straight into Cutter. I tried to braout but somehow he recognized me instantly and called out my name.

I turned, ran back to the squat, slammed the door behind me and went for the back door. There I could escape via the garden, over the wall and run for Wimbledon Park station.

But Lead Pipe was waiting in the kitchen, with a cup of tea on the go and the Daily Mirror open to the back pages.

‘About time,’ he rumbled when he saw me.

Three guesses where I went next.

I was down the stairs and into the basement corridor before I even noticed that the walls had grown a fringe that glowed with a soft golden light. I was prepared to throw myself frantically at the cellar door but I found it open. I ran inside with no brighter plan than to barricade myself inside and hope the Deplorables grew bored.

Inside the cellar was a riot of colour. The walls were arrayed with purple organza and burgundy charmeuse, while sprays of a brilliant blue habotai framed cascades of fabric woven in a dozen colours - scarlet, yellow and green - into tangles of vines, leaves and flowers. Globes of light hung suspended from golden threads in each corner, illuminating a bundle of gold and black embroidered silk suspended from tendrils of lace - like a cocoon from a spider-s web.

Around me was a giant’s breathing and the warp and weft of a loom gigantic enough to weave the stars themselves. I could no more have stopped myself from grasping that bundle than I could have stopped myself breathing.

The bundle was warm and squirming in my arms. I unwrapped a layer of gauzy chiffon, gazed down on my fate and was lost.

‘Oi,’ said a voice from behind me.

I turned to find myself confronting the sartorial disaster that were the Deplorables en masse. I won’t describe their appearance on the off chance that children may one day read this account.

‘Can I help you gentlemen?’ I asked, because politeness is always stylish.

‘Yeah,’ said Cutter. ‘You can give us the ten grand you owe us.’

‘Plus interest,’ said Lead Pipe.

‘Plus interest,’ said Cutter.

‘I’m rather afraid I haven’t got it,’ I said.

‘That’s a shame,’ said Cutter, and he turned to Lead Pipe. ‘Isn’t that a shame?’

‘It’s definitely a shame,’ said Lead Pipe.

The bundle in my arms squirmed a bit and made happy gurgling noises.

‘Since the money is not forthcoming, I’m afraid we’ll be forced to take measures,’ said Cutter. He looked once more to Lead Pipe. ‘Is your sledgehammer ready?’

By way of reply, Lead Pipe held up his sledgehammer and I couldn’t help but notice that there were brown stains on the long wooden handle.

‘And Gnasher,’ said Cutter. ‘Do you have a marlinspike about your person?”

Gnasher grunted and held up a pointed lump of metal that I can only presume, in my ignorance of all things nautical, was a marlinspike.

Cutter turned back to me and smiled nastily.

‘I’d say that you should take this like a man,’ said Cutter. ‘But that would be a waste of time.’

Never mind his rudeness, I had more pressing concerns.

‘Shush,’ I said. ‘You’ll wake the baby.’

Cutter’s face suffused to a fine shade of puce and he opened his mouth to continue his ranting, so I twitched aside the fine damask sheet to reveal my daughter nestled in her bundle of silk and high-thread Egyptian cotton.

Her beautiful brown face broke into a charming smile and, opening her chubby arms in a benediction, she laughed - a sound like water tumbling over stones.

Cutter gave me an astonished look and whispered.

‘Is this your…?’

‘Yes,’ I whispered back. ‘Her name is Wanda.’

‘But,’ said Cutter, ‘you can’t keep her here.’

‘She likes it here,’ I said indignantly.

‘It’s a dump,’ said Lead Pipe in a low rumble. ‘It’s not fit for human habitation.’

‘He’s right,’ said Cutter. ‘There’s damp and mould and the kitchen is a disgrace.’

‘And there’s no nursery,’ rumbled Lead Pipe.

‘And the garden is a jungle,’ said Gnasher. ‘Totally unsuitable.’

‘Gentlemen,’ I said, ‘I can’t attend to any of these details if you break my legs.’

‘Obviously, we have to deal with the immediate shortcomings of the house before we return to the matter of breaking your legs,’ said Cutter. ‘Don’t we boys?’

‘I know a couple of builders,’ said Gnasher. ‘And Lead Pipe has green fingers. Ain’t that right?’

Lead Pipe cracked knuckles the size of walnuts. ‘That’s true,’ he said.

‘Really?’ I said.

‘You should see his allotment,’ said Cutter. ‘He has compost heaps you wouldn’t believe.’

I thought of the rumours of what exactly happened to people who crossed the Deplorables and I decided that I actually did believe in those heaps.

‘About my legs,’ I said but Cutter wasn’t listening.

‘And there’s the roof,’ he said, and the others nodded.

‘About my legs,’ I said louder and then wished I hadn’t, because the trio were jerked out of their dreams of home improvement and focused on yours truly in a somewhat disconcerting manner.

‘What about them?’ asked Cutter, taking a step towards me.

‘I thought we might reach a more mutually beneficial arrangement,’ I said.

‘What kind of beneficial arrangement did you have in mind?’ he said.

‘There’s the matter of the way you dress,’ I said.

Cutter pushed his face towards mine.

‘What’s wrong with the way we dress?’ he said. ‘It’s practical.’

‘Stain resistant,’ said Lead Pipe.

‘Yes, but,’ I said, ‘it could be so much more.’

And Wanda laughed again and this time behind the chuckling stream was the crisp snap of fabric shears and the whistling hum of the shuttle as it plays back and forth across the thread.

‘But first,’ said Cutter, waving a blunt finger in my face, ‘we have to sort out the playroom.’

And that was that. I gave up the pharmaceutical trade and opened a boutique instead. Cutter and his boys were my first customers, and while they never stopped being an unsavoury gang of foul-mouthed thugs, at least when they broke legs they were well dressed doing it.

Merton, it turned out, had fled the squat the day we pumped out the water and, being in need of some security, assaulted a police officer so that he could spend a couple of nice peaceful years at Her Majesty’s pleasure. Lilith visited him regularly, and after he got out they ran an animal sanctuary just outside Abergavenny until their deaths, within three months of each other, in 2009. Nigel is still alive and taught cybernetics at Imperial College until his retirement a couple of years ago.

My daughter and I never got around to giving the boutique a name. It was always just ‘the shop’ and given that we never advertised it’s a wonder that we stay in business. We’re always at the cutting edge of fashion. We were out of flares while the Bay City Rollers were still number one and stocking bondage trousers before John Lyndon had dyed his hair. We’ve moved the shop a couple of times and, while we’re hard to find, we’re always close to the river.

So if you want to know what the herd are going to be wearing next spring, and if you can find us and are prepared to pay the price, you too can join the ranks of the stylish, the à la mode, and truly become a dedicated follower of fashion.

END

#rivers of london #ben aaronovitch #false value spoilers #false value #a dedicated follower of fashion #rol spoilers #rol short stories

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bird-in-a-cage · 5 years ago

Text

Hey, guess what, its a sequel that absolutely no one asked for but I’m forcing upon you anyway because I got really into this idea and one google search led to another and I needed to get this out of my brain!

Part one is here. Probably best to give it a read first so you know what the hell is going on. But, for everyone who has already done that here’s part two of California Dreamin’. Enjoy some spectrophilia!

Lucid

The adults only section of Family Video was always a hive of sleaze. Most of the time though, thankfully, it was empty. Steve could always tell when someone would first walk through the door if that was their intended destination or not. They would stop, check out other titles, pick up a case of two from the shelves and roll it over in their hands, very visibly debating with themselves, all the while slowly but surely making their way to the back corner where it was all hidden behind a thick beaded curtain to give the illusion of privacy. The reality was it was never private. There was a camera in the top corner, blinking red and bright. A deterrent.

That didn’t stop some people though.

Robin was on Twizzler duty again, now doing it everyday to piss Keith off, seeing how far she could push until he snapped but in her own way. A drop of water slowly breaking through a mountain. It was kind of fun really, to watch her loudly eat the red candy but not give any eye contact to him as he walked around the store every now and then, giving all her attention to a copy of The Turning of the Screw. It did mean Steve was on return box duty again though while they had their little silent war. Robin mouthed thank you as he went off to start, then went back to being as unbothered as ever.

Steve took the two cases that were left after he’d done the rest of the store and dipped through the thick beads. Thankfully today the room just smelt like hot plastic rather than suspect body odour. One side of the small room was horror movies deemed too graphic and violent to be put on public display. Video Nasties. Steve had rented a couple a few times, they weren’t all that scary or good, but then he was probably just biased to that situation, having dealt with real life monsters that wanted to eat him and kill everybody and take over the world. On the other side were pornos.

Why anyone would publicly rent a porno tape he would never understand. Maybe some people just didn’t have an imagination. Watching one was just fine, no problems with that at all, and it was common practice for a dirty magazine or two to be passed around the locker room as a joke, but actually walking into a store with the intention of just renting a tape to jack off too? No, Steve couldn’t understand that. Probably because the shame of having to do it would burn him alive, but that was another matter. He slotted a case into a mid level shelf, a Terminator parody so wittily titled Penetrator, all these tapes had such awful names, when a case lower down started making its way out from the shelf. Steve rubbed over the pendant under his shirt, it was ice cold.

Of course he’d visit now.

With a grin he couldn’t hide even for a second, Steve nudged it back into place with his foot. Another title further up poked out. Mad Max: Beyond Thunderbone. Steve shoved it back home too.

“Cut it out,” he muttered low only so no one could hear him if anyone was close by. He was still grinning though, so much his cheeks started to burn a little. Another case slowly wiggled free and stuck out at eye level. For Your Ass Only. Steve bit his lip so he wouldn’t giggle and give the specter that followed him the satisfaction, pushing it back in place with two fingers. A final case at shoulder height was brought out into the light of day. Risky Jizzness.

“You wanna tell me why this looks like you pretty boy?” The voice floated around Steve’s head, deep and sultry. Billy was in one of those moods. Steve pushed it back into place and kept his almost whisper tone.

“Because my boyfriend is a ghost and I’ve gone completely insane so staring in a porno was the next logical step, obviously.” Steve felt a warmth envelop his chest, leaving his arms free to rearrange tapes and put the final one from the box back in its place. It was instantly comforting and a little tight. Easy to imagine Billy just stood behind him, holding him for real in the middle of his work day, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder and being a distraction from the monotony of stacking video tapes in alphabetical order.

“You should have mentioned that was your end goal, I’d have been more than happy to hold the camera.”

“Uh huh, sure, cause that’s all you would be holding.” He could feel Billy’s dirty grin burn his cheek, heat pressing and creeping up along his jaw like slow kisses.

“You know it baby.”

Steve still wasn’t sure on a lot of things about this, whatever this was. Whether anyone could hear what Billy was saying was a big point. He tended not to come out if there were other people around so it wasn’t as if Steve could test it. Even if he could he would look totally crazy, which he still wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t anymore. His mental state was one of those things he didn’t think about too hard. Like the Cold War, or being sucked back into dark, monster filled tunnels. Their presence was always there but it didn’t affect his day to day life so much. If anything, Billy following him around some days made Steve happier. More at peace. Of course it raised a lot of questions like why and how, and why and how again because there would definitely need to be several rounds of why and how before anything even started to make sense.

Then there was the where. Billy didn’t think he was in hell, was pretty sure he wasn’t in heaven, and wasn’t entirely sold that he was in the middle place either. They spoke about it sometimes when Steve slept and was whisked away to either the quarry or the beach, wherever Billy wanted to be that night. Steve kind of liked the beach more, it was always bright but not hot, calm and tranquil. It felt almost like a little vacation away from Hawkins. They would always lie next to each other on brightly coloured beach towels. Steve had never seen Billy in the lime green board shorts he liked to wear on beach nights, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. Even if Steve was stuck wearing what he wore to sleep and looked ridiculous by comparison. There was never anyone else there to judge.

That was just another thing they hadn’t quite worked out yet. Turns out no one gives you an instruction manual when you die and become a spirit just floating around, stick in limbo. You kind of just have to figure things out yourself. Billy had worked out how to change his clothes and the landscape of where he pulled Steve too. He hadn’t yet worked out how he did that though.

“I just, think, and here we are.”

He’d worked out how to pick things up and put them down, push and pull and throw. Steve would sometimes leave objects on the kitchen counter for Billy to touch and move, getting such a thrill just seeing an empty Pepsi can be flipped onto its side and rolled away with a hollow clatter into the trash can on the other side of the room. Steve had suggested that maybe Billy was stuck until he found his purpose, but neither of them could think what that would be. Max was fine every time she came into the store to just hang around, get a break from the noise of the arcade next door, and let Robin suggest scary movies she should watch even though she wasn’t old enough to rent them yet. There was never a mark on her, which is what Billy was worried about but would never say out loud. He always pretended to be such an asshole and that he didn’t care, when he was blatantly obvious he did.

“Maybe you have to save a baby or something? You know, push a stroller out of the way of oncoming traffic?” Steve suggested while they were on the beach. Billy pushed himself up off his towel printed with lavender stripes onto his hands to look down. The sun was shimmering off his forever perfect body.

“This isn’t the 30s. And I’m pretty sure that only happened in silent movies,” he smiled like Steve was an idiot. An adorable idiot. His adorable idiot. Steve reached up to cup Billy’s jaw. That golden skin still felt numb under his fingers. They would need to work on that.

“Pretty sure that us being here right now means anything is possible.”

They’d both worked out that the pendant turning icy cold instead of just its regular cold meant Billy was close by instead of just in the general vicinity, still invisible sadly but his presence was there. Small steps. They were slowly piecing it together. It wasn’t as if either of them had any time limit on it all. But really, a manual would have been helpful. Even a small information pamphlet written in Chinese was better than the nothing they had.

---

Billy was still in that mood that night. Even as Steve’s clock ticked around to three am and he still couldn’t sleep. He lay on his stomach, staring at the hands move slow around the face. He wanted to sleep so badly, he could feel the gentle pull around his chest come see me, I miss you but no matter how hard he tried it just wasn’t happening. Maybe it was too warm out, the air too soupy to properly relax into sleep and drift away. The sheets were long kicked to his ankles. He could feel Billy getting restless. The pendant felt like it was frozen, trapped between his chest and the sheets. Steve tried one more time, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping to just be hypnotised by the soft monotonous tick tick tick. But five minutes later he was as awake as ever. He kept his eyes shut though. Wishful.

The warmth left his chest and became more direct, felt like a hand stroking his back over his t-shirt, drifting up, rubbing the back of his neck and through his hair. Steve couldn’t help the small purr that gathered in his throat. He was a sucker for having his hair played with. By anyone. With permission obviously.

“I’m sorry Bill,” he mumbled into his pillow, head still turned towards the clock. “I’m trying...”

Steve didn’t get a response. He wasn’t really expecting one, sometimes Billy didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. It was just another thing they hadn’t worked out yet. In truth he wasn’t sure if his words were more for his spector boyfriend’s sake or his own. The hand pressed firmer. Steve easily imagined those tan fingers rubbing the little spot behind his ear. It definitely felt real enough to fool his brain that the other side of his bed wasn’t completely cold and empty. A gentle pull on his shoulder had Steve laying flat on his back, eyes still closed towards the ceiling.

“You’re making this harder you know…”

He felt heat on his cheek, across his jaw, over his lips. Kisses he couldn’t reciprocate no matter how much he wanted to. One hand became two, felt over his chest like they had done so many times before. Steve knew their pattern. What those blue eyes once liked to see. He chuckled and peeled his shirt off, tossing it to the floor.

“There. Happy now?”

Steve didn’t get a verbal response. Instead the touches became hotter, drifting over his skin with purpose, invisible fingers raking through his coarse chest hair, pressing and circling slow around his nipples. The heat left his face and worked its way down, across his now exposed collarbones one by one, his skin prickling as they crossed his body in two perfect lines. With his eyes closed it was so easy to imagine Billy was there. He kind of was. Steve moaned softly for him. One hand continued its way down, pressing over the waistband of Steve’s briefs. He chuckled again, putting his hand where he felt the pressure, slipping his fingers under the material, plucking them off his hip and circling towards his middle.

“You want these off too?”

Steve giggled a little, feeling nibbles on his earlobe, the phantom hand rubbing slow and firm over his lower stomach, through his happy trail. The air felt thicker still as his body got excited from all the direct but indirect attention. Steve definitely felt like he was being watched. He kind of liked being watched like this. He kicked his briefs off into the bundle of sheets at the foot of the bed, already half hard. He pictured Billy’s smirk, his tongue poking out from between his teeth in approval and arousal. It made Steve grin in return to the empty room as he flopped his arms up above his head to touch the underside of the headboard, reminding him that this was real, he hadn’t drifted off to sleep quite yet.

That seemed to get Billy’s blessing. The kisses placed to the side of Steve’s neck were searing. It felt so real, felt like sucking and that wicked tongue lapping over his skin to make bright red marks everyone would see, high under Steve’s jaw. They caused his dick to kick. He groaned feeling a hand suddenly around it. Thick and strong, pumping up and down with little abandon. The friction was delicious. Impossibly so. He was soon completely hard, pointing up towards his stomach, the first few drops of pre hitting his skin. Everything felt so real. The kisses moved back to his lips, desperate and pressing and wanting. Steve opened his mouth and felt a tongue slide along his own, dragging out sounds from his throat that sounded alien even to him, as he kept getting stroked and played with like a toy. Hips bucking up into a memory of Billy’s hand, tight and firm, thumb pressing along an underside vein.

Then there was nothing. Steve panted in the dark, left teetering on the edge of almost there but not enough. But then there was pressure on his shoulders, hands hanging on, thumbs rubbing in circles where his collar bones ended. Steve gripped the headboard tighter before his cock was pressing into an ever familiar tightness he could never forget. Even with his eyes shut they still rolled into the back of his head, a groan escaping his lips before the tongue was back, capturing and swallowing his sounds of pleasure. His cock sunk further and further until there was nothing more to push into.

“Jesus…” Steve managed to get out somehow, voice ripped and cracking deep. “You gonna bounce for me baby?”

He could picture that grin, a deep flush high on those freckle covered cheeks, eyes dark with desire and want before the movement happened. Steve felt his brain just about stop. It had certainly stopped trying to make sense of what was happening to him. Billy bouncing on his lap was one of his most favourite things. The way his chest glistened with sweat, the way his stomach pulled tight, pushing his abs further on display, the way his hair would stick to his forehead, the way his athletic thighs would clamp around Steve’s hips. Even though he was taking Billy was still definitely the one in control.

Steve moved his hands from under the headboard, felt fingers lock between his own almost immediately as the drag on his cock got faster, more desperate, less rhythmic and far less precise. He started muttering things to space that’s it baby, just like that, keep going I’m so close, his head started swimming as the heat low in his gut started to pull tight and impending. Steve wanted to keep going though, keep feeling all of this for as long as possible. The hands heavy on his own. The scorching kisses over his cheek and neck and lips. The impossible warmth and tightness around his cock, dragging and pushing quicker and harder. To just keep picturing Billy’s strong hips working and rolling, his thick cock aching and desperate to be touched but keeping Steve pinned so it couldn’t be, pre pooling into his belly button.

Steve came over his stomach with a cry.

The kisses over his jaw were warm instead of hot as he panted hard, chest heaving and heart rapid, skin shiny with exertion. One hand holding his own was the only feeling that remained as his cock fell lip over his hip. An unmistakable smell of smoke suddenly filled the air after what would most definitely have been two clicks of a zippo with a homemade etching of a skull on the side. Steve couldn’t help but laugh tired and worn out.

“God you’re an asshole.”

Warm arms clamped on around Steve’s chest again, the gentle pull. Come see me, I miss you, I love you. Steve was just about tired enough this time to fall.

#harringrove #my writings #billy x steve #steve harrington #billy hargrove #cross posted to ao3 #ghost smut #steve x billy

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andrebearakovsky · 5 years ago

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Capitals W Magazine: The Fanciness Scale

So my friend just gave me a copy of the Capitals W magazine, and oh man is there some content in here. Every player has his own page, and everyone is photographed in their own styles, from the super casual to the incredibly fancy. And after looking at them all, I felt the intense need to share my opinions about them all with you, as well as rank them on the casual/fancy scale. So below I have a review/interpretation of every player’s outfit, with photos I took of the magazine lying on my desk, along with their rating on the fanciness scale, with 1 being the most casual and 10 being the most fancy (note: this is not a rating of how “good” it is, just how fancy).

And most of this will be under the cut, cause boy will this be long.

Michal Kempny

Starting off strong. With Michal Kempny, there is no other option than to look good. He’s hot and sophisticated. The suit. The pose. The hair. The gaze. The mahogany background. I have no complaints here.

Fanciness rating: 10/10

TJ Oshie

TJ also opts for a suit, one which he admits in the attached article he did not pick out himself. A suit is a suit, but the colors feel strange to me and he gets points off for those shoes. It’s like he’s trying to have what Kempny has, but he just don’t have it. Also that pose makes this look feel a lot more casual.

Fanciness rating: 8/10

Radko Gudas

I’m a fan of Dadko’s tasteful weekend look. It looks like he’s ready to host a barbecue; but not like a small, casual barbecue for just your close friends, more like a big Labor Day barbecue that you invite everyone you know and also your in-laws to.

Fanciness rating: 4/10

Brendan Leipsic

I have never seen Brendan wear anything other than yoga pants and nothing looks to have changed here. I genuinely believe this is the outfit he wears every day, and not even a photoshoot can force him into nicer clothing. I can appreciate the attitude.

Fanciness rating: 1/10

Jakub Vrana

I can’t take this as seriously as I should because this pose is just too funny to me. It’s like he’s trying to be cool but oh man is he failing. I do love this jacket though. This is a jacket you put on deliberately for a Look. We’ve passed beyond the casual, but we’re not too fancy just yet, we’re still in jeans. This is an outfit for a fun night on the town with the boys.

Fanciness rating: 6/10

Garnet Hathaway

I had to lie down and have a moment to myself when I saw this photo. It’s as if he looked into my soul and said “I know exactly what you, specifically, want.” The suit. The vest - also the fact that the vest is blue is nice. The hair curl. The smirk off into the middle distance. The fucking carrying the suit jacket over the shoulder. This man went to a preppy college in New England and you can tell. This is every man I have ever wanted to sweep me off my feet. The attempts to keep my libido in check are failing. Please marry me instantly.

Fanciness rating: 11/10 yes i am biased

Tom Wilson

At first glance, this outfit looks well put together, but upon closer inspection, all it really is is a black t-shirt, black jeans, and sneakers. How does he make it look so good? Is it the pose? I think it’s just the fact that Tom is a hunk. Overall, this is an every day outfit, but like, a put-together one that looks nice.

Fanciness rating: 4/10

Nic Dowd

This is similar to the Vrana look. This is a very nice jacket, and when he puts on this jacket I know we’re going out to have a nice evening, but not too intense. Or maybe that’s just the vibe Nic Dowd himself gives off. Either way: excellent outfit.

Fanciness rating: 6/10

Lars Eller

This is the pinnacle of fanciness. Lars was told they were doing a photoshoot and went “this is my moment.” The suit is excellent. I love the colors. He, a pale blond Dane, does not look washed out. His hair is perfect. But what really makes it here is the pose. He’s a tryhard, but he knows exactly what he’s doing. This is a fancy man.

Fanciness rating: 10/10

Nicklas Backstrom

Who told him to stand like this. What even is this pose. I can’t get over this. “This is exactly how a human would pose.” And the outfit - a polo shirt and what appear to be slacks, right in the middle of fancy and casual. Whatever, the outfit is secondary to the completely unnatural pose here.

Fanciness rating: 5/10

Braden Holtby

How do I even begin to rate Braden Holtby. This outfit is certainly not “fancy,” but it is absolutely not casual, not in the slightest; Braden probably spent two full hours picking this outfit. Fashion is very important to him, and he has a very clear sense of style. This is a quintessential Braden Holtby outfit. The flared-open shirt, the hat, the sunglasses, the bracelets, the rings. The lounging pose. The fact that he’s resting his arm on a stack of books to show you how hipster he is. All that’s missing is his guitar. I love him, but I cannot even dream of rating him on the same scale as everyone else, because he is on a different plane than everyone else.

Fanciness rating: too cool for all of us

Evgeny Kuznetsov

Soft! Soft!!! Soft!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fanciness rating: 3/10

Jonas Siegenthaler

Much like Tom, he looks put-together, but it’s just a black sweater. Simple is key, and it works here for Jonas. A comfortable look, an every day look, but one that looks nice.

Fanciness rating: 4/10

Ilya Samsonov

Team baby put on a suit, and he looks good! I like the checkers, the tie is a good color, the shoes are nice. He’s very tall, and the suit is a good choice to show off his long legs; the standing pose also helps show off how tall it is. He looks good. This is a good suit, a good picture. Very fancy, and I feel like a proud mama. Point deducted because his hair just a little bit messy, and the leaning against a wall just a tad casual.

Fanciness rating: 9/10

Travis Boyd

This picture just screams “I am highly uncomfortable and I would rather be anywhere else right now than here doing a photoshoot.” Someone save him. Not fancy in the slightest, but still gets a hair above Brendan Leipsic because this is still a put-together outfit that you can go out to a sit-down dinner in.

Fanciness rating: 2/10

Carl Hagelin

This is an outfit made for going out, but definitely not to a fancy place. This is what every adult male in your family wears when you’re on family vacation at the beach and you decide to go out to dinner.

Fanciness rating: 5/10

John Carlson

This one is a bit more difficult because it’s certainly not fancy, there is a far too much denim for that, but it’s not casual, because there is a deliberate Look going on here. All I can really focus on is the fact that he is squinting really hard and maybe this photo should have been taken inside.

Fanciness rating: 5.5/10

Nick Jensen

This would get more points if it weren’t for the rip in his jeans. I can’t get over the rip in the jeans. What are you trying to go for here. You would look so put together; the button-up and the jeans actually look pretty nice, but what are you going to do with that rip in your knee, Nick. What are you going to do.

Fanciness rating: 4.5/10 author’s biases against nick jensen may be evident

Dmitry Orlov

I’m in love with everything about this outfit tbh. The shirt and the shoes? Killer. It looks great, it looks pretty dressed up; about as fancy as a Cap could be without wearing a suit. The black outfit contrasting with the white marble background really helps up the fanciness factor. Also, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dima wear any color other than black, ever. Which is fine - he knows his colors, and his color is The Void.

Fanciness rating: 7/10

Richard Panik

Getting some real Don Draper vibes here, but I’m okay with that. Maybe it’s his very angular face. He’s gone with the black and gray tones, which work for the vibe he’s going for. It’s a cool and sexy pose, and it doesn’t even feel ridiculous. I feel like he’s inviting me to come into a room in a 1960s lounge filled with cigar smoke and whiskey, and I might say yes.

Fanciness rating: 10/10

Alex Ovechkin

Frankly I’m surprised Ovi didn’t come in wearing sweatpants or sweans, so this is pretty fancy for him. The nice shirt and the jeans are a solid look, but I just know he’s wearing flip flops on his feet, I saw the behind the scenes video. The flip flops really bring the fanciness score down. I forgive him though, this is pretty good for him.

Fanciness rating: 5/10

BONUS:

Why are you in my home. 0/10

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valyrfia · 6 years ago

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Stranger Things 3 First Reactions

I’ve literally just finished Stranger Things 3, let’s discuss:

Definitely this was the biggest season in terms of action. It did feel like a huge summer blockbuster and while it was amazing, there is always the argument that some of the more quiet emotional moments were overlooked in favour of action

The ending...it didn’t go the way I wanted it to go, but I was actually satisfied

Of course I cried buckets BUCKETS when Hopper died, but I figured he would die when he went down to the basement and we knew if one was standing on the floor next to the drill they’d vaporise. Joyce has really bad luck with love interests

Billy was expected, and don’t get me wrong I absolutely hated the guy at the beginning of this season, but they did an okay job of humanising him. Sure I didn’t love him, but his sacrifice was somewhat touching. Hope we see his dad get his comeuppance at some point

And for Eleven to lose her father figure on top of all the other shit she’s gone through...oof. That shit hurts.

I love LOVE that Eleven was adopted by Joyce. I totally thought we were in for a lab abduction, especially with Hopper, her legal guardian, being gone, so I was so glad to be proven wrong.

We’ll finally get Will and El being siblings next season! We’ve been fighting for this from season 1! I for one am absolutely PUMPED.

I feel like they could end Stranger Things here and I would be totally satisfied. Arc-wise, all the characters are resolved more or less, El has her family and her powers are gone, Will had to come to terms with his lost childhood, the Byers are finally moving away from the town that’s terrorised them since s1, Steve has had his full redemption, Nancy and Jonathan are going to go off to college. It feels like a really good place to end the series. Of course I am DYING for another season (I’ll put my predictions for s4 at the end of this post) but I want to end on a high, and this is quite a high.

I assume they have a gate open in Siberia then? Or one that we don’t know about? Also Erica is so damn smart knowing full well that those cages were for demogorgans

‘The American’? Do you reckon they have Kali or one of the other numbers? Interesting.

That being said, I’m not a huge fan that they just decided to go with the usual cliché ‘Russians are the true enemy!’ trope. Are we just going to forget about all the bad shit the American scientists did in the first place?

I feel like they really underused Will this season, Noah Schnapp is a terrific actor, probably one of the best of the kids and while he has some amazing scenes, most of the time he’s just standing at the back of the party being a Mindflayer radar. We saw what he could do in s2 and I really expected the Duffers to take advantage of that. Maybe next season.

Destroying Castle Byers absolutely killed me, it was the one scene that had me full-out sobbing. However that being said, it was a big emotional moment at the end of ep 3 and then wasn’t really mentioned again except in passing.

Robin was brilliant, an amazing addition to the cast and her chemistry with Steve and Dustin was incredible

I loved the touching scene in the bathroom between her and Steve, I ALSO love how they used ‘The First I Love You’, the same soundtrack that was used for Mike and Eleven’s confession and the parallel to Nancy and Jonathan’s first kiss. Even though the relationship isn’t romantic, they care deeply DEEPLY about each other and Steve being an absolute ally and telling Robin she could do way better was just so heartwarming and actually made me tear up

Max was also incredible. I hadn’t quite warmed to her last season but she’s so fiery and loving and definitely is one of my favourite characters now.

Max and El’s friendship made me smile so so much. It definitely felt realistic, despite what the reviews said. True some things were a little cliché, like them gushing over boys in magazines and trying on a million clothes at The Gap but the scene where they were spying on random people through psychic tv and where they were cooped up talking in a bathroom felt real. I absolutely loved their dynamic this season, it’s really refreshing to see a female friendship on screen again (considering the last one was Nancy and Barb?)

Tonally, this season felt all over the place. It was definitely more messy (both in terms of what was on screen AND in terms of plot) than the previous two seasons. The stakes didn’t feel quite as high as usual and the tonal shift dampened some of the really emotional scenes.

Take the whole ‘Suzie Do You Copy?’ scene, the stakes were way high at that point and then we get a full minute and a half of a musical rendition of Neverending Story, it just felt a bit jarring and out of place.

Also, we learnt about Russian involvement but we still know nothing more about the Upside Down, the Mindflayer or the original Hawkins Lab experiments.

I criticize, but it was still an absolute joy to watch.

My least favourite out of all the seasons so far perhaps, but it’s still my favourite tv show

SEASON 4 PREDICTIONS

Considering Mike explicitly mentioned Thanksgiving/Christmas I’m expecting season 4 late 2020. Probably Christmas, I could see them releasing it around Christmas time. That’s also about the correct length of time it’ll take to make season 4. Also the Duffers are really big on framing the seasons around holidays. December 2020 calling it now.

We’ll see the gang reunite in Hawkins, obviously.

The gang would have just started high school and I reckon we’ll see them start to drift apart.

Mike will be struggling, out of everyone the two people he was closest with were Will and El. Not to mention Nancy will be gone off to college as well.

We’ll definitely get some Will/El duo scenes and I am beyond hyped. Millie Bobby Brown and Noah Schnapp are such good friends off-screen it’ll undoubtedly carry over to their on-screen chemistry.

It’s the duo we deserve.

I want to see El FLOURISH. Hopefully we find out that El has actually gone to school, that she has friends...loads of friends who just think she’s a normal 15 year old girl. I want to see this.

I hate to be THAT person...but I really hope they address Will’s sexuality. Again, as with past seasons all we got was very explicit subtext. This season is the last they can really dance around the subject. Will will be 15 or near 15 next season, you know who you’re attracted to at that point.

Not to mention that they have Robin in the mix now, someone who’s maybe not publicly comfortable with her sexuality, but has come to terms with it. A mentor figure, if you will.

Speaking of Will in the plot sense, I do wonder whether they are going to go down the route of him having powers or not. There’s loads of clues and easter eggs about it/parallels with him and El. I was quite surprised they didn’t go down that route this season and didn’t delve any deeper into his connection to the Upside Down/Mindflayer

It would be super powerful and impactful to parallel him having to keep a secret about any potential ‘powers’ from his friends and family with another ‘secret’. In that situation, I can totally see El becoming Will’s confidante for both. But I digress.

The Russians are up to no good. Again.

We’ll definitely see Kali in some shape or form, and maybe other test subjects

There’s that American after all, I do strongly suspect that’s another Hawkins Lab subject, or past employee.

I do hope they switch up the formula a bit for the big monster in s4, there’s only so many times you can close the gate after all.

Either way, I want s4 now, not in seventeen months.

TO ROUND-UP: It’s still got its charm, it’s still got its magic, it’s still got its nostalgia. Stranger Things 3, it’s been a pleasure. Bring on December 2020

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hystericalweenie · 5 years ago

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Just Another Day at the Office Series - New Experiences

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Two: Overthinking

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n had found herself stuck in a scenario she’d never thought she’d ever have to face: she’d been catching feelings for a coworker. While she attempted to adapt to her new job and work load, she also had to get used to these new feelings and figure out what the fuck to do with them. George made her want to take risks, she didn’t care about the potentiality of a broken heart with him, because falling in love with him made it seem worth it. Is George falling for Y/n too? Will he be able to reciprocate her feelings?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! Sorry this part’s so short! I have more ideas coming but they wouldn’t have fit right in this chapter ://

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some sexual! tension! up! in! here! Brief mentions of sex, nothin’ too bad.

PSA: Everyone please stay safe out there! Protect your elders, family members with chronic illnesses/diseases/etc., and all those whose immune systems are extremely vulnerable to this virus!

My eyes peeled open at approximately three in the morning. The room was still dark, my naked figure still remained on top of George’s, and the previous events were clear as day in my head. This uneasy feeling rested in my stomach, a feeling of guilt, and it made me want to throw up. Feeling so vulnerable, like I’d exposed so much of myself to a man I barely knew, it was a new sensation and I felt almost angry at myself for my actions. Why did I let this man perform such an intimate action on me? Why did I do the same to him? It made me even more uncomfortable that we didn’t have a label on our relationship, that all he thought he was to me was a coworker.

I wanted to cry, I wanted to sob my heart out and curl into a ball by myself, in my own bed. But, instead, I lay on top of George in my naked form, our skin flush against each other, as I fought back tears that threatened to spill from my confused y/e/c eyes. I wasn’t sure why I was so emotional, why I felt so exposed and guilty for having oral sex with George. Bree did this all the time, right? This felt different though, maybe because of the fact that we had an unlabeled relationship and the fear of being abandoned had been taking over me. Or, maybe, it was a sense of shame that I’d let myself lose my self control and got lost in the intimacy.

Wherever this guilt and shame feeling was coming from, it was eating me alive and I had no idea what to do about it. I wondered how George would react when he awoke. Was he expecting me to leave, like a one night stand would? I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression, because I, most certainly, did not believe this to be a one night stand. I wished he would talk to me, that his eyes would flutter open and I’d be able to tell him how guilty I was feeling. I wished I could interrogate him with a label, because I needed to know what this meant.

I couldn’t help the tears spilling out now, they dragged down my face and pattered onto his chest like raindrops. I wanted, so badly, just to be in my own bedroom, by myself without the worries of George seeing me cry and asking ‘what’s wrong’; there was too much wrong with my head at that moment, far too much to explain to him and if I’d tried, he’d no doubt think I was a lunatic. I sniffled, wiping my eyes quickly before I heard him stir in his sleep. I froze, stilling my body, hoping that I hadn’t woken him up. With one of his arms snaked lazily around me, his breathing returned to its previous steady rhythm.

“I know you’re awake,” he mumbled.

I was wrong; he didn’t go back to sleep.

I sighed, feeling his fingers begin to trace patterns on my bare back.

“I’m just thinking,” I answered back, my breath against his skin.

He rested his chin on top of my head.

“What about, love?”

Love. Why did he have to do this to me, to make me feel so warm and safe after all of those feelings I’d been having? Why did he have to confuse me even more? Curse this handsome British man.

“What last night meant,” I admitted.

If it wouldn’t come out now, it’d come out eventually. I didn’t see any point in lying anymore. His fingers stopped abruptly against my back, before quickly resuming. I felt his warm breath against my hair, feeling him press his lips against my scalp.

“What do you want it to have meant?” he questioned softly.

I brought one of my own fingers to the bed, tracing the flannel design on the sheets in hopes of making this conversation easier for me.

“I didn’t really want it to be casual,” I confessed, my eyes focusing on my finger tracing. “I’m not one to have casual sex, not that we actually had sex, but I think oral sex still applies,” I blabbered nervously.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he muttered into my hair. “I really like you, Y/n. I was actually quite worried that you’d leave in the middle of the night.”

My eyes widened at his confession, butterflies making my stomach feel sick.

“I like you too, George. I’m just a little overwhelmed right now, I think.”

My finger led to his arm, tracing over the veins that traveled from the backs of his hands to his forearms. His skin was soft and warm, and I found this simple action comforting my anxious head.

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” he offered, now brushing his fingers gently up and down my back, differing from his previous design tracing.

“No, thanks.” I traced my fingers up to his biceps, feeling him shiver under me as he reacted to the movement of my gentle fingers. “I’m feeling a bit better, actually,” I mumbled against his skin.

I felt him press his lips against the top of my head, keeping them there for a moment. I wondered if he was inhaling the scent of my lavender shampoo.

“I like this,” I added softly, moving my fingers down to the back of his hand. “I like just laying like this.”

He moved the arm I’d been tracing and wrapped it around me, joining his other arm. I felt him brush his cheek against my hair, nuzzling me. I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my face as he embraced me lovingly.

“Me too.”

The second time I’d woken up that morning, I was feeling much better in contrast to the first time. Knowing George’s feelings for me and feeling him embrace me gave me some of the comfort that I’d needed. I turned my head so that my chin rested on his chest, as I watched him sleep. He looked so calm, there hadn’t been a single frustrated crease on his face. His bruised eye was a greenish yellow hue that day, signifying that it was properly healing, and the scab on his lip had reopened from last night’s activities. I gently ran the pad of my thumb over his bottom lip, checking for any blood. His eyes fluttered open, meeting mine instantly.

“Has my alarm gone off?” he asked, his accent accentuated due to its raspiness and exhaustion.

And as if on cue, the alarm on his phone blared. He groaned, his head tilting back in dramatic agony before reaching for the device and turning it off. He put his phone back down, before returning his attention back to me. A lazy smile took over his lips, his eyes swollen with sleep as he looked at me. His arms removed themselves from my back, as both of his palms grasped each side of my face, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones.

“You’re so beautiful,” he commented, as his eyes observed my face.

My cheeks heated instantly before I gained the confidence to roll my eyes and push myself off of him.

“C’mon, we have to get ready for work,” I reminded him. My eyes widened. Work. “Shit, I have to get to my apartment.”

“Do you want me to whip up something quick for breakfast before you leave?” he offered.

I frowned, realizing the sun had already started to rise through the curtains of his room.

“I don’t think I have time,” I chewed on my lip. “But I really wish I did; I still have to shower after last night,” I reminded him.

He smirked at the mention of last night.

“Alright, at least let me walk you out to your car, then,” he pleaded.

I gave him a toothy grin.

“Of course.”

I changed into my clothes after the long process of looking for the fabrics strewn all over his floor. He copied my actions until the both of us were fully dressed and ready to leave. I grabbed my purse on the way out, which had been sitting in his kitchen. The chicken parmesan recipe reminded me of the way we washed dishes afterwards, how he’d told me about missing his family in England and how his father was Australian. Conversations like those, conversations about childhood and life before we’d met made me fall more and more in love with George.

As we made our way to my parked car, I leant against the door and looked up at him. The way his skin glowed underneath the rising sun, the way the beautiful colors washed over him and made his hair look golden. I slipped my tongue between my lips and fisted the collar of his shirt, bringing him to my lips. His arms immediately snaked around my waist as our lips moved intensely against one another’s, returning to our perfect rhythm. I could feel myself melt under George; he was absorbing me by the second and I knew I would be too far gone soon enough, but I didn’t care anymore.

We finally released, as I gave him one last peck to savor the taste of his lips, the taste of him.

“I’ll see you at the office?” I smirked, watching his blissful expression. I hoped I was having the same effect on him.

I drove away, leaving him looking fucked-out. But, God, I loved it.

As soon as I entered the apartment, I was immediately met with Bree’s wide hazel eyes.

“I will tell you everything later,” I promised quickly, before hopping into the shower and taking possibly the fastest shower I’d ever taken in my life.

I threw on a dress, a jacket, and wedges and left the house, not even caring to do my makeup. I sped to work, praying that I’d be on time. And after rushing into the elevator and speed-walking toward my office, I was finally able to breathe regularly. I looked across to my brunette friend, my lips curling into a smile at his presence.

“You’re back today?” I queried, logging into my computer and settling into my chair.

“I am,” he confirmed, winking at me with his signature smile.

“Let’s get this mother fucking show on the road, then, shall we?” I clapped my hands together, opening my documents that I’d already written and sending them to him.

After work, I went out to retrieve my CBD oil for the article before returning to the apartment. But as soon as I turned the knob, Bree was shouting from the couch.

“Tell! Me! Everything!” she begged.

I rolled my eyes, throwing my purse and my bag from the pharmacy onto the small kitchen table before making a seat next to her on the couch.

“We did not fuck,” I stated.

“But you did something, right?” she asked, her eyebrows raising.

I nodded slowly, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. She scooted herself closer to me.

“Well, what the fuck did you guys do?” she urged.

“Well, first, he taught me how to make chicken parmesan–”

“Y/n,” she interrupted, dramatically begging.

“We had oral sex,” I confessed with a sheepish smile.

Her bushy eyebrows furrowed at me.

“Wait, so he ate you out and you sucked his dick?”

I rolled my eyes at her raunchy language.

“Yes,” I sighed.

She stilled, her eyes boring into mine.

“Did he make you cum?”

The memories replayed in my head; the tightening feeling in my stomach, the shaking of my legs, the curling of my toes, his tongue; how could I have not orgasmed?

“Yes!” I practically screamed. “God, it was amazing.”

She threw a fist in the air.

“Thank fucking Lord, Y/n has finally got a guy to make her cum!”

I rolled my eyes, but it was true.

George was the first guy to ever make me cum. Who would’ve thought?

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #x reader fic #x reader #fanfic #fanfics #1917 #1917 cast #dean charles chapman

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blookmallow · 5 years ago

Text

i finally rewatched Us watching for details... I also took a bunch of screenshots, I’ve mentioned before I live in santa cruz and grew up going to this boardwalk so im obsessed with this movie, I’m going to go try to take some better comparison shots sometime (here’s a few I took before) (and here’s a Tethered mannequin that was outside of the frightwalk for a while. i havent been inside for ages so I don’t know if they moved him inside or if he’s just gone now) (i HOPE they did something with the theme considering the frightwalk is literally a horror attraction beneath the boardwalk. i dont really want to go in there by myself though lmao. not a fan of animatronics jumping out and screaming at me)

this is a lot, i have many things to say

-----------------

- the opening news segment is 11 at 11

- you can faintly see adelaide/red’s reflection in the tv screen, with a toy rabbit (her shirt also has twin lines on it in multiple places but that could be looking too far lmao)

- in the “Hands Across America” segment (aside from the obvious red figures linked together in the logo) : “from the golden gate bridge to the twin towers” another possible 11/twinning, and it starts in california, which is where the tethered revolution begins

- on “from sea to shining sea” the exact same coastline image is just flipped

(there’s also another 11 on the side of the TV here)

- “This summer, 6 million people will tether themselves together”

- brief mirroring in the boardwalk ad, not just two girls running on the beach but also two girls with upside down reflections in the ground,

- fairly obvious one, but “find yourself” (as a sidenote there’s nothing in that spot irl, the roller coaster and the swings are real but there was never a ‘vision quest’ or a ‘merlin forest’ as far as I know and there’s no door or anything there either, the interior shots must’ve been done separately somewhere else) (nothing’s left here from the movie now either, I have no idea when they filmed it because I never saw anything or heard anything about it)

- adelaide/red whistles “the itsy bitsy spider” when the lights go out in the vision quest - “down came the rain and washed the spider out,” it’s raining outside when her tethered comes up (and she is dragged down). she also drops her red apple on the ground before she enters

- zora’s rabbit shirt

- everyone else is eating fast food of some kind, except adelaide, who is eating red strawberries

as well as being a visual cue, its possible she has an aversion to meat if she was forced to eat raw rabbit as a child

- young adelaide arranging animals in the sand (it seems like some of the tethered tend to mirror their counterpart’s movements, so it’s possible she’s mirroring red, though it’s probably not that likely she’d be planning this early/the dance hasnt happened yet so its probably just foreshadowing)

- young adelaide very pointedly watches “her” mother crying, saying “I just want my little girl back” - she will never have her little girl back again, though she doesn’t know it (I’m not sure if adelaide still remembers what she’s done at this point either)

its also mentioned that ‘grandma’ has passed away as of the present time, likely adelaide’s mother (i dont remember if its stated outright but since the house belonged to the grandma, and it’s in santa cruz, that would line up) so. the tethered mother, if she’s still alive, would not kill red’s real mother in the uprising. dont know about the father, or if red knows/cares about this, but. thats there. that also means the original mother will never know what happened with her daughter (likely the father won’t either, it’s not clear if he’s still alive but there’s no mention of him being around/he’s not at the house so it seems likely he passed already too)

- adelaide, her reflection, and a (not so) itsy bitsy spider

theres even two spiders, one a toy, one real

- jason crawls out of a cabinet at zora’s feet and scares her while she’s looking in a mirror (which is also a very pluto-like movement)

- adelaide finds the toy rabbit in a box; assuming the intro was chronological, we saw “her” with it in the tv screen reflection before she went to the boardwalk, so this was red’s rabbit first (she probably does not remember this, though) (red also later finds this and cuts off the head, not sure why though)

- adelaide “sees” her child self in the room with her (in her memory) learning her dance alongside her reflection

but the reflection is the one she “sees” looking directly at her

(she’s also interrupted by hearing her son, above her, screaming because he’s trapped, but that might not be intentional) (though when red comes down here later, she is also interrupted by her son getting stuck in the closet too)

- she’s also wearing a choker necklace with a matching gold bracelet, maybe an allusion to. the choking and the handcuffs, again i might be looking into it too much, but. the white clothes which steadily become red with blood seems very intentional so i wouldnt be surprised if the jewelry was planned specifically too

- its really hard to see and its a split second throwaway comment but kitty goes “oh isnt that beautiful” showing her the magazine and i thhiiiink thats a white girl in a native american headdress :’ ) probably doesnt have. much deeper meaning other than ‘clueless white friends’ but

- guy buried in sand comes bursting to the surface again and scares his friends (also eyyooooo you can see the wharf in the background im down there all the time) (sorry this is still wild to me. i grew up here ive been to that beach like 9 million times)

- i didnt catch it and was waiting for it to be shown again and it wasnt and i dont want to go back for it but anyway jason has a drawing of a bunch of people holding hands in a line like the hands across america thing in his room, theres a lot of drawings around and we see his drawing of the first untethered, so he probably drew that as well

- jason has a hard time communicating, but he seems to use drawing as a way to express himself. he doesn’t tell his mother about the encounter with the old man (and only shrugs when he’s asked about it) but he does draw it. adelaide found self expression through dance when she was a child before she was able to talk, so he probably got those traits from her. her voice also goes low and hollow on the line “I just didn’t know if you were lost, or... taken”

- her voice also gets very strange when she’s talking about her memory of the encounter in the vision quest. low, shaky, harsh. its fascinating hearing how much alike the voices are (obviously they’re both the same actress/if the tethered are clones it makes sense that they’d have identical vocal chords but like. red’s got a fucked up voice. hearing echos of that in adelaide is wild and i didnt notice it at all before)

- its not clear whether adelaide actually remembers what she did, or even realizes she was the copy - is she trying to protect her family from what she believes was the girl who almost took her, or trying to stop her from getting her revenge? she describes the event to gabe as if she was the one who was attacked but escaped, and im not sure if she’s lying or has convinced herself that’s the truth

something’s going on with jason and pluto too but I don’t quite know what it is. when we first see jason he’s wearing a Jaws shirt, kind of a similar vibe to the thriller shirt, and when the tethered arrive he’s wearing a white tuxedo t shirt, white matching his mother’s white outfit. the others all go off to kill their doubles but pluto holds jason’s hand, sits with him quietly, watches his magic trick, he’s told to go “play” which. obviously has a violent undertone to it but he doesn’t actually try to kill him. i dont even remember seeing him with the scissors. why are jason and pluto different. why does pluto get stuck mirroring jason’s movements even to the point of his death but the others dont. why didn’t adelaide mirror red

i guess its possible its because pluto is the youngest in the family so maybe he hasn’t broken out of his connection yet? they didnt really ever explain how they learned to do that

and as for the connection with adelaide it. could just be that jason takes after his mom more and zora takes after her dad more but that seems too simple. i mean theres the theory going around that jason was actually switched with his clone too at some point and its got some good points (jason forgetting the magic trick, getting stuck in the closet again, etc) but theres a whole line of logic to debunk that too so its just. What’s Going On Here

cal 11

i took the first pic to get a comparison shot at the same place later irl but then noticed the ambulance they come across is the same one (#2) they saw earlier

pretty obvious but the real rabbit comes out through the picture of an identical rabbit (there’s also probably a “rabbit hole” allusion here)

i noticed this before too but now i have a screenshot of it, im the rabbit in the background just chilling on the floor during the climax here

- im sure i must have seen this before but i forgot about it. the 11:11 guy’s tethered didn’t have a sign so he just.......carved it into his head

- it never healed, either, he did it badly enough to scar

- red says “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, how you could have taken me with you” - she doesn’t mean adelaide ran off and left her there. adelaide made the choice to trap her in the underground. its possible red might have even been thinking how she would have let adelaide come with her if given the chance, which. i mean, i dont know how her parents would have reacted to suddenly having identical twins out of nowhere, but like. knowing there’s a chance red might have accepted her. and all this could have been different

this is definitely a movie that’s not really intended to be fully explained, there’s a lot of questions that aren’t really supposed to be answered, but nonetheless one of my biggest concerns is where do the clothes come from underground. red tells us they were all abandoned down there generations ago so nobody’s supervising or providing anything. how do they end up with copies of the clothing their counterparts are wearing. and here adelaide has a messed up faded old shirt that either looks similar to red’s shirt or is the same shirt just badly damaged, she switches it with red’s before she goes out for good so that explains how she gets the new shirt, but where did this one come from. why is it different if the other clothes aren’t

and of course there’s the whole question of “where did they all get these red jumpsuits from” but again. questions that aren’t really the point, i guess

#liveblog general #Us #us movie #jordan peele #us 2019 #pinned #media analysis

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kurou3gi-blog · 5 years ago

Note

It means that an Arab acc ig supposed that Ji accepted jk because they were after the gay couple.Interesting to talk about it, because now that I remembered that a twitter account had something similar in 2019.And that the rumors about the gay couple had been strong since September 2018.But your anon has to remember that in order for Ji to save his ass and Ks's, he will lie about everything.I just find your attitudes strange these days.As if he had choked for years and wanted to speak the truth.

Tbh I know my thinking is more hell and overload every time XD

And really knows that my words can harm, mess, lure even change someone mind.

That’s why after I say I had broken in to pieces, it hard to see I talk about exo before some anon ask me XD

And tried to warning everyone before below the content...

Like I say to other anons more than once that don’t forget that ji didn’t say anything about soo with him on his birthday at 2019. And that clip showed only soo and other happy birthday to ji...

But are you sure it happened at 14th?

Are you sure everybody who we saw they met ji to happy birthday him were meet him at the same day?

Tbh his same cloth not guaranty that it happened on the same day, if we think of his hat-trick same cloth on soo’s early enlistment announcement period... That he went to met ravi, moon and went convenience store on different days in a row with same cloth..

That made some of us had doubted why he wore the same cloth!? XD

Tbh while I answered that previous anon I thought I may talk about why he kept but now he leaked...

But at last I was tired, so I chose to stop it than chose to spread more shade...

So if you want to know what I think why he leaked it....

Let’s go...

I think all of us and all of ekso knew about gay couple can ruin kr people life...

And It’s true...

But like we see some biggest movie pd could coming out with none of any effect because he is a one of big influencers in kr celluloid world... Everyone celebrated his wedding with his boyfriend at 60+ years old XD

So that mean if you have enough power or biggest back up... Gay issue can’t drag you down.... You will pass it even without any hurt...

And that why I used to say more than once that maybe they can coming out if they have enough power.

But like us and they knew... Gay couple issue will destroy their career if someone can unfolded them...

So... All of us think they were separated by some medias need to unfolded and esm tried to cover it....

But if we turn back to around late of 2015... When most of news medias trolled their a bit deep skinship moments on those award events pics at the same time...

Do you think it is just only accidental or willful by conspiracy term?

Tbh I still doubt since the event happened until now...

Why they all trolled those kind of pics to the world like need to say “We knew it!”

And if they knew it.... So, needed to tell esm about this for make money...

Then do you think how much esm must pay to these media?

But then...

If they already knew...

Why they wait until that time and tried to spread tea at the same time?

Even I think they knew it’s impossible to let’s esm pays a ton of money for their idols to them....

So...

They did it for what?

To tell esm for blackmail....

Or helped esm to press ji accept that kstal deal?

Or ......?

Then after those events, they didn’t trolled the combo pics like that again... - -”

To me it felt like a viral thing....

Happened and ended in one shot...

Full of doubt but I pretty sure I can’t clear it with 100%

Only doubt and doubt why blablabla but blablabla then blablabla? blablablabla...

More things since mid of 2015 until after kstal confirmed... I felt like it make sense, none make sense and wthex at the same time....

But I only doubt and kept it inside because I think it’s hard to found the true answer...

So no need to try hard to clear it... Because I think we know something you should keep it in silence only...

Even you think it full of doubt an unfair thing, need more clear but no one answer you. So...

I think at first kd accepted about kstal issue with no doubt in esm’s decision...

But when it passed for a while... They have seen many things happen.... I think they started to doubt in what esm told them about their relationship issue effect...

The first thing that made me think like that is his ig live at late of 2018

But when I saw that his ig live that he shoot despite where the battery is running out. I think he know his battery is running out before shooing. That why i full of question marks again with “he done ig live for what?”

And surprise to saw some comment under that ig live clip said his manager try to stop and said “rumor” before it end…

^^^Sorry if my parlance in these 2 paragraphs looks strange from others.... Because I copied and pasted 2 of them from my old content this.

And yes after I watched that live I felt like he need to tell us about the coming up of his dating issue...

Some of my questions in my head after saw it are... Why he did it?

I think he knew if he trolled some of us can get his point... It’s mean we can see more analysis about how fake of jk...

Even at last ppl can feel only the girl’s delulu that beyond the truth. XD

Is it not make esm risk?

But like we see that none of it in surface except jk was confirmed...

Btw I still doubt why he chose to leak it... Not keep it in secret like it should be...

Even it looks like a viral ig live for kidding feeling than he did it for some result....

But maybe he need only someone get his trigger viral... Who knows...

Then if + cebu ig issues... That’s why I told that anon that this is not first time of his leakage on his ig...

Sometime I felt like he use his ig for testing some tricks... That it’s work or not...

For something in the future...

Ok back to main course again before I take you go far far away... XD

And these are why I think maybe they had doubted in esm words about gay couple effect...

But I think at first their doubt is only a sediment that waiting for the crystallization day...

The day that their last chain was broke...

I think if jk issue not coming up...

They may keep their doubt in silent until the last day....

But because of esm trolled jn issue to ji again...

Maybe that issue was an eruption starter...

To find the truth about their relationship effect...

It’s real right like what esm told them or not...

And someone need to unfolded them is true or not?

Ok back to 2015-2016 again....

All of us who are kdist may knew that because someone tried to unfolded them...

So the dating issue should coming up to cover that hole...

But in other way... Some of fx fc said at last esm chose crystal, not yo*na because crystal already had some rumors about her relationship with amber or some china rich man at the same time...

Do you feel familiar?

One of famous girl and boy idols have bad bad rumors at the same time...

Along with you start to see a bit hint about those girl and boy idols have secret relationship to each other at the same time...

I think at first no one notice about this coincidence...

But if it comes again with same movement...

Are you feeling you wondering?

Why it happened like god need to match them together...?

kstal and jk have a pretty same pattern from the start... But difference in a bit of details and time ending....

So I'm not surprised if they are aware of it and start not trusting esm.

They just accept that deal but not mean they absolutely surrender...

Some of my feelings about esm vs ekso since late of 2016 until now...

It’s feel like if you deceive me, I will deceive you back.

I touched a bit betrayal from them in sometime...

Then...

I think jd issue is ji’s last chain....

How esm lets jd announced about his wedding like a regret surprise made him knew maybe the things they told him not 100% truth...

The thing esm say because of it, so we just let you do it for save your life maybe it was only saved esm life.

Even esm knew jd may too risked if he confessed that thing...

But esm lets jd do without any protect except gave more works to him like a reward...

And lets kr fan fight with ifan. No care ekso will 9 or not...

Because they no care at the started if we notice how lay can’t comeback with ekso anymore by cn gov and then by his schedule... But jackson g7 can come back with g7 all of times.... And lay at last came to kr to send soo enter the military....

So maybe what esm say to them is just only a scam...

Even someone unfolded them... Maybe it may nothing...

Do you remembered some reporter came out to say jk may fake?

I think it’s a good example to show him to know that if he leak something about their relationship...

Maybe it’s not too bad like esm say...

Then maybe jd issue let him to leak it....

That’s why I used to say that I felt like ji want to revenge and strike esm back with that updated.

Then why he waited until this time?

I think he always tries to find the time & way to leak it with good result. And some of his ig leakage before that ig undated are good examples about this...

And why he chose this time...

I think because it’s a good time to leak it if we think of his situation now in the name of sperm member under cpt & esm’s arm....

+ gucci, fenti ambassador....

+ one of vogue’s adore children...

I think esm can’t do anything to hurt him for save their deal at least with those partners...

Then a one thing that maybe true...

Anon said :

And as always, they are employees or former employees who sell information about idols. Only gay couples do not leak because magazines cannot publish because it is prohibited.

So....

If it’s true I think I no wonder if he wait until this time... It’s good chance to leak with take a bit effect or none of it...

+ How we sure ppl get attention, get notice or trust in our analysis about that ig updated? If you not interest in bxb life in girl’s vision...

+ I think ppl not care about what he say then and now. They focused only wow~ soo with ji...

I think most of ppl maybe not remembered what he say on that birthday ig live....

Then if they remembered.. So...?

Like we see kstal & jk was confirmed and ended with they were real and they are faked depend on each ppl vision...

So maybe he leaked it now because he a bit sure that maybe it may not hurt him much and no need to keep it in secret again if esm can unfolded their artist by themselves like what they did with jd issue...

And maybe this is a last test for make him sure before go to the next step...

Who knows....

But these are only my dumb brain cell’s overload....

So hope you enjoy reading... XD

And sorry if it wasted your time...

Tbh I need to talk with more clear...

But I don’t know how to explain some idea from th to eng.

Sorry....

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mahalkitajohnnysuh · 5 years ago

Text

The Model and The Stylist

Hello there! Finally, my first story post! Sorry for the delay, but I was busy with work as always, and I was feeling down for the past couple of days. Anyway, I decided to share this first because your boy’s been getting a lot of exposure lately – modeling, that is. That W Korea May 2020 editorial with Jaehyun is so divine that your girl pre-ordered her copy even if it will take her maybe until the end of the year to get it. See that GIF? Damn!

This story was based on the story of one of my characters in my original story written ages ago for a friend, and I’m glad that something came out of it now.

You’ll also get to meet Essie Park now, my Y/N that got a name. I might still post my first stories with Y/N in it, so look out for that. I hope you’ll enjoy and let me know what scenarios you’d like me to write about.

Mahal ko kayong lahat! :)

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Summary: Let’s keep it simple: this is an AU where OC is a fashion editor/stylist, and Johnny is a model.

Word count: 1,600 + words

Genre: Romance, Comedy

Warning: It’s so fluffy and cheesy, you might as well think you’re munching on cheese popcorn. But I think this is my specialty so...yeah.

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Essie decided that from this day onward, she would make Johnny’s life a living hell.

He was one of the most uncooperative models she has ever met – he didn’t bring what was needed, didn’t arrive on time, and didn’t listen to her instructions.

Even though she was a fashion assistant at the magazine she was working for, he didn’t give her the respect she needed for her job.

Instead, he bossed her around – asking her to buy him Starbucks, charge his gadgets, and even get him a top that he could use to his next event.

“Cheska, I need more coffee. Can you buy me another iced Americano, please? With more hazelnut syrup too,” he ordered with that sickeningly sweet tone of his.

“My name is not Cheska!” she roared before storming out of the set. She wasn’t even halfway through the shoot and he had already worked her like his slave.

When she got inside the coffee shop, she went on autopilot and ordered his drink of choice. As she stepped out with the drink on hand, she slapped her forehead in annoyance. “I should’ve tampered with his drink to get even with him!” She grumbled, staring at the iced drink in disdain. “Unless…” Her thoughts led her to some of the cruelest pranks she has seen until she figured out what she can do with his coffee.

Once back on set, she decided to do the classic prank: accidentally throw the drink all over him. It was a good thing that he was still wearing his regular clothes or else she’ll pay the price for damaging designer goods. She couldn’t help but smile evilly at his drenched figure. He was wearing an all-white outfit and she felt satisfied knowing it has turned into a brown mess.

She might be celebrating a small victory now, but Johnny won’t let her get away with it.

He swore as well that he would make Essie’s life a living hell.

\\\

Unfortunately, they worked with each other again. And again. Even Essie’s side projects with her friends in the creative industry.

Johnny was always the available model who was game to do experimental shoots.

The two tried their best to downplay their pranks – Essie once poked him a couple of times with safety pins as she adjusted the excess fabric of his clothes. He wouldn’t stay put, which made her more intent to push the pins deeper into his skin.

“Don’t you even dare try, you cocky bastard,” she grumbled, purposely poking his sides with the pin.

“I could file a complaint against you,” he whispered in her ear, making the hairs behind her neck stand. He was dangerously close to her, and she noticed that he was about to wrap an arm around her waist.

“You think I’m scared? I’m not,” She gently pushed him away from her as she locked the pin in place.

“I’ll make you,” he responded, gripping her arm. “But now, I won’t because I look good in this outfit you picked.” He admired the work she did in front of the full-length mirror and she rolled her eyes in response.

There was a time that Johnny always set the cable of one of the camera lights for Essie to trip on. He would deliberately stretch his legs to do so or even use his hand to place it to where she’ll be coming from.

The girl tripped a couple of times and didn’t mind it at first. But when she noticed him sniggering after her fifth trip, that’s when she realized he was behind this. Essie stormed towards him and glared daggers at him.

“You think this is funny, Suh?” she muttered, folding her arms over her chest. He nodded, trying his best not to laugh. “You’re such an immature brat,” were the last words she said before she walked over the cable and glared at him once again.

\\\

Over time, Essie and Johnny decided to call their feud a truce. It took some mental toll on the girl to prank him. She was already tired from the demands of her job and she had to think of ways on how to make his life as miserable as she could.

The same could be said for him – he was getting more projects now that he has become popular. In fact, he is slowly dabbling into the entertainment industry as a budding actor.

Since both of them were close to her friends in the industry, they met each other again for dinner.

It was during this moment that they got to know each other better – they were so similar that their friends thought they were perfect for each other.

“I think you two should date,” Kibum, a fashion stylist, suggested. “As much as it pains me to admit this, but yes, you two should definitely go out,” Ten, a jewelry designer, agreed.

Ten and Johnny were the closest in the group and sometimes Essie teased them about their skinship.

The two subjects looked at each other disbelievingly before bursting into laughter.

“Seriously guys?” Johnny and Essie asked the people on their table, who nodded in unison.

Eventually, they would eat their words after a heated argument on another shoot.

“You are so annoying, Suh! Why can’t you just give me the respect I deserve?” Essie was on the verge of tears, frustrated at how uncooperative Johnny was on set.

It felt like they were back to square one. The 6-footer would boss her around and give mean comments about the outfits that she chose. “I look like a firefighter in that, and I mean that in a bad way,” he wrinkled his nose in disgust at the red and yellow outfit she chose.

“That was the instruction from the style sheet, dude. Get over it. You’ve worn much weirder things than this,” Essie was losing her patience as she shoved the outfit in his hands.

“But you could’ve done better,” he said matter-of-factly, gazing into her brown eyes. “You’re already known for your work but you settled for this mediocrity,” Johnny eyed the outfit in disgust.

“Ugh! I’ve had it with you!” The girl screamed, earning the looks of the crew as she exited the studio.

She thought they were already on good terms. They’ve been hanging out a lot more after work – opting to watch the last showing of movies, drinking coffee at 3 in the morning, and even driving around until the wee hours of the morning while listening to the latest album releases.

Essie felt her heart ache when he treated her like a slave again. The tears rolled down her cheeks and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. She had the urge to smoke but remembered that her kit was inside her bag.

She was about to return to the studio but he was already there, looking apologetic.

“What do you want, Suh?” She asked harshly, not looking at his face.

“Hey, I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” he started, walking closer to her. She saw his feet approach her and before she could back away, he already held her wrists.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, but I mean it when I said that you could’ve done better.”

She looked at him with all the rage she could muster, even if tears were threatening to spill on her face again.

“Why can’t you just say it like a normal person?” Essie was already sniffing.

“Because it is never simple with us,” he said softly, now leaning closer to her face. “We always complicate things even if we shouldn’t.”

“Then why don’t we just–––” She was cut off when he kissed her.

Time slowed as they kissed under the starry sky. It wasn’t as romantic as Essie wanted it to be – they were outside the studio where the air was polluted with smoke and rubbish was almost everywhere.

When they broke apart, Johnny pulled her closer to him. “Let’s just simplify things. I’ve been attracted to you from the start, Ms. Park,” he said, tilting her chin so she could look at him.

“You stole the words right out of my mouth, Mr. Suh,” she replied, a grin spreading across her face. “But not the attraction part. I thought you were a big piece of poo,” she stuck out her tongue at him and he pinched her side in response.

“I admit that seeing you mad was cute but not all the time. You can be scary too, you know,” he said, looping both arms around her waist.

“Well duh! Is there anyone who isn’t scary when they’re mad?”

Johnny just laughed and squeezed her. “I just want us to be together. Our friends were right – we are perfect for each other,” he looked down on her with the gentlest smile on his face.

Essie felt her cheeks flush and looked away from him. “So what are you going to do about this?”

“I’m going to tell everyone that we’re dating now.” With those words, he led her back into the studio and announced to everyone that they were dating.

The crew was overjoyed when they heard this – one of them screamed ‘Finally!’ with all his might. Essie’s boss ordered a giant pizza enough to feed them for days and the photographer got three cases of beer.

It may seem like another day in the life of a fashion editor and a model wrapping up another all-nighter shoot, but for Johnny and Essie, today was the day they finally came to their senses and became the most adorable (if not sometimes obnoxious) couple the world has ever seen.

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FIN

#nct drabbles #nct scenarios #johnny drabbles #nct 127 fanfic #nct johnny #nct fluff #nct au #johnny suh fluff #johnny suh #johnny imagines #johnny scenarios #johnny suh scenarios #johnny suh fanfiction #johnny suh au

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unohanadaydreams · 6 years ago

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Gotei 13 Headcanons

(Mostly pertains to divisions when before, during, and shortly after the first and second arc but some of these headcanons are valid all the way through.)

1st Division

Competition to enter this division is fierce and unlike many divisions, re-evaluations for staying in the 1st happen fairly often.

The younger generation of shinigami in this division are fairly peaceful, while the veterans who remember the formation of the Gotei 13 are generally a gruff bunch who have a fondness for hazing the new recruits. human college greek royalty has nothing on these old timers.

Many shinigami from this division end up transferring before re-evaluations as promotion into the upper ranks is almost impossible.

2nd Division

The lush quarters and insular duties that rarely extend to going into the rukongais make this division a favorite among Soul Society royalty and nobles who wish to serve with minimal risk. Soi Fon’s fatalistic attitude makes this a surprising fact to commoner recruits who find out.

Tradition is paramount, even more so than in the 1st division. A lack of knowledge on the correct way address superiors or serve tea results in lengthy punishment and ridicule. Like, no A/C all Summer punishment.

A common test of true stealth that is required for promotion among those of this division is to steal something from the 4th division. Few succeed and fewer are spared Captain Unohana’s ire.

3rd Division

Despite the lackluster reputation, those of the 3rd division are often some of the most well rounded talents of the Gotei 13 even if they aren’t the strongest.

This division has a squad garden and tree grove. It is mandatory to plant and grow food there and the fruits of everyone’s labor results a booming fresh and fermented fruit and vegetable business that the entire Gotei 13 buys from. Members of this division have a deep sense of community and eat well thanks to their garden!

Tests of promotion and evaluation are often masked as more carefree games and pranks, causing some to skip applying to this division when they are informed of the tests.

4th Division

Although the medical aspect of this division is more popularly known, the majority of those recruited into the 4th division are put on janitorial duties throughout the Gotei 13. The 11th division is a trash can compared to the rest of the Gotei.

The 4th division sponsors the running of a hospital in the human world for studying academy hopefuls and new recruits, to teach medical science and technology that isn’t approved to be brought to Soul Society. Captain Unohana herself travels there often to keep herself updated on new techniques.

Janitors of the 4th division often find promotions within the 2nd division for their amazing knowledge of the Gotei 13 layout, learned stealth, and incredible work ethic.

5th Division

One of the highest contributors to the Maggot’s Nest. Aizen through his nonchalance to unethical and careless curiosity masked as naivety allowed this. Momo through her genuine naivety. And Shinji through his curiosity and desire to put those individuals exactly there masked as nonchalance.

Though a peaceful surface, the 5th division has some of the most constant passive aggressive and petty drama. Members of this division have the most memorable fights and bullies. Seireitei Communication Monthly’s anonymous submissions are absolutely full of 5th division members attempting to spread rumors and humiliate their peers (and spill the tea).

Has a lab building dedicated to experiments on shinigami capabilities and gadgets meant to push those capabilities. Captain Kurotsuchi often sends moles to infiltrate, but the amount of information sabotaged from 5th divisions own members to punish other 5th division members is so great, its often more frustrating than enlightening for him.

6th Division

This division is often in charge of planning any special occasions within the Gotei 13. Occasion planning and room design lessons are mandatory because of this. The lieutenant of the 2nd division hates this and often petitions for this duty to be given to his division because he finds the 6th decorations “too plain”.

The only division to have mandatory barrack checks. Anyone with an untidy or ugly room is put on janitorial duty with a designated 4th division janitor for at least a month.

The most genuinely fair division in the entire Gotei 13. The Kuchiki line, although fairly different in actual personality, have never stooped to favoritism and do not accept such an attitude in their squad.

7th Division

The division that patrols the rukongai most regularly. Most shinigami positioned in rukongai districts also come from this squad. It is seen as extremely honorable to look after innocent citizens and is largely done without complaint.

One of the hardest to deal with paperwork loads of any division, second only to the 1st division, thanks to the fact that those stationed in the rukongai (about 1/3 of the division) are not present to help. Every end of the month is known as “the crunch”.

The most shinigami of any division are married in the 7th, thanks to the member’s ability to travel and meet so many people in the rukongai.

8th Division

This squad has a lot of members who own successful businesses, especially in the beauty, clothing, and adult sectors. Its rather rare for shinigami in service to run a business, so it’s a pretty big deal, and academy recruits know this.

Plans the most events of any division, both for leisure and to advertise the businesses run by squad members. The 6th division are very close to this squad and members are often promoted between them.

The squad with the most assignments in the human world, mostly so members can expand their businesses on the side. This means they’re also the most modern thinking squad along with the 12th division.

9th Division

Has the most chaotic energy of any squad. There will be two people shouting at each other over an opinion in grammar while the person sitting next to them is peacefully reading a poem book, kind of chaotic energy.

Interacts with other divisions the most, because they all want to make sure that they are represented well in the monthly magazine. 9th division is rolling in gifts and trips thanks to the lengths other divisions will go to in terms of trying to bribe the squad (it rarely works; General Yamamoto and Captain Unohana being firm exceptions).

Has the most “field trips” of any division. They most often go to museums, landmarks, and historical tours with occasional concerts thrown in. Officially listed as “team building excursions”.

10th Division

The most legitimately laid back division. Often seen as the most boring and un-noteworthy, but this squad has the least turnover in the entire Gotei 13.

Is in charge of the Gotei 13 ethics board, which often clashed with the Central 46 and afterwards, pushed to be more strictly enforced among the divisions. So far, the 5th and 12th divisions remain the only ones resistant to follow.

Volunteer work is part of promotion requirements. Although, lieutenant Rangiku started a trend of drinking with villagers of the rukongai as volunteer work; its very popular.

11th Division

Lieutenant Yachiru has an association dedicated to watching and announcing her location, funded by all divisions. The only thing keeping her from the maggot’s nest is her loyalty to Soul Society and General Yamamoto’s odd endearment toward her.

Nap time is legitimately part of the work schedule in the 11th division. If someone from another division brings it up, squad members will vehemently defend the super needed and very manly practice.

There’s a standard to bullying 4th division members and those who go to far end up being janitors for the 4th division in short order, especially if they lip off to Captain Unohana. Captain Zaraki turns a blind eye to it.

12th Division

Since they’re so involved with technology, they are very immersed in internet culture and absolutely know what memes are. Nemu posted a few vines and almost started a crisis within the Japanese government when a video showing off zanpakto powers was proven to not be photoshopped.

D&D, supplemented by virtual reality technology, is a very popular past time among 12th division members. Captain Kurotsuchi is a merciless GM.

Recruitment numbers for this division is the absolute lowest by a long shot, due to the captain’s habit of using new recruits as expendable experiments. This has caused Captain Kurotsuchi to start attempting a cloning/copying system to get the numbers back up.

13th Division

Every month, they hold a spa day as a “wellness exercise” but truly it’s so their captain will take a break without being asked to take a break.

Karakura Town is partly under the division’s control because that’s where Isshin and Urahara are. They move Urahara’s goods to the Seireitei under the guise of being their own division’s products made in collaboration with the 12th division (known for their very cute designs and playful advertising).

Although it’s a peaceful division, it’s also a very restless one. Most shinigami in this division can’t help but want “more”, even if they don’t know what the more is. It gives the impression of a very immature group of people.

#bleach headcanons #bleach hc #bleach imagines #gotei 13 headcanons #soul society headcanons #gotei 13 imagines #honestly i have so many more but this post would be ten thousand words long so i stuck to three each

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angrylizardjacket · 6 years ago

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people change {Vince Neil}

@champagneandspice asked: hey! I adore your writing!!! could u please do a one shot but in the form of an article ? you’d be writing it as if you worked for people magazine or something like that. could u pls write ab the “speculated rumors” ab vince and I dating are true?? u could insert pictures or whatever u like. thank u <3

A/N: 2065 words. I love!! This style!! Of Writing!! also probably not what you were asking for, but i had fun and i hope you do too. i really sort of like this world/reader persona i’ve built?? i even added a few pictures for effect lmao. hope it’s enjoyable. i don’t usually do tags for one-shots but @cosmicsskies and @crazylittlethingcalledobsession asked and im too giddy to refuse.

WHAT THE F*** DO YOU THINK? - Mötley Crüe singer Vince Neil and Joan Jett & The Blackhearts newest guitarist Y/N Y/L/N spotted getting cosy after Crüe’s Atlanta show last Saturday? Does this hint at a collaboration between two bands, or is this more personal than professional? [Read more on Page 10...]

“What the f*** do you think?”

If you’re a woman working in or around the rock and roll music scene in the past half a decade, you’ve probably heard these words, or some variation of them, if you’ve come within a ten foot radius of the glam metal juggernauts Mötley Crüe; Nikki Sixx, Tommy Lee, Mick Mars, and their blonde, boyish singer Vince Neil. They’re crass by reputation, however this is unsurprisingly true to life, though if you were interested in reading an expose regarding the number of gigs they’ve done while high, or how many hotel rooms they’ve set fire to, there’s innumerable gossip rags and magazines covering those particular scandals, including at least two Rolling Stone articles in the past two years, and we’re not here to retell old stories.

When attending their concert in Atlanta last week, which I highly recommend; if given the opportunity, and you enjoy their music, see Mötley Crüe live, they give an almost unparalleled live performance, in my humble opinion as a music journalist of almost a decade, I was fortunately privy to the moment that sparked debate and controversy within the rock music gossip sphere. After the show, while I was made to wait at the stage door, their manager Doc Mcghee was kind enough to invite me to the afterparty. There, at the stage door, restless fans were held at bay, young men in black leather pants, emulating their idols, young women in barely anything at all, there to catch attention and garner the same invitation that I had received, and when the band themselves appear, it’s as if the gates of Hell had opened; the screaming I heard, ladies and gentleman.

First through the doors is Mars, already looking like he needs a shot or a nap, and he dodges more than one bra thrown his way, giving me a longsuffering look as he passes. To be that exhausted by fame is on a level I can’t even begin to comprehend. He’s on the tour bus which will take us to the hotel bar for drinks almost before anyone else is even out of the building.

Next comes what the fans have affectionately dubbed ‘The Terror Twins’, Sixx and Lee, both carrying a beer each, followed by several very pretty women who head to the bus whilst the musicians take the time to say high to their fans, signing various body parts and generally taking the time to interact with the more hardcore of their following who were waiting in the cold night air. They’re enough of a distraction that one might have missed the final band member, Vince Neil, laying uncharacteristically low, and who had actually been preceded by a surprising figure; Y/N Y/L/N, the most recent addition to Joan Jett & The Blackhearts as their rhythm guitarist.

And this, dear readers, is the moment I decide to write the first gossip piece of my life.

As someone who regularly set fire to the copies of Hollywood Star my then-housemate had been getting delivered to our apartment back when I first began my journalistic career, the idea of writing an article based on speculation about the sexual conduct of celebrities was an idea I rejected out of hand. I’d told myself I had integrity.

But then my proto-punk loving heart betrayed me, as I recalled Y/L/N’s lyrics from my favourite song of her’s, Sucker Punch, ‘speculate / scream my name / my heart, my love, baby it’s a game / they call me heartless, fancy-free / as if anyone’s meant something to a girl like me’. Y/L/N has been credited as the sole writer for the single, under her band at the time, Nuclear Patricide, who had garnered a cult following that has been credited as an idol for Joan Jett herself. After the Nuclear Patricide’s split in early ‘83, it’s been relative radio silence from the writer and lead guitarist until Joan Jett & The Blackhearts announce her as their newest addition, and she’s been with them for almost two years since.

[ID: Stills from Nuclear Patricide’s music video for Sucker Punch, 1980, known for the appearance of then-break out star Jamie Lee-Curtis. Editor’s Note: Y/L/N did not appear in the music video herself.]

So, upon seeing Y/L/N trying to keep a low profile whilst exiting a gig she clearly was not playing at, without any of her own bandmates to keep her company, I must confess I began to wonder, to speculate about the nature of her relationship with Mötley Crüe. She’s adamantly and publicly denounced romantic relationships in her work and in her public appearances up until her split from her original band, so has anything changed in the past few years?

Back at the hotel, I find myself weaving in amongst groupies and fanboys. My dark jeans and leather jacket act as a camouflage in this den of debauchery; I’ve worn professional clothing to this kind of thing before, and it usually doesn’t go over well; if the band sees a reporter there’s a sense of immediate hostility in what’s meant to be a safe space, relatively speaking, however, I’ve found that blending in, and making it clear I’m not on the offensive makes them drop their guard enough that they’ll give an honest interview.

At least until a pretty girl walks past.

Neil and Y/L/N are nowhere to be spotted as I finally take a seat with a table that has neither cocaine nor a woman on it, and once I’ve ordered a drink and looked over my notes, someone actually joins me of their own accord. It’s Tommy Lee, who, to my surprise, recognises me from the last time Crüe had played in town.

He talks about the tour, about how exciting it’s been and how he loves Atlanta, but he’s losing focus very quickly, not surprisingly since his name is being called by other tables every few moments, and there’s a faint dusting of telltale white powder around his nose. He promises ‘see you ‘round’ [sic] and then he’s off again. However, it’s as he leaves that I spot Y/N coming from a room by the back of the bar, and I make my move.

Mars has, as I’ve been told, already retired for the night, Lee is up to his eyes in cocaine, Sixx already has his dick out under his table judging by the look of him, and Neil is surprisingly MIA, so Y/L/N is easy to spot as the odd one out.

Not nearly as f***ed up or strung out as the rest of them, I watch her order a jack and coke, and down the drink mere moments after receiving it, before she turns to me. It takes her barely a second before she correctly identifies me as a reporter. I ask if she remembers meeting me, back in ‘82, she says no, but that she can pick a reporter from a mile away.

People still fawn over her, pretty girls and pretty boys alike, her aloofness drawing them in, and I’d forgotten how overwhelming it was to be this close to her. She kicks a fanboy and a groupie who are messily groping each other out of a booth and we take their seats.

This is meant to be about Mötley Crüe, and I try to tell her as such, but she just gives me a thin smile.

“Then why did you come find me?”

And she gives me that stare, you know, the one from the cover of Nuclear Patricide’s final album, Treason Is A Girl’s Best Friend. It’s that piercing stare of hers that makes you feel like she knows everything you’ve ever done wrong in your life.

I ask about her relationship with Mötley Crüe, and to my relief she looks away.

She’s candid about admitting she’s travelling with them, but not touring, right up until I ask her about her relationship with each member of the band specifically.

“Mick’s fun; he’s very talented and easily riled up. They’re all very talented of course, but Mick’s dynamic, [because] of his age and everything, is interesting within the group [sic] and I enjoy watching it all play out. He’s smacked Tommy a few times.” I’m assured that nine times out of ten he deserved it.

She’s filled with glowing praise for both Sixx and Lee in turn, and even Doc Mcghee, but Neil she is oddly silent about. He’s the first of the band she’d met; he’d seen her play a few times with The Blackhearts and has admitted to enjoying her work in previous interviews when she’s been brought up, as the pair have been spotted together before. Well, she’s been spotted with the band before. Here is where she starts, to my surprise, to get antsy. So the rumours, which I had thought to be incredibly false given her history and general attitude, have more basis than she likes to let on.

And then she gets defensive.

He’s like cocaine; everyone’s doing him, it’s just the industry; no-one’s going to judge her for a fling. She does not appear to take comfort in the sentiment.

“People change.”

I ask her what she means. She refuses to clarify and leaves. Perhaps I pushed too far, but now I feel like a detective, and like I only have one more person I need to talk to. But perhaps I should have eased myself into talking about Y/L/N to Vince himself, but I’ll have to admit, between Y/L/N leaving and finding Neil, I may have done a bit of socialising with Sixx, which I recommend recreationally, and also if you have a high tolerance for most things.

“I don’t think we’re any of your f***ing business.”

Neil does not mess around, and apparently she’d already spoken to him about our earlier meeting. I leave it be, spend the night enjoying the festivities with Sixx and Lee when I can, leaving just before the sun comes up.

Some of you may be thinking this is dissatisfying, that you came into this article wanting me to confirm or dismiss the speculated relationship between Vince Neil and Y/N Y/L/N, but I can’t. Neither of them would speak to me, and I can only leave you with a list of things I saw that night, and you can make up your own mind.

- The room Y/L/N had exited from when I first spotted her is the same room Neil left less than five minutes later as we were talking. I went to investigate later; it’s a supply closet.

- After my encounter with Neil, and I’d stayed clear of them, whenever I would spot either of them, the other was almost always within arm’s reach. Make of that what you will.

- He definitely did a line of coke off her thigh at about three in the morning.

- I asked both Sixx and Lee about it. Lee’s response was ��loud’ with something akin to a knowing smirk, and Sixx’s was ‘he’s a lucky bastard’ and when I ask him to clarify he just says ‘flexible’ and climbs to the next booth over where they’ve been asking him to do a line; I’m not even sure what to make of it, but personally I think it’s pretty damning.

- Readers, they were all over each other, I apologise for throwing my professionalism out the window for a moment, but if I’m being honest I couldn’t look to a secluded corner of the room without there being a 40% chance of seeing Vince and Y/N. It got worse as the night went on. Believe me.

So, while I don’t believe there is set to be a collaboration between Joan Jett and Mötley Crüe, I do come baring good news for those fans who had been speculating regarding Y/L/N’s relationship with the hair metal band’s lead singer. So are they together? Are they dating? Though neither party will publicly state anything, I’ll leave you with my thoughts, my observations, and the oft spoke words of the man himself;

What the f*** do you think?

#vince neil #vince neil x reader #vince neil imagine #motley crue #the dirt #the dirt imagine #motley crue imagine #nikki sixx #tommy lee #mick mars #the angry lizard writes

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fionaapplerocks · 6 years ago

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Fiona's explanation of her MTV Speech, as posted to the fan forum in 1997...

Hi everyone-

I've been meaning to write this for awhile now. Thank you very much for the birthday book. For those of you who contributed, I need to tell you that that was the most wonderful thing you could have done for me, and it couldn't have come at a better time- You should all know, that whatever it is that I and my music do for you, it can only be expressed so, because you're there listening. I'm proud of being the reason why so many wonderful people gather right here, and get to know each other, but I'm aware that I need you to be what I want to be. (There's no way to say that right.) Anyway, I gotta explain the MTV speech, because it's too annoying to be misunderstood, and if it's written down, I won't have to talk about it anymore. Here's what happened:

Sitting there in the audience, just before my award was announced, I had a crowd of people sitting around me, staring, awaiting my reaction to the outcome of the "contest". Now me,- I was sure I couldn't win. For me, MTV seemed like the land of the cool- the popular peoples' party, and I honestly didn't expect to be accepted and appreciated by the very ones who, at that point, still intimidated me, you know? I mean, I remember what it was like being a freshman in high school, and feeling so small and inadequate in the shadows of those beautiful "senior people". I remember actually believing that somehow their lives were better than mine- more fun and more meaningful, because they had status, and I didn't. Then, when I was a senior, I still thought the grass would be greener, only this time, it was the celebrities I was comparing myself to. I would watch these awards shows, watch them all walk down the red carpets, and think,- fuck- I'm nobody. Those people are special. They're perfect. Everyone likes them. They get invited to parties- they get all the pretty clothes. I don't have shit. I shop at Ross Dress For Less and I gotta pay a 10 buck cover charge to wait in the cold before anyone lets me into their parties, and even then, I'm still just me. No one knows my name. No one cares what I think. How come some people are born to grace and perfection and gleeful reception wherever they arrive, and others are doomed to be shunned and shamed for their misfortune and even for their sacred individuality? I know a lot of people feel that way, that's why people got so annoyed with me for saying what I said. They figured "she's got it all, and she's complaining to us?"

But you see, that's exactly the mentality I strive to overturn. I mean, you think I've got something that makes my life a fairytale- that makes my life enviable, because people know my name, I'm starting to make a lot of money? Well, I agree, I do. I'm lucky to be able to do the shit I do, and I love to do it, most of the time. But when I started with this whole music thing, I wanted to bring people together, and show them that all we are is what we feel. No one's got more than anyone else. Not really. The only thing anyone ever truly possesses, are the thoughts and feeling we use as fuel, to motivate ourselves into action. And the only things we can ever take real pride in, are the physical manifestations of all our pains and passions; the actions we control- the situations we create-the thoughts and feelings we provoke in one another. In that sense, we're all the same, and there's no reason to ever envy or feel inferior to anyone know matter how much fame and money they've got and there's no sense in even looking up to them, just because they've got those things. But this society is infatuated with celebrities. We look on hollywood with the eyes of desperate disciples. We copy their clothes, their hair do's and don'ts, their attitudes, behavior and even the most trivial of characteristics we read about in magazines, like what comic books they read, and what soda they drink. We herald them as gods, as royalty, and when we compare ourselves to them, we feel small. When I won, I felt like a sellout. I felt that I deserved recognition, but that the recognition I was getting, was for the wrong reasons. I felt that now, in the blink of an eye, all of those people who didn't give a fuck who I was, or what I thought, were now all at once, just humoring me, appeasing me, and not just because of my talent, but instead because of the fact that somehow with the help of my record company and my make-up artist, my stylist, and my press, I had successfully created the illusion that I was perfect, and pretty, and rich, and therefore living a higher quality of life. I started to resent being there, because I felt like I was now one of those seniors, one of those "better than thou" celebrities, who made me feel so small before, and now, I was going to make people feel small. I'd saved myself from the misfit status, but I'd betrayed my own kind, by becoming a paper doll in order to be accepted.

"It's stupid that I'm even in this world" only referred to that fact that up on that stage, I didn't feel cool. I didn't feel like I had graduated into celebrity, I felt like I snuck into that party, and because I was wearing nice clothes, and I was bearing a name that some people now recognized, somehow, I tricked them all into thinking I belonged. I thought they liked me for superficial reasons, and therefore, I resented being liked. (Just like when I was a junior in high school, and guys started asking me out all of a sudden, I know it was because of my physical metamorphosis. "I've always been a good person," I thought, and I hated their clothing for I knew it was due only to that fact over the summer I had grown breasts.) Does anyone see what I mean? I know I'm a little oversensitive. I'm cynical, impulsive, and in many ways, very stupid. But I had this thought, and I had this feeling, and I said it. I put it into action. I provoked conversation. And that, I am proud of.

Also, here is a letter I am sending to Spin (no explanation necessary). Three things: 1.) I do not think of Tori Amos as the "poster girl for rape"- I was merely referring to the danger in both of us being honest about our personal experience, when, as public figures, there is a tendency of the media to label us and reduce our music to simply a reflection of one cultural ill.

2.) I don't want to die. If you knew me personally, you'd see that I was just being me- sarcastically, cynically, and deadpan. (Please- I was coming out of a photo shoot- and if you read the article, you know I consider suicide a tasty alternative to modeling.)

3.) And finally, just to clarify, the "Criminal" video is not an erotic reference to my childhood assault- please. It's about the trouble in weilding the the double edged sword of female sexuality. The thin line between sweet seduction and subversive manipulation. How come I feel like a "Bad, bad girl", when all I did was have a night of fun? Just cause a girl gets her kick in bed, don't mean she's a victim, or a slut, or a whore. And if you're dumb enough to think I'm a victim, cuz I look "waifish", well then you probably can't read this letter, so what can I say?

One last thing. Remember, everything you see in the media, is what the people with the big desks want you to see. Seek your own answers to the questions that are raised. Like I said before, "Go with yourself!" --Fiona

#Fiona Apple #mtv #speech #MTV VMA awards #1997

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furkanandiceng · 5 years ago

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FURKAN ANDIÇ BEMAN MAGAZINE (OCTOBER 2017) INTERVIEW TRANSLATION

You are on our screens with a very different role in Kanal D’s TV series “Meryem”. How is it going?

We’re very busy, to be honest. Just like every work in this sector, we film the episodes within a very limited time, which requires working at quite a busy pace. But I can say that, for us actors, the most important criteria of satisfaction is the quality of the final product. Because the feeling of satisfaction we get as a result of the effort we put in is indescribable. Then you think that it is worth the effort. What we do in Meryem really satisfies me, which in turn motivates me to keep up with this busy schedule.

Do you understand the situation Savaş is in? Do you communicate with the characters you play?

Before building a relationship with the characters I play, I create them. In this way, I know everything about the characters I play in the light of all the knowledge I have gained through my acting experiences so far. We form an opinion (about the character) with the help of the information in the script and character analysis. After that, you ask whatever questions you wish about that character into the space and help that character have a physical form, be something living. It may be a traumatic reflex from his past, or the reactions he gives to different emotions. Then, with our directors, we try to create the character by making all the connections between the total of these and his past given in the script.

Savaş’s situation is really interesing. Life has wounded him from somewhere other than daily problems such as money, love or work. He is a man who lost his mother at an early age and had to grow up separate from his house because of the conflicts he had with his father. And this has always made him emotionally incomplete. After he loses his fiancée who was filling this void and helping him hold onto life in an accident, everything becomes even more difficult for Savaş. The void created in his life after Sevinç’s death pushes him to avenge his emotional breakdown and to start a search of the criminal.

Can you control your anger? What makes you angry the most?

Anger is a very interesting emotion. A very natural, humane reaction when someone is assaulted or deprived of something. To be honest, I used to have a quick temper and show my anger to the other person. But as I got more mature, I have come to realize how tired the other person becomes as a result of such reactions. So in recent years, I can control my anger pretty well. I don’t make an extra effort for this either. What makes me angry the most is when someone takes me for a fool. We people are social beings; we have a tendency to live together in a community. And communication is the most valuable social tool we use to understand each other. We can resolve everything through communication, but the fact that people try to fool others is, in my opinion, like fraud. Because I think like this, I can say that I dislike when people take me for a fool.

You’ve had your first movie experience with “Damat Takımı”. It is going to be in theaters soon, are you excited?

Damat Takımı is very valuable to me. First of all, the script was good and I felt that the friendship of the characters was very similar to the friendship I have with my friends. This is very valuable. Secondly, both my Volkswagen Beetle car and my best friend and manager have minor roles in it, which I believe will bring good luck. And most importantly, Damat Takımı is my first movie.

I had always filmed TV series before this and was very picky about movies, and this had both advantages and disadvantages. Its bright side is that my first movie is like how I imagined. Such a movie that I will keep a copy throughout my life and watch it proudly whenever I wish. The downside is that I met the magical world of cinema late. Cinema is a very different field from TV. Since we don’t have time problem, every scene can be structured more finely, both by the actor and the director. The beginning and the end (of the script) is there, so you can build the character in more detail. And this made me feel as free as I had never felt before, which in turn was reflected directly in my acting. I am going to watch it for the first time on October 16th in the premiere, to be honest. So I can say that I’m very excited. I hope people who take time and watch it enjoy themselves too.

Is there a specific movie genre or character that you want to play in the future?

I want to work in projects that have good scripts and well-written characters that I believe I can portray well. And of course, I want to do all of these with an innovative team. In other words, like everything else, cinema changes rapidly so I want to work in projects that I think will catch up with this speed.

Frankly speaking, rather than being an actor limited to one genre, I want to play characters with diverse emotions and motivations, so I want to be not only in romantic comedies but also in different categories of movies such as drama, horror and action. I think, as an actor, my job is to wear the shoes of the character I will play and present the paths he walks and the choices he makes to the viewers.

Have you learnt anything from the characters you play?

The script’s uniqueness, the actor’s imagination and curiousity altogether can make the actor feel intense and real feelings that he’s never experienced before. The actor can even collect memories, so to speak, while experiencing those feelings. I learnt a lot of things from each of the characters I created. And I believe that made me a more mature person in life. Having different experiences and adding something to yourself while playing different characters are great opportunities for actors.

Among the countries you traveled to, where did you feel like you belonged?

Bali, Indonesia. The attractive disorderliness of the location... A lot of people travel from Europe to Bali. And many people who come bring along their cultures. But, on the other hand, the local people preserve their own religious beliefs and cultural values and this kind of creates a very orderly disorderliness in the island. The island’s unique and attractive natural beauties also made me feel like I belonged there. Beside this fascination, I can say that Bali is an ideal place for me considering my personality. I’m a person of warm climates. I like water and water sports. I like to observe different cultures and talk to people from those cultures. I can communicate with them easily and learn something from them. The local people in Bali also have the same sentiments and motivation toward the foreigners. This is why I love that place.

Have you ever had to break up with someone? If it’s not very personal, why?

Breaking up with someone is something dramatic for me, and I may have never told someone to break up in my life. But I may have played a significant part in the ending of some of my relationships, because at the end of the day, breaking up is a destruction. At work or in friendships, it is the end of a relationship in its general sense. We can say that it is destruction for both sides. That’s why I prefer keeping this destruction at minimum. Even if I’m the one destroying it, I try not to hurt the other person. That’s why I don’t want to say that I’ve broken up with someone. I probably managed to explain myself and my reasons, so I can’t give you any examples since I haven’t broken up with anyone.

When did you suffer because of love for the first time; are you in love right now?

I was 11 in 5th grade, and it was because I couldn’t confess to her. It was a very painful feeling. Loving someone romantically isn’t something we experience every day. That’s why we definitely have to protect our love. We may often be afraid to confess it to the other person, but I believe that nothing that may happen when we share our feelings can be worse than not sharing them at all. Nowadays, I’m not in love with anyone. You never know what future will bring but I can say that there’s no time for it in this tempo of my life.

Do you get help when you shop?

Yes. I make sure to ask the opinion of the person with me.

Is there anything that makes you say “I don’t want to die before I do it”?

I don’t want to die before filming a full-length movie that I’ve written. I hope I will have the chance to do it.

What is the book that had the biggest impact on you?

“Aşkın Gözyaşları” (Tears of Love) by Sinan Yağmur. Shams Tabrizi and Mevlana are two figures whose wisdom was admired not only during their days but even today. In the book, we see both their divine love and eternal values like loyalty, dedication, belief and reality. I also think that the book doesn’t take any sides and everyone can find sincere values about life in it.

Have you ever had a moment when you thought you grew mature?

Toward the end of 2000s, after high school, I went to Kiev, Ukraine. Going there made a big difference in my maturity level. Life was too difficult there. It wasn’t like a normal university life. I can say that it was more like a “fight for survival”. There was a huge difference between the living standards I had before I went to Kiev and after I went to Kiev. It taught me to live with less and to create something out of nothing. What made me mature was that I normalized the process and moved on with my life. I learnt a lot. It may also be because I was at an age when my personality was being set. So, in short, the time when I believe I grew mature was when I returned from Kiev.

Is there an attire that you wear all the time? What kind of style do you have?

My black and white t-shirts. As a style, I like getting dressed casually. Wearing simple and plain clothes is an aesthetic appearance, in my opinion. That’s why I don’t prefer very complicated pieces of clothing. Comfortable pants and a plain t-shirt can make me feel good. That’s when I think what I wear looks good on me. Also, I think what we call a style is the choices that make one feel good.

Who do you look up to the most in life?

I actually look up to a lot of people. Artists, athletes, scientists... I look up to every person who makes efforts to add value to the world rather than to achieve something when they are alive. I can say Keanu Reeves, for example. His humility, helpfulness and spiritual world is really admirable. He’s someone who weighs his work only in terms of the value it adds to the world. I believe that he has a focus like “How can the world become a better place with my performance or the money I earn?”. I think that his tragic background didn’t stop him from achieving his goal but even helped him have this vision. This is a level of patience and calmness that I can look up to greatly.

Why did you choose martial arts?

I did sports throughout my life. I was interested in many sports, particularly basketball. But they were all team sports. I learned different kinds of disciplines and skills, of course. But in this tempo of my life now, it’s really hard to form a team and dedicate myself to the team. So I started doing individual performance sports. The reason why I’ve chosen martial arts is the adrenaline and philosophy. You have different kinds of experiences due to adrenaline hormone. It teaches you to think reactively, know the opponent within a short time, foresee what’s coming, weigh the defense and attack at the same time and most importantly, to focus on that moment independently from everything else. They also have humble philosophies like respecting the opponent, preserving the body’s agility, not hurting the opponent, using intelligence more than excitement and achieving a mental tranquility. This is why I’m interested in martial arts.

Do you have a weakness for anything?

I can actually say that I have a weakness for fun. I noticed this through the observations of the people close to me. Like everyone else, I try to be with the people I love and spend fun time with them while enjoying life. And I can sometimes lose the track of time while doing it. Making the most of now is, in my opinion, life itself. So I may be trying to keep that fun time longer.

What does acting mean to you?

An achieved goal. But after achieving this goal, I’ve realized that it is a very deep and long journey. I know I still have a very long road ahead; it makes me very excited. In some scenes, actors can get too immersed in the depth of a moment. We may experience very exciting feelings in such moments. It is like you are given the chance to live a moment of someone else’s life in your own life. If an actor has really tasted this, he will probably want to collect such moments during the rest of his life as much as he can.

Are you happy with where you are?

Yes. I’m at a point where I feel I’m very open to learning. It had never been so fun to learn something. I’m satisfied with the point I have arrived by improving myself in my work life too.

Our motto is “BeStyle”. What’s yours?

“Know yourself.”

(English Sub) Q&A: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmLBamZc-Vc

Backstage: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BozrkARyLL4

#Furkan Andıç #FurkanAndıç #Beman #Magazine #Interview #Her Yerde sen #HerYerdeSen #Furkan

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