#terry and cigars needs to be a thing again

[mrgriffiths]

"He's obnoxious."

Yeah, he's perfect. "🐍

Thomas Ian Griffith as Terry Silver in The Karate Kid part 3 circa 1989.

☆aesthetic series☆

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[atmostories]

Terry Silver x Reader

Tags: NSFW, Female Reader, Exhibitionism A gift for @terrence-silver 🖤🖤🖤 An Evening At The Opera

You were out like a light. Was the opera really that boring? Terry sniggered to himself as he possessively caressed your hair, fingers twirling and wrapping around the strands. You were napping on his lap while Reginald drove the limo back home to the hills. The lights of LA streamed past him in an unintelligible blur, the events of the evening still rushing through his body like two fresh hits of ketamine in his bloodstream. He could do with a cigar right now, but didn't want to disturb you with any movement. The celebration could wait. There was a growing urge to take you the moment you entered the mansion's threshold, or hell he could even fuck you right on the entranceway, smear his come and yours on the front door to mark this home as both his and yours forever. Like two king cobras marking the entrance to their den, a declaration of their mated nature, a warning to strangers to stay clear or face the consequences. Love and death all intertwined as one. However, his beloved needed to rest. He'd have you again first thing in the morning, wake you up to the sensations of his body desperately rubbing against yours. "We missed over an hour of the opera, my dear, we'll simply have to go again." He'd whisper and giggle into your ear, no doubt thinking of what transpired.

/ / / La Bohème was completely sold out. So of course, Terry had purchased the biggest box of the theatre, best seat in the house. The previous holder of the box had been outbid, much to their distress Margaret had assured him. Well, if you wanted something, you took it. Why was that so hard for people to understand? Just like he took you. Somehow you were both easier and harder to take than he thought it would be. Easier because your feelings for him were so potent even from early on. That made his toes curl just at the thought, how much you wanted him, how your devotion shone through you like a reflection of his own, more blinding than the sun itself. And it was harder because he needed to earn your trust. Trust had never been something he'd needed to foster when he was seducing someone. Usually all he'd need to do was give the right look, mutter an innuendo here or there, and his body would do the rest of the work. He never had to chase someone before. Whoever peeked Terry's interest, already wanted him. There was never any hesitation involved. He never realised how exciting the thrill of the hunt would be. Forever being thrown prey into his cage, fat and lazy from the endless offerings, until the day he spotted you beyond the threshold of his contained dominion. He couldn't just take your body, that was too easy. He needed your mind, your heart, your fucking soul cradled against him to keep for all eternity. When you both arrived at the theatre, Terry ensured you went through the staff only entrance. You simply looked too ravishing tonight, he couldn't allow the paparazzi to have up close shots of you. He guided you through the back area like he owned the place, which he of course did now, past the stage hands and technicians, past the dressing rooms of the performers. They cooed and greeted you like you were both the star lovers of the show, wishing that you enjoyed the evening.

"Break a leg." Terry announced to them. He smirked at you then, enjoying the amused but almost reprimanding expression on your face. His heart panged with desire, fuck he wanted you so badly. The waiting area was buzzing with guests and conversation, the excitement palpable in the air, but the noise noticeably quietened when the two of you came in. Many faces turned to you, Terry subconsciously tightened his grip around your white faux fur capelet-covered shoulder. Your capelet matched the white ribbon adorned on his ponytail, which you had tied yourself. Your blood red tailored dress matched his cravat and waistcoat underneath his jacket. He ensured that it was the exact shade of your blood from the cut he most definitely didn't purposefully cause by prodding your finger against a rose thorn in the east wing greenhouse almost a month ago. His mind was filled with the image of sucking your finger for almost half an hour, the heady metallic taste of you ripe in his memory. Heading to the box, he led you up the stairs, hand in hand. An announcement was made over the speakers that the performance would start shortly. Right on cue. You were shown into box by a personal butler who he immediately dismissed after you'd taken your seat. He wanted the two of you alone, undisturbed. After all, he wasn't here for the damn opera. The box was extremely luxurious, it had its own bar in the corner, its own bathroom. Rather than two separate seats, the two of you sat on an eighteenth century Chesterfield that he'd had specially procured for the evening. He asked whether you liked the box and you were gushing out compliments to him, eyes wide with excitement as you took in view of the theatre, the perfect central location with the best view of the stage and the orchestra in front of it. "Have I told you how beautiful you look, my dear?" Your cheeks reddened like he was summoning your blood to the surface like a satanic blood ritual, your skin almost splitting open upon a rose thorn. “Yes you have, Terry, thank you. And you look very handsome.” "Do I?" He feigned, his hand reaching up to rest on your neck. The lights of the theatre dimmed, his thumb rubbing along your throat. It was his explicit gesture to you that he was hard and desperately needed to be inside of you. A gasp escaped your mouth before you stuttered out a yes. His eyes flicked down to his lap, his silent command for you to place a hand on his cock, to feel how much he needed you, for you to dare question his desire for his beloved. Your motion was slow, delayed, you weren't entirely comfortable doing this here, but you obeyed, you always did. You were so good to him. You gasped again, feeling how hard he was over his slacks. You never could exactly grasp the depths of his want for you, the hardness of his cock physical proof that words couldn't quite place. La Bohème began its opening act with its star lovers rather too preoccupied, he mused before shifting his body like he was paying attention to the performance. You followed suit, though your soft, gentle hand kept up its teasing motions, fingers rubbing against his length.

His hips lazily kept raising slightly to meet your touch, the music and singing mere noise in the background. He slid an arm around your shoulder, his thumb rubbing up and down your throat, I want you, I need you, I want you, I need you, he conveyed to you over and over and over. Branding his desire onto your body. Were you wet yet? Were your thighs aching? Were you finding it impossible to take in a deep breath? Was your clit twitching? His other hand rested on your thigh, and your free hand shot out to his with surprising speed as you began urgently rubbing his inner wrist. Now this was your explicit gesture to him. I want you, I need you, I want you, I need you, you begged him, you screamed at him with your wordless gesture. He shot up from the Chesterfield, wrenching the privacy curtains closed as far as they would go. Climbing on top of you, his mouth devoured yours, his lips pressing against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth to meet your own before he began to suck on your own tongue. He growled at the way you groaned in surprise at the sensation. He pulled away. This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all, would it? He hurried you to your feet, ready to carry you out of the box and down the theatre stairs if you weren't fast enough. But you were up and being pulled by him out through the door like the box had been set on fire. “Mr. and Mrs. Silver?” The butler called out, concern heavy in his voice. Terry knew you'd want to satiate this complete stranger, purely out of the goodness of your heart. He sighed internally. "Pressing business!" Terry shouted back, pulling you around the corner. He looked back at you, inflamed by the smile on your face for him knowing just what you wanted. He immediately stopped at the top of the stairs, out of sight from any of the staff. His hand slid under your dress, cupped your cunt and squeezed, forcing a squeal out of your hot, wet mouth. "Pressing indeed." He murmured, capturing your lips for a brief moment before forcing himself to take you down the stairs. Otherwise he'd be fucking you right there and then. He told hold of your waist, taking some of your weight to keep you balanced, how could you not be weak at the knees for him? He came to a halt in the waiting area, head flicking side to side as he took in his options, body shaking in need, cock straining against his underwear, hand gripping onto yours like a lifeline, it was too far to the limo, the back area was busy with people, hmm. . .coat closet? Practically shoving a wad of cash at the attendants, he ordered for them to leave and slammed the door shut behind them. With no time to waste, he stripped off the fur capelet that was covering your bare shoulders and ripped the top part of your dress down, the sound of tearing material made his balls ache. As you stood frozen in shock, his mouth immediately attacked your nipples, he manoeuvred you against one of the coat racks, your back cushioned by real fur coats. He nipped and sucked and nibbled at you without breaking away, you were more out of breath than he was. Something had to be done about those real fur coats, he thought to himself, letting out a chuckle as he pulled back, giving you a second to take in oxygen. Taking to his knee, he wrenched up the dress to your hips, knocked apart your legs and shoved his mouth into your wet cunt like a man dying of thirst and god he felt like it. You squealed and desperately grabbed onto his shoulders for support. He played with your clit with his tongue, incensed by your constant stream of moans and cries. Working a finger inside of you, he began a relentless pace, rubbing your clit side to side, fucking you deep with one finger before working in another, and then a third. Your legs were shaking by then, your eyes kept rolling back, your hand mindlessly gripping onto his hair, undoing the meticulously neat ponytail you'd tied back earlier that evening. His white ribbon fell onto the floor.

He was too selfish to let you come first, he wanted to come with you. Pulling his mouth and fingers away from you, he rose off the floor to stand. You looked like you'd been fucked out of your mind and his cock hadn't even been inside of you yet. As he scrambled to release his cock, he lifted up one of your legs and you cried out together when he sunk into you. He growled at the wet, tight, hot sensation, relishing it for a fleeting moment before he began to move. Leaning down, his forehead pressed against yours, his tongue licking up the side of your face, his lips laying kisses on your cheeks. He could taste your come, your sweat, your skin. He fucked you hard and fast, your bodies laced together, the mated king cobras deep in the throws of heat. The two of you as one, like it was always meant to be. His hips kept thrusting into you. He knew you were close, he was close to. Weeks and weeks had been spent tuning himself to your rhythms, learning how to delay his pleasure and the effort had paid off tenfold. He upped his paced, feeling that you were about come, his body clinging onto yours. Falling silent as you climaxed together, the sound of you orgasming was music to his ears. He slowed his pace after you reached the peek, emptying himself inside of you. He looked at you then, his thumb coming up to rub against your throat. The touch made you come back to reality, you looked back at him, mouth open, expression spent, someone needed a nap, rest her head right up against his cock. Pulling out of you, he took to his knees again to admire some of his come drip down your thighs. He wiped it off your skin with his hand and wiped it on the fur coats behind you. "My dear doesn't like fur." He commented casually as you stared at him quizzically. After collecting more come leaking from you, he wiped it on another coat, and another. He was doing his part after all, ruining these horrible people's coats. The curiosity on your expression was replaced by concern, your eyebrows furrowing when he took to his feet. “Angel, your hair,” you muttered, regret on your expression, hand reaching out to tuck some of it behind his ear. He snatched onto your hand, staring at you for ten long seconds before sniggering and falling into a fit of laughter.

[eemcintyre]

Playing the Part

TW- an instance of nonconsensual kissing.

Summary- After the events of Rodeo Drive, the vibes between Valerie and Terry are noticeably different. Finally, Terry arranges for the media to discover them when they soft-launch their relationship to the public at a cafe.

Apologies that it's taken this long to get the third part out and that's it's not super long, but I'm finally happy with it and hopefully over my writer's block for a bit! Don't know why I was so stuck on this one but a big thank you to @karatekels for giving the me the inspo I needed to slightly rework and finish it! I hope y'all enjoy ����

Several days had passed since the whirlwind day on Rodeo Drive, and on the following Wednesday, Valerie sat in the Dynatox office at her desk. Elbows propped atop the armrests of her chair, she clutched a steaming cup of tea to her chest, holding it more as a comfort and as something to do with her nervous hands than as a beverage, but remembering to take a sip every now and then.

It was safe to say that, if things already hadn’t felt odd and uncomfortable between her and Terry, they certainly were now. In addition to their regular duties at work, luckily a lot of the time when they had to be near each other was also consumed by preparations for their public debut that weekend.

Unfortunately, however, none of it was enough to prevent Valerie from inadvertently staring at Terry from across the office instead of at her computer. And, rather than glaring at him and his cigar smoke, her gaze curiously traced the curve of his ring-adorned fingers, as well as the faint outlines of muscle visible through his clothes; a sight that had been seared into her memory all too well after his damp, shirtless entrance at his home the other week.

Why didn’t God ever seem to give with both hands? How could such an egotistical, rude, depraved man have the nerve to be so good-looking?

While Valerie engaged in this mental battle of wills, pointedly scowling down into the murky depths of her tea, she didn’t notice Terry studying her just as intently from his own desk, his face partially hidden behind a folder. The hysterical irony of this moment was not lost on him; he could hardly contain his laughter at how the tables had turned within a matter of weeks, from him watching her obsessively, to her now doing the same, clearly trying to fight the urge but just as clearly losing.  

The next day, another afternoon at the Ennis House, was almost too much for Valerie to handle given the changed atmosphere between them. The purpose of this meeting was the carefully planned photoshoot, orchestrated to give the impression that they’d been dating for longer and spent many more occasions together than they really had. All afternoon they changed outfits while Terry’s staff reworked the amassed props and backdrops to mimic another building location or overseas locale. What an odd experience that had been, like they were models posing for an editorial shoot.

Valerie caught herself wondering throughout, as they held hands and beamed at each other and acted out scenes of parties, trips, and even just lounging together at the house, what it would actually be like to be in such a relationship, intermingling with that section of society.

On one hand, it seemed it would be full of whimsical adventure- she imagined the places around the world that she would see that she otherwise would probably never be able to; the celebrities, political figures, art collectors and other Silver-esque businessmen whose wealth made them influential that she would meet. And perhaps the most wonderful part of all- to never have to worry about money again; to be comfortable and unconcerned about whether she looked cheap or could make her rent; to have the freedom to treat herself to some of life’s finer things.

On the other hand, if Terry was any example to go off of, she wondered whether it would be worth sacrificing her humanity and sincerity. But, seeing as she would never know regardless, she soon stopped contemplating what was a nonexistent problem- in favor of devoting her attention to the very much existent one.

Despite the echoing roominess and impassive blocks of stone comprising every room in the Ennis House, with each moment of lingering eye contact or prolonged silence, all air seemed to leave the room and Valerie felt suffocated and sweaty. After a few too many times that she caught herself gazing at his mouth when he seemed not to be looking, she excused herself to the bathroom.

This would not do. She spent a chunk of time pacing before the mirror across the room’s red and black tiles, noting with an unsurprised chuckle that, of course, even his bathroom looked villainous and over-the-top. If she didn’t have the misfortune of knowing the man, she wouldn’t believe he was real. As Valerie paced, she whispered to her reflection in the mirror, lecturing herself. Even though she was rooms and hallways away from where she had left Terry, she had the weird feeling that he could hear and see everything that went on in that house.

“You didn’t move across the country, do all of this work, and take all of his bullshit just to become another of his one-night stands,” she hissed. “Sure, it’s not like this is something that happens to people every day and, all things considered, I think you’ve been handling things pretty well. Credit where credit is due. But try and act like you’ve been kissed before.” She paused in front of the mirror with a wilting look, gripping the black marble counter with both hands. “Sure, it was good, but it wasn’t that good.” She pointed firmly at herself in warning. “Remember who that mouth is attached to.”

~

When the morning dawned on the Saturday that was to be her and Terry’s official public debut, Valerie was struck for the first time with the feeling that she truly might not be able to handle the responsibilities she’d taken on in their ever-so-unconventional agreement. Dressing in another of the outfits she and Joan had picked out, Valerie tried to channel the grace, elegance, and poise of the attire as she stood in front of her mirror, shaking.

Struggling to fit her wallet and everything else she thought she might need into another of the new and unbearably small handbags, Valerie made a last check that her pearl earrings hadn’t fallen out along her frenzied way as Milos buzzed the apartment- the signal that it was time to be whisked away by the limo once more. Except, this time, instead of admiring the California scenery or feeling the least bit sophisticated and cool, she felt like she was being transported to her own public execution. At least she would leave behind a fashionable-looking corpse.

Over the entire drive to the café, Terry was listing off the facts of their fabricated backstory and coaching her on how to behave, but Valerie was too concentrated on trying not to throw up to retain much of it. Not only was the press always trying to dig up stories on Terry regardless, but he'd specifically arranged for reporters and paparazzi to witness the couple's upcoming appearance by utilizing one of his media contacts to drop a tip.

“Valerie!” he eventually snapped at her, succeeding in capturing her attention. “You can’t lose your nerve on me now. We’ve both put in too much work for you to go deer-in-the-headlights at the last minute.”

Valerie opened her mouth in a defensive but stammering reply; Terry could easily see past the thin layer of bluster. While part of him wanted to gloat about how she wasn’t so smart-mouthed now, huh? he knew he had to help her keep it together in this moment. The fun of breaking her down would come later and taste all the sweeter. He scooted closer to her, getting in her face, softening the volume of his voice but not the gravity of his tone or expression. She recoiled slightly, but not as much as she used to when they first interacted, he noted. Excellent.

“Listen to me. Fear does not exist. To get through this and give a truly believable performance, you’ve got to shut out everything but you and me. You’re the enchanting starlet, I’m your leading man, and we’re both method actors now, baby. If we really sell it, there’s no way any of them will know unless we tell them- which, of course, isn’t going to happen. We’re the ones in control here. They’re just a bunch of parasites looking for a good story. And, hell, are we going to give them one.”

Terry finished his pep talk with the cunning smirk that usually annoyed her, but in that moment, his persistent confidence reassured her.

The limo rolled to a stop soon after and the two of them were dropped at the curb- after that, everything became a blur until, suddenly, Valerie found herself sitting at a table on a café patio, hardly knowing how she or the drink and pastry on the table in front of her got there. Since scrutinizing their surroundings for reporters surprisingly didn’t do her anxiety any good, she attempted an alternate strategy, which was keeping her gaze glued to the foamy, white-beige surface of her London Fog. Terry, on the other hand, was surveying their view with calculated intentions, absentmindedly toying with the ring on his left pinky. He muttered a curse and something else inaudible, prompting Valerie to tear her gaze away from her tea and glance at him with her eyebrows furrowed.

“What?”

Terry pointedly glanced to a spot across the street. By a streetlamp and a decorative bed of greenery, a woman lurked in the shade provided by the nearby shrubs. At first glance, she looked like any other pedestrian, in a chic but nondescript pantsuit and orange-red hair swept and pinned up out of her face. But closer inspection revealed her to be scribbling furiously on a notepad, head bobbing up and down from the notepad to the couple seated in front of the café. Then a camera lens glinted from behind the bushes, alerting Valerie to the fact that the woman was not alone- accompanied by not one, but two photographers.

“Who’s that?” Valerie hissed, and Terry’s hand shot forward to grip one of hers in a warning not to react so visibly.

“That’s Amanda Shotwell, the gossip queen of L.A. Mandy’s been trying to come up with some kind of big story on me for years,” he remarked with a patronizing chuckle, suggesting she hadn't yet succeeded and never would unless he wanted her to.

Of the few sure things in Los Angeles, one was that the sun would rise and set each day. Another was that Ms. Shotwell would be knee-deep in everyone’s business for every moment in between.

Over her years as the leading reporter on First Look News’ staff, she had built up a reputation so relentless that she was once quoted as saying “If I don’t get threatened with a restraining order, it means I just haven’t been investigating hard enough.” She often justified her invasive practices, from straddling the fences of private estates to placing hidden cameras, with claims that she was on a noble mission to expose vice and promote transparency- that the people deserved to know what the public figures around them were doing. But anyone with the slightest grip on reality could see that she was addicted to the drama and the power trip that she got from essentially terrorizing the city’s upper circles.

“So, smile, honey- it’s showtime.”

Terry’s grip on Valerie’s hand tightened, and it seemed to her to be simultaneously a warning to begin playing it up, as well as a gesture of grounding comfort. It was now or never to show them all- him, the press, her family and friends, and herself that she could do something intimidating and impulsive- and succeed.

Now that the moment was upon her and the anticipation was over, it was like a switch inside had flipped. Boldly meeting Terry’s expectant eyes, she smiled forcefully, taking a long sip of her previously untouched London Fog.

“Atta girl,” he murmured, lifting her hand to press a kiss to it without breaking their eye contact.

Valerie glanced demurely down at her lap, eyelashes fluttering, pretending to laugh softly through gritted teeth.

“So, what are we supposed to do?” she replied, stealing another glance in Ms. Shotwell’s direction- the scribbling had increased in ferocity and she seemed to be quietly barking orders at the photographers.

“Drink your tea,” he muttered, as if he were stating the obvious.

“Shotwell can’t possibly be her real last name,” Valerie remarked on the all too well-fitting surname for a reporter, eyebrows furrowed.

Terry tried to engage her in small talk that was meant to distract her and help their performance, but which Valerie found only further maddening. Soon she realized that his face was now inches away from her own. Fighting the urge to jump backward despite how every nerve in her body was screaming, “What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Come on, they’ll love it; they’ll go crazy.”

“I… hold on, um-” Valerie felt the panic returning as Terry began to close the remainder of the space between them.

“Just remember the way we practiced- relax, let it flow.”

She felt his other hand, the one not already intertwined with one of hers, firmly at the back of her neck as he pressed his mouth to hers. She heard the frenetic clicking of cameras getting what was sure to be the next day’s juicy, front-page shot of the Society section.

When Terry finally released her, after what felt like an eternity, she felt heat ascending across her face. Wrenching her hand from his as nondescriptly as possible, she hid her face behind her teacup and took another sip, head spinning.

When she finally managed to look back at Terry, she saw that he was trying desperately not to laugh, and her disorientation turned to seething. By then, Amanda and her photoshoot entourage had given up even trying to hide and were out in the open across the street in the effort to get better shots.

Valerie and Terry pretended to only just now notice their presence, laughing together in embarrassment that their intimate moment had been immortalized in film and that their relationship would now be revealed- as if the choice to sit right in front of a popular café on a busy morning wouldn’t have been enough of a guarantee of that result.

But one benefit of Valerie's anger was that it had pushed even the thought of nervousness temporarily to the wayside. She was almost overcome with the urge to slap him, but that simply wouldn’t do. Another course of action, one that would arguably be an even better revenge on him, would have to suffice.

As the forced laughter stretched on, Valerie calmly set her teacup down and dipped the tip of her finger into the foam surface.

“You try that again before I’m ready and I’ll break your fingers,” she whispered saccharinely, while, without breaking eye contact or saying a word, she reached across the table and smeared the finger covered with foam across the point of Terry’s nose.

She saw him arm move almost imperceptibly to snap up and grab her, before his better judgment reeled him in. His normally icy-pale face took on a distinct shade of angry red underneath an absolutely shit-eating grin as he wiped his nose with his napkin.

“I’d love to see you try,” he replied through a tightly clenched jaw.

Even though she briefly wondered whether she’d gone too far, Valerie’s adrenaline allowed her to hold her ground. She was tired of Terry pushing her around and acting like he was the only one with power in this arrangement. He needed her. Her eyes flitted briefly to Ms. Shotwell and her cameramen and back to Terry.

“It wouldn’t be a good look for you to be caught in an angry outburst at your defenseless little girlfriend,” she murmured, unable to suppress a smirk. “You can’t do a thing.”

“You’re a fucking brat,” he retorted, before taking a deep breath, shifting his jaw, and downing the remainder of his coffee. She grinned to herself as she noted the vein bulging in his forehead.

After about a half-hour of playful displays of affection, punctuated by snide exchanges under their breath, the couple settled their check and got up to leave. That was when Amanda and her goons, as well as a couple of paparazzi from other publications, made their move and approached the couple on the sidewalk as they headed down the street to where Milos and the car were waiting for them.

A member of Terry’s security entourage, who had joined Milos in the limo, jumped from the car in an effort to keep the various interlopers from getting too far into Terry and Valerie’s space, growling at them to “make a lane.” Terry had also stepped protectively in front of Valerie as she followed closely behind, white-knuckling his hand, the two of them temporarily putting aside the earlier confrontation.

“No comment,” he replied flatly as the reporters and camerapeople, particularly Amanda, peppered them with questions.

“You two were looking pretty cozy back there; we’ve never seen this side of you before,” Amanda tried to prompt some kind of response from Terry, walking backwards so she could face him as they moved, nearly tripping over her cameramen and shooting them warning looks. “C’mon, Silver- give us something to work with!”

“What’s your name?”

“How do you know Terry?”

“How long have you been going out?”

They asked Valerie, who stared silently ahead, apart from copying Terry with a coy “No comment,” thankful that her wide eyes were now hidden behind a pair of heavily tinted sunglasses.

“Come on, honey- give us a smile for the cameras!”

The immediate silence was blissful, yet jarring, as Terry and Valerie finally hopped into the limo and drove off, leaving the media utterly maddened with curiosity and frothing for answers.

“That’s how we do it, Milos!” Terry exclaimed triumphantly, patting his driver on the back as he slid into the seat behind him. “Always leave ‘em wanting more.”

Willing to put the tension of the morning behind them, Valerie was about to make a celebratory statement about how they’d pulled off their debut, but before she could get a word out, Terry said sternly “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again.”

“Like what? Humanize you a little? Don’t be ridiculous- they loved it. Being so serious and perfectly rehearsed in front of the public all the time isn’t doing you any favors. If you’re so concerned about your image, it wouldn’t hurt once in a while to show people that you have a softer side- even if you and I know it’s all just bullshit.”

While Terry knew that she had a bit of a point, he bristled at the notion of showing weakness like that for the world to see. Convincing his potential investors, shareholders, employees and other associates that he was loyal and levelheaded and not some unstable, corrupt sex addict by no means had to include him parading around like a lovesick fool.

“In my world, you can’t show weakness,” was what he verbally boiled his thoughts down to. Valerie’s brows furrowed and she tilted her head skeptically.

“Everyone has some kind of weakness.”

He didn’t appreciate her insinuation but decided to move on; the conversation was a waste of time. He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m not going to debate the nature of humanity with you in the back of this limo.”

Remembering his ultimate goal, Terry relaxed his tensed posture and angry expression, taking a deep breath that, in the confines of the limo, was scented strongly with her perfume.

“They really loved it though, huh?” he grinned, tearing his gaze from out the front windshield of the vehicle and to her expectant face, which returned a hesitant smile. She figured that this was his subtle way of telling her that she did a good job without having to admit that she had been right.

“Without a doubt, we have their attention. Now, it’s just a matter of whether they really bought it and where they’re going to run with it.”

At his words, Valerie felt senses of both pride in her performance and fear of just where, exactly, the press was going to “run with it” prickle at her spine. She could probably expect curious and bewildered calls from her relatives and friends within the next couple of days if the media really cooked up an interesting story or gave it enough page space. But, for the time being, she just laughed in triumph along with Terry in the backseat of the limo, clasping his outstretched hand in a congratulatory gesture.

[terrence-silver]

Any random 80s Terry headcanons please :)

---

― Undoubtedly fell into the (in)famous aerobic craze of the 80's, or rather, was the aerobic craze of the 80's, where he appeared in multiple extremely high-end, glossy, legitimate and very stylish articles concerning body wellness. Not of the neon spandex variety that was fresh and hip. I mean, truly elegant stuff that only aided his image of a positive benefactor that 'cares about the role models young people consume'. If Kreese had his life-size cardboard cutouts of himself on the entrance of the Cobra Kai dojo, Terry Silver had entire exclusive Men's Health type periodicals detailing how he balances high-powered Yuppie corporate work as CEO and maintaining an immaculately trimmed physique (humbly speaking).

― Relished in having an All-European staff at the time (an English secretary, a Czechoslovakian butler...a Swiss pool cleaner for the laughs and gags, for all we know.) because it was a personal showcasing of wealth on his part and served to cement the idea that America's an exceptional World power during that particular decade, and that he, by extension of money being that plenty and that exceptional, can have a handful of classy, Old World employees and all the status symbol and traditionally associated 'mystique' that entailed as being their Boss (and not the other way around). Economy was booming. He was booming all around. He wanted to show off, simply because he could. So, he did.

― Was possibly embroidered and secretly or not so secretly in cahoots with multiple corrupt governments Worldwide going through the tumultuous transition from dictatorship to an unstable democracy during the 70's and 80's, which tactically allowed Terry (and Dynatox, by extension) to, yes, you guessed it, dispose of toxic materials with ease in the Global South and in Third World Countries as a whole. Toxic materials that would be deemed illegal and absolutely out of the question in any developed ones, but were passable if you knew the right people and officials in (throws dart) Nicaragua. Or hey, case and point, in Borneo. Basically, I am convinced Terry Silver had some very questionable and bizarre names marked down in his phonebook.

― Case and point; to keep it properly 80's --- drugs. Cocaine! He got all of his substances and narcotics right from the source, directly from the people that produced it just for him. Cleanest, purest, highest of quality, because his organism and taste palette deserves the best. Same as his Cuban cigars, which were deemed illegal due to a trade embargo with Cuba at the time. Generally, if one keeps their brain open, again, just envision the type of acquaintances and contacts Terry knew and was connected with during the decade to get ahold of all of these goods. I don't know, it is hilarious (and a little frightening with the right context involved) how plausible and easy it is to imagine a crossover between The Karate Kid III and Narcos, for example.

― On a slightly lighter note, I feel that all throughout the decade, Terry Silver had the tendency to disguise himself; as various things, yes. A hobby all of his own. Hard done by dojo owner, regular Joe Schmoe at the club downtown, struggling martial artist, blue collar guy of the most ordinary variety or just another nameless stranger on the street. You name it. Pre-Internet era, when it was infinitely more difficult to recognize someone, look them up or photograph them in public, he enjoyed going about unbothered and just observing things. People. Situations. Being a bit of a voyeur and a prankster of his own variety, he liked seeing and experiencing how people treat him when they think he's just some nobody and playing with their mind through it for his own amusement.

― At the height of 80's consumerism, there was no need to downplay his wealth, quite the contrary; if Terry lived in a mansion, it was the biggest, most gigantic brutalist bit of property overlooking all of LA from Beverly Hills. If he dressed rich, he wore a red silky ascot like he's a character straight off of Dynasty (and he knew it too!) If he drove around in a car, it was a chauffeured Rolls Royce, of all things. He trained in a white satin Gi as peak decadence. It was only the coming decades that he, as I see it, choose to strategically go about the route of a bit of stealth-wealth, because it became the new acceptable way of being a member of the 1%, and chameleon that he was, he went and adapted. Flew under the radar. Downsized on purpose. Means, that when the 80's ended, the tenure of him dwelling at the Ennis House ended too. And everything that went along with it as well. Times change. Terry (seemingly) changes with them. The earring in his ear had to go too (once it went out of fashion.)

[msfbgraves]

So we’ve seen what Daniel thought right before he went in and saw Terry on their wedding night…but what about Terry? As he was pacing the room right beside, what was he thinking? Feeling? Before the door opens and Daniel steps in. And what was Terry wearing, considering Danny gets quite the little number!

I might go into this with a bit more detail, but first Terry did a very thorough safety sweep of the room (being kind of annoyed he hadn't been able to go into Daniel's room, but people do not want to harm omegas. They want to steal them, so for once he'd taken John's word for it that things were in order there), satisfied, made sure the room was comfortable, checked on the refreshments, soap and towels, freshened up, shaved, slicked back his hair, then changed into a very deep dark red velvet smoking robe with black lapels, black satin pajama pants and monogrammed slippers (silver stitching, of course). He could have worn a shirt under that but we all know he didn't. Then he poured himself a good whiskey, prepared himself an excellent cigar (inlaid silver box on red velvet, again, to stay with the wedding theme), sat down in an armchair facing Daniel's door and amused himself thinking about his undoubtedbly blushing omega changing into that lovely outfit he'd commissioned for him. Gold for the chain, of course. The boy had smelled divine when they were dancing just now, and he was already quite sweetly affectionate and a little flustered when he forgot to be offended with the whole situation for ten seconds. He'd need some convincing to fully trust his new mate, of course, but Terry is certain this is going to be fun...

[the-chickenshit-oddity]

B99 Obsessive Rewatch Season Two

rewatching B99 and taking notes. also, sometimes i get ideas of stuff i wanna see played out more, so i post them as prompts and link them here. spoilers for all of season two.

2:1

Jake as an italian mobster kinda

Is this the first holt&jake hug we’ve seen?? Rayray doesnt even flinch so cute

Jake’s rapidfire recap : fixed a boxing match / smoked a whole cigar w/o vomitting / was in a room w/ 10 Sals

Jake lies to amy about liking her

Jake has “lady hands”

Holt says he’s seen MOVIES PLURAL

Awesome begins with an O, JP 2013 probably

“i am feeling trepidation at the prospect of a parentless existence” = baby holt’s parents had a thing when he was 7

Weirdest thing in the whole episode is mobster jake being beaten by a cop on mob turf and none of his mobster buddies helping out

Baby holt snuck into daddy holt’s office to check out his collection of antique globes = daddy holt issues ref above

Proud daddy holt. Forgot to note if it happened in s1 so we’ll consider this the beginning

Jake unlies to amy about liking her

Gina and boyle shag again

2:2

Terry’s getting snipped and gina is way creepy

Boyle has a sister (probs castle girl) that we never mention again?

Wunch appearance and holt is a dramatic shit i love him

Wunch&holt : wunch shot holt, holt tried to get her fired, wunch destroyed holts file while UC, holt embarrassed wunch in front of derrick jeater who??

Amy’s fierce when someone’s fucking with her career we stan

Charles has seen the little mermaid

Holt’s a great amy dad cause both of them are ambitious nerds

2:3

Jimmy jabs est.2008

Jake knows rosa’s friend katie (and s1 amy’s friend kylie – how the fuck)

Lots of parallels to FRIENDS. Accidental sex tape, two guys accidentally nap together, probs other stuff, where’s the downstairs officers brooming the ceiling?

Squad screams like maniacs in the bullpen and random background people literally dont even care – ie this is such a habit people are over it

Bomb suits kinda look like minions or is it just me

Hitchcock is evil – do we think he’s related to gina or what?

Amy wins

2:4

Halloween heist

Holt is a master jake player, all rejoice

Holt says watch from kevdad & kevdad dead

I want ginas jacket

Jake has cousins ie jake has aunties??

2:5

Trust levels off the charts. Leaping at terry, telling holt the truth and asking amy for help. Okay so that’s only jake but still

Wunch is evil

My man holt is sooo tense, how long do we bet till he blows up?

Amy is giving toddler mom vibes rn somebody give her a margarita

>> amy has to babysit some random kid and realises he’s identical to jake in behaviour

Im gonna need baby terry being a disco champion thing

>>Omg!! Holt caught the disco killer, maybe disco killer killed disco nerds, ie holt saved terry’s life!

Lmao kev passive agressive is my life

Holt is a regular holmes wtf

How did jake get guest pjs, im sensing a food/drink related accident which makes twice this episode with amy’s car

Holt&jake teaming up is my fave thing ever

Terry at a soccer game for his kids would be terrifying

2:6

I’m in love with jake’s “why am i an idiot” face

Amy goes to holt screeching “captain” like he’s her dad, i need an amy prequel series, i love her

Rosa’s really backhanded at compliments it’s awesome

So cops hate lawyers and firepeople?? Who are they buddies with? (except for the criminals eh)

Whats a pow wow?

Is this a “season’s main human-mess that needs holt guidance” thing? First was jake, this feels like amy’s

2:7

When did holt get stabbed IN THE NECK??

gina get off on chaos like a demon she’s evil

precinct lockdown ep – all of those people are terrible and i hate them

why does terry’s wife not care about her brother being a dick?

2:8

Terry and amy waterboard themselves for some reason

So cops hate mailpeople too

Forgot holt had a gambling addiction

Coping stuff : holt workouts / terry self torture wtf? / gina meditation

Jake&rosa friendship is great

2:9

Holt wants bland ugly food, like how picky can you get

How is jake inviting teddy to come a proof of teddy being romantic?

Note to self : never go to a themed hotel they’re haunted

“pb&js are so simple a child could make them” makes me see neglected baby holt making himself food as best he could >> tie in with no dad baby holt thingy

Rosa got possessed by the devil

Lessons : CB > RH cooking stuff (epic fail)

Wheres the award for the most awkward double date ever?

2:10

Doug judy’s back

Jake has no ability to hold grudges?

Doug judy’s got real nice teeth

Amy stand up to holt, holt likes

I’m not interested in the whole boyle/linetti storylines :/

2:11

Holt took all night to think of an insult for wunch but burns people left and right no problem >> my boy doesn’t actually hate her?? Omg is this some weird non-sexual game they play? Gross

Amy&rosa in a car for four hours? I need to see it

“uncle ray” talks about work so much even his NEPHEW knows who’s who. 1) was kev not there, because no cop talk policy 2) was he EFFUSIVE??

Most of what i’ve learnt from this watching session today is that i’m real hungry why do they keep eating

You know what’s inconspicuous? Two guys sitting in front of windows with massive cameras. Totes invisible

Jake&charles have a roomie breakdown, gina&amy have an existential crisis, terry is a mom and rosa&holt are ...there

Man i do NOT want to shag in my boss’ house, i mean rosa’s got her own flat, cmon

Kev making bacon smiles on his pancakes totes goes into my kev&holt get baby martin for holidays headcanon (see season one obsessive rewatch)

“this isn’t my first rodeo” jake abt dealing w/ scully >> fits into baby jake shadowing scully for junior cops thingy (also in s1 obsessive rewatch)

“brothers fight but they’re always there for each other” says the only child (fun fact, only jake and gina are only kids (except for maybe terry cause i can’t remember))

2:12

I love the amy drunkenness scale

A fondue stick in a fanny pack sounds like a disaster waiting to happen

Beachhouse w/ the boss episode

Amy&gina&terry get paired up lots

Why didn’t they turn the holt party into a movie night??

Au where boyle is a seduction coach

Gina turned not-evil for a second

2:13

Amy’s def of partner : bounce ideas, eat street meat & stake out, burnt coffee

Jake hasnt been to the dentist in seven years (at this point i’m thinking he was kidnapped and doesnt remember his season one dentist trip)

“it’s payback time” to the drug dealer who killed all of jake’s family

Gina’s got two grandmas

Charles want to have a bowling business

How do terry’s biceps have their own biceps???

Holt likes the name todd, didnt he have an ex called todd?

Isn’t yahooanswers dead? How does jake know stuff now?

2:14

If s1 is parenting Jake and teaching Amy independence, is s2 about parenting Amy and bonding with Rosa through evil humour?

Jake tells terry he loves sofia??

Rosa’s enemy marker-hoarder carla biancci in 2nd grade turned bully till grad

Jake tells sofia he loves her

Gina being a dick after saying something true – a trend?

Charles’ dad was a florist and now i want a classic flower shop romance

Sofia breaks up ouchhh

Eww gross wunch kissed holt i need brainbleach

Charles doesnt think his dad loves him?

2:15

Rosa’s parents are “smiley morons & hug freaks”. Did not seem like it in the coming out episode?

Second massive cop lasertag game thingy

Holt confused face implies he never saw titanic

Note to self try to make a blondie sometime

Holt apologises the next day for trying to disqualify gina from pers.test >> did kevin tell him his type didn’t fit him?

Gina thinks holt flirts with her so she’s a wunch but on their side?

2:16

“if u love s/o u’ll remember what they look like” but KEVIN HAS A PORTRAIT MATE

Oh this is the “i’m sorry you weRE STABBED” episode

I want marvin the geriatric bank robber to be buddies with gina??

Im lowkey upset that kevs buddies with gina tho, he’s not evil enough

Ray talks about jake to random waitresses and his painting teacher

Okay i get it, amy and charles are too simpy, rosa’s too unhinged, we don’t talk about hitchcock and scully, terry’s got his own shit, so that only leaves gina and jake and it cannot be jake, so. Yeah okay gina and kev are buddies

Ray called jake a genius just cause he heard him practice his holt impression, how cute

2:17

Jake’s a creepy girl stalker?? Poor jenny gildenhorn

Rosa has a grandad

Amy plays french horn

Jake answers amy’s proposal with “yes a thousands times yes”

MARCUS DVRs BONES THE HOLTCOZNER BEDROOM WEIRD DVR QUEUE SOLVED EXCEPT WHYS HE IN THEIR ROOM??

2:18

Dickhead peralta shows up, i hate him :(

Holt’s “unsolvable” riddle “There are 12 men on an island. 11 weigh exactly the same amount, but one of them is slightly lighter or heavier. You must figure out which. The island has no escapes, but there is a seesaw. The exciting catch? You can only use it three times.”

Jakes allergic to bees and dickhead knows about it

I’d go on a sudoku cruise too amy

Honestly this riddles fucking easy im so angry

Amy’s right tho, you do 6v6, one side’s heavier, then you divide that one 3v3, one side’s heavier, you do 1v1 and either they’re equal and the last one’s the heaviest or one of them’s already the heaviest

I cannot tell you how infuriated i get everytime im reminded of dickhead peralta’s later character arc.

2:19

s/o framing jake as druggie

spoiler its sofias druggie bossman

holt : “sarcasm the cowards lie” ouch

oh yeah also terry and holt missed ginas dance thing and shes upset

and also charles gotta work with the two giant babies

2:20

Jakes unhealthy obsession with his job episode 40 of 40

Rosa&holt scheming to avoid personal chats, relatable

Rosas dads a teacher, two sisters

2:21

Jake and amy have a crush on the same guy till the guy likes amy and jake likes amy more

Terrys looking into a new job and boyle gina holt get weird about it

2:22

Jakes on a treasure hunt, terry’s looking into a school for his kids again?

Holt v wunch 1946th time

Bingpot

The velvet thunder is probs thor’s more dramatic second cousin

2:23

Wunch got holt transfered sad face

Rosa’s bday

Wunch being incredibly sexual-harrassy again

Rosa likes gilmore girls

Weird sex thing from wunch again geez

Rayray does the robot yay. Dude was there a cancel-scare?

[the-firebird69]

Bradley GT. Part 6

This is actually trump and he says I'd be honored if you'd be in the contest I think it's you again and he's smiling and saying yeah this is gonna be a real contest for stuff that's real and stuff you guys will say we'll use this and that like maybe a mile Euclid's and things like that and he smiled and said ohh yeah. And we're getting this going people have these and they know what to do and he can lower the seat LOL it really is not that tall and people who drive these are not massive but this car works for them the so dodge neon not the Chevy Geo and that's not even a Chevy so it went out wrong because of Trump and here he is so he put it back and they're fighting and that's what it's like and they want to do that and it's going to be a heck of a time and then the race and things all of this has appointed system but really if you win the race we have to look at you very seriously and the speed is It's 380 to 420 and he thought it was real fast he looked at and said I think so. It's going to be real light and we're gonna erase your prototypes unless you think you have time to make a new one and he goes wow in front wheel drive it has to stay so he goes good not good but good and it's a big bump there it should do it and people say it kind of fits and he says it's his son and he says it's his son's idea and his son finally got the acknowledgement and now told him the name of the car and I'm gonna give away cigars and the asteroid Rolex and Hera in in a vacat has a couple items this is just the stuff in Vegas And a vacation there but really there's big stuff. And he mentioned some of it and there might be a Mega Yacht or two and we have ships that do shipping and so he's thinking about it and some people think it would be like the Yamato. So there are people who are interested this is what we need to say I said.

Thor Freya

I already loan time he's got dinner but low on time and I would tell you these things are awesome to me my father and mother don't know tons of stuff she knows a lot more than he does and they're kind of eking by and asking everybody for assistance and now I see what it is this is them being leaders and that's what leaders do and I'm g.... and that's what leaders do and I'm gonna try this out and we're gonna get this coney and we're gonna have an agreement and we're going to make a company and we might even manufacture it for them but it's their design you see and that's what he was thinking earlier and I caught it and of course Hera did

Savage

I'm in this too and we gotta get going but terrific and yeah he was thinking that it would be there to sign this their design it's important that's what's making it work and the contest we're going ahead with this now. The problem is that he can't get anybody to do it by themselves if you have a contest more than one person is gonna do it and we'll be able to get one working then we're gonna take the design parameters and there might be some arguing about it but really you've won a race and the things dirty and we give you the design parameters of the head and once you're awarded it it's yours and we can even manufacture everything for you but it's gonna be like your company and that's kind of what we want to do. And they said This is kind of how it's done with some things and it really is. But the contest is new

Oppress

wow wonderful

trump

good

terry c

we stopped at all and now no

mac 

we wing me

arnold ben

nope

bja

Olympus

[jj-lynn21]

can you write something where Reader has guy friends who she brought over to hang out with. Have a little get together, catch up and Roman gets very jealous when they all start making her laugh with there jokes. And he gets completely fed up with it.

Jealous Roman and guy friends for reader is a torturous thought. You know he thinks of you as his. Let’s say he thought you were having girlfriends over. instead  it was men with his Princess. He is crazy jealous.

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

Roman would do anything for his Princess, so when you told him some of your friends from high school were going to be back in town for the weekend, he suggested they stay at Godfrey Castle. Not really a castle but it was what you both called your mansion with plenty of rooms for guests.  

“Give me a list of snacks you all like.”  Roman suggested. “I will get them and some drinks. Wine or beer or even those wine coolers you told me you used to drink with your friends if you would like.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” You jumped into his arms kissing him all over his face. “You are the best boyfriend ever.  

He chuckled holding you up around him. His hands squeezed your ass making you squeal with delight. “Anything for my Princess.”  

Roman’s thoughts about having your friends spend the night were not fully innocent. He imagined a room full a scantily clad woman having pillow fights. Them all fawning over him and you agreeing to letting them do much more as he basked in all the attention. His eyed closed. Thinking about it made him hard.  

You giggled feeling his erection through your lacy panties. You just thought your excitement about the whole thing and the way you were slightly grinding him got him going. “Upstairs or right here?” You murmured on his lips.  

Roman hungerly kissed you as he took you to the master bedroom. He built you up slowly. Then ravaged you for hours. He cleaned you up in the giant tub made to fit you both comfortably. Pink bubbled around you. You laid back on his chest. You could easily fall asleep like this.  

The housekeeper had changed the linens when you were bathing with your love. Roman slid you into the silky sheets. He held you close whispering how much he loved you and how good you were as you fell asleep. A perfect ending to a joyful day. You could not wait to see your friend the next day.

You slipped right back into the same dynamic you always had with them when they came over Friday afternoon. Terry brought cigars, Aaron brought booze, and Sam brought his rapist wit with a tin of chocolate chip cookies.  

“Damn girl this is a fine crib.” Terry remarked as you showed them around the Castle. “I seen your man in a mag once. He is fine as fuck. When we gonna meet him?”

“He will be home after six unless he has to work over.” You told him. “He is looking forward to meeting you all.”

“He isn’t jealous you always hung out with guys?” Aaron asked surprised.

“I have told him stories of our adventures and he never acted like it bothered him. I think he realizes we have been friends so long it is no big deal. You guys are like my brothers.”

“And you are the sister that I never wanted.” Terry chuckled. “Now what games should we start with? Texas hold’em?” He started shuffling the cards like a professional. A cigar hanging from the side of his mouth.

You lit a cigar taking a few puffs before holding it between your fingers. “Sounds like a plan. No strip poker until Roman gets home. He said he would like to join us in that.”

“Tits and dicks wild tonight.” Sam laughed. “Sounds like a good night.

Everyone else laughed. You had no clue that when you talked about strip poker with your friends Terry, Aaron and Sam he thought you were talking about girlfriends. You never used pronouns but still you thought you made it obvious they were guys. The story when you hit Terry in the crotch with a Frisbee and he couldn’t breathe for a few moments should have been a clue. Or when Sam kissed you the night you met but it was so awkward, and you made a pact to just be friends ‘til the end. That is why you were so surprised at Roman’s reaction.

He came home a little before 6p.m. He was excited to walk in on the girls giggle over a rom com or playing truth or dare and possible walking in while two of your friends were kissing on a dare. His thoughts were that of a twelve-year-old boy waiting for his big sister’s friends to come over for a sleep over. Only he was invited to watch. What he found when he opened the door was completely different.

Cigar smoke filled the room. He could hear you say, “Okay, boys I’m taking all you got tonight.” Roman dropped his briefcase. His eyes narrowed as he walked towards you and your best friends with a low growl on his lips. He grabbed your arm. “Come with me, now!”

You dropped the cigar in the ashtray. Your friends’ mouths fell open. Their eyes wide. They couldn’t believe his aggressiveness with you. And how you went willingly with a wink. “My King needs taken care of after his rough day. Give us a few minutes or maybe hours.” You were grinning.  

Roman pushed you on to the couch. He paced. You got on your knees waiting for him to vent his anger about some stupid client or some incompetent employee at work. You were more than ready to ease his stress as always.

“What the fuck?” He started. “I thought I was coming home to your girlfriends watching a rom coms. I come home to you telling those men you can take them all tonight. What the actual fuck is going on in my house?”

“Roman you don’t understand.” You tried to set him straight.

“Oh, I understand plenty.’ He glared at you. “While the dog’s away the pussy will play.”

You got up to stand up to him. “Roman it isn’t like that at all. These are the friends I have told you about. You invited them into our home...”

“I certainly did not.” He turned his back to you. “Those are not the girl friends you told me about. Why would I even invite a bunch of guys to play with you. I thought you loved me.”

You touched his shoulder and he shrugged. “Turn around and talk to me.” Your voice was calmer than his. “They are the same friends, Terry, Sam and Aaron, who I always talk about. Nothing sexual was or will be going on with us. I don’t know what you pictured in your mind, but why don’t you have a drink and join us in a game of cards. The cigars are top of the line. Don’t be a jealous fool. Come join the fun. I do love you. Nothing will ever change that.”

Roman grumbled. “I’m not jealous I just don’t trust their intentions.”  

You rolled your eyes and then walked around to face him again. His lip was pouty. “All the more reason for you to join us. You can trust them all. I promise you. You might even like them when you get to know them. Arron owns a tech company in Ohio. This could be a business opportunity.”

“I do not have to like them, but I will keep you close tonight.” Roman pledged.

“I’ll take that if you just be nice.” You eased his suit jack off. “Now does Daddy need head before we play cards?”

Yes, Roman nodded. He was vocal as he called you his. Your friends could hear the whole thing, the argument and the make-up. You returned to them telling them that Roman would join the next round when he changed. Roman showed up in jeans and tight black t-shirt. After a while your friends seemed to win him over. You were all telling jokes and laughing.  He tried to tell funnier jokes since they made you laugh so hard your side heart.

Roman didn’t completely think they didn’t all want you. He still let them stay the night making sure to make you beg to come and moan loudly as he indulged you with many orgasms throughout the night.  

[petork]

-105 please

NB i am told this was meant to say 1-50

thanks queen <3 here we go

1. Who is your favourite ghost?

lately? it's been kitty. and i'm contractually obligated to love the captain

2. If you could see the ghosts like Alison, which one do you think would come the closest to making you want to leave the house?

the obvious answer is julian but probably actually robin, i HATE being spooked (as the asker can attest xx)

3. How would you feel if you couldn’t see the ghosts, but knew they were there, like Mike?

i'd feel mad jealous even though i'd actually have it pretty good. the other person would be trying so hard to tell me how much it sucks and i'd just be like 'but... goast.....'

4. Would you want to see ghosts like Alison, or would you rather be ignorant to their goings and doings?

again my immediate answer is I WANNA SEE THEM but i also know that might suck in many ways. at least for a while. i am not a patient person so i don't know if i could learn to live with them like alison could. but on the other hand... the chance to actually talk to people from the fucking actual past... thinking emoji!

5. If you were a ghost living in the house, would you rather be upstairs with the main nine ghosts, or downstairs with the plague ghosts?

upstairs for sure, sorry to the plague ghosts but i do not want to hang out in a basement for eternity

6. If you were someone who died in the house would you rather be ��sucked off” immediately, or would you like to hang around a bit and get to know some of the other ghosts before getting “sucked off”?

i would probably just end up staying forever because i'm scared of the void of death.... <3

7. Which ghost would you miss the most if they were “sucked off” in the next series?

UNBELIEVABLE question? i'd miss ALL OF THEM. but see question 1 also

8. Which ghost do you think you’d get along with the best?

it's hard to say. i think they would all get on my nerves because as said i am not very patient. but the one who would irritate me LEAST... maybe pat?

9. Which ghost would you say you’re most like?

captain. not to be a cliche but i'm gay and repressed. and also irritable and grumpy

10. Which ghost would you say you’re least like?

JULIAN

11. What is a (popular or not) fan theory that you love?

(pasted from prev answer) i don’t actually like ship it because he’s definitely older than her, but a couple of people have said kitty sometimes acts like she has a crush on thomas. which is cute to me even if she does need to get better taste (love u kitty xxx)

12. What is a (popular or not) fan theory that you don’t quite agree with?

(pasted from prev answer) not so much a specific theory but i disagree with the general idea that anything of consequence went on with the captain and havers. i think it was meant to come across as just a snippet of the captain’s poor sad gay life and, as several brain geniuses have pointed out, due to the timing of germany invading france + the captain’s medals the flashback must have been from a good few years BEFORE he died. and i think the flashback was the last time they ever saw each other, so i don’t think that a) havers has any link to the captain’s eventual death or 2) anything romantic ever happened between them

13. Favourite ship and why?

captain x my cute oc boyfriend because i've tailored it to my exact needs. why ship retail when you can ship bespoke?

14. Least favourite ship and why? (Please be nice though!)

patcap as we all know. like YES i'm a contrary bitch so i don't like things that are popular and i do think i'm better than everyone else... but really idk why exactly i just don't gel with it at all. and when i've tried to read fic in the past it feels to me like their characters are kind of flattened. and i think the captain is too much of a bitch. and i think pat is serving us normie heterosexual. it's the 'cinnamon roll' ship of this fandom and i can't STAND (metaphorical) cinnamon rolls. AND ALSO pat is not the simple soft dad cinnamon roll fandom often makes him out to be! like he is a very nice person but he's also fucked up and insane like all of them. anyway my brain charges extremely low rents

15. If you could go back in time and live in the house/on the property at the same time as one of the ghosts when they were alive, who would you pick?

captain. need to know wtf's going on with him

16. Would you rather inherit the house (and its ghostly inhabitants), or just visit?

realistically... visit. i think i would lose my mind eventually if i lived there

17. Do you think we’ll ever know how every ghost died? Do you think there will be anyone whose death we’ll never learn about?

i hope we do, but i also appreciate that isn't the sole point of the series, otherwise it would be kinda boring and discovering how they died wouldn't be as impactful. if there's anyone's death we don't find out about, i think it would probably be robin? lol what if it was so long ago he just forgot

18. What is your favourite Ghosts fanfiction?

so i'm stupid and i never use bookmarks on ao3..... i've read a LOT of different fics i like but do you think i can revisit them? no! because i'm stupid! so i cannot fairly pick an absolute fave sorry

19. What is your favourite Ghosts fan art?

THIS <3

all the babies and children on here talk about horrible histories the show being 'their childhood'........ put some respect on terry deary's name. and this artist did!

20. Tag 5 favourite Ghosts fandom content creators!

honestly i'm not good with like. knowing people. but here are 5 fanfics i've enjoyed (based on the author's replies in my inbox because, again, i am too stupid to use bookmarks)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28287567

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29868645

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28653192

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28067277/chapters/68761830

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26957662/chapters/65795407

21. Are there any historical periods you wish we’d have gotten to see a ghost/ghosts from but didn’t?

(pasted from other post) not to be predictable but i would have liked to see a 1960s ghost. like a mod who crashed his scooter or something. we have enough 20th century ghosts though but i believe the us remake has some kind of hippie ghost…

22. What is something you’re hoping to see in a future series?

flashback to the captain getting some. like implied or whatever. i can't cope with him dying a virgin. he needs this

23. What is something you’re hoping to see in a future series, but know we probably WON’T get to see?

(pasted from other post) alison meets someone else who can see ghosts, and we get to see the ghosts at THEIR house…. i always love it when we see extra ghosts but i know they probably won’t make any recurring because it would come off as running out of ideas. but i still think they should add a 90s teenager named roy

24. Which lesser-seen characters would you like to see more of in future series?

tbh there's none i can think of that i think we should SEE more of, they get a pretty good balance. there are some i definitely want to learn more about though

25. Are there any characters you wish we’d see less?

don't make me pick a least favourite child </3 but also i think thomas could probably tone it down a bit.

26. Favourite one-liner?

I'LL WAIT FOR YOU, MY COMELY NUG - me whenever i order chicken nuggets on just eat

27. Favourite episode?

DON'T EVEN... i like 2x06 and 3x05 a lot

28. Top 5 headcanons for [insert character name here]?

i'm going to do the captain because obviously i am

- he may or may not have been lavender married

- he may or may not have had a drinking problem

- public schoolboy with domineering father, clearly

- IF he had a lavender wife then she spent all her time in the company of her 'odd' female friend who wore men's clothes, smoked cigars and drove a motorbike. the captain was obviously clueless

that's 4 so a cheeky one for fanny:

- she did a lot of medicinal coke

29. Whose costume is your favourite?

kitty. gotta love an ott ballgown

30. Whose costume is your least favourite?

that's an offtopic question. you have been stopped.

31. If you could do a complete redesign of one of the ghosts’ costumes, whose would you change and how?

i would give thomas his double denim

32. If you could play any of the existing ghosts, which one would you want to play and why?

i think i'd be good at playing mary. meek weird girl who says things that don't make any sense? omg she is LITERALLY me

33. Which ghost would you least like to play and why?

julian, i'm not getting my pussy out

34. What one thing would you miss most if you became a ghost and had to live by the same rules as the Button House ghosts?

FOOD. food. eating and food.

35. How do you think one or more of the ghosts whose deaths we haven’t seen died? Or, if we know the cause of death but not the reason for the death (like Mary being burned as a witch or Humphrey being beheaded), why do you think they were killed?

i think mary's execution might have had something to do with her husband's death and her being unfairly accused or something. also like, she just acts kinda weird, and we know how that often played out for women back then...

and i think the captain died in some really boring mundane natural causes way (congenital heart attack or something) but he's stuck around because a) he's never come to terms with the whole h*mo thing and 2) he was just really mad that he died so boringly

36. Favourite [insert character name here] moment?

CAPTAIN GETTING KITTY TO SMILE

37. What do you think [insert character name here] was like when they were alive? Do you think they were exactly the same as they are now, or do you think there were any major or minor differences?

ok i'll do fanny for this one. i think she was less domineering when she was alive, in death she clearly thinks of herself as above the other ghosts and bosses them around, and when she talks shit about george it's not like he can get back at her in any way. but it would be interesting to see how they interacted when both were alive

38. It’s your turn to pick a movie for film club! What are you watching?

(from prev post) i haven’t seen any movies errr….. maybe austin powers because it’s so sad that julian died just a few years before it came out because he would love it and get really annoying about quoting it all the time and it would be really funny for the captain (who thought the movie was unironic) to have to deal with that. and fanny would NOT COPE.

39. Would you rather share a room with Thomas (constantly sighing and reciting bad poetry) or Fanny (falls out of the window screaming every night)?

fanny. men be quiet challenge

40. If you could do some kind of historical swap (i.e. place a ghost in a different period from their own), who would you choose and what period are they from now?

i would like to give kitty the chance to be a 20th or 21st century girl. maybe an era like the 60s or 80s that was known for daring fashions, i think she would luv it

41. Let’s settle this once and for all. Who’s the real leader, the Captain or Pat?

fanny

42. If the ghosts could eat, what is one food you would like to share with them that they might not have tried before?

doritos tangy cheese, mountain dew baja blast, 4loko. i would make thomas try a jalapeno. i would also make them try my cooking experiments because i do that to anyone i live with

43. You’ve heard rumours of a tenth upstairs ghost who doesn’t often venture out of their room to visit with the other residents of the house. Who are they? (i.e. make up a ghost OC. I know i’m putting you on the spot. I just want to see what you come up with.)

it's george button and his bitch ass is too scared of his wife to come down. his downfall comes when he finds out there's another gay ghost and simply has to clap them cheeks (he fails)

44. Tell me a song you think [insert character name here] would like, or a song that reminds you of them!

i think alison's probably already introduced him to them but thomas + anything by the smiths. i would also make the captain sit quietly and listen to a tracy chapman cd (for my lover...)

45. What song(s) do you think would annoy certain ghosts the most?

the smiths would annoy everyone except thomas. literally they'd all be trying to re-kill him

46. Who is one actor you’d love to see guest star? What kind of character would you like to see them play?

steve coogan as like. anyone. preferably a ghost. a roman centurion ghost if you wanna get cultural. but seriously i just want alan

47. If you could have one Horrible Histories song in Ghosts (either sung by a ghost/ghosts, or playing on the TV or computer for them to watch), which one would you want it to be and why?

that song about how no 'british' stuff is actually british. like tea. i want julian to melt down

48. What do you think the ghosts’ jobs would be in a modern living-human AU where they’re all just chaotic housemates?

captain & kitty: have their own wedding planning company

julian: still a politician but instead of an mp he's like a parish councillor. handforth antics

fanny: headteacher

robin: cool off the shits teacher at same school who undermines fanny wherever possible. deals weed to students

mary: runs a shop selling like healing crystals and incense and dreamcatchers

humphrey: customer service supervisor who actually likes his job because he takes no shit and just fucks with every single customer

thomas: unemployed podcaster

pat: dogwalker

49. What is one modern invention you think [insert character name here] would be surprised or confused by?

fanny would be so baffled by any Feminine Products. when she discovers tampons it's all she can talk about for a week. the mooncup made her go into a coma

50. Name an AU you haven’t seen someone create content for, but which you’d love to read a fic or see some art for.

not to be the way i am but i'd love if anyone ever drew art or something about my au which is a modern-day au where fanny and captain are alison and kitty's divorced parents, julian and robin are captain's brothers and alison's wack uncles, mary is their childhood nanny, thomas is a student lodger at button house, humphrey is a cat and pat is just some guy. but yeah in the past i've had a couple of anons on here mention it and i did melt into a puddle... i think if someone did art i'd explode and die. in a good way like

[goatkingwc]

MASCOT WITH MENACING EYES Episode 2 of CRWC GOAT KING WRITERS CLUB,

GOAT KING WRITERS CLUB, The loosest storytelling Podcast in all the land, were we don’t let Grammar get in the way of a good yarn.

MENACING EYES by SEAN CONWAY

Freshly squeezed orange juice, beans, mushrooms, eggs and a stack of bacon drizzled in maple syrup. This was a regular breakfast for the farmer which is why he is bulging out of his overalls.Despite his size, the farmer is a unassuming man, living alone miles away in the back woods, only making the trip to town to sell his wares.

By the way he dressed you would think he was Amish, he probably could be Amish if it wasn’t for his 1955 Ford Pick Up truck and his love of beer. He wasn’t one for fancy beer, he only had one preference that is must be cold, refreshing, and American made. The Farmer loved nothing more than a few Coors Lite after a hards day work. The farmer does most of his drinking on a Sunday, he does extra work on Saturday so he can sit back and enjoy that afternoons football game reminiscing about his days playing all those years ago.

Devouring the last of his breakfast feast that could easily feed a family of four, he enjoyed his meal oblivious to the fact that menacing eyes were staring at him with murderous intent only a few short steps away. The farmer slurped down the last of his orange juice and set out for a hards day work in the fields, unaware that today will be his last day working in those fields if the onlooker with those menacing eyes has his way.

Ploughing through the fields, the first of many chores for the day, singing along with gusto to the smooth sounds of Billy Joe Shaver, George Jones and Johnny Cash. The hours flew past with heavenly harmonics echoing through the isolated fields.

It was time for the Farmer to park up his plough and enjoy a well-deserved lunch. Nothing exciting, just a white bread sandwich with way too much bacon and a drizzle of homemade barbecue sauce made from a recipe passed down from his grandmother. Sitting on his plough, tapping his feet to the beat of Waylon Jennings, and enjoying his heart attack in a sandwich lunch, blissfully unaware of the danger that lay ahead as the beholder of those menacing eyes spied on the unassuming Farmer from a distance.

The Farmer finished his lunch and went about finishing the remaining chores for the day. He feed the chickens, he feed the cows, he feed the sheep and even had time to change the shoes on his beloved horse Bo named after his favourite Auburn Football player Bo Jackson. Bo wasn’t a racehorse, but the Farmer would watch Bo in the field and daydream of him raising the Kentucky Derby Trophy alongside the only creature he considered a friend.

One last job before The Farmer could call it a day, and that was to feed the pigs their gruel. He wouldn’t feed them any ole gruel, because these weren’t any ole pigs. These were Blue-Ribbon Award-winning pigs. The Farmer would spend hours cooking and refining his gruel recipe until he had the perfect concoction.

The Farmer walked over to the barn to retrieve his gold star gruel for his gold star pigs, but on his short journey, The Farmer stopped, he had a peculiar feeling he was being watched, a strange sense for the Farmer who lived alone on an isolated farm miles from town. The Farmer looked around and saw nothing out of the ordinary, he paused for a moment before he chuckled to himself. Paranoid thoughts were a very rare occurrence for the level headed farmer, but the Farmer wasn’t being paranoid, we was indeed being watched by menacing eyes that had murderous intent that had plans to make this the last day he ever worked on that farm.

Collecting the gruel from the barn and still humoured by his bout of paranoia, the Farmer pulled up to the pig sty in his 1955 Ford Pick Up truck, blaring his music as loud as it would go, the Farmer despite being level headed, had a collection of strange theories, he believed playing loud music for the pigs comforted then and made the meat taste better. A strange theory indeed, but whose to argue with his logic considering how many Blue Ribbons he had won.

As the day grew longer The Farmer had to struggle with the weight of his homemade gruel out of the pickup truck before he entered the pig sty. Despite his tiring body The Farmer still had a peep in his step as he enjoyed the music along with the pigs. He poured the gruel he took such pride into the troff, the sound of the Farmers home cooking hitting the metal troff sent the hungry pigs into a frenzy, bashing and crashing past the Farmer.

The Farmer’s large body was no match for the stampede of giant award winning pigs as the sound of the bones in his legs crushing drowned out the sound of the music blaring from his pickup truck, the pigs giant mass has crushed his legs and The Farmer collapsed under his own weight in agony, his screams echoing through the freshly ploughed fields of his isolated farm.

The pain was unbearable but he managed to crawl through the wet mud that was a mix of dirt and pig shit, and lean his broken body against the chicken wire fence so he could see the extent of the damage to his legs. The Farmer tried rolling up his pant legs, but his legs were so severely broken that the bones had ripped through material of his blood-soaked overalls. The sense that he was being watched overcome the Farmer once again, he was now face to face with those Menacing eyes that had murderous intent that had been watching The Farmer since breakfast, they’re eyes all too familiar to The Farmer, they were the eyes of Hog Brady, a runt of a pig the Farmer had raised since he was piglet, naming him Hog Brady for his hatred of New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady. 

The Farmer had grown to love this runt of a pig over the years even though he wasn’t a Blue Ribbon pig. Hog Brady though, had no love for the Farmer, watching him for years and years routinely butcher his family and friends and devour their corpses, and for what? A few blue ribbons from the county fair. This did not sit well with Hog Brady at all, he has waited years for the opportunity to exact his revenge on the butcherous Farmer, he was going to enjoy feasting on the Farmer, starting with mutilated legs.

The Farmer punched and screamed at Hog Brady, has hard as he could but he was no match for his vengeful foe, the punches and the screaming only forced Hog Brady to consume The Farmer faster. This once runt piglet was now devouring The Farmer as quickly as he could. The other pigs on the other hand, have devoured their gruel, and with their appetites not yet met, the Farmer looked like a plentiful dessert.

The pigs made easy work of the Farmer as they feasted on his flesh as they enjoyed soothing melodies of Tammy Wynette blaring from the pickup truck. It only took a few short minutes for The Farmer to be no more.

Spending hours and hours perfecting a recipe for his Blue Ribbon winning Pigs, it would The Farmer himself who would become a 5 Star meal for his 5 Star pigs.

MASCOT by NATHAN HULL

I had been summoned to the general managers office. A rare thing for a lowly team mascot, yet here I was sitting outside his large office trying to figure out whether this was a positive or potentially terrible thing for my career. Thinking back on the last week what I it was, good or bad that I could have done to land myself waiting like a nervous school child outside the Principles doors. 

“You can go through now” The uninterested receptionist sighed fiddling with her phone not even taking the time to look up at me. “yeah thanks’ I replied before taking a deep breath and walking in to meet my fate. 

Upon entering the room I shuffled nervously, waiting to be acknowledged before Mr Grandioso finally told me to sit “ Well well if it isn’t everyone’s favourite mascot” he said dismissively, lighting a large cigar and pouring himself a brandy “Make mine a double” I said with a  laugh trying to break the tension in the room. Mr Grandioso just stared unimpressed at me before continuing. “As you know we are having a terrible season, we are 1 and 11 and making the finals is now almost impossible, heads must roll’�� 

I wasn’t entirely sure what this had to do with me as a mascot, I mean all I did was run around in a large Goat costume trying to draw some attention away from the teams terrible performance each week, so I put my fist to my chin and nodded importantly “yes yes I agree” I said hoping that maybe I was about to be given a raise from Mascot to head coach.  ‘What can I do to help Mr Grandioso” I said reaching into my pocket for a pen and note pad, trying to look as prepared and confident as I now I assumed the other coaching candidates would look.

“Put that pen away Manfred, Im firing you” Mr grandioso sighed. ‘What me? firing me? Im the only person who actually does what there paid to do on game day” I yelled “this clubs a fucking joke a fucking shithole joke!’ I screamed making my situation much worse than it already was.

I lept out of my chair and was tackled to the ground by two of Mr Grandioso’s assistants “ listen you jabbering little cock sucker” he hissed “ you think I don’t know how bad this team performs? The amount of money I have invested into the most useless team in the history of this club?” he continued “If it where up to me id fire the lot of them but after the pre-season promises made the outrages spending spree the internal cover ups I need to at least galvanise the fans, so I’m placing the blame squarely on you”

 My head was spinning a moment ago I thought I was going to make the dream leap from Mascot to coach a feet only ever achieved once by Lucky the Dolphin in 1937, now however I realised I had lost everything, I was a patsy a fall guy a nobody. 

I slunk my way out of the stadium and over to the closest bar where I found Terry the Turtle drinking alone .Usually during the season id have no time to chat with our cross town rivals mascot but seeing as I was just fired I sat at his table and over a few drinks explained my situation.

During the course of the afternoon and a long chat it came to light that many mascots where feeling displaced and abused, and one by one we called the others eventually coming up with a plan to not only claim justice but also make us rich. The plan was simple I would take $2000 from each mascot and place a seemingly impossible bet that my ex team would go on to win every remaining  game including the championship for the year it was a $40000 bet put on at 1000 to 1 odds a $40,000,000 pay day. 

And so for the remainder of the season the plan was executed.  Mascots would tamper with play books and equipment disrupt practices, some even going as far as secretly injuring or poisoning star players. Doing whatever it took to ensure our bet payed off. And so it did we succeeded in fucking with the entire league and claiming a nice $2,000,000 each. Not bad for a bunch of no body mascots, once down trodden and laughed at we now where kings and I was the King Goat.

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[mrgriffiths]

The cigar is the perfect complement to an elegant lifestyle..

Thomas Ian Griffith as Terry Silver in Karate Kid 3~1989

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[jaywrites101]

The City In FreeFall; Chapter Three

When I woke up, it was thirty minutes past noon. SmashStone and his thugs were gone. And so was my wallet. Mac left a note on my face that read, be at the east side of Warehouse 15 by eight-thirty or you're a dead man. At least, I assumed it was Terry Mac who wrote it since I didn't think anyone else in the entire gang was capable of writing. Except you, a lingering sense of guilt reminded me.

The cigar hole in my chest still burned. My chest throbbed along dully until I tried to take a breath. It caught halfway and red-hot knives cut into my esophagus. I needed to go to a hospital… But there'd be no way a hospital would let me just walk out in a couple of hours… Besides… I… I wasn't finished being an absolute total dumbass yet… 

I still had to talk with the BloodBlades.

This part of the plan was much less thought out than everything that's come before it…  Somehow…  

I had to make it into BloodBlade territory, find someone who wouldn't just shoot me at the first sign of my new "tattoo," and convince them to get to Warehouse 15 at the same time as the SmashStones… 

The walk out of The Rock and back into BloodBlade turf gave me plenty of time to realize just how totally whiffed I was. Could I have still gone to the police? Yes. Did I?

You underestimate just how damned stubborn I can be.

No more kids in caskets, I told myself. No more kids in caskets. Every step felt like my bones were filled with lead. No more kids in caskets. Jerry's face at the visitation, so pale and porcelain. It was profane! No more kids in caskets. Did I have brain trauma? I passed Old Man Yin at his noodle shop. He looked at me like I was a nightmare. Dried blood running down my sides, No doubt he thought I'd been mugged… No more kids in caskets, no more kids in caskets! The BloodBlade hideout was plain as day. An old gym that closed down long ago. Was I really going to just walk in there? The thugs by the door just stood there in shock as I marched past them. NO MORE KIDS IN CASKETS!

"I demand to speak with Cutter!" I roared at the building. There were three fighting mats all lined up with people in and around them. My shout stopped them all in their tracks. I always did have a strong voice. Everybody in the room could see the hole in my chest, and no doubt every single one of them knew what it meant.

"The only way you're getting to see Cutter is an execution," a voiced jeered from the side.

"You're not going to live that long!" another thug exclaimed. 

Someone pinned my arms from behind, while a dude with long silver hair came at me with a knife. In case you couldn't tell, BloodBlades love their knives.

“Oh wow!” you might be thinking, “Is this how you died the first time?” Nope! That's still yet to come! No, this time around I jumped back against the guy who had my arms and kicked the guy with the knife with all my might. I immediately dropped to the floor and lay there like a worm, too busy bleeding to death to really take note of the chaos that was exploding around me. Fun Fact: doing just about anything while one of your ribs is broken makes everything 100x's worse! Fighting for your life? Don't try that at home kiddos.

The silver-haired guy pulled me up by what was left of my T-shirt and shouted… something at me. My vision was getting kinda blurry. Whatever he asked, my witty response was to bleed on him.

Oh, yeah. Who's got the makings of a vigilante superhero? This guy.

Another guy dressed in grey sweatpants and a hoodie showed up and garbled something at Silver Hair. Next thing I knew, I was being dragged backwards through the gym while the others gawked at my broken body.

Side note, what is it with bad guys and dark rooms? Seriously! Don't they know torture rooms are completely unreliable? At best they were just putting me in a place where no one would hear my screa--on second thought everything checks out now.

The big guy tied my arms behind a chair and bound my legs for good measure. I tried not to panic. 

Unlike the backroom at The Rock, this place had a proper ceiling over my head and charcoal grey drywall all around, so I didn't have to worry about Cutter just dropping in from above. But then again, I didn't get a good look at the room, so the iron door in front of me might not have been the only way in or out… but then again, again, if it wasn't the only way in or out of the room, why make the door out of iron?

I overthink pointless things like that. If I spent half as much effort thinking about my plan as I did about that small room I wouldn't have been in this mess in the first place. Bio101 was looking better and better each second… 

After a short spell, the guy who stopped Silver Hair from gutting me returned to the room.

Tying me up so I couldn't move and then putting me alone in a room for a few minutes was, honestly, the best thing they could've done for me. Sure, they could've also left a hot girl in the room to nurse my wounds and make sure I had plenty of water, but this wasn't too bad all things considered.

My head had cleared up a little. The world wasn't black and red anymore, and I was able to hear when the door opened. My body was still screaming pain signals to my brain, yes. But I wasn't about to pass out.

"You've got a lot of guts coming here alone," the man said.

"Unfortunately I seemed to have left half of them back on 21st street," I joked weakly.

A swift smack to the face showed just how much they cared for humor in the BloodBlade gang.

"Do you even know who I am?" he glowered.

Everybody and their cousin knew what Cutter and SmashStone looked like. Those two had been running wild down in the Heap for years. This guy wasn't Cutter. But he clearly had some authority to keep ol’ Silver Hair from giving me a chest piercing. That could only mean the man before me was… 

"Friday."

The man shook his head. "No, be thankful I'm not him. You'd already be in the ground if I was."

"Oh."

"I'm Seth Bridgess," he said as if it meant something.

I vaguely remembered a news report about Seth Bridgess, but I couldn't pin it down… until I could.

"Wait, you're just Cutter's drug pusher--" Bridgess stepped forward, his knife appearing in his hand like magic. "I-I mean--you're his drug kingpin. Ha-ha, yeah. Big guy, Seth Bridgess. The biggest drug dealer in the town."

Bridgess looked like I'd kicked him in the groin. Figures… 

"Then I'm sure you know why I've left you alive?" he spit. This guy clearly had something going on behind the scenes… … But… I saw an opportunity.

"It's because of the second shipment," I said as casually as I possibly could.

Seth's face was priceless. "What second shipment?" Hook, Line, and Sinker.

I embraced as much of my inner coward as I could. It wasn't that hard, I had a lot of terror built up throughout today. "Oh, uh. O-of course not, you're k-keeping me alive because of… w-why exactly are you keeping me alive?" 

"What second shipment?" Bridgess asked again, putting his knife to my throat for dramatic effect. It's a common misbelief that when someone holds a knife to your throat you can feel the knife against your skin. I didn't. What I did feel was a drop of warm itchy wetness that ran down my neck.

"I have conditions."

The knife at my throat twitched. It was a small movement, but enough to draw more blood. I felt pain now. A line of warmth at my Adam's apple that burned more the longer I waited.

"I want to be the one who kills SmashStone," I growled.

As I expected, Seth pulled his knife away. Bad guys are funny like that. Beg for your life and they'll just laugh as they kill you, even if it hurts them too. Tell them you want to kill their greatest rival? They'll give you a frickin weapon and let you walk out the door with it. As far as they're concerned, it's still a death sentence. 

Bridgess peered at me suspiciously. What I said wasn't a lie per se. He could see it. But he was sharper than the usual thug. He had to be.

"SmashStone and his damned bricks are destroying this city," I claimed wildly. "I hate them! If they weren't tearing up the city, you lot wouldn't have had to steal from them--Jerry wouldn't be dead!" 

"I get it," Bridgess snorted. "You're just a brat out on a revenge scheme. We get boys like you every other weekend."

I let go of another breath I didn't know I was holding. I tried to speak up again but Bridgess cut me off with a furious look.

"But no one. I repeat, no one walks in here with a SmashStone burn on their chest and leaves unscratched."

"But I hav--"

"NO ONE chooses BloodBlades as a second choice! You're playing with fire and now you're going to get burned. Twice."

"I joined the SmashStones to find out where the second shipment was." Seeing as how Bridgess didn't just skewer me on the spot, I took that as permission to continue. "It's high-grade Rock, like the first shipment. SmashStone always keeps half of the drugs that come through."

"Because he's a user," Bridgess interrupted. Everyone knew SmashStone was addicted to Rock; it's what caused his body to mutate so aggressively.

"Right," I said thinking quickly, "But he had some left over from the last shipment." It was a shallow excuse, but it was one Bridgess bought. He twisted the knife in his hand anxiously. Like he wasn't sure if he wanted to stab me with it, use it to cut my bonds, or stab himself. Now that I had a train of thought, the rest of the story came easily. "He has enough left over to feed his habit this month too. But it's bad. SmashStone's pissed! He wants to retaliate for the raid even more than he wants the money from this shipment."

"That's preposterous!" Bridgess spat. I was impressed. I hadn't thought he'd know the meaning of the word, let alone correctly use it in a sentence.

"It's true! He's giving the whole shipment over to his boys tonight at ten. They'll be marching here to pull this building down brick by brick before eleven."

Bridgess punched the drywall. His hand tore right through it. "Over my dead body."

"Probably," I noted. Bridgess glared murderously. "I mean, probably--if I didn't know exactly where the second shipment was and when it was unguarded."

"Unguarded? How? Where?"

Hook, line, and sinker, I thought again.

Out loud I said, "Warehouse 15. You guys have caused more damage to them than you might think. Half their boys are out of commission and they've been forced to only post one guard during daylight hours."

"How--"

I cut him off for once. "I'm the guy assigned from nine to ten. The last chance for you and your crew to really put the hurt on SmashStone."

Seth Bridgess looked like he'd found religion. He made a show of distrust, much like Terry Mac before him, but in Bridgess' case, it was just the motions. He was halfway out the door before he remembered that I was still tied down in the room.

He neatly flicked his wrist and the knife was at my bonds. It was a casual move, one he obviously didn't plan on, because his hand jerked to a stop mere millimeters away from granting me my freedom. It was clear, even in the moment, that some part of him was conflicted.

This was a dangerous moment for me. Technically, Bridgess had everything he needed for the op. I wasn't necessary. But on the other hand, if things went wrong and I wasn't alive to take the blame, Cutter might just shift that blame.

"If I don't show up to my shift--on time--at nine o'clock the SmashStones will know something's up." 

Bridgess hesitated. Whatever train of thought he had was shaken. "That's not enough." His breath washed over me, stinking of cigarettes--and something else. At the time I couldn't place that something. But it was a scent I would soon become intimately familiar with. I smelled almonds on his breath.

"If I take this to Cutter he'll cut me. I need something damn good to tell them before they'll trust you."

Just like before, I held the goon's gaze. I thought hard about Jerry. It hurt so much to think about my friend. The only white kid in the Heap. Out of all of us, he alone had a chance to make good on his promise to escape. The rest of us would need a miracle. I was looking right at the guy who probably lead the raid on the SmashStone drug transfer. If hate were a flame, I had enough fire to burn Bridgess alive. No more kids in caskets.

"You have what you need," I told him. "There's only one thing on my mind. I'm going to kill SmashStone."

Bridgess let his knife fly. My bonds came loose and I slumped in the chair. My arms were weak. I'd already lost so much blood. My breath was ragged. My lungs couldn't have hurt more if I'd gotten a faceful of fiberglass dust.

"Thanks," I grunted. "Take this-take this information straight to Cutter. You'll need everyone. Have everyone there on the west side of the warehouse by eight-thirty. When nine o'clock rolls around, it's all yours."

Bridgess bobbed his head several times. "One more thing, kid."

I started to ask what it was, but before I'd even opened my mouth, Seth Bridgess poked his knife into the burn on my chest and twisted. For the second time that day, I screamed bloody murder.

"The pain. You take that, and you walk outta here with it. And just remember, if you back out now, there's much worse we'll do to you before we kill you."

I don't think I answered him. He shoved me through the door where I stumbled and fell. The other members jeered and threw red Solo Orbs at me. The Orbs are just some kind of mouth-sized seaweed compound that replaced plastic cups after the Great Corporate War. The company died along with the rest of them, but their name stuck around for some reason. Anyway, the Orbs didn't hurt too bad when they hit, but they did burst open like water balloons and drench me in various sports drinks.

I made it past the goons. The daylight struck at my eyes like a lance. My eyes burned even as I blinked about a million times to try and get them to adjust.

"Good luck kid," one of the guards murmured as I passed him. I couldn't tell you who it was, I never found out. As out of it as I was, I couldn't even tell you what the guy looked like.

I'd been through hell. There was only one place I wanted to go now. Home. And fortunately for me, the place would be empty.

[curiousdamage]

Father’s Day Ficlet 1 First Father’s Day

Fandom: Karate Kid- Becca Universe

I own nothing.

John celebrates his first Father’s Day in Viet Nam.

Humpin’ was Army slang for carrying.

John Kreese laid on his bunk, one arm over his eyes to block out the light as he tried to get comfortable enough to take a nap.  You’d think after a month of sleeping in the mud, when they got to sleep, anything resembling a bed would be comfortable.  Not the case.

He was enjoying the relative quiet though.  Most of his men were over at the Communications office, hoping to get a call out to their parents to tell their Dads ‘Happy Father’s Day’ and let them know they made it another month.  The rest were over at the JetSet getting hammered.

He didn’t want to go to either.  He’d just spoken to Cara a few days before and the guys over there now were the ones who usually didn’t get phone privileges besides, it wasn’t like his parents even had a phone if he had wanted to call.  Getting drunk was appealing, in fact, he was probably more than halfway there, but the bottle of Johnny Walker Red that Mikey had snuck in was better than any of the rotgut they had at the ‘beach club’.  

He wasn’t sure why knocking up the guy’s sister had made him his new best friend, but hey, if he kept bringing him good booze and cigars occasionally, John wasn’t going to complain. Mikey was a good guy, for an Army brat.

He’d never celebrated Father’s Day.  He had never really celebrated anything.  His family hadn’t had the money to celebrate any holiday.  Oh, they’d gone to an extra church service on Christmas and his mother had always made sure there was something under the tree for them, usually new boots or a winter coat, something they needed so she could justify the costs. When he’d been old enough, he’d taken extra jobs around birthdays and holidays to be able to have a little gift or two for his brother and mother.  If he was feeling extra generous, he’d add some bottle of cheap whiskey for his dad, but since that was already where most of the family’s money had gone, to begin with, he didn’t often feel that generous.  He still remembered the look on Tim’s face the last Christmas they’d been together when he’d opened that .22 rifle he’d been wanting so long.   He’d never seen anyone that happy before or since.  It was worth all the getting up at four a.m. to work at the Jemsons’ farm before heading to school he’d done the month before to be able to buy it for him.  Then their dad had taken it and sold it for booze when Tim was at school.  John had tried to buy it back, but it had already been sold again by the time he’d found out what his dad had done with it.  Not that he would have had the money again anyway.

Sorry fucker.  That’s what he was supposed to celebrate?  Hell, he hadn’t even talked to his parents since he’d joined the Army in 1964.  He’d written to Tim until his little brother been drafted to and subsequently killed in this stupid war.  He still wrote his mother occasionally.  He wasn’t even sure she got them, but he wrote a few times a year.

He’d told her that he had a daughter.  He’d even sent her one of the few pictures he had of her.  A daughter he’d never seen.  A daughter he would probably never see.  He’d already been in country longer than anyone he knew and there wasn’t much chance of the Cobra Kais getting pulled out anytime soon.  His luck was bound to run out.  

His beautiful daughter with his gray eyes.   Where he was from, gray eyes were a mark of poverty, as though the bleakness of life in the Tennessee hills had leached the color out of their very souls.  But looking out from her angelic face, they were beautiful.

He sat up and took the bottle of Johnny Walker from his footlocker and took another drink.  If he couldn’t sleep, he could get drunk.  He closed the bottle and set it on the floor beside his cot as he laid back down.

He’d barely closed his eyes when he heard the door to their barracks open, a thump, and muttered curse before it banged shut.  He sensed rather than saw the other soldier stretch out on his cot.  He didn’t even have to look.  Silver was the only one tall enough to hit his head on the door frame. After two years, one would think he’d remember to duck, but no telling how drunk he was.  

“You didn’t want to call your old man?” He asked, resign that not only was he not going to get any sleep, but now the silence would also be gone.  Silver couldn’t be quiet if he tried.  

“Don’t have one.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, I had one,” Terry replied.  “Didn’t really know him or my mother.  They shipped me off to a boarding school as soon as I was old enough.  They’re both dead.”

“No shit?”

“Car wreck about six months before I was drafted.  Neither survived.”

“Damn.”  So that’s how a guy with the money to pay someone to do his tour for him, or at least bribe his way out of the draft, ended up humpin’ a radio all over Viet Nam.  He picked up the bottle and held it out to the younger man.  “You have some grandparents or something?”

Terry took the bottle and shook his head.  “I have some distant cousins.  They’re probably all hoping I buy it over here.  They’ll inherit my parents’ money then.”

“Fuck.”  That was worst than just not having anyone.  

“What about you?  You talk to your dad?”

“No.  Haven’t talked to him in four years,” John answered, taking the bottle back and taking a long drink.  “Sorry ass motherfucker.  I wouldn’t care if he died tomorrow.  He used to beat the shit out of Tim and me for the hell of it.  Hell, maybe for the fun of it.”  He passed the bottle back.

“Shit,” Terry muttered. He was neglected, but he wasn’t beaten. Not the precious heir.  

They laid in silence for a while, passing the bottle back and forth.  At some point, Terry pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tossed one to John.

“Mail call.”  A private stuck his head in the tent before dragging the mailbag in the room.  “One for you, Captain.  Two for you, Silver.”  

He took the envelope and laid back down.  He smiled, the curvy sway of Cara’s handwriting lifting his spirits slightly. He opened the envelope and pulled a card out.  

“To Daddy

From your little girl”

There was a picture of a blonde girl feeding a deer an apple.  His smile grew as he opened the card and a picture fell out.

“Happy Father’s Day, Daddy!”

He twice read the words Cara had written all about Rebecca and what she was doing and learning now. He picked up the picture.

She really was the prettiest baby he’d ever seen.

He’d never celebrated anything before.  Definitely not Father’s Day.  But now he was a father.  To a beautiful little girl with gray eyes and an innocent smile.  He was going to make sure that she always had something to celebrate.  That she always had a reason to smile.

“Hey, Silver, check it out!” He held the picture up.

“Is that the Princess?” He took the picture and looked it over. “She’s beautiful.  You sure she’s yours? Good thing she takes after Cara.”

“Man, screw you,” John laughed, reaching out to grab the picture.  “Give me my princess back.”  He snatched the picture and put it in his wallet.  Stashing the card in his locker, he stood up and stretched.  “Come on, Silver.  Let’s get out of here.  Enough bitching and moaning.  It stinks in here.  Let’s find some fresh air and get some food.”

He was going to do his best to make it home to celebrate Father’s Day with her in person someday.

[terrence-silver]

Beloved surprising Terry with honey cake and apple cookies she baked herself for the new year's dinner. She's a bit nervous because she's not Jewish herself and she's not even sure if she can participate in the celebration but she just looked up the recipes online because she wanted to do something nice for him.

---

It was strange, perhaps, to be with a man who was frequently the subject of tabloids.

Newspapers.

Business insiders and the LA Times reporting on his bankruptcy.

On rumors lined together like a string of pearls, creating a torniquet. Dynatox under fire. Mass sackings. An international conglomerate sliced in half, into countless branches and his personal revenues and failures making headlines on the daily. Sport scandals. Cobra Kai and local Tournament losses. The stock market tanking in lieu of the backlash in the aftermath of so many skeletons in the closet. Talks of bribery. Corruption. It was the September of 1992, --- the beginning of a new decade and the latter part of the year Or the 1st of Tishrei, 5753, and it seemed that even for the Holidays, the media onslaught wouldn't cease. Especially when he downsized, deliberately moving his address from the coveted slopes of his Beverly Hills Ennis mansion overlooking the city, somewhere more compact and amenable. To Malibu. The 80's ended and Terry said, with you distinctly remembering his exact words that all the fun ended with it. Things would change. People would change with it. They'd have to. And things did change, you felt so in your bones as the black limousine waited outside along with the chauffeur and you rushed in from the mansion being secured and locked behind you with not a single piece of luggage on you. Terry made sure everything you needed was already transported by his men. All you carried into the parked vehicle with you as you scooted next to him on the leather backseat was a warm plate covered with a napkin as the last bit of cookery the workers didn't load in previously, catching your breath as you closed the door behind you shut.

Taking one last look at your colossal Mayan temple of a house.

There was no Margaret. No Milos. No Snake. No Dennis.

The stony courtyard stood empty.

-"What's this?"-

Terry pointed his nose at the China in your lap. You weren't moving to the surface of Mars. He made that clear multiple times. Everything you ever needed he'd replace and buy again by the tenfold. He'd make things anew. Better. -"The last thing I cooked in our old home. A sort of goodbye."- You explain as the limousine moved forward and the secured iron gate and its walls started moving with it, disappearing behind you and into the dusky streets of Glendower Avenue. -"Sentimental."- Terry chuckled, peppering the ash of his cigar into a nearby crystal ashtray. He told you he'd quit soon. It was falling out of fashion, he explained. It was like he had a third eye capable of predicting these things. If you don't change, he said, you die. You remove the napkin covering the plate, revealing what you were busy tinkering with this last day here. You were pretty certain the manor still had the scent of sweets lingering in the air when you left. The idea of that made you feel a certain way, even though Terry told you, with as much firmness as you remember him having, that one day, he'll avenge himself and everything he was giving up now. Weirdest thing was, you entirely believed him. -"Apple cake and honey. You know? For Rosh Hashanah."- You explain carefully, finding his eyes stilling in the darkness of the car until he wasn't blinking anymore, perfectly calm as the chauffeur in the front turned left. -"For you. Before we settle into our new place and celebrate properly."- You add once he says nothing, observing you and your offerings, cigar in hand, suited up, insisting he leave this place in grand style. You gulp, feeling a bit nervous, fidgeting where you sat. His expression perfectly cool. You talked about religion before. First time you decided to do something like this for him.

He needed that, you felt.

After everything.

-"Are you upset? You seem upset."-

-"For the most talked about man in the country, huh? Perfect."-

His mouth melts upward slowly, into a smile, until his teeth are on full display.

-"For the most talked about man in the country, yes."-

You repeat with a chuckle of your own, relieved, offering him a dessert from your plated entree. He sets down his cigar, affixing his cufflinks, taking one and bringing it up to his nostrils, inhaling the scent. His gaze meeting yours, hooded, from under his brows. His eyes were smiling too. -"I won, you know. I always win."- Terry practically purrs. You adjust yourself in your seat, finally finding a comfortable place, shaking your head, slightly confused. He dips the slice of apple into the tiny, honey filled glass container, never separating his stare from you. You follow suit, taking a slice yourself. -"What do you mean?"- You ask, scooting closer. -"They indicted me five times this year. That's four times more than last year."- He's all emotive and energy, even as he chews with distinction to the point where it was hard to pinpoint if Terry felt beleaguered by the fact, or entirely proud. Knowing him, you'd guess proud. -"Then there's Dynatox."- He adds, his mirth fading into something more serious until he becomes distant for but a moment. You knew how much that company meant to him. -"Cobra Kai. John."- He includes, holding your eyes with a peculiar sort of fierceness. The fallout with John too. If anything, you knew that part possibly hurt him more than what was going on with Dynatox. -"But, here you are, huh --- all cookies and cream for me on the Day of Repentance."- You lower your head, oddly humbled and bashful. The honey symbolized and alluded to a sweet beginning of a New Year and you hoped for just that, for you --- for him. You just wanted things to be alright again, nearly gasping when you felt his finger under your chin, lifting your face up to look at him, Griffith Park bypassing you through the tinted windows. It was the end of an era; the least you could do is commemorate it, even if it was on the backseat of a limo.

-"Terry..."-

You whisper, flattered, watching him reach for the minibar, producing a bottle.

A pair of glasses. Pouring you and him a glass of white wine each.

Handing you yours, grinning from ear to ear.

-"Baby, that smells like winning to me."-

He declares, throwing his arm around you, clinking glasses.

Dipping another slice of apple cake into honey.

[raphpanda21]

Cause you got me in my feelings

Last time

Hermes: I will see you Monday.

Persephone glared at him as she tried to set her hair to rights again.

Persephone: Sure thing. See you Monday!

Waving bye over his shoulder he soon disappears from her sight the sound of the elevator gate rising and falling quickly followed by the sound of the elevator descending. All to quickly the large loft falls silent and Persephone is left with only her thoughts for company. Not wanting to focus on them she instead moves towards the boxes setting aside her coffee cup as she digs out a change of clothes. Finding an outfit that she deemed comfortable enough to unpack in she moved back upstairs to make use of one of the showers. It might be a late start but better to start out her day feeling fresh she resolved. As she was stepping into the shower downstairs her phone screen turned on with a ding and as a text notification appeared on the screen.

After much effort and plying them with alcohol Hades had managed to successfully excuse himself from the emergency bro brunch. Pulling into his driveway he took out his cell and checked his text messages for the thousandth time. Still no response from Persephone. Was she okay? Was she mad at him? He groaned audibly at all the imagined horribles. Locking his screen once more he climbed out of the car and made his way to his front door. Putting his keys in the door he realized it was unlocked. Strange? He was positive he had locked it before he left.

Opening the door he was greeted by Cerberus who he absently pet as he walked into the house pushing the door closed behind him. The sound of soft mood music wafted through the house. As he walked further into his house he quickly figured out who the intruder was when he spied a very familiar pair of heels and limited release bag. Both of which he had been coaxed into purchasing for Minthe in the past. This could not be good news for him. Well best to face the music she obviously was not going to let him run away. Searching the entire downstairs he finds no sign of Minthe inside or out. With a deep breathe for courage he made his way upstairs. The smell of her cigars was his next hint that he was getting closer. Following his nose he entered his bedroom and unexpectedly discovered a pile of her discarded clothing and underthings. Perhaps things wouldn’t go as badly as he thought. Moving to his bathroom he finally found the lady in question reclined in a bubble bath reading some sort of magazine her cigar resting in an ash try. Seeing her phone resting on the counter ledge Hades clicked pause on her music app.

Hades: Making yourself at home?

Minthe lowered the magazine laying it down on the floor as she leaned over the bathtub edge to grab her cigar giving Hades more than an eyeful of her bare chest. Looking away his eyes fall on what she had been reading and his stomach dropped seeing that it is the latest tabloid. He had hoped to do some damage control before Minthe saw it.

Minthe: That’s kind of the point of having a spare key isn’t ?

Minthe exhales a swirl of cigar smoke as she rolled her eyes at him

He settled on the edge of the tub not comfortable with standing awkwardly in the doorway of his own bathroom.

Hades: Not exactly the intention I had but I can guess your reasons for being here.

Minthe gives him a look that’s says without her speaking a word she thought him and idiot.

Minthe: Oh really? Would that reason be the fact your face is splattered across every bit of media that exists alongside Persephone’s and now double shock Thanatos.

Hades: Like I keep telling everyone those gossip mongers have it all wrong.

Minthe hmmms exhaling her cigar smoke into his face.

Minthe: Of course I am sure you are completely innocent.

The tone seemed to imply she hardly believed him at all and as she took one last puff from her cigar and ground it down into one of the pictures of him on the magazine front. Hades sighed reaching out to stroke her face.

Hades: Have some faith in me Minthe.

Minthe tossed the spent cigar in the ashtray and leaned back lifting one of her lithe legs from the bath and laying it across Hades lap.

Minthe: Sure, I will have faith when I see you have commitment. How long has my relationship request sat unanswered on Fatesbook?

Hades brows knit as he frowned in annoyance.

Hades: That has nothing to do with this.

Minthe sunk down more her hair hallowing around her as she looked ever much a wild water nymph. A seductress full of sweet promises that could very likely lead to the foolish victim’s death.

Minthe: Perhaps you don’t think so but remember I have always been more shrewd than you. I am offering you my help but you are too stubborn or stupid to realize it.

Minthe really was like a rose at times like this. So beautiful and enticing but she had hidden thorns that sliced deep.

Hades: Well since you are so certain of yourself enlighten me.

Minthe pulled back her leg suddenly the sudden exposure of his now soaked pants making him shiver. Pulling her legs up to her chest she wrapped her arms tightly about them and leaned towards him.

Minthe: It is simple. Make us official and I will move in. There is no easier way to dispel such a asinine rumor. Sure you maybe villainized for a time in the press but you are no stranger to being the tainted one.

Hades was shocked at Minthe’s suggestion. In all there years together she had never even left a toothbrush at his house and now she was talking about moving in together. Making things public. The laugh slipped out before he could stop it.

To say Minthe was miffed was an understatement. With a huge slosh of water she rose from the bath and grabbed his terry robe tying it around her much smaller from with far more force than was needed. Hades could almost hear the ticking of the time bomb he had started and he moved quickly to cut the right wires before she exploded. Standing up he moved behind her grabbing her shoulders and giving her a squeeze.

Hades: Sorry , I shouldn’t have laughed, you just caught me of guard. I think this is all to fast. Perhaps we should start with moving some of your stuff over a little at a time see how things go from there?

Minthe turned in his hold glaring up at him her ears pressed back showing her rage clearly.

Minthe: You said you wanted to work on us yet nothing with us has changed. To throw your words back at you have some faith!

Hades sighed loudly rubbing his hands up and down her robe covered arms. He both hated and admired her skills at turning his words back on him. Looking her in the eyes he felt his resolve beginning to waver as behind all the anger he saw the loneliness that was all to familiar.

Hades: Fair enough. Go dry off and get changed into something warm before you catch a chill. We can talk more after. Perhaps over a nice bottle of your favorite.

Minthe pouts but her ears pull forward slightly as her anger begins to abate.

Minthe: Fine, but don’t think you can ply me with alcohol to get your way. I am serious about this.

As if to prove her point she thumps him in his chest before slipping out of his grasp and disappearing back in the bedroom.

Hades let out a long slow breathe he hadn’t realized he had been holding and rubbed his hands through his hair. Hanging his head his eyes fell on the discarded magazine. Minthe was always the worst about not picking up after herself. It was one of Hades pet peeves but she always accused him of being to much of a neat freak when he brought it up. He no longer bothered to bring it up and right or wrong would just take care of it. Bending down he picked up the magazine glancing at his scorched face briefly before he folded it in half and tossed it in the bin. Getting burned by Minthe was nothing new for him .

Back on Mt Olympus Hera had just made it home. Walking in she tossed her keys and sunglasses onto the entryway table. She needed a bath and nap stat. Making her way through the house she paused as she passed the living room and saw Zeus engrossed in some sort of sporting event. Perhaps the bath could wait a few moments. Moving into the living room she plopped down beside him kicking off her heels before sinking back into the couch.

Zeus: Long night I take it?

Hera snorts at this rolling her head back and forth trying to work the stiffness our of her neck.

Hera: That’s the understatement of the day but everything is falling into place. Your Bellyhand’s take their jobs very serious. Much more than my little birdies told me.

Zeus didn’t comment on this uncertain if it was wise or not to boast about the secrecy of his former love nest. Hera sensed his hesitation and smirked smacking his shoulder

Hera: Calm down tiger. You aren’t in the dog house yet. You did after all agree to give up your hideaway for my use exclusively. I have to be a tad forgiving considering. The sex swing was a shock though, poor Persephone hadn’t a clue what it was and would have hopped right in if not for Hermes and myself.

Zeus coughed nervously at the mention of the swing.

Zeus: So I take it that the swing is no more?

Hera’s eyes narrowed at this question and Zeus quickly hurried to back peddle.

Zeus: Which would totally be fine with me. It was more a novelty than practical really.

Hera flicked her hair in annoyance his coverup not exactly what she was wanting

Hera: The Bellyhands made a nice bonfire out of it yes and I had to pay a small fortune to have the place deep cleaned in addition. It was shamefully disgusting Zeus. I had no idea going in how bad it would be. I was honestly a bit shocked.

Zeus could feel his guilt rising. He was a horrid husband and it was times like this when he saw Hera’s beauty cloaked with sadness that it really hit him in the gut. It was just so hard sometimes. He was a creature of passions with no will to want to resist. This only seemed to get worse whenever they had a row. It was as if he wanted to show her that she wasn’t special that he could have whoever he wanted and she couldn’t do anything about it. It was a sick power trip for him plain and simple but once the endorphins passed the regret would hit him like a truck. There was no way to make up for his actions but he could try to be better going forward and perhaps in its own small way it might help.

Zeus: I am sorry you had to see that, be in that place. It couldn’t have been easy for you.

Hera sighed reaching out lace his left hand’s fingers with her right and gives them a squeeze

Hera: It wasn’t easy at all but I survived. I really truthfully wanted to burn the place to the ground but it will serve a better purpose now. In that place I saw I think the worst of you. Now that I have faced it I want to move forward together and leave the past in the past. Can we continue to try together?

Zeus heart was breaking and growing at the same time for the beautiful goddess before him. How many times would he hurt her, tear her down, and yet like the most stubborn of weeds she would never fade away. Reaching out with his free hand he gently cupped her cheek turning her face to face him as he leaned in and kissed her forehead with tender reverence before pulling back to look her in the eyes.

Zeus: Yes, I would like that as well. Perhaps when Persephone need for the place ends we can sell it and put the money made towards a getaway for the family instead.

Hera smiled at Zeus nuzzling her check into his palm.

Hera: That sounds like a wonderful plan to me. It makes me so happy that you are actively working now to make things better.

Zeus chuckled softly a smile spreading in response to hers

Zeus: I am not perfect Hera despite the pedestal everyone puts me on but I would like to be better for us. We were so happy once.

Hera leaned over resting her head on his shoulder and he unlaced their fingers wrapping his arm around her shoulder to pull her closer.

Hera: We both have our faults but the first step in fixing them is the steps you are making. Admitting to your faults and facing them can be the hardest part. I will be your anchor through this if you promise to be mine.

Zeus laid his head on top of Hera’s hair savoring the sweet smell of honey and spring rains before kissing her head gently

Zeus: Always.

Hera wouldn’t be getting her shower or nap anytime soon but she didn’t mind. She wanted to linger a little longer and enjoy the rare moment of genuine contentment and happiness. She knew that there might be many more dark days ahead of them. Bad habits like addictions often had relapses so she wanted to savor this experience to have something to cling to if he did falter.

It was nearly sundown before Persephone had finished unpacking all her things and getting them situated the way she wanted. Coming down the stairs she stretched her arms up high trying to work some of the stiffness from her back. Looking down on the large living room area she suddenly realized as modern and neat as it was it lacked any personal touches. Perhaps she could bring in some houseplants and things would seem less chilly. Maybe she could even convince number 1 to add a trip to a nursery on their agenda for tomorrow. Mind made up she headed into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and her phone to scope out possible nurseries in the area. Acquiring both items she went back to the living room and settled down in the pit couch. Setting her drink back on the floor behind her she unlocked her screen surprised to see several notification alerts on it.

Clicking on the most recent one she saw it was from Thanatos concerned over her well being. She felt her guilt grow at reading that he to had been hounded by the press as well. Her thumbs hovered over the screen not sure how even to begin to type it all out. Wait she didn’t have to type it technically. She could call him or at least try to. Biting her bottom lip she hesitatesd for just a moment before hitting the call button. As the phone began to ring Persephone’s doubt and worry grew. Would he answer? Was he mad at her? As the third ring went unanswered she felt she had her answer and just as she was about to hang up the sound of the phone clicking with an answer followed by a jumble of words stopped her.

Thanatos: Persephone is that you ?!

Persephone’s earlier anxiety began to lift away at hearing Thanatos’s voice.

Persephone: Yes it is me. I am sorry it took me so long to respond.

Thanatos who had been having to practically shove the Furies out of his home when the phone started to ring let out a large sigh of relief.

Thanatos: No that is fine I am just glad you responded. Have the press come after you? Do you need help?

Persephone: They were around earlier but Hera and Hermes helped me get to somewhere safe. Hestia was going to kick me out so if it hadn’t been for them I would probably have already been forced to move back into my Mother’s.

Thanatos rubbed his face in annoyance hearing about Hermes. Why was he not surprised? They had all agreed to keep their distance unless she asked for help but it seemed the young god could not resist.

Thanatos: Well if Hera was involved I am certain at least that your new abode is safe and habitable. What will you do though when you leave it? The press are not going to be backing off anytime soon with this sort of story. You aren’t planning to quit the internship and school are you?

Persephone absently picks at the embroidery design on the throw pillow besides her as she ponders his question. Would she eventually have to quit? She hoped not but there were still unknown factors that might come into play.

Persephone: I have no plans so far to change anything. Hera has assigned some bodyguards to look after me here and when I leave here.

Thanatos: Bodyguards huh? I mean I know she is like Queen B goddess but how did she get all of this pulled together so quickly?

Persephone chewed on her lip unsure if it was her place to reveal the true nature of her new sanctuary. Well maybe if she was vague he wouldn’t question her more, better than changing the subject and raising suspicions.

Persephone: It seems this is a place Hera and her family use whenever they want to get away and have some privacy. The Bellyhands are always stationed here to ensure no one messes with the property or the family.

Thanatos: The Bellyhands? As in super large cyclops Bellyhands?

Persephone: Yeah those are the ones! You have heard of them ?

Thanatos: Yeah, the coven of seven are somewhat legendary at their craft. They have been masters of fortification and protection long before the Titanomachy happened. Unlike many of their Cyclopean brothers though they had no involvement in the conflict. As their name implies they don’t do anything without payment that will see their bellies filled. I had no idea that they were now under the employ of Zeus and his family.

Persephone: So you would say I am in good hands then?

Thanatos laughed at the terrible joke.

Thanatos: Anyone that dared to mess with you while you are under their protection would come to regret it dearly.

Persephone: What about you ? You said the press have been hounding you as well?

Thanatos: Don’t worry about me. I few vultures at my door are hardly a bother and for now they have been handled.

Persephone: Well, if you say so. I still feel awful though.

Thanatos rolled his eyes hearing the guilt in Persephone’s voice.

Thanatos:Don’t you dare start Princess. If you try to apologize to me I will hang up. You didn’t ask for any of this to happen so you better not apologize or feel awful.

The guilt she felt began to waver under his scolding and she smiled. She was so thankful he was always so forgiving. Sometimes she felt like such a child when she was around him. Just like an older classmate or brother he always seemed to protect her and push her back on the right path.

Persephone: Alright, I won’t say a peep.

They continued to talk for a time Persephone telling Thanatos all about her new abode and some of the more luxurious features. As the sunset started to burn into twilight she stood from the couch and made her way to the window to enjoy it. She was just telling Thanatos about her plan for the next day when her eyes spied someone having what appeared to be a rather heated conversation with the Bellyhand stationed at the front gate.

Persephone: Oh! Someone has come to the gate

Thanatos:Seriously? Is it a reporter?

Persephone tried to squint and make out the figure more in the growing twilight.

Persephone:I can’t tell from here. I guess I can ask them later who it was.

Thanatos didn’t like the sound of the stranger but didn’t want to alarm Persephone either so he didn’t voice his concern aloud and instead got her back on the subject of her plans for Sunday.

Meanwhile at the gate a very irate Thetis was about to become unhinged. Zeus had been coming less and less to the office choosing instead to work remotely and only communicating with her via professional emails. She had tried to text him but he was seemingly ignoring them. She wasn’t sure what his issue was but she was not going to be tossed aside like yesterday’s news. She had come here planning to set up a rather seductive scene and text Zeus some enticing photos of her in the new set of lingerie she purchased just for this occasion but all her plans had gone out of the window the moment she arrived. Instead of finding the gates swung upon with barely a glance she found her path blocked by a very bullheaded cyclops.

Thetis: What do you mean I am not allowed to enter?! You have seen me here a million times before!

Bellyhand: Can’t say I remember. Types like you all look the same to me. You best just be on your way miss. A new lady has taken residence here.

Thetis eyes narrowed with rage. A new lady?! Had Zeus taken on a new mistress? Was that why he was ignoring her!

Thetis: What do you mean a lady?! I should be the only lady you ever see. Who is she!

The Bellyhand lets out a huff of air crossing his large arms over his chest as he looked down at the tiny female before him.

Bellyhand: I think miss your definition of a lady and us Bellyhands definition are two different thing. Who she is or isn’t wont be any of your business miss. The lady is under our protection that is all you need to know. Now kindly be on your way else things might get a bit messy if you catch my drift .

Thetis was livid but she wasn’t stupid and she knew when to cut her losses. Spinning on her heel she was grinding her teeth in agitation as she made her way down the street ordering a new car to come get her. Whoever this bitch was she did not know whose territory she was messing with. Zeus might stray but he always came back to her in the end. This time though she would make him suffer for his unfaithfulness. He had never dared to treat her so poorly in the past and she was not going to tolerate it now.

Persephone saw the lady depart with what seemed liked little incident as she continued to chat with Thanatos laughing at some of the antics the furies had pulled so far. It wasn’t until he mentioned needing to get off and find something to eat that she realized how hungry she was as well. Saying their goodbyes she hung up the phone and head towards the kitchen to look for something to possibly eat. Unsurprisingly the cabinets were basically bare except for a bag of melting chocolates. Well she could add grocery shopping to the list of Sunday activities but until then she would need to order something in. Moving to the elevator she pressed the intercom button waiting for the other side to pick up.

Bellyhand: Needing something Miss?

Persephone: Umm yes please could we order some take out? There isn’t really anything up here for dinner.

Bellyhand: Of course, there is a stack of menus in the kitchen by the fridge. You figure out what you want and we will see to it ma’am.

Persephone: Alright thank you.

Moving back to the the kitchen she quickly located the stack and begins to peruse trying to decide what she might want to eat. The rest of the night was uneventful. After devouring a small pizza she went up to her room and let herself get lost in some mindless television. Eventually she nodded off under the soft glow of the screen sleeping deeply and thankfully peacefully through the night.

In the Underworld another was not sleeping as peacefully. Slipping free from the sleeping Minthe’s hold he quietly slide out of bed taking his cellphone with him. Exiting the bedroom he carefully pulled to door closed behind him before he made his way to his home office. Walking into the room Hades settled into his chair pulling open a desk drawer to take out a cigar and lighter. Lightening up he takes a few slow puff before unlocking his cell screen frowning at the still unanswered text screen that loaded up. Still nothing. Was she okay? If something had happened it would surely be all over the news so she must be okay. Maybe she was cross with him. It wasn’t his fault exactly he had tried to handle the earlier incident but it seemed it had all been for naught. He sighed sagging into his chair as he let himself get lost in the pleasure of his cigar. Glancing back at the earlier text he made up his mind to leave it alone. If he didn’t hear back from her he would just speak to her directly on Monday. He was supposed to be keeping his distance not loosing sleep over her while another woman was lying in his bed. What was wrong with him ?! Putting out his cigar he locked his screen once more before heading back to the bedroom to settle back in bed with Minthe. Still sleep wpuld allude the weary King for many hours to come because the mind and heart were not creatures so easily swayed even if the will was weak.

[dragonlady761]

Cobra Kai Q and A

1.) How many times have you watched Cobra Kai? Did you binge or take things slow?    I watched season one and two the whole way through twice. Then I watch my favorite parts like when John Kreese and Johnny Lawrence are on over and over.

 2.) Who is your favorite character in the show, and why?  John Kreese. Because he is a very fascinating character. I’ve always been intrigued by him since I was a child. I saw his picture of him in the Army and knew he had lots of demons from when he was in Vietnam. I mean he teaches “Strike First, Strike Hard, No Mercy.’ I actually wanted to take Karate because of him and Cobra Kai. And I did. I actually did have an instructor similar to John Kreese. The man fought in Vietnam and had curly hair. He was also my American Civics teacher and home room teacher in High School.  I;ve always loved “bad guys” that were complex. I love Negan and The Governor. From TWD.  (I hate Rick) “Bad guys” are more interesting to me than “Good Guys”

 3.) Who is your least favorite character in the show, and why?  I; know I’m going to get hate for this but: Daniel Larusso.  IMHO the man never grew up. He holds grudges. He was angry when Johnny Lawrecne opened Cobra Kai. Never gave him a chance. He acted like they never left high school.  Then when Daniel saw john Kreese; he smart mouthed him. After two seconds of seeing him. “How’s your knuckles’ I mean REALLY.  It’s like Daniel saw the teacher he hated from 30 years ago in High school and the bully and decided to start the feud again. I mean grow up! IMHO Daniel acts like his shit don’t stink. Pardon my French, but I got no other delicate way of putting it. Daniels holier than thou attitude makes me want to puke. Daniel reminds me of Rick from TWD. Me all good everyone else all bad. BLECH!

 4.) Which character, in your opinion, has had the best development over the course of both seasons?   HMM that’s a tough one. I’d say Hawk. He went from a shy boy who wouldn’t say boo to a goose to a bad ass. Yes people may say he’s “evil” now. I don’t’ think so. He was bullied most of his life. It’s very common for the bullied to end up bullying other people. People think he’s corrupted by John Kreese. I think he might learn a lot from him.

 5.) What has been your favorite fight?   The one between John Kreese and Johnny Lawrence. I’ve been waiting for the fight for 30 years. I always wondered if Johnny would fight Kreese when he was all grown up. When Johnny kicked the cigar out of Kreese’s mouth, that was classic!

  6.) If you could say just one thing to any of the characters in the show, what would it be, and who would you say it to?   I would say to John Kreese. Please get some professional help. I know you think psychiatrists are “Bullshit”  I know you think that if you talk to somebody that shows weakness. It doesn’t. It takes a  a strong person to recognize they need help and seek it. It takes great strength to face your demons.

You can’t keep your pain bottled up inside. I don’t know what you’ve been through the past 30 years, but I know it was painful. You never really truly left the war. What happened wasn’t your fault. You may think that “you’re a broken man that can’t be fixed” but that’s a cop out! You don’t want to take the time and effort to help yourself.  You need to man up.  

I know you tried to talk to Johnny, but he didn’t care enough to listen. I don’t think anyone asked you why you teach No Mercy. Nobody ever listened to you. But part of that is your fault. You can’t expect someone to listen if you don’t open up. If you need someone to talk to, I’ll listen. I will try to help you. If I can’t, I’ll find someone who can. Taking medication and seeking professional help is not weakness. I know you may have tried and failed, but you need to get back up and try again.

If you don’t seek help, you will lose your students again. You will hurt them just like you hurt Johnny. You might even kill one of them. I’m sorry to say this, but if you refuse to get help, STAY AWAY FROM CHILDREN! They don’t’ need a man who refuses to get help. They need a sensei who faces his demons. You may never become completely fixed, but you can be better. You owe it too your students.  (I know this is more than one thing, but I just ran with it.)

 7.) Given the choice, would you train with Cobra Kai or Miyagi Do?  That’s a tough one. If it were me, I’d train with Cobra Kai. But I’d want both Johnny Lawrence and john Kreese teaching.  Or maybe with Terry Silver and kreese. I think Kreese needs someone there to keep him in check. I feel Kreese is heading for a breakdown. He shouldn’t be alone with any kids.

 8.) What is your favorite ship/pairing (any are okay!), and why?  I would ship John Kreese and Lucille Larusso. I would love to see what Daniel would do if he found out his mom dated his bogie man. It’s the ultimate love/hate ship.  Maybe Rosa? (Miguel’s grandmother) and John Kreese. I think they would be cute together. Then we’d have Johnny and Carmen and Kreese and Rosa on a double date. That would be awesome. (Involve a few bottles of Tequila and things could get freaky-deaky!)

9.) How did you find out about the show? What made you decide to watch it?  I saw it on You Tube and on Twitter advertised. I’ve always wondered what the characters did after movie three. I watch the entire KK series at least once a year (along with Rocky movies)  They did a “reboot” of Rocky with the Creed movies and I thought “do that with KK movies!” and I got my wish!

 10.) What is one thing you want to see happen in season 3? I would like to see more about John Kreese other  than “grrr evil bad man”  Maybe show he’s not a manipulator. In his mind, he’s really helping Johnny and his other students. I would love to see his backstory. I hope his PTSD Issues will be addressed. Maybe talk about how he spent time sleeping on the street. About how difficult life is being an aging veteran. There can be many issues addressed using the John Kreese character. IF the show decides to dive deep. But then again, the show doesn’t want to be a soapbox and preach at people.  I wish John Kreese could find some peace, but I doubt it. I don’t think he can be 100% redeemed. I just want the man to have his say. To finally have somebody listen to him without judging him.

This is a long shot, but have Kreese and Daniel, and Johnny sit down and talk with each other. They might find out they’re not all that different. They can learn from each other. That both dojo’s have it’s own merits.

(I nominate anybody who loves Cobra Kai.)