#that said this coming week is shaping up to be a doozy

[alsikeclovers]

I long for the belt buckles to arrive.

(My crafting hobbies are at a standstill until I can finish my gambeson)

But when they do arrive!! Watch out!

[brownsugarwrites]

Can't get enough.

continuation of superstar (read first!) ❥ warnings: smut. fluff. angst. slow burn. spanking as a use of punishment. crying. hair pulling. oral (m receiving). alcohol. reader is tipsy but is still consenting. sub!reader. yearner johnny.

❥ wc: 3.9k (😵‍💫)

❥ an: wow. this is a doozy. took me about a week and a half to write this but I can say this is best thing I’ve written in my hobby as a writer. special shoutouts to @lxnarphase & @dejwrld this is also dedicated to them. enjoy 🤍

Groaning softly as the sun poured into his eyes waking him up before turning over to see you not by his side. It was only 7:30 am when did you leave?

“Maybe she just downstairs,” he thought hoping you were there

Putting on a pair of pants he swiftly went downstairs to the living room to see you were there. Starting to break a sweat he checked every part of his house to see if there were any signs of you.

There wasn't.

You had left in the early hours without even leaving a note. Taking out his phone he quickly dialed your number to contact you. 

Your sweet voice rang in his ear as your voicemail message played

Calling you 5 times over you kept sending him straight to voicemail obviously not wanting to talk. Rolling his eyes he texted you back to back asking why you were ignoring him, and why you left. He was worried he had done something wrong. Maybe he was too rough or mean during sex or just maybe you didn't want this as much as he did.

Sitting on your L-shaped couch you looked out our balcony window to see the waves crashing into the shore as your TV played in the background. Hearing your phone ping constantly you saw a stream of messages coming from Johnny himself asking why you left and why you weren't answering the phone.

Putting his notifications mute you threw your phone to the other side of the couch and put your head face first into the decorative pillow.

“And she left without any notice? Wow, she pulled a you on you” Kenshi said before sipping his whisky.

“Now is not the time for jokes. I've been blowing up her phone for the past two weeks” he exclaimed pacing around his front room

His best friend watched as he continued to mumble to himself and tap on his phone to see if there was any trace of you on social media.

“Honestly Johnny, why do you think she's ignoring you right now?” Kenshi asked curiously

“I dont know! That's what I'm trying to figure out jackass.” he grunted plopping down on the loveseat “I took her out for drinks to celebrate and then we came back and had sex. She was ok with all of it. At least I think”

“Maybe she's just overwhelmed that she had sex with her cast mate. I just think she needs time to come around.” 

“I gave her two weeks-”

“Two weeks of blowing up her phone. I'm surprised she didn't block you” Kenshi responded rolling his eyes before setting his glass down. “Look… give her space. She's not gonna talk to you if you keep pestering her.” 

Sighing deeply Johnny ran his hand over his face defeated before giving a small “ok” 

Later that night E! News poured out of his surround sound speakers as he mindlessly scrolled on his phone getting ready for his first round of interviews for the upcoming movie. But, he was stopped in his scrolling when he saw you pop up on his screen.

Your bronze skin was illuminated by an artificial light as you smiled getting your hair combed and set by your hairstylist. 

Even though you spent most of your life in front of the camera you can't help but be a little shy sometimes, especially for social media. He thinks it's the cutest thing when you give that side smile before giggling a bit.

Watching you on a loop he quickly snapped out of his neverending gaze and shut his phone off before running his hands through his hair cursing to himself.

“So yeah, after that whole ordeal, I got up and left,” you told your nail tech who happened to be your best friend as well

“So, you fuck your costar get scared then leave”

“I wouldn't say I got scared but-”

“But what? Girl, you literally have this man on his hands and knees and you're not taking advantage of that,” she responded taking a break from filing your nails

Chewing the inside of your cheek you were annoyed to admit that she was right.

“I just feel like we crossed a very thin line between coworkers” you contested

Rolling her eyes she let your hand go and set down all of her materials.

“You know what I think? He always liked you and finally got his chance once you two were working on that movie. That thin line was gone as soon as you stepped into that board room. And I think you like him too.” she responded

Silence filled the air as ‘Go Gina’ by Sza softly played through the speakers. Your mind went blank as she admitted the truth you secretly lived in.

Maybe you did like him. Maybe you were scared of the next steps in the relationship the two of you created. 

There was no maybe. This was definite. You hated to admit your best friend was right. 

Moving your hair out of your face your nails clicked away as you scrolled on Twitter to see all the red carpet looks for the night.

Like always, you were late. You sat in the back of the blacked-out truck on the way to the theater where the award show was being held. You hoped that you were still able to catch the red carpet and have a chance to take pictures.

Looking up from your phone you realized you were close to the venue and prepared to exit the car. Coming to a halt, your door was quickly opened by security and you were met with a quick flash. 

Stepping out of the vehicle with the help of security you raised your head moving your hair out of your face before waving to the fans in the crowd. Reminding yourself to give quick autographs before making your way to the main red carpet area.

As you posed many calls of your name of your name could be heard throughout. As the sound of your name filled the room his ears perked up and quickly turned to the other end of the carpet.

Standing stunned on the other end Johnny stared at your angelic state. The champagne dewdrop dress adorned your body perfectly as you posed for the cameras.

Your bronze skin glowed under the lights as the body waves draped over your shoulder graced by a diamond headpiece. 

As you walked forward he watched as you mingled amongst the other actors and gave out hugs with your dazzling smile. 

“Are you gonna talk to her or sit here and drool all over the floor?” Kenshi said snapping him out of his mind

“No, she's busy right now I would hate to interrupt her” 

Side eyeing his friend he was astonished at who stood beside him. Thee Johnny Cage who is flamboyant in anything that he does. The one who doesn't care if he stops in the middle of an interview to talk to a friend. He was whipped for you and didn't realize it. 

Still staring at you he felt as if time slowed as the two of you locked eyes with each other. He watched as your eyes widened slightly revealing your brown irises before sending a teasing wink. Your head quickly snapped back to the group of ladies you were talking to currently.

Before he could walk over he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“It's time to go over the details for you announcing tonight's winner Mr.Cage,” one of the production assistants said before guiding him to the production area

“I curious to know who will announce this award with me tonight?” he inquired

“Hmmm as of now no one Mr.Cage.” 

“Is it possible for me to request a partner?” 

As you walked towards your seat you saw someone approach you rather quickly 

“I'm so sorry this is last minute but we need you to present an award tonight.” 

You felt your nose scrunch up in confusion. You weren't notified of this months ago when people started finding out they were chosen to present. 

“I think this is a mistake. I wasn't notified of this” You smiled gently but were still confused about what the change was about

“I know and I apologize but you will just read off the teleprompter then the envelope. It is rather easy” She assured you eyes shining with enthusiasm 

Reluctantly agreeing to this you were escorted to your seat as the show began. 

You watched as the nominees won their awards and the few musical guests who were there for the night. 

Soon you were called backstage to prepare to present the award. As you waited patiently you heard two voices come backstage. Your head tilted slightly because you were under the impression you were presenting alone. Soon the voice started to become familiar. Feeling like a deer in headlights the two of you soon locked eyes before Johnny waved to you.

“Haven't seen you around sweetheart. You look stunning tonight” 

This was his plan all this time. He was getting annoyed with the cat-and-mouse game you were playing with him. It seemed like this was the only way to get to you without you running away

“This has to be a fucking joke,” you whispered to yourself 

“This was last minute as you may know. Is this ok?” the backstage crew asked.

As you nodded your head the PA disappeared just before the cameras went back live. 

“Why are you ignoring me pretty girl?” he asked

Taking a deep breath you felt your stomach flip at the pet name. 

“We’re not talking about this right now.” 

“When will we be able to? I'm tired of chasing after you sweetheart.” 

Feeling your face heat in embarrassment you quickly turned towards the stage to prepare to walk on the stage

Before words could fall out of his mouth the production assistant told you two that the show was coming back on as he placed the envelope in your hand. You heard Johnny tell you to take hold of his arm as you walked on stage. But before you could rebuttal you heard your names being called and quickly held onto his arm as you made your way to the mic.

Letting go of his arm Johnny began to speak from the teleprompter introducing the category being presented

“...Here are this year’s nominees” he finished before the lights fell for the video presenting all of the nominees played 

Once the video ended you leaned into the mic to announce the winner. As their name tumbled out of your mouth the crowd erupted into cheers as the two of you left the mic to stand on the left side of the stage.

Feeling a hand on your lower back you took a glance at Johnny with a confused face before turning back to stand in the assigned spot. 

As you watched the winner give their acceptance speech you felt Johhny’s hand move from your back to wrap around your waist 

“I'm serious we need to talk after this” he whispered in your ear

You tried to ignore the way your body went into flames at feeling him so close to you as you got a whiff of his cologne. Remaining resilient you gave a stern look before scoffing quietly and turned your attention back to the awardee. 

As the speech finished up you began to clap giving a small smile before getting escorted off stage.

Your heels furiously clacked on the floor as your name could be heard from down the hall. You went as fast as your heels could take you as you wanted to avoid all interaction with Johnny

“Slow down sweetheart please-” he started

“No! Stop following me” you spat

Lightly jogging toward you he caught up quickly before grabbing your arm 

“What do you want?” you asked 

“I want you to stop playing games with me. Not only did you get up and leave after what we did but you ignored me for weeks on end. I am tired of playing these childish games with you.”

You stood quietly trying to formulate your words to the best of your ability. He had a point. You couldn't rebuttal anything he was saying. You felt queasy. You didn't know he felt so strongly about this. You felt your nails dig into your palms as you looked up at him with no words

“Say something. Please” he whispered pushing you against the wall.

Closing your eyes you let out a shaky breath as his breath fanned over your neck placing soft but teasing kisses there causing a weak whine to escape from your mouth. 

“I know you feel the same angel just say something” he begged.

Your mind started to get hazy as you got overwhelmed feeling more kisses being placed on your neck eventually going down to your collarbone,

Becoming frustrated with your silence he swiftly grabbed the back of your neck and kissed you deeply. His free arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him. As he pulled away he watched as the small string of saliva connected to the two of you. 

Not getting the chance to look in your eyes you pulled away hastily and rushed down the hall to leave. Letting you leave he ran a hand over his face in frustration before going back to the award show.

On your ride home, you couldn't help but think about what he was saying. He did deserve an explanation. You hated you shut down the way that you did. 

But it was so hard for you to say what you wanted in fear of things not working out. Putting in all that effort just to end up heartbroken did make sense to you. It wasn't worth it. 

You got a text from a friend sending an address of where the after-party was being hosted. 

You swiftly changed your clothes and refreshed your perfume and makeup before heading to your car to leave for the night.

As you pulled up to the valet lane of the nightclub you exited the car and gave your keys to the valet driver.

The bass of the music blared through your ears as you tried to find your friend. Seeing a hand wave at you from the crowd you smiled as you made your way to the section she brought. Opening your arms to give out hugs you mingled amongst the crowd before being handed a shot. 

As the liquor flowed through your body you felt your body sway to the music holding your dress down as it threatened to rise. Hearing a “let's go dance!” from your friend before being dragged to the dance floor. 

Singing along to the Rihanna song that blasted through the speakers you grinded on your friend sensually enjoying the way the liquor made you feel loose.

Not caring about anything you didn't notice the way your friend's body was replaced with a firm build as they wrapped around your abdomen.

“Keep moving like that and I'm taking you home” a deep voice ringing in your ear

Freezing at the sound of Johnny’s voice you stopped your movements and tried to pull away. Holding you tighter he kissed your neck gently as you mewled softly 

"I'm not letting you go this time"

“I have to go to the bathroom” you quickly said before walking away feeling Johnny’s hand capture yours before you could get off the dance floor.

Standing outside of the women's bathroom door he waited patiently for you to come out. 

You stood against the door conflicted about what you wanted to do. Part of you wanted to leave again and the other wanted to hear him out and actually talk.

You were petrified. The liquor didn't help either. Taking a deep breath you peeked your head out and told him to come in. Making sure no one was looking he came in before you locked the door. 

“What's wrong?” 

“I wanna apologize. Ignoring you was wrong I was just…scared about what would happen between us.” you started before you got to rambling

Watching you blabber about your feelings made him smile slightly. Who knew drinking got you all sensitive like this?

Coming closer to you he cupped your face gently before kissing you passionately shutting you up.

Kissing him back you threw your arms around his neck and pushed yourself further into him. You felt him grab your waist as he set you on the sink counter before pulling away seeing a tear roll down your face

“‘M sorry” you whispered

“‘S ok pretty girl no need to cry. You didn't do anything wrong” he reassured you 

Kissing you again you moaned softly into his mouth scooting yourself closer off the sink gripping on his shirt. Feeling your body heat up at the way he rubbed soft circles on your hips you felt your panties start to stick to you 

“Please I need you bad” you whispered almost embarrassedly.

Hearing those words fall from your mouth he watched as you looked at him with soft but pleading eyes. He felt his pants get tighter at your declaration restraining himself from taking you in the nightclub bathroom.

Saying nothing he helped you down fixed your dress and pulled you out of the bathroom.

Luckily his apartment wasn't too far from where the nightclub was so it didn't take long to get to his place.

The air was tense on the ride up the elevator. As yall mouths moved with each other with each floor yall went up.

“God you’re so perfect” he admitted before kissing you again. 

He didn't expect his night to go like this but god was he grateful to have you in his arms.

Hearing the ding of the elevator the two of you stepped off before entering his apartment and holding you against the door.

Your hands found their way to his belt buckle as you started to rub up and down on his bulge. Groaning at your touch he aided you in rubbing his semi-hard on before pulling away. 

Guiding you to the couch he sat down spreading his legs before watching you drop down on your knees.

“You dont have to do this if you don't want to sweetheart” he assured you rubbing his hand over your hair and face

Telling him that it's fine you smile a little before pulling his pants down and watching as his dick popped out and tapped his abdomen slightly

You started to get intimidated by his size. Even though you’ve seen it before and it had been inside of you it was a little different trying to fit it in your mouth. 

Nonetheless, you took a deep breath before sighing and kissing along his tip hearing the way he grunted quietly as you continued kissing down his shaft before leaving a longer kiss at the base of his dick.

You gave it kitten licks before swallowing it and bobbing your head up and down. You knew your limits and you knew you couldn't take him fully but this seemed to be no problem for him as his toes curled feeling the way your cheeks hollowed to apply more pressure as he gripped your hair slightly trying not to mess it up too much. 

Mindlessly your hand drifted down between your legs to relieve yourself through your underwear as your moans sent vibrations down his shaft.

Becoming breathless he quickly pulled you off of him watching as a thin line of spit connected between your lips and his dick. Not missing the way you continued to pleasure yourself. Cursing under his breath he pulled you up on his lap before kissing you deeply. 

He was already becoming overwhelmed with you whining in his ear and grinding on top of his dick. 

Pulling down the straps of your dress he watched as your breast fell before taking your pierced nipple into his mouth and pinching the other one

Your eyes squeezed shut at the ministrations your hips moving hastily against him as your cries became louder. 

You were already becoming undone and it took nothing but a few long hard kisses, sucking him off, and playing with yourself. It was a sight to see.

“Can you play with your little clit again princess? I want you to cum just like this” he asked watching you nod slowly

Doing what he asked your hips faltered a bit as you began to give yourself long languid circles through your panties

“Fuck just like that princess. You’re so good with following directions” he praised kissing you on your temple.

“‘M so close, please can I cum?” you asked sweetly 

Giving you the green light you moaned loudly feeling your hips stutter as you came on top of him. Laying on his chest you tried your best to catch yourself not wanting to over-exert yourself. Feeling him pull your dress over your head you sat completely naked on top of him eyes fluttering.

Turning you on your stomach as you lay against his lap your eyes threatened to shut until you felt a harsh slap go across your ass cheek. Yelping from the sudden pain you cried in pain feeling tears prick in your eyes.

“I want you to count to 5 f’me ok?” He asked sweetly rubbing your stinging ass cheek

Giving a weak “ok” another harsh slap came down onto you as your sniffles became greater squeaking out a “2”

You felt yourself get wetter with every hit he gave as small tears ran down your face. As you counted the last slap your sniffles were uncontrollable as you lay limp against his lap

“That's for ignoring me for so long” he smiled repositioning you so that you laid your head on the expensive armrest with your ass up. All you heard was him undressing behind you as your crying decreased.

Coming behind you he kissed along your spine admiring the way the moonlight enhanced your skin and glowed like you were a goddess as he entered inside you watching you wither under him hearing you cry out his name

Giving you long and intentional strokes he pulled your hair gently bringing his lips to your neck and sucking on it feeling the way your throat hummed in satisfaction.

He watched your long pretty eyelashes flutter with every stroke he gave you as the tears ruined your gorgeous makeup. Your once glossed lips swollen from the consistent biting of them.

“Fuck you're so beautiful my superstar. I want you to be mine forever. Does that sound good t’you baby? I'll give you the sun the moon and the stars if you want. Anything to see you like this every night” he grunted close to releasing 

“‘S too much, s’close baby please” you whine, hands coming to your nipples to pinch and squeeze them.

“Don't have to ask sweet girl just cum for me I'm right here I got you”

At the proclamation of his words, you came undone as he felt you cream around his dick causing him to cum as well

“Shit, that's it. Thats my pretty girl keep cummin f’me superstar” he encouraged giving two more pumps before he turning you over littering kisses all over your face 

“M-my car,” you said hoarsely a little dazed trying to keep your eyes opened

“What about it baby?” He cooed watching you try to gather your thoughts

Telling him that you left it he assured you he would have someone pick it up and bring it here.

Silence fell upon the room as your ragged breaths became controlled as he continued to hold you in his arms.

“I meant what I said. I'd buy you the world knowing I have you right here by my side” 

Kissing him weakly you smiled 

“I'd like that.”

[moorishflower]

Fawney Rig Estate Sale

Fawney Rig Estate Sale, the flyer says, and Hob doesn't know who placed it, or why they chose the Inn as its final housing, but when Dream sees it, the grainy jpeg of some massive gothic monstrosity of a manse bracketed by the words FURNITURE - BOOKS - COLLECTIBLES, his expression becomes distant, and his hand spasms on the bartop. He's gotten fairly good at reading Dream's moods over the past few months, and this one, he thinks, is a doozy. This one is almost like fear.

There's two things that Dream fears, at least that he's seen fit to tell Hob: one, in the darkling hours of the morning, the both of them twined together, Hob pulling the duvet over Dream's thin shoulders and gathering him close, Dream whispering, do not go far from me, Hob Gadling, and that's its own sort of fear, one that Hob understands. He feels it, too.

The other, more insidious, he's seen only rarely. When light catches on a curve of glass just so; when someone speaks in a very specific register and tone; when the night is too quiet, and too slow, and Dream's fingers begin to scratch lines into the tabletops for want of something to occupy him. Dream has told him, in fits and starts, of a hundred years trapped within a glass sphere. He's never mentioned names, but now, in the way that he looks at this flyer, which Hob wants to rip from the wall and shred into a hundred pieces, he doesn't need to.

"How much of it was left?" he asks that night, and Dream tucks his head against Hob's chest, and says nothing. Hob touches his hair, his shoulders, the dear, thin line of his back, thumbing down the rungs of his spine in slow and gentle strokes. "Right. I've got a sledgehammer somewhere. Matty has a forge he made himself, I'm sure he's got something that can cut metal. Everything else we can have shipped out and we'll dump it into the sea."

I do not know if I can accompany you, Dream tells him, and Hob says, That's fine, love. Whatever you need to do. But there's not a chance in Hell that he's letting this opportunity slip by. It's become as much about his own peace of mind as Dream's -- he wants to see the thing that trapped his lover for a more than a century. Wants to see the glass and the iron, the struts and bolts, rendered down into molten slag. All these years and he's thought his great nemesis was his own selfishness, his own attempt to grasp the uncatchable, and yet Dream has said I would have come to you, if I were able, and Hob now realizes the truth: a few tons of scrap iron and lightning-struck sand were the only things that stood between him and Dream, for a hundred and thirty-three years. And he had never known.

It hurts. It hurts in a way that beggars the soul, and out of the centuries of his past he drags up a brigand's easy violence as he dumps petrol into the car. As he drives to Fawney Rig.

It's every bit as tasteless and huge as the picture implied it to be, and the man who opens the door to Hob is older, bent-backed, something soft and yielding about the shape of his shoulders. He takes in the sight of Hob on his doorstep, dirt-grimed burlap sack over one shoulder, the sledgehammer leaning like a loyal dog against the wall.

"Can I help you?"

"Hope so." He drops the bag. It makes a satisfying clanking noise. "Are you Paul McGuire? Put up a load of flyers for an estate sale?"

"I...yes. That's me. The sale isn't for another two weeks. I'm afraid you're rather early." There's something conciliatory about the way he talks. Some sharp and cavernous thing in him senses it, the way that owls can sense the shape of mice in tall grass. He longs for the feel of a good dagger in his hand. It's been a long time since he killed anyone, but he wants, and he recognizes that this is not good, he wants this gutless old man to put up a fight.

This man has never been bloodied nor bled another creature in his life. He'd make a fine target for a bandit, but for Hob's purposes, he's unsatisfying. He kicks the bag, instead.

"I'm not the mercenary I used to be," he says. "Better for you. There's about. Hm. A bit more than a kilo of gold bullion in that bag. It's old, but any jeweler will tell you it's pure. It's yours if you leave. Now."

"I don't. I don't understand."

"No," Hob says, unkindly. "You don't. Which is why I'm giving you this chance to leave. He said you were the one who let him out. Eventually. After a hundred and thirty-three years."

The man's face goes pale as clotted cream. He looks at the sledgehammer with new fear. He remembers this feeling, the intimacy of a knife held to the throat of one who deserves it. It's not one he anticipated dredging up, not once highway robbery went out of style, but it comes back to him as easy as riding a bicycle. Perhaps he should be worried about that.

He'll worry later. Paul McGuire is nodding slowly, looking ill, looking lost. "Is he here?" he asks, and Hob snorts.

"If he was," he says, "I wouldn't tell you."

And that, as they say, is that. Hob is left standing in the entry hall of Fawney Rig, the fading splendor of it, all its gothic twists and its vaguely occult symbolism wended through with high-quality electric lights and a security system to make the Queen weep. Paul hasn't left him a key. By the end of the night, he doesn't intend to need one anymore.

It makes as much sense to start from the ground up as anything else, and finding the stairs to the basement is easy. The hammer is a comfortable heft over his shoulder, and it's as he starts down into that long and sightless tunnel that he feels the shape take just behind him.

"Hello, love," he says, and Dream reaches out. Hob takes his hand, as easy as breathing. "You doing all right?"

"It looks different. From this direction."

"I imagine it would. You aren't alone this time, though." He squeezes the hand in his. It's like trying to squeeze a stone, cold and implacable. "And we're leaving here together."

"Hm." But the hand relaxes, in minute increments. He can feel Dream behind him, can feel the outline of his shoulders, can see the vague eyeshine cast upon the wall, but he doesn't look back. Hob's read that story before. He'll look back when the job is finished. When they leave Hell together.

"Let's finish what you started," he says, as they reach the bottom of the stairs. The ruin of the glass sphere sits in awful majesty in the center of a narrow moat; even from here, he can see the lines of yellow paint, the runes that bound Dream into an airless, feelingless void. The iron struts are lined with spikes; Hob wishes, abruptly, hotly, that he had only given Paul McGuire to the count of ten to leave. He hasn't any horse to ride him down, but he wouldn't have needed one anyways. An old man, and he with rage giving him winged feet.

"Right," he says, and let's go of Dream's hand, only long enough to heft the hammer properly. "Let's get started, darling. I'd like to be home in time to make you dinner."

He doesn't look back (he'll look back, he thinks, when he has reduced this poxy sphere to dust, when he has ground the iron into filings, when there is nothing left of this cursed mausoleum but concrete dust and burnt pages), but he feels the shape of Dream behind him. Can hear his smile.

It sounds like breaking glass. There's no music sweeter, Hob thinks, and lets the hammer fly.

[bunnisdumbbrain]

Dear diary,

There’s so much to talk about here and I have no clue where to start. I’ve never been the best at journaling (only because if there was ever an error on the paper I’d want to rip the page out and start all over) so this seems to be the best option LOL. I think I just want to use this as a place to vent frustrations or keep up with myself, quite literally as a diary. I’m still debating on whether I want to mention this on my main blog only because this is definitely more personal haha. We’ll see.

Anyways, 2023 was such a shit year for me omfg. Let’s see: got into a huge argument with my boyfriend on my graduation day, birthday bonfire was ruined, had to put down my rescue dog due to his aggression :(, boyfriend gave me a relationship ultimatum, spent months wondering why I wasn’t enough, and then ended the 7 year relationship. Sounds like a sob story HAHA, but fuck that year sucked.

My friends have been my biggest support system though. I love them so so much and they are amazing for putting up with me constantly. Also they always agree to go traveling with me <3 I have never traveled as much as I have within the past two months than the past 3 years. I’ve somehow managed to talk my best friends into traveling to New York with me soon so I’m super excited for that. Hopefully I can meet the cute mustache man of my dreams there LOL.

Also, being single is so new to me still!! I was dating my ex since I was 15 so being single at 22 feels so strange! I know for sure I’m not emotionally ready for another relationship at the moment, nor am I looking for one, but I do miss the aspects of a relationship. Like the causal hanging out and kissing LOL. (Maybe I need a friend who I can kiss occasionally) For some reason in January, I ended up downloading bumble (dumbass alert!!) and boy was that shit a doozy. Some are of the guys on there were cute [especially if they had a mustache] but it just was not for me. I also felt like if I did end up meeting anyone in person for a date it be awkward to mention that I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. My bumble account lasted 1 1/2 weeks.

Moving on, I think I like talking to people online atm just because nothing comes of it. I can be flirty and no harm done, but boy is it hard to find people I’m genuinely interested in talking to. It gives me such an ick if someone is overly sexual all the time. I get it’s fun occasionally but if I can’t have a casual conversation with you then no thank you!!! I was talking to this one guy on here (which was dumb on my part because this is tumblr) and we had good conversations (plus he was hot) but it would turn me off as soon as he’d ask for pics, especially after I’ve said no. Ended up blocking him </3 (rest in peace).

I’m in no shape or form wanting to send pics OF ANY KIND (unless they’re cute lil selfies) at the moment anyways. I do not feel good in my body and I’d rather rip my eyeballs out then let someone see me naked (a little extreme but my point stands).

Speaking about my body though, I’m wanting to focus on bettering myself this year! I think there’s definitely a lot of things I’ve been slacking on this year and am wanting to change. My weight is my biggest obstacle at the moment. All I can do is workout and eat better though to fix that (have I been doing it? kind of). I just need better accountability!!! Also I need to stop eating out so often. I’m on the fence about not watching porn though LOL. I think I’ve watched it like every other day for the past few months. Maybe it’s bad for me but idk I just like to c*m.

I think I’ll be updating this every week or every other week? I’m terrible at keeping a routine so who knows. I’m planning on going to the gym tomorrow so, fingers crossed.

Sincerely,

Bunni

[duckymcdoorknob]

hello!! i just found ur page and holy cow i’m so in love of ur still taking requests for the event i would like to participate! can i please order a box decorated with Wrapping paper! with dark chocolate(Bokuto), square and round shaped with strawberry jam, walnuts, and cream! i’m not super sure of this makes any sense but i just feel like that would be super interesting to see what you come up with!! and if ur not taking orders anymore, no biggie just disregard this but STILL i lowkey stalked ur page and u are so amazing so keep up the good work!! much appreciation for u and ur writing thank u :)

I gotta admit I had a doozy coming up with a prompt!!

HOWEVER I am not one to back down from a challenge!

And as I was staring at my wall, waiting for genshin to be out of maintenance, the idea HIT!

SO BEHOLD!!! MY BRAINROT DURING GENSHIN MAINTENANCE!!!

CW BELOW THE CUT: None!!

From the first day you entered your literature class, you had no idea that you would be partners-in-crime with Kotaro Bokuto. It wasn’t your choice, honestly. He sort of saw you when he walked in, and sat down next to you in an attempt to make a new friend.

Ever since that day, you two became inseparable. When you shared your passions, he shared his. After a few weeks, Bokuto introduced you to the volleyball team, his friends, and his best friend Akaashi.

Although you swore that you didn’t behave any differently, Bokuto insisted that, by your body language, you had a crush on his best friend.

However, he was the one that you had a crush on.

The ace swore that he would get you and his best friend together. Even if it cost him his dignity, he knew in his heart that the two of you were meant for each other.

“Bokuto I-“ you said for the nth time, trying to explain your disinterest.

“No! I swear to you! When you were talking to him, you crossed one of your ankles behind the other, and were smiling!” The white-haired male argued.

“Because I’m a friendly and awkward person! I have to keep still or else I shift my weight!” You attempted to rebut.

“I have the perfect plan for you! Let me tell you ab-“

“Bokuto, No!” You said with a sigh, “I am telling you that I do not like Akaashi like that.”

“(Y/N)-“

Before he could try and argue, the bell rang. Bokuto smiled. He knew in his heart that you were playing hard to get, and he would make sure you ended up with Akaashi.

You didn’t have Bokuto in your math class, however you did have Akaashi. After days of reviewing the situation, you opted for the best option: seeking help.

“Akaashi, I gotta ask you for a favor.” You say in exasperation, walking out of the classroom next to him.

“Oh I’m all ears!” The setter chimed, turning his attention to you.

“So, you have to keep this a secret from Bokuto. Promise you won’t tell?”

Akaashi stuck out his pinkie, “My lips are sealed.”

You chuckled and interlocked your own pinkie with his. “Alright.” After exhaling, you began to explain. “When we first met, apparently I did something with my body language that convinced Bokuto that I have a crush on you.”

The dark-haired male nodded, listening intently.

“Even though you’re a total catch, I don’t have a crush on you. But he’s so adamant on getting us together, and won’t understand when I tell him I don’t like you in that way. In all reality, I-“

“Have a crush on Bokuto.” Akaashi finished for you, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

You closed your mouth and hung your head low, “Unfortunately.” You teased in a serious tone. “And I don’t know how to tell him! I’m worried he’s going to get a partner before I can do anything!”

“If I’ve known Bokuto for this long, he isn’t the sharpest tack. But, he is very good at picking things up that he reads.” Akaashi noted, “So maybe you should just write him a letter?”

“I think that could work.” You reply, sighing. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

“All you can do is try.” Akaashi chirped in reply.

Suddenly, the dark-haired male gasped and pushed you into an empty classroom, “Quick, hide!”

“Wh- Akaashi!” You yelped.

The setter peeked outside the window to the classroom, heart breaking at the sight before him.

“Do you wanna tell me what the hell’s going on?” You asked impatiently.

“No. The threat has passed. Now we can go.” He held out his arm, you grabbed onto it with an eye roll and a smile.

During a quiet period in your history class, you hastily scribbled out a letter. Sure it was messy, but it conveyed all that you wanted to say. You snuck a glance at a very focused Bokuto, smiling sheepishly.

When the bell rang, you walked with Bokuto in the hallway and met with Akaashi at your lockers. The dark-haired male shot you a look, resulting in you sighing and turning to your best friend.

“H-Hey, Bokuto I-“

“Ooh are you blushing?” The ace teased, “Is that for Akaashi?? He’ll love it!”

“No, Bokuto-“

“You can do this! You two are meant for each other!”

“Kotaro! It’s for you!”

The Ace’s eyes refocused as he jumped back slightly. “M-Me?”

“Yes, I really had a hard time with this. This was the best way to convey what-“

“(Y/N)… I-I’m really sorry but, I’ve been with my partner for about two months now. I’m not going to break up with them so I can go out with one of my friends.” The white-haired male said sheepishly, offering a sympathetic smile.

In that moment, Akaashi swore he saw your soul leave your body. He stood behind you, secretly taking your hand to show you he was there for you.

“N-No don’t worry about it! You can just- here give me that.” Within a second, your beautifully heartfelt letter was ripped into three pieces. You sighed as you looked upon them, tears welling in your eyes. Finally, you turned to Akaashi and your head fell onto his shoulder.

“I really am sorry-“

“Bokuto, we’ll talk at practice. You should probably head over now.” Akaashi said sternly.

The ace nodded and walked away. He couldn’t help but feel dejected, but he couldn’t abandon his partner for someone he barely knew.

“Are you okay, starshine?” Akaashi whispered, arms moving to wrap around you in comfort.

“No. H-How did we not know he was taken?”

“That’s why I pulled you into the classroom,” the dark-haired male said gently, “I saw him walking with them. I figured it was nothing, but I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. I guess I was right.”

You let out a watery chuckle. “God. The world is such a weird place.” Sighing, you nuzzle into Akashi, “I’ll be fine. I just need a minute to be hugged.

“I can help you in that department.” The setter replied, holding you tighter, “And I’ve got a proposal for you.”

“Oh?” You looked up at him.

“If I do recall…” he smiled, “Someone in your life is a total catch, is he not?”

A new world opened up to you in that moment. After all, the world did work in weird ways.

You chuckled and hid your face in his shoulder. “I accept your proposal.”

❣︎𝑉𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒’𝑠 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡❣︎

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

[the-iceni-bitch]

I’m Going to Take Care of You

Pairing: Thor/Fem-Reader

Words: 3502

Summary: A fun night out with the Avengers makes you realize you want something more from you friendship with Thor.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, size kink adjacent, fluff, SMUT, 18+

A/N: Whoo, I managed to keep it under 4000 words this time y’all. I loved writing Thor though. He’s such a sweetheart and really treats our reader right! Please enjoy and message if you want to be added to my permanent tags list!

“I got shots, bitches!!”

You set your carefully balanced tray on the table in the middle of everyone and started distributing tiny glasses around, grinning around the table as you did so.

“Goddamn it, Y/N. You and Nat are trying to kill us” Clint groaned as he took his shot from you and looked at it like he was about to throw up.

“Suck it up Barton.” Tony scolded. “These girls are out drinking us and refuse to black out before they do. Knock it back.”

You made sure everyone got a glass before taking one for yourself and settling back on the couch.

Nat downed hers easily and gave you a knowing grin once the taste hit her tongue. Clint, Tony, and Sam tossed theirs back together and immediately started spluttering and coughing. Steve paused before bringing his glass to his lips when he saw their reaction.

“Son of a bitch, what the fuck is this?” Tony exclaimed, grabbing a glass of water and chugging it as Clint headed to the bathroom, looking like he was going to hurl. Nat clapped her hand against Sam’s back as he tried to get a hold of himself. Steve was just looking at his shot with abject horror.

“We’re in Oslo so I got us Aquavit!” You grinned at Tony as he stared at you murderously. “Oh, my god Rogers, suck it up and drink it, it’s not going to kill you.”

Steve gave a shrug and chugged it, sucking air through his teeth and wincing as he swallowed. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’ve told you a million times, Y/N, you’re the only one who can drink that shit.” Nat laughed at you as Sam waved her off, his coughing fit finally ending.

“You’re all just pussies. Where the fuck is Thor? He always appreciates new liquor.” You searched the club for that giant golden retriever of a man before you heard his deep voice behind you.

“Is that more liquor? Excellent!” he exclaimed as you turned yourself around to give him a grin and handed him the last shot. He threw it back without hesitation and gave an appreciative nod. “What is this delicious nectar? We should get a bottle.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” You said, giving the rest of the group an exasperated look as you headed over to the bar, and returned with a full bottle of the spicy liquor and two clean highball glasses. You poured yourself and Thor two hefty portions and sat beside him on the couch.

“You two are insane.” Tony said, shaking his head as you tossed your drinks back and poured two more. “How are you still standing, Y/N? You’ve had almost as much to drink as a literal god!”

You just laughed at him giddily. You were pretty drunk at this point, but there was no way you were going to let anyone outdrink you tonight, you wanted to let go.

You had just finished your fifth mission with the Avengers. You had been apprehensive when you first moved onto the compound six months ago. You of course already know Nat and Clint, but it was a tight knit group, and you sometimes felt like a spare tire.

You spent most of the first few weeks in the lab, working on your serums and formulas, doing calculations into the small hours of the morning. Tony did his best to engage you, but you both only had the most basic understandings of each other’s fields. You did develop a healthy respect for each other during that time though, and you started to feel more at home.

Nat had finally convinced you to join the rest of the team for a workout after you had been there for a month. You were concerned about losing yourself and accidentally injuring someone, but Nat almost shoved you onto the mat to square up against Steve. She sat there with a smirk as the group watched him chase you around the mat, growing more and more frustrated as you slid out of his reach over and over. When you accidentally threw him into the ceiling one handed, you were sure they were going to shut you out. But Thor started laughing hysterically as the rest of them started teasing Rogers, and just like that, you were one of the group.

Thor and you bonded the most for some reason. You made each other laugh constantly, and being able to complain about your crazy families with someone else was a relief. You’d often stay up late together watching stupid movies or drinking some new liquor or beer you had discovered. He had once mentioned that he missed the tasted of mead, and the next day you surprised him with several large bottles you had gotten from a friend who brewed it on his property upstate. Sometimes when you got drunk enough, he’d let you braid his hair in intricate styles, not feeling an ounce of embarrassment when Tony would give him shit the next morning.

You became sparring partners as he was the only member of the team who could actually get you in a hold, and that translated well to you partnering on missions.

This latest one had been a doozy, busting an arms dealing ring that was suspected of distributing old HYDRA equipment. It was a success overall but had been exhausting. Nat and you always did your best to come up with some sort of morale booster after a mission and you somehow had convinced the team that a night of clubbing in downtown Oslo would be just the thing.

“Aww shit, is this Ghostface Killah?” You asked the room as a new song started. “This is my song! Let’s dance!”

“Girl, you have the best taste in music.” Sam said as he followed you onto the dance floor while Nat tried to coax Steve and Tony to join you. Thor tossed back his drink and strode after you.

The Norse God was a surprisingly good dancer. He didn’t seem to have the hangups you noticed from most white guys about their movements.

“This is a good song!” He shouted at you over the music “It reminds me of ‘Krakemal’.”

You had no idea what he was talking about so you just grinned at him as you whipped your hair around and swung your hips, losing yourself in the music. You loved dancing.

The song ended too soon and Tony came to let everyone know that Clint had finally stopped vomiting and the group was going to head back to the safehouse. Thor threw you over his shoulder as you headed out the door, making you squeal as he gave your ass a playful slap, not putting you down until you were walking down the street. He grinned down at you and started telling you a story about a snake. You were staring at him, breathless and giddy from the alcohol and you laughed when his story reached its conclusion, suddenly realizing that you were going to sleep with him.

He walked forward to chat with Steve and Nat put her arm through yours to chat.

“Sooooo…” she said slyly. “What’s going on with you and Point Break?”

“Oh god, Nat. I’m pretty sure I’m going to let him fuck me tonight.”

She laughed at that, tossing her head back. “Jesus Christ, it’s about time!”

You slapped her arm lightly and told her to shut up.

“You couldn’t have come to this realization a little earlier, Y/N? Now Tony’s going to win the bet!”

“Fuck, you perverts bet on when me and Thor would sleep together? Was anyone else in on this?”

“I mean, it was just me and Clint to start off then Tony found out and looped in the rest of team into it. He made a spreadsheet and everything. Rogers took some serious convincing. That big puppy thought it was ‘inappropriate and mean-spirited.’ Of course, then he walked in on one of your sparring sessions where you let yourself get pinned by that himbo a little longer than necessary and turned over his money with no problem.”

“Great. You guys are such good friends.” You said sarcastically.

“Not our fault you two idiots don’t have the emotional intelligence to just get to it. I’ve gotta tell the rest of the team to make sure you guys have some privacy.”

You hissed and tried to grab her as she scampered away to talk to Tony, who turned back and gave you a thumbs up and massive grin. You slapped your palm into your face and rubbed your thumb and forefinger into the ridges above your eyebrows.

“So, Natasha told me I should come back here and talk to you. She wouldn’t tell me what about and just laughed when I asked.” Thor had a look of slight confusion on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, pulling the bottom edge of his shirt up enough to expose the top of his boxer briefs and give you a glimpse at his happy trail. You felt yourself clench and fought the urge to moan.

You arrived back at the safehouse then, and Tony and Natasha did their best to usher everyone upstairs discreetly. She gave you a wink as she followed behind Steve at the back of the group and disappeared from view.

“So, more drinks?” Thor clapped his hands and rubbed them together, heading into the kitchen as he shed his coat.

“God, yes!” You followed him, removing your own coat and tossing it onto the couch. You had no idea how to approach this without making things painfully awkward.

He found an opened bottle of mead and poured you each a glass, leaning back against the counter as he sipped at the sweet liquor.

You peered at him over the edge of your glass as you contemplated your next move. His plain white tee was just tight enough that you could see the shape of the muscles in his torso. His arms were crossed, making his thick arms flex deliciously. You wanted to take a bite out of his bicep. You moved your eyes back up to his face and found him staring back at you. Neither of you said anything as you gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Fuck it.” You said, tossing back the rest of your drink and setting the empty glass on the counter before you took three steps forward and pressed the front of you body into him, pulling his face down to yours and kissing him hungrily.

You felt his posture change as he set his own glass behind him before grabbing your hips and drawing you even closer to him. You felt his cock starting to harden through his jeans and you let out a moan. He growled softly into your mouth before bringing one hand up to the back of your neck and drawing you away from him briefly as he studied your face.

“How drunk are you, Y/N?” he asked, a look of concern on his face.

Your inebriation had faded on the walk home and that kiss had sobered you up considerably. “Just buzzed.” You told him, breathlessly.

“Good.”

He didn’t say anything else, just put a hand on your ass and lifted you to wrap your legs around him as kissed your neck, scraping his teeth along your collarbone.

“God, keep doing that.” You said, twisting your hands into the back of his tee as he dipped his tongue into the hollow of your throat.

He gave a low hum against your neck and you felt it resound in your core, a rush of arousal soaking your panties as you felt your cunt throb with desire.

“Not gonna make it to the couch.” He whispered into your neck, sucking softly and raising a small bruise.

“Fine.” You couldn’t focus on anything, his mouth was so good and felt like it was leaving a trail of fire wherever it met your skin.

He moved forward and lowered you onto the counter gently. He brought his mouth back up to yours and kissed you softly as he moved his hands from your hips to the buttons of your blouse. He started undoing them slowly, his thick fingers moving nimbly down the front of your torso. Once it was fully open, he slid the blouse down your shoulders and discarded it to the side.

He brought his large palms up to your breasts and kneaded them gently. You groaned into his mouth and drew him closer to you with your legs, forcing the hem of your skirt up around your waist. You ground yourself into the front of his jeans desperately.

His fingers found the clasp at the front of your bra and unhooked it as he brought his mouth down to your breasts. He pressed the flat of his tongue against one nipple before swirling his tongue around it and sucking on it softly, making you gasp.

“Fuck, just like that baby.” You scrabbled your fingers over his back as he mouthed at your breast and drew his shirt over his head. He broke his contact with your skin for just a moment to throw the tee somewhere else, then moved his attention to your other breast, laving his tongue over the nipple slowly and making your pussy clench so hard it was aching.

“Shit, Thor, I need you.” You whined at him, clenching your thighs around his hips, trying to get some sort of friction to relieve the tension you were feeling in your core.

“I need to make sure you’re ready for me, beautiful. Don’t you trust me?”

“Mmmmm, yes!” you gasped as one of his hands moved your panties aside and he brushed his fingers against your folds, making you twitch.

“Oh, good girl. I just want to make you feel good, sweetheart.” He swirled one finger through the arousal at your entrance before inserting it at a deliciously slow pace.

You clenched around him immediately, letting out a whimper as he started moving it in and out of you slowly, stretching you from the inside a little further each time before adding another finger.

Your breath hitched and you tried to buck your hips into him but his other hand moved to press against your abdomen, pinning you to the counter.

His face came back up to yours as his fingers flexed inside of you. He brushed a soft kiss against your lips as you swallowed a moan.

“I know pretty girl, but you’re going to be happy I’m taking my time in a few minutes.” His third finger slipped into you as he gave you another kiss before he moved his face between your legs.

You did your best to keep from screaming when his tongue found your clit and started drawing soft circles over the tiny bundle of nerves. He curved his fingers inside you and pressed them against your sweet spot before he stretched you even further by adding a fourth finger.

You bit your lip so hard you drew blood. His tongue had increased in pressure and speed while his fingers stretched you so good. When he started sucking you lost it. You let out a thin wail as your body went rigid with pleasure, releasing to make every muscle tremble. He kept his fingers fucking into you at a steady rhythm as you rode it out. He removed them once you had finished and you let out a groan at the feeling of emptiness.

He smiled up at you before giving your pussy a kiss and standing up, releasing his hold on your abdomen. “I think you’re ready now gorgeous.” He murmured around a grin.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him as he drew your soaked panties down your legs and threw them to the side with the rest of your clothes. He then unzipped your skirt and added it to the pile before he moved his fingers to the fly of his jeans.

You felt your pussy clench as he drew the zipper down slowly and you stared at him through your lashes darkly. He bent over briefly to remove his pants and underwear and when he stood up, all the air rushed out of you as you understood his insistence on preparation.

He had the biggest cock you had ever seen. It was almost as thick as your wrist and quite a bit longer than the span of your hand. Your mouth filled with saliva as he gave it a few pumps and stepped closer to you, dragging it through your slick folds to coat it in your arousal.

“I’m going to go slow, love. You promise to let me know if it’s too much?”

You bit your lip as you nodded at him, not trusting the integrity of your vocal cords at the moment.

He bent forward over you and gave you a gentle kiss as he breached you with just his tip and you let out a sigh. He drew his hips back slowly before moving into you a little further. He continued this slow pace, pulling out just a bit and before breaching you further, waiting to feel you stretch and relax around him before he pushed into you more.

It seemed like forever before his hips were flush against yours and you were stretched around the whole length of him. You had never felt so deliciously full and you let out a low moan to let him know how good you felt.

“You’re doing so good baby.” He whispered to you and you couldn’t help giving him a wide grin that he returned. “I’m going to move, now, ok?”

“Fuck, yes please.” You whimpered as his hips started to move.

He kept his mouth on yours as he picked up the pace, exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue.  You tangled your hands into his hair and snapped your hips to meet his thrusts, the only sounds your soft moans, the slap of flesh on flesh, and the obscene wet sucking sounds your pussy was making as his cock thrust in and out of you.

You felt your pleasure starting to coil in your core and you cried softly into his mouth, urging him on as he moved one hand between the two of you to work your clit.

You came around him suddenly, every muscle in your body vibrating as the biggest orgasm you’d ever had ripped through you body. You had to bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming, and he growled into your ear as his paced picked up even more.

He drew your knees up to your shoulders as he kept thrusting into you. The change in position was too much for your overworked clit and you came again immediately, tears leaking down your cheeks as you tried your best to be quiet.

He saw the tears and started to slow down, a look of concern written all over his face, until you hissed at him.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

He gave you a grunt that may have been a laugh and rotated your legs to your right side, the twist in your spine arching you so your chest pressed up into his, the coarse hair dusting him rubbing against your sensitive nipples and making you whine.

You felt yourself building again and you dropped your head back against the counter, preparing yourself. Thor’s hips started to stutter as your final orgasm wracked you, and he released right behind you as you twitched and fluttered around him. He bent back down to kiss you, his long hair brushing against your chest.

You opened up to him and let his tongue run against yours gently as he slowly pulled out of you, leaving you with a soft ache between your legs.

“How you feeling sweetheart?” He asked you, one hand cupped against your cheek as he watched your face, wanting to be sure he hadn’t hurt you.

“God, that was amazing.” You grinned at him, groaning as you stretched underneath him, knowing you were going to be stiff and sore tomorrow.

He gave you a swift kiss before scooping you off the counter and wrapping you around his torso. You nuzzled yourself into his neck as he started to carry you upstairs.

“Let’s get you a bath, beautiful. Make sure you’ll be able to walk in the morning.”

You laughed softly against his skin. “Mmmm, baby you know just what I need.”

“Of course I do, Y/N.” He looked into your eyes, a serious expression on his face. “I’m going to take care of you.”

You couldn’t express how happy that made you so you just hummed against his shoulder as he kicked open the door to the bathroom. You didn’t even care that you had left your discarded clothes downstairs for poor Steve to find when he woke up for his morning run.

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes​

[atlafan]

Tethered - Sneak Peek

Based off this ask.

a/n: this is going to be a doozy fam, the full thing is 27K. I really wanna take my time to proofread, so here’s the first few “pages” to hold you over. I’m hoping to post the full thing tomorrow if I can get it proofread tonight. Enjoy doctor!Harry!! 

Becoming a pediatrician was no small feat. Four years for an undergraduate degree, perhaps in biology, or biochemistry, something of that nature, four years of medical school, and then five years of residency. Thirteen years total, and hundreds of thousands of dollars just so people will know you as doctor. But it was worth it, and not just because a person can get paid nearly $200K a year, although, that was pretty nice. No, it was worth it because a pediatrician got to spend the day with babies and kids, and even teenagers, who loved coming in for a checkup. Most kids loved going to the doctor. It was someone they knew well, someone they trusted, and someone to sneak them an extra piece of candy after a particularly difficult flu shot.

Dr. Harry Styles was just about thirty, and had gone into business with another doctor, Dr. Niall Horan, to open up their own pediatrics office. After their residency, they both agreed that smaller offices were better than working in a wing of a hospital. It was pretty easy to do, Harry had a friend from undergrad that he stayed close with who was a business major. She helped them with a business plan, with hiring, and even selecting a proper location for their practice. They wanted a space with a proper parking lot and all that.

It wasn’t difficult to keep patients, most of the parents that brought their kids to see Niall and Harry at the hospital followed them to their new practice. Word of mouth spread about the two handsome doctors with the accents, and the rest was history. They hired a couple of nurses, and a receptionist or two, and they were up and running with style. They had a nice little play area for kids, and a TV in the waiting area for everyone else.

Harry loved kids ever since he babysat them as a teenager. He knew from a young age he wanted to become a doctor of some kind, opting to take Latin in high school to get familiar with the terms earlier on. Pediatrics was guaranteed money, which was good because medical school is fucking expensive, and Harry had to take out loans to go to a good school. He sure as hell didn’t expect his mother to pay for it. Oh, and his mother was extremely proud of him, of course. As was his older sister, who, wasn’t doing so bad herself either, she was an Ecologist. Anne was amazed by both of her children, having zero idea where they got their brains from. The only thing she didn’t like about Harry’s career path was that he had to put so much on hold while he was in school. She felt like he didn’t really get to enjoy being young. Not that he would ever tell her, but he made plenty of time for fun when he was in school, even during his residency, he and Niall had plenty of fun.

“But when do you think you’ll find someone to settle down with?”

“Mum, I’m only going to be thirty, got plenty of time for that.”

“I’d like to be able to actually play with grand babies and not just be some old crone in a rocking chair.”

“You have two children, you know?”

“Funny, your sister says the same thing to me all the time.”

Harry was just happy he practiced his medicine in an entirely different country from where his mother lived. His sister wasn’t so lucky to be far away, she got the brunt of the married and kids talks. It’s not that Harry didn’t want those things, he did. It just wasn’t the right time. He finally felt like he could breathe. He only had to work four days a week, and he was finally getting his home in order. He just wanted to get settled before he started going out to try to meet someone.

*                                                                                       *                                                                                             *

It was an average Tuesday morning. Harry came in at 7:30AM, and said hello to his staff. It was Niall’s day off so he’d be holding down the fort, which he didn’t mind one bit. It was spring time which meant lots of kids had been coming in with sinus infections. Harry always felt horrible for them. He was alerted that his 10AM was in and waiting for him. He snags the chart and looks things over. It was a new patient, Michael Y/L/N, age two, both of his ears hurt. Harry sighs and goes into the room, putting on his best smile.

His eyes fall to the little boy sitting up straight on the bed, and then they fall to the woman sitting in the visitor’s chair next to the bed. She was wearing a white blouse, and a light pair of jeans, cuffed at the ankles. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and she had her hands folded in her lap. Her lips were painted red and her eyes were being illuminated by some faint eyeshadow and long lashes.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Styles.” He smiles at her.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, and this is Michael.”

The two shake hands. Harry extends his large hand out to Michael’s, and his little hand grasps it.

“Well, Michael.” Harry sits on the rolly chair and skootches closer to the bed. “What’s going on today?”

Michael looks at Y/N and then back to Harry.

“Go on, you can sort of speak.” She smiles at her son.

“My ears.”

“Both of them?” The boy nods at Harry.

“I think some water got in there during his last tubby, and we weren’t able to get it out.”

“Ah.” Harry stands up and grabs his otoscope. “Michael, may I check your ears?” Harry always liked to ask the kids if he could touch them before he did. It was a way to show them early on that their bodies were their own.

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” He smiles. He gently tilts Michael’s head so he can get a better look. He hums while he does so, and then steps to check his other ear. “Oh, yeah, they’re both infected.” He tells Y/N. “But not swimmer’s ear. Has he had ear infections before?”

“Yeah, a few. I think he has allergies. He gets them a lot in the spring.”

“The shape of his ear canal may have something to do with it as well. You may want to look into tubes down the line if this persists.”

“Aren’t those…” She looks at Michael and then back to Harry. “P-A-I-N-F-U-L?”

“They can be.” Harry chuckles. “They knock the kids out nowadays.”

Harry checks Michael’s nose and throat as well. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’m going to write him a prescription, and then I’d like him to come in for a follow up so we can get his ears cleaned out. I’d do it now, but I don’t want him to get irritated. I’ll put a prescription for some ear drops too. That’ll loosen a lot of the wax up that he doesn’t need. He’ll need to lay on his side when you put them in, and then you’ll want to stick a tissue under his ear for run off. Get some cotton balls too, so when he stands it won’t all fall out.”

“Alright.”

“Michael, I know you don’t feel well, but if mum says it’s okay, I have some candy that may lift your spirts.”

“Mumma?”

“Sure.” You smile.

Harry opens a cabinet and reveals a bucket of different chocolates and lollipops. Michael sticks his little hand in and takes out a kit kat.

“His favorite.” She tells Harry.

“Anything for mum?”

“Oh, no thank you.” She scoops up Michael in her arms. “What do we say to Dr. Styles?”

“Thank you.” He beams up at Harry.

“You’re more than welcome. Here’s his prescription.”

“Thank you, Dr. Styles.” She takes the small slip from him, and he notices she’s not wearing a wedding ring. Just a simple ring on her middle finger in the shape of a sunflower. “We’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

“Wait, uh, will I be expecting you or…another guardian?”

She stops short with Michael in her arms. She turns to look at him and she smirks.

“I’m home with him during the day, so it’ll be me.”

He lets her leave after that. He goes behind the receptionist desk, where Joyce was sitting, to look into her file.

“You only have a few minutes before your next appointment. You’re swamped without Niall here.”

“Eileen can handle it f’me.” He searches for Michael’s information in one of the spare computer’s. “Ah! Seems like they just moved to the area from a couple hours away.”

“Who?”

“That woman and her son.”

“You really shouldn’t shit where you eat.” She shakes her head.

“Oh, stop. I was just curious is all.” He stands up from the computer. “A man can’t know where his patient is from?”

“He can…but the patient’s mother…?” She smirks at him.

Harry rolls his eyes and walks away from her, going to wash his hands to get ready for his next appointment.

He tossed and turned when he first got into bed that night. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. She didn’t really answer his question about whether or not there was another person in the picture. A lot of people didn’t get married these days, but they at least still wore some type of ring, didn’t they? He thought to maybe see if she had any social media, but knowing her full name was confidential, and he didn’t want to abuse his power.

[popculturebuffet]

New X-Men Xtrospective Part 1: E is For Extinction “They Will Need Us”

I am SO fucking excited for this one. As might not be obvious to ALL of my readers but should be obvious to some, I fucking love the X-Men. They are one of my favorite superhero teams period as are several of their spinoffs such as X-Factor (All versions), New Mutants, and Marauders. I love the wide cast, the hugely vast universe within the already vast and wonderful marvel universe, and the sheer amount of GREAT stories. I own all 11 movies, have several action figures, and two posters from Jonathan Hickman’s current and utterly dynamite run right above me right now as I work, as well as a marvel 80′s themed poster behind me that’s at least half x-men for good reason. I love this gang of mutants and I have not talked about them enough. 

I”ve done some X-Men stuff sure: I’ve talked about hickman’s time as head writer of the books a year in earlier this year, I did a few scattered reviews back when I did single issues of comics, and then we get to the one I beefed big time: covering ALL of X-Men evolution. While it’s a noble endeavor I freely admit to overexerting myself: I recapped the episodes way too closely, gave myself no real schedule and did so while I was already covering two shows a week at the time. My point is it was a good idea, but the timing was REALLY fucking bad and if I do it again, I intend to do it right and iwth a proper place in my now properly paced schedule. I also planned to do the movies which, unlike evolution, I have solid plans to do once I clear out some of my projects. Point is I burned bright and then exploded and took a whole projecet with me phoenix style. 

I had until this moment yet to do a really big x-men project, something digging into the comics, something that could help fans both of the comics and not get familiar with something really good, and help me dig into both the good and bad of something. I jsut needed the right start. 

Then Christmas gave me that spark, that project that gave me the idea for a butload more x-men content on here and was the perfect starting point for some. See my friend Marco lives in Honduras, and so since i couldn’t afford to send him anything for christmas in the mail, as i’m not exactly rich, I instead offered him three reviews of anything.l He still hasn’t taken up two of them, nor one I gave him for graduating college, but the first one was a doozy, something he hadn’t read due to not liking the art, which is fine as I have some art in comics I don’t like everyone has diffrent tastes, at least for the first arc, and something VITALLY important to x-men as a whole and that’s the backbone of hickman’s current run: the first arc of new x-men, e is for extinction. And given New X-Men is one of my faviorite comics of all time I not only lept on it.. but decided fuck it I’m covering the whole thing. So every so often on here from now until I finish, i’m going to be covering Grant Morrisons ground breaking, mind shattering, status quo destroying run on the children of the atom. This.. is going to be fucking awesome. Buckle up. 

New X-Men came about in 2001. Stop me if you heard this one: The X-Men, once marvel’s best selling title and one of i’ts most beloved, had been set adrift in a seal of editorial bullshit, bad writing, bad storylines and a stale continuity where not much could change or grow and things always reset to about the same place it was last week. If this sounds familiar it’s because it somehow happened AGAIN thanks to Ike Perlmutter’s bullshit, hence the current hickman run, but we’ll get into all of tha tsome other time. Point is as it was in 2018, so it was in 2001: The x-men were in bad straits and marvel reached out to a host of various creators to swing for the fences and find a new direction, something to bring sales and life back to the book. To my shock they actually took a LOT of diffrent pitches in before Morrisons won and from huge names: Geoff Johns, who had not yet returned to DC never to leave, Alex Ross, Keith Giffen.. all huge creative types. but in the end the best man won.

For those unfamiliar with him, Grant Morrison is a gloriously batshit scotsman with a long, storied and delightfully insane history in comics, mostly at DC before and after this comic. This is for good reason: DC scouted Morrison specifically because of his early work at 2000ad. See at the time Alan Moore had hit it really big with Swamp Thing, taking a d list, so so book and making it into an utter masterpiece and giving it thoroughly interesting mythology. Given it was a blockbuster hit that’s still widely loved and discussed, as it should be today, DC decided to repeat the strategy of asking British indie comics creators to come do the same to another property. This same experiment is why Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman exists, so.. yeah it was actually a great strategy and naturally Grant had their first big hit with Animal Man, a metafictional take on a b-list hero that made him a loveable family man, while also putting him through hell and playing with the medium and dc’s vast history, the last two being Morrison’s trademark from then on out.

 They’d next go on to reinvent one of my other faviorite teams: THE DOOM PATROL!  The patrol are a bunch of victims of strange accidents who got powers out of them that are basically curses... and Morrison solidified that concept, taking over after a weak run that ironically enough was trying to imitate the x-men’s success at the time. Instead Morrison just went all out with his weird shit for the first time and made them a team of broken but likeable people with weird powers fighting just the weirdest most incomprehensible shit, a run i’ll likely be digging into eventually along with the team as a whole. It’s also, along with Gerard Way’s recent run, the bedroock for the current and utterly masterful doom patrol series I need to catch up on. They also apparently once wrote a satrical comic starring and lik mocking hitler... a fact I somehow JUST learned but naturally doesn’t surprise me at all. 

Morrison’s career at dc, after doing some creator owned stuff there when Vertigo opened up, hit it’s peak in the late 90′s as they were given the go ahead to reinvent the Justice League, with the wildly successful and awesome JLA, another book I probably need to take a look at that put the big 7 back into the team.  And by now your probably getting the point of me covering his career pattern.. besides giving morrison the praise they deserve, and they’d have some really great runs after this.. and some terrible ones but no one’s perfect. My point is that at this point in their career Morrison’s greatest skill was taking something that had grown stagnant or been forgotten, blowing it up and reworking it into something glorious and new. Taking what worked, scraping away what didn’t and on the whole making something fucking glorious out of it. So here we are. The X-Men needed a new coat of paint and uncle grant had their lcd laced psycadelic paint bucket and brush shaped like a pidgeon at the ready. And for better, way better and admitely sometimes here and there worse,they changed the x-men for good. Some changes were rolled back out of spite, others finally got their chance after said rollback recently, and some were just outright thrown on the grown and smashed with a hammer. But for the most part Grant left a huge impact on the x-men and i’m here to show you why, warts and all. To me my x-men, this is new x-men.  Now naturally there’s even more exposition but i’ts more in what COULD’VE been. Originally while Wolverine, Cyclops, Jean Grey and Professor X were all part of the team the other two members of the slim roster for this run, Beast and Emma Frost.. weren’t. Originally Morrison was going to have Colossus and Moira Mactaggert, long time team ally, token human until very recently, and now thanks to hickman one of the most important x characters peirod and long before that a fan favorite of mine, on the team, with Moira taking over for beast. 

This.. didn’t pan out since Marvel apparently either didn’t give a shit about their plans or already had things in motion as the climax of the longtime legacy virus storyline killed both off. Colossus until Joss Whedon, bastard he may be, brought him back for his terrific Astonishing X-Men, and Moira SOMEHOW stayed dead until House/Powers of X. See this speaks to one of the big roadblocks morrison faced: Jonathan HIckman currently has absolute power and all his writers working in concert, a new way of doing things comic companies shold honestly copy en masse as it’s really working wonders. Grant.. was just one of many writers and one of three main x books the others being Chris Claremont’s XTREME X-MEN, basically “let the legend do what he wants since he can’t get freedom on the main book” and another writer on uncanny... before eventually chuck austen took over and I will tackle that horrible mess some other time. Point is while Morrison was setting the tone, costume style and making the big waves, they still didn’t have full power and thus had to play nice with eveyrone else.  So their next idea was Rogue, making mer more like her x-men evolution version.. except Chris wanted her, so that was out, though being a decent enough guy he willingly gave up Beast since the moira thing meant Morrison needed a science person. As for Colossus replacement, as it turned out a fan had suggested Grant do something with Emma Frost since Gen X was canceled and while Morrison had zero intention for it clearly Emma clicked with hthem and she was soon both a main part of the cast and one of their biggest contributions to X-Men as a whole.

As for what I think of the needed changes.. they ended up being for the best. I do like Moira... but Hank ended up being a much better fit for the team dynamic wise and power set wise, while Emma was the same. While Colossus, Rogue and Moira are all fantastic characters, I think what we ended up with was just a better mix overall. I DO think the team is incredibly white, but that’s a general x-men problem, even with having an assload of diverse and intresting characters, so it’s not entirely his fault. All in all it’s a fantastic roster: four of the x-men’s best, their leader in the field for the first time in forever, and a new and intresting wild card. IT’s a nice ballance of characters and we’ll get more into it as we go. Now all the expositions done, we can finally dive head first into new x-men. I hope you survivie the experince under the cut. 

After an utterly gorgeous and striking cover, the one used up top, we get one solid page to introduce us to Morrison’s mission statment, how  they feel and how good Frank Quitely’s art looks

I cropped it best i could for tumblr but this one image immidetly says a lot. Our heroes are just.. easily taking down this sentinel, an old model... the same one we’ve seen a dozen times. What were once the grim, possible destroyers of an entire race of beings in days of future past and devistating killing machines in the present.. had become stale easily defeated murder bots There had been noble attempts to really make the sentiinels work again like the horrifying omega sentinels, humans forcibly converted into sleeper agent killing machines, during operation: zero tolerance, but otherwise they were mostly just a prop for the x-men to knock down. And that.. really is morrison’s whole point. Lampshading and mocking the fact the x-men had grown stale, things hadn’t really progressed.. and that it was time to move on. But to Uncle Grant’s credit, they not only uses this as a mission statment but it’s plot relevant: this mission will both be explained soon and explains why Logan and Scott are out and about enough to end up where the plot will soon need them. It also helps, via the sight of the syndey opera house establish something Morrison made a staple of their run: the X-Men going global. While the x-men were never really NOT global post claremont, Morrisons run has them handling rescue missions and what not worldwide far more often than most runs before it sans Claremont, and really made it feel like they weren’t just another super team but a global force of good with a specific goal and mission. More on the global aspect next time, as that’s where it really comes in but I felt it was important to show it was there for minute one. 

So yeah before we move onto the first full scene of the run, let’s talk about the costumes. 

We’ll talk about Emma’s later since she’s not introduced to the story for a while but yeah. There’s a sharp, obvious and immediate change just in the outfits, which take after the movie’s more military look, having the x-men not only look more like a unit but more like a professional orginization. Someone to come and help when needed. While this would take on more siginifigance in a bit, we’ll get to it, it also fits Morrisions own views that the x-men were less of a traditional superhero team and more something different on the edges that fought things out there, sorta what like he did with doom patrol. And it’s honestly a valid interpretation as the x-men are often seen as outlaws and misfits by society for beingn well.. mutants. Not as trusted as the avengers. So having them adopt this look played into that: Having them look more professional and focused as The X-Men have a less blanket mission statement than the avenger.. but also mildly threatning. Something to alarm the humans. It’s an utterly brilliant look thrown best together by the big yellow x’s, still giving it a nice flash of color to show off and show this is still a comic and this is still damn colorful.. this just isn’t your AVERAGE supherhero comic or the x-men your used to. IT’s a real shame the only fox x-men movie to use it was fucking dark phoenix.. a film where it didn’t even fit as xavier was getting flashier and more reckless so why wouldn’t he have more garish and colorful and more traditional superhero outfits. They did look good in their variants in first class though. Props there. Point is this is a classic, utterly stunning look, and tha’ts coming from someone whose fine with goofy superhero outfits and perpetually bitter hawkeye is almost never allowed to wear his actual comic outift and is instead stuck with shades instead of you know.. a mask. Or anything resembling an actual good looking costume. This though this is how you do a less superheroy costume: practical and realistic, but still cool looking and comic book friendly. 

We cut to a mysterious lady, we’ll come to know her as Cassandra Nova and while I know her origin... i’m saving it for later as the comics themselves explain it eventually, and a simpering dolt she brought with her, Donald Trask, a distant relative of the creators of the sentinels who, via holograms she’s showing cro magnons slaughtring the neanderthal. Her point is that Mutants are going to do this and she’s clearly fearmongering him and trying to talk him into genocide: to wipe them out before they wipe out humanity. And it’s here we get one of hte most important plot points of Morrisons run and one of the most intresting: according to cassandra’s research Humanity will be no more in 4 generations. Mutankind is on it’s way to overtaking them at last.. i’ts still a few decades off.. but it’s coming. It’s sometihing that the whole decimation nonsense sadly snuffed.. and John Hickman has thankfully brought back. I’ll get to his run once i’ts complete in a few years, but point is it’s an utterly marvelous plot hook: Humanity, whose already attempted genocide a few times, is now in real danger of what their petty, racist, fearful attacks have been about: being replaced. It’s one of the central themes of the work the other two being “Just what IS mutantkind and what will it be”. WHat are they as a people? We’ll dig into these as we go but the threat of exctincion is the backbone of this arc... and will lead to something truly ghastly. 

It’s then we get our title page.. which nothing really to add it just looks really good and helps show off who are cast is and what they can do with striking simple art. 

And since we’re already talking the art of the book, let’s take a moment to discuss an intresting detail of this run: despite it’s short length there’s quite a few diffrent artist, who we’ll talk about of course as we get to each one. The most common and notable though is Frank Quitely. Frank Quitely is one of Morrison’s closest and best creative partners, having a unique, squishy art style.. i.e. the one my friend didn’t like which is why i’m covering this. And while I like the art style quite a bit, I do get why it’s not everyone’s cup of tea: His art is squashed, weird, and admitely some faces can be good god no incaranate. But it’s also why I like it: his characters feel unique, each body and figure feels like it was custom made and thus feels.. real. Like this is a person before you. And given comics can often surrender to having everybody look the damn same, this is nice. His faces may sometimes look similar but his bodies are where the action is. But while having a realistic feel his work also has a weird alien quality that perfectly fits Morrison, and thus his run on x-men. I will say while I love All-Star Superman, his art fits less there in the more hopeful silver agey story, so he’s not an artist for EVERY STORY OF EVERY TYPE.. but when it comes to sci fi weridness, he fits it like a glove so i’ts unsuprising he and morrison are practicaley soul mates, nor that his art sets the tone perfectly for the run: this is something new, diffrent and strange.. and what says x-men at it’s best more than that?

So after our opening titles we cut to the mansion where Hank is showing off his latest and greatest invention: Cerebra. Cerbebra is a massively upgraded version of Cerebro, aka Professor Xavier’s iconic helmet that allows him to track mutants to help them out.. and covertly backup their conconousness for his long game plan, but shhhh, don’t tell anyone yet that’s not going to be retconned in for a few decades. Though i’m damn certain if Morrison has heard about the current era of x-men and how it both builds on what he built, shatters the status quo and is incredibly weird, he’d be damn proud. As for how it’s diffrent Cerebra not only has a large dome around it but said dome allows the machine to amply Charles powers to a global reach. He can now see mutants all over the world anywhere in the world, something I didn’t realize wasn’t ALWAYS a thing because it seems so simple. It’s also likely to bring it more in line with the movies. And while marvel has done TERRIBLE with bringing things in from the movies or in line with them in recent years, i.e. making star lord more like his movie self while forgetting that’s how he already used to be in canon before later writers thankfully did hte better step of merging the two, Hawkeye’s outfit, Cap’s outfit or Nick Fury Jr.  But for every mistep there’s also been tons of times it’s worked out really well such as here, as well as bringing hulk into the avengers for the first time since the founding, making tony stark more like the mcu version and less like a nightmarish self righetous dicktator who rightfully gets beat up and called out a lot, making Scott Lang prominent since he became prominent in the MCU, Wakanda being a major force in the marvel universe as it always should have been and various titles that have popped up to tie into movies, often bringing back a team or property that hadn’t had a book in some time like Ant-Man, Black Panther, and Shang Chi just to name a few. It’s not always hawkeye looking all jeremy renner is what i’m saying.. though thankfully comics clint isn’t that uninteresting. Hopefully the series will change that. 

So yeah along with a bigger shinier cerebro we’re also introduced to a big change in Hank whose taken on his lion form rather than his classic gorilla with a weird haircut or his return to that except bald. Here he’s more like aslan in a human body and I.. love it. It looks great, helps sell hanks delima of being brilliant while looking like a beast and makes sense: he kickstarted what was likely his own secondary evolution by drinking the potion that made him bestial, so it only makes sense his body wouldn’t be all that stable even if it took years to change again. And even that makes sense as hank was breifly turned back to his original hairless ape mutation during x-factor, easily one of the books.. worse decisions honestly and one that louise simonson thankfully later undid. That probably bought him some time hence why it’s only mutating further now.  It also adds an intresting wrinkle which the run will explore further: how far does this go? Will he regress? and how much hank will be left? And how will society treat his new form? 

For now he’s actually extatic. While he’s going through hormonal changes, and giving out some excellent banter with Jean

Which also includes one of the greatest lines in comic book history, one that’s been in my head for decades and made me absolutely love henry mccoy. 

He’s just great is what i’m saying. As you can tell it’s stuff like this why i’m glad Moira fell through. While I love her.. Morrison’s hank is just a delight and one really questionable subplot aside, we’ll get to that, he’s one of the highlights of this run with an intresting internal struggle, and great chemistry with EVERYONE. And that is the main reason i’m glad Moira fell through as his history with everyone but Emma, who he still has a great raport with, means each interaction has weight. He’s close friends with both scott and jean and thus serves as their needed confidant, while still being able to buddy and banter iwth good old weapon x, and speak with his mentor charles as an equal. While I love moira... Beast just fits into the cast too perfectly and I 100% suspect Morrison was only using her because, while she’s awesome, Claremont wanted her and thus gladly snapped her up when he no longer had a science person. I’ll get into his Jean soon enough but she’s likewise fantastic and easily my faviorite version of the character.. not that until very recently there was much honest competition. 

So Cerebra fires up showing a massive cloud of mutants, showing just how much of a huge spike theirs been with Xavier wondering what it all means.. and Hank seeing a weird flare on the mointor for just a second with his special eyes. But since Xavier isn’t stupid and isn’t the kind of idiot who just dismisses it as a fulke, and since Scott and Logan are in the field, he decides to confrence call them in to see if they can go take a look. 

And naturally we get to see what their up to and get context for what the hell happened in the first page. Our heroes were on a rescue mission to save Ugly John, tha’ts what people called him, a three faced mutant who ends up passing out as they head out of the atmosphere for a second. Wolverine is regenerating and smoking out of his neck becaue he could still smoke back then before marvel decided “he’s setting a bad example”.. in a comic meant for teens and adults. 

I mean I get it on some level as the x-men cartoon was a huge thing in the 90′s and Ben Grimm is basically a giant children’s toy with the mind of a surly 40 year old jewish man from yancy street, but stilll it’s just.. why. I may not like smoking but it’s not like it was SPIDER-MAN saying

It’s a grown man.. whose not a sterling roll model and who Claremont went out of his way to have Logan point out his healing factor means it really dosen’t hurt him in the long run and when Kitty, an actual teenager, tried one of his cigars she choked. I know it’s a weird thing to get hung up on but while i’m all for keeping kids from smoking, this was a really clumsy way to try and hehlp that that made no sense and will never make any sense. 

One tangent later we find out that Cassandra was showing Trask a simulation on a flight to, unsuprisingly, south america, to a sentinel blacksite. Between covertly funding civil wars as they do, the US Goverment naturally founded an experimental sentinal project, and a second master mold during the production of the first line... when larry trask asks where it could possibly be well...

Subtly was not the trasks strong point.. or common sense... or.. not realizing their creations would dominate humanity too or not dying. 

Anyways we then cut back to the x-men, as their having a psychic zoom meeting with Charlie giving one of his patnted big speeches.. and like a lot of this comic it’s too damn good not to use 

The reason I couldn’t should be obvious: This one speech sums up the x-men, why their great and why their necessary in a nutshell: in a world full of prejucided morons.. there’s plenty of scared kids who NEED the x-men to protect and guide them, and with a surge in the mutant population, their needed now more than ever. We also get a good explanation in universe for the uniform change: Charles had them in the superhero outfits hoping humanity would accept them if they were packaged as something they know. Since that clearly hasn’t worked he’s trying new ways to reach out and thus going with a diffrent more rescue team approach to the uniforms. He assigns Wolvie and Cyke to go check out the flair as you’d expect and the meetings over. On the blackbird we get our first hint at a subplot as Logan noticed Cyclops couldn’t wait to get out of there, and is being a tad distant to his wife. He actually has reasons for being kind of cold for once instead of just bad writing as he just came back from being possed by apocalypse. Yeah that happened. So the experience has rattled our boy some what. More on that as we go. But Jean ducks the subject with hank but does breach the fact that Charles has been going kind of crazy with the spending, new uniforms and ambition lately. Hank explains it perfectly: After all the death, suffering and misery the x-men have endured lately, the aforementioned deaths I talked about that took Colossus and Moira off the roster, have lionzed Charles to make sure it was all worth something and look towards the future. 

But enough hope time for horror as Cassandra makes her first direct move, trying to take over Charles brain , make his body her own and use cerebra to kill lots and lots of mutants. We then get one of the best moments of Morrisons run with Charles response to a horrifying monster trying to take his brain

While it is shocking to find out Charles has a gun..it’s a grim but kind of understandable precaution. The guy once got fully taken over by a brood, assembling the New Mutants in part because the brood wanted to create more of i’ts kind with more super powers. You’d be paranoid too if some of your beloved students were brought together partly due to your good intentions and partly because a space monster wanted to make more space montsters out of helpless teens, and even horribly gaslighted one of them. We’ll get to that some day. Point is Charles brain is one of the greatest weapons on earth and if the wrong person got a hold of it, it’d be the end of said earth. Thankfully Charles does not need plan gun, as Jean yanks Cerebra off him but the sheer HATE Charles felt from Cassandra, the sheer power has rattled him.. and also told him she’s in Ecuador and his X-Men need to be warned NOW. It’s a great way to set up just HOW powerful Cassandra is.  Speaking of which as our first issue of the arc ends, we find out two things: Cass faked being int he government but really just used dead soldiers as prop.. and just what kind of sentinels are out there.. wild sentinels. Easily my faviorite variant of the old killing machines and one that’s barely used despite being really damn awesome. Their adaptive killing machines, designed to mutated just like their pray and take tech from around them, as a result they look like a jumble of guns and parts.. but not only does it give them a unique, cool look.. but it makes them ten times deadlier as instead of being big bricks of robots that while intimidating, the x-men know how to kill... their unpredictable variable killing machines. You can figure out how to kill one sure.. btu the next might be entirely diffrent. They are one of morrisons best creations and I hope someone uses the idea again.. aka hickman. Please use it jonathan I know your focused on nimrod but come on. 

And we end on one of the best lines of the entiire run as we close out the issue

Yeah it goes without saying but i’ll say it anyway; Morrison is really damn good with dialouge and being damn quotable. 

So we open with another great quote “When I got up today I didn’t expect to kill 20 million people”... and Cassandra being aware Wolverine and Cyclops are on their way and sending the Wild Sentinels to dispatch them. Also our heroes brought Ugly John along while while a dumb move, Wolvie does point out how dumb it was to divert to Ecuador with a civlian in tow.. after the plane crash of course. As for “wait what plane crash’, the sentinels attack and start picking it apart... and since letting them have such good tech is a terrible idea, Scotty blows up the damn plane. So to recap our heroes are stuck in ecuador, surrounded by murder machines, and oh look their there and knock off cyclops viser. Fantastic. So yeah our heroes are fucked. And naturally captured by the enemy.

The rest of the x-men are doing SLIGHTLY better. While beast makes a note for his girlfriend, more on that later on, Charles is in bed, half alive, explaning the rationale I gave for why he has the gun with Jean refusing to let him get back out of bed and you know.. put on the device that just nearly killed him. But when beast announces they lost contact with our boys.. yeah that ceased being an option. 

Back in the Ecuadorian Genocide Factory, Cassandra does the obvious and kills donald trask as his real purpose..was to stick around and be stupid for a bit while she copied his dna so she could have full control of her new murder toys.She soon uses them, having a horrifying death chamber slaughter john.. or at least flash fry him. Wolverine takes it how you’d expect and since the sentinels need to “perserve trask dna”.. they can’t fire on him without killing her. Scott escapes.. and in a heart wrenching scene mercy kills john.. before getting badass. 

To anyone who says Scott Summers is boring, unintersting, or a stupid asshole idiot head I present exhbit shut the fuck up. Morrison gets scott just right, deconstructing his emotional suppression, while showing him off as a dedicated, companionate man who gets the job done and who seconds after tearfully having to mercy kill an innocent mutant whose death was partially his fault, wastes no time making it painfully clear to the person responsible she WILL die if she tries that again. Logan however realizes she’s already won in some fashion as she’s grinning.. and yeah never a good sign when a genocidal madwoman is grinning like a loon.. and when we find out why.. it’s even less good>  We cut to Genosha. A lot of you probably know what happned to Genosha but in case you don’t know what it is it was once a horribly racist country that genetically enslaved mutants and used them for slave labor. It was freed, but still struggled to truly move on.. till Magneto showed up, took the country for himself and made it a home for all mutants. When we last saw him he once again tried to take over the world leading to Logan seemingly killing him. Right now though Emma Frost finally enters the scene teaching some mutants.. when a young one named Negasonic Teenage Warhead.. yes that one and yes she was entirely chosen for deadpool for her name, reveals, via precognition, that their all going to die.. right as the sentinels attack. 

Genosha.. is gone. In an eyeblink 16 million mutants are dead, a possible future gone, and one of their greatest leaders is no more. Yeah Magneto WAS alive.. but paralyzed so he could do nothing when his island was utterly slaughtered. Only a handful of mutants will be revealed to survive. Humanity had done a lot to mutants before .. but for once.. they’d succeeded in wiping a massive chunk out. What was an x-men location for DECADES at this point.. was now a smoldering crater. A what could of been that would hant the x-men ever after, even now into utopia it remains the darkest day in mutant history outside of hte decimation. It is a truly horrific moment.. and if the changes already hadn’t made it clear this is morrison saying “NO character is safe, nothing is safe, and nothing will be the same and I damn well mean that”. In one act of hate the world has changed. And it hasn’t finished changing yet. 

Issue Three opens hammering in things, as Jean and Beast are in the ruins of genosha, with Xavier having found ONE surivor among the rubble, and our heroes sturggling to find even them, though Jean eventually picks them up and uses her TK to sift through the rubble. 

They find Emma who emerges from a bunker in shock, clutching NTW... and not realizing she’s dead until later and revealing she now has diamond skin, her own secondary mutation. Secondary Mutation was a birlliant idea, new powers sprouting up within established mutants.. it’s just morrison barely used this great idea as did hardly anyone else. Only X-Men Blue ever really dug into it and those were artifical at that. IT’s a great idea..it’s just barely used and at most heavily implied to explain changes in powers like Jamie Madrox Multiple Personalities later on or Doug Ramsey’s vast increase in power. Disapointing. 

While Charles takes in the tragedy and the fact his old frienmie is dead, the x-men wonder what the fuck Cassandra is and what to do with her.. why did she kill 16 million people, and what the fuck is she. I mean I know, but as I said i’ll explain that when the story does.  IN the other room Beast tends to Emma who wants none of not fucking killing Cassandra.. and is utterly right. Bitchy, because i’ts Emma, but right: she killed 16 million people. Say what you want but while it may not be up to the x-men to kill her.. she shoudln’t be living much longer. She commited genocide. Emma decides fuck that and prepares to leave summoning a cab and making peace with being a glorious living fabrige egg. Emma did apparelty change in generation x.. but Morrison is responsible for returning her not only to being a bitch, but a gloriously delightful one And really I don’t think they reset her character entirely: she’s not the heartless monster she started out as: she has empathy, grace, and caring.. she just buries it under a lair of absolute bitch and after you know, surviving a fucking genocide who can blame her? And honestly.. I love their verison of her. She provides a nice contrast to the more idealistic, even logan, x-men and a nice contrarian voice in the room without being obnoxious and her style and sacrastic swagger makes her endlessly entertaning. Thanks to morrison she’s stuck around to this day and went from a pretty good character.. to a great one. And what makes her this way, or as jean puts it “such a bitch?”

With that settled, Hank explains what Cassandra is: a competing species. As he puts it sometimes evolution takes a quantum leap forward.. and Cassandra is the result. Thus she wants to wipe out the compettition and is so far above humanity, she dosen’t need them... especially since she knows what Hank now knows: humanity is at an end. As hank puts it we have an E Gene, one that basically shuts off a race.. and thus the x-men now know what we learned earlier and that cassandra wasn’t lying: in 4 generations there are no more humans and something has to repalce htem. And Cassandra wants it to be her. 

Before Logan can do what he does best, and asks why she looks like charles, Cassandra escapes, and Scott briliantly urges them to fight only on instict as she’s a telepath. A damn awesome fight insues including Cassandra donning Charles Psoonic battle armor, Scott being put in his black bug room and the general good looking chaos you’d expect from a superhero fight. While this goes on Emma has an ephinany and realizes she likes to teach, the x-men have a school.. and she shoudln’t give up on helping kids just because of what happened and turns around. 

Cassandra is near victory, slipping her way to Cerebra.. and planning to kill only one mind before getting to the millions she wnats, a horrifying slug manifesting around her.. only...

So the x-men accept this and cassandra rises.. seemingly saying “I am charles” Huh... and then charles uncaracteristiacally shoots her saying things must change

We’ll get to what all of that means next time as we close on Jean and Scott in bed. Scott explains why he’s been so distant as what I said earlier: fighting off apocalypse stripped away a lot of illusions about himself and he’s having a hard time walking back from that but Jean is willing to help.. but before they can resolve their  issues.. charles has an annoucnment to make and grant has one last whopper of a suprise to end his opening arc on, and just like genosha...it’s a game changer of titanic proportions

No longer is Xavier’s School hidden. Their walking into the light now and so is charles. Hope they surivive the experince. Obviously this move is brilliant: while it removes the veil of saftey the x-men had it also brings on tons of new possiblities and unlike secondary mutation, this one not only stuck but would impact the x-men for good: no longer would they hide and cower.. their mutant and proud.. and their here to stay.  E For Extinction is one of the best x-men stories period. Blisteringly paced, full of great character, great concepts and utterly terrifying and terrific moments that would impact the x-men all the way to present day. It’s beautifully drawn, well paced, and a masterwork. I highly recommend it and it’s a great kickoff to a great run. Shame the run couldn’t of ended on this kind of high but.. we’ll get to that. For now this is a masterclass in how to start a run and if you haven’t read it do so NEXT TIME ON NEW X-MEN: A bunch of weirdos try to harvest mutant organs, the x-men get a brain in a jar and a new teamate, and Scott maybe cheats on his wife. Until then, goodbye goodbye goodbye. 

[cambionverse]

envesseled (3 of 3): funeral

happy end of our 10th cambiversary day (for real this time), and the end—for now—of new envesseled content. but you may see more sneak peeks of envesseled during the writing process to come, because you guys: this one's a doozy. expect both length and angst.

this snippet comes with a big, major, huge spoiler warning - you know the one. it's basically an open secret at this point. content warnings for death and grief (which should be unsurprising, given the title).

thank you all so much for reading along and for joining us on this monumental occasion. we saved the best for last, so let's make you sad! <3

---

The new snow covers all but the freshest set of footprints. Even though Claire can't actually see Jesse, following him out of Singer's Salvage is easy. The clouds cover most of the moonlight, but white snow is still white snow, putting the silhouettes of trees into sharp relief. It isn't long before she works out his destination—the palo santo tree.

Where Ben is buried.

Claire could stop, now that she knows. Should stop, and give Jesse his privacy. But she doesn't. Like being unable to tear her eyes from a car wreck—part of her wants to see.

The grace protecting the clearing hasn't stopped the little wildflowers from being buried in white. Ben's grave marker could very well be buried too, Claire thinks—but her eyes land on it immediately, a large pile of stones pushed atop a shallow hole in the ground. Jesse, a black shape against the snow, stands huddled before it, bent against the wind or perhaps the whatever ill feeling he gets from the palo santo tree being so close. He stands there for a long time, without moving or saying a word. Snowflakes gather in his hair.

Eventually, Claire goes to join him. It's better than standing by herself, and—he looks so still, there in the snow. Jesse's indestructible, but she just wants to make sure.

Jesse starts when he hears her footsteps, but the hard line of his shoulders relaxes once she's close enough to make out his face. "So much for sleeping, hm?" he asks.

Claire doesn't say anything. The wind whips through the trees.

"I don't know what to say at funerals," Jesse says finally. "I've never been to one. Not my parents', or any of the Simms family—obviously." He shrugs. "I don't know what to say."

Is this Ben's funeral? A sorry excuse for one. He deserves better—but it doesn't matter, Claire reminds herself. None of this matters, none of it is real, because she's going to bring him back.

Jesse reaches into his pocket and produces a large smooth stone. "I've never really visited a grave, either," he confesses. There are tears frozen on his face. "But this is what you're supposed to do, right?" Carefully, so it doesn't fall, he lays the stone on top of the grave. "I don't know, I've never really known anybody who was Jewish except Ben, and I know he didn't keep kosher or anything like that. But the night before we left Cicero, after everything with the djinn, I found him picking out a rock. He said he wanted to leave it on his mom's grave, because it'd been so long."

They'd hung around in Cicero for a few days after everything happened, but Claire remembers now that Ben had disappeared for about an hour the morning they left, claiming he had some catching up around town to do. It was close enough to the truth that it didn't even set off Claire's grace. She hadn't thought much of it at the time—just another thing about Ben she wasn't paying enough attention to.

Jesse turns his head a little. "Can I ask you something?"

Claire crosses her arms, though even the snow doesn't really make her feel cold. Jesse seems to take it for agreement.

"Earlier today," he starts, and something in his tone sets Claire's teeth on edge. "Castiel said something like—it wasn't the first time he healed you?"

That's right, he did say that—and in front of everyone, because of course they all need to know about every horrible detail of Claire's life, she can't go around sharing things with people on her own fucking terms. Not enough for her to crack herself open and let Castiel back inside, is it? All he knows about her—from their time together, and after that—it's his to keep, and he can divulge it at a whim to whomever he chooses. Maybe that's why he brought it up to begin with: as blackmail.

"I thought you hadn't seen him," Jesse continues, tentative. "Since he...since you were young. I thought that was why you left home?"

Claire says nothing.

Finally, Jesse blows out a sigh that fogs the air around them. "All right," he says. "None of my business, I guess. Sorry." And he must be, for Claire feels no pain behind the word.

Still—Claire hurt his feelings, she can tell. After all, it must have seemed like a nice, private moment to divulge a secret. But he's right: it's none of his fucking business. She never told anyone about that night, not even Ben, and she's sure as hell not about to start now just because Castiel spilled the beans. It doesn't matter anymore anyway. None of it matters except getting Ben back. So that this—the grave, the body beneath it, this mockery of a fucking funeral—none of it has to come to pass.

Jesse lifts his head to look above him. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but seems to think better of it, clamping his jaw shut and shaking his head. He takes a deep breath and holds it—to, perhaps, the count of four—and then at last says, "It'll be all right."

Following his line of sight, Claire spies a dark shape among the branches, swaying in the wind. Ben's bracelet, tied firmly around the lowest, closest branch to the grave. Small wonder she didn't hear it, with the rest of the tree sitting here singing so loudly it covers the sound.

She had wondered where it went.

Jesse turns away from it. "I'm freezing," he says finally, and gives Claire an expectant look. "Coming?"

Claire hesitates.

Something in Jesse's posture changes—the angle of his shoulders, perhaps. It's hard to tell in the dark. "All right," he says again. "I'll, uh. Be inside. If you need me."

She suspects it's Jesse who needs her, at the moment—even with the traps broken, he can't possibly enjoy being back in that house alone—but after a long silence, he goes on ahead without her.

When at last he disappears between the trees, Claire looks back up at the bracelet.

How she used to hate that thing, when she and Ben first met—a constant whining at the edge of her subconscious, reminding her that Dean Winchester's boy was nearby, a son in name whether or not that righteous blood was flowing through his veins. But just as she eventually took a liking to Ben, so too did she learn to like the sound. Some nights, after the grace sickness got bad, it was the only thing that let her drop off to sleep. Now it's entombed here just like Ben is, singing its song to no one.

A funeral. What do you say at a funeral?

Claire has only ever been to one funeral: the one she and her mother held a year after her father's first disappearance, just before Castiel. It was for closure, her mother said—to let go, move on, and leave the rest in the hands of the Lord. Even at age eleven, Claire had understood that the funeral was mostly for her mother, and so she let her mother do the talking.

And not two weeks after they laid her father to rest, he turned back up on their doorstep, Castiel and the Winchesters not far behind. The whole time they were letting him go, he was still out there, chained to a comet, lost inside that screaming light and condemned to a fate worse than death.

Claire didn't go to any more funerals after that, not even her mother's. A funeral isn't just letting go, it's giving up. And Claire's not going to give up on Ben, not when he still needs her help. All the years he stayed by her side when she gave him every reason to go, all the attempts she made to push him away that were met with his steadfast loyalty and patience—to repay that with a funeral is an insult.

Claire turns away from the grave. She will not mourn Ben. She will not.

The song of the palo santo grows fainter with each step she takes away from the tree. In her mind's eye Claire sees Ben's easy grin when he explained it to her for the first time, and then the lonely image of it stuck up among the tree branches, condemned to rot away in the elements after all the hard work Ben put into perfecting it. She thinks of the rest of her life, however many weeks or months she may have of it, spent in silence.

Claire stops.

This is not a funeral. This is not Ben's grave. He isn't gone, because she's bringing him back.

All at once Claire whirls, kicking up snow, and marches back up to the tree. It's nearly too high for her to reach, but after two tries Claire's hand closes around the branch and snaps it off completely. She pulls the bracelet off and tosses the branch carelessly to the ground. Now that she's touching the bracelet, she can differentiate its hum from the rest of the tree, and the song flows right up through her palm and into her bloodstream, momentarily cooling down her anger.

Claire's going to have to start wearing a jacket after all, she thinks, even as she slides the bracelet onto her own wrist. She can't let anyone see her wearing this.

She touches her fingers to the wood, and doesn't cry.

It's just like Jesse said: it'll be all right.

It'll be all right.

[dvsvsgrr]

and a higher torque version will be available

I didn't expect Swanigan to come in and star, nike air max thea atomic pink but he would have provided a valuable scoring presence in the post. The salaries gradually bottines cloutees femme increase with the rise in rank. A New York Times column looks at data related to the rent vs. TorqueFlite 8 is standard with the 3.6 Pentastar engine, and a higher torque version will be available with the Hemi later in the model year. To noon each day for ages 7 15, will be divided into age appropriate groups for instruction and competition with an emphasis on fundaments, individual defense and individual offense and shooting technique.. And for doctors to know their patients well enough to provide personalized care, they might have to take time away from their clinical hours to have conversations with patients to better understand their preferences.. Iron Emmett called forth his charges, and as the rest of the company watched from a respectful distance, they knelt before the weirwoods. Consider the space of the bedroom as opposed to the gigantic shelf your kid is pointing at. If they thought Penny was sick, they would drive her off without a moment’s hesitation. He gave me my first pony and taught me how to ride him. bdsm puma Send him away. Duck helped her rescue it. As Jaime Lannister and his escort wound through the rolling hills into the vale, little remained of the fields and farms and orchards that had once surrounded Raventree—only mud and ashes, and here and there the blackened shells of homes and mills. Sad to hear George Michael has left us. A bad apple, but it was worth half a penny to learn that Manderly is raising men. Satellite data collected after Larsen B collapsed largely settled the debate1, 2. But out in the borough's edges and still close to public transportation there are still deals to be had for nice apartments. Nikolay Sergeyitch could not realize that she was dying; he could not admit the idea. “Tell him I will speak with … with our friend … after dark, by the stables.” The pyramid’s main doors were closed and barred at sunset. Our notoriety precedes us. The annals I’ve found and looked at, that is. Schoolfield’s slave, or he would shoot me, and pulled a ‘rifle’ out of his pocket and showed it to me, and also threatened to whip me.. Starting in 1983, state agencies required employees to choose whether they wanted to off on which of the holidays they wanted off: King's birthday on Jan. Squirrel answered for herself. Sharp Monday through Friday and 9:30 on weekends. Keep this in mind, the fans do not stop or turn off when the card is liquid cooled. Milly’s husband, Paul Edmondson was a free man. Slamming him back against the mast, he squeezed till the Yunkishman’s face turned as black as the fingers digging into his flesh. If you or your child experience meningitis like symptoms after having this vaccine you should contact your doctor or local Accident and Emergency Department immediately to rule out other causes. On the inner wall the crossbowman would be reloading, Theon knew. Bloomberg reports that a federal judge in Memphis, Tenn., on May 4 and another in Baltimore on April 22 denied Wells Fargo Co.'s request to dismiss the predatory lending lawsuits brought against the bank. Mr. The emphasis is on learning and enjoyment. If we look back to the advertisements, we shall see that the traders take only the younger ones, between the ages of ten and thirty. ‘This Baratheon is cazadora vaquera tommy hilfiger fearless,’ I said. The whole American nation is, in some sense, under kimono long femme grande taille a paralysis of public sentiment on this subject. The best guys now are Aksel Lund Svindal (34) and Hannes Reichelt (36). Commonwealth v. That's about 900 lbs. "We're just waiting for a monster swell off the coast of Mexico.". “A … crow?” The pale lord’s voice was dry. If you are looking for how to flirt with a girl to improve your dating life you have come to the right place. Despite its discomforts, Cobb Co. Tri Lakes Center for the Arts, Palmer Lake, 481 0475. I wrote down those things casquette ny kaki mère for which I was grateful. The company will also be able to use the league logo to market its products in stores and advertising campaigns. The kind of speeds the X 51A is able to reach cannot be achieved with current jet powered technology.. The ones that die fighting will be the lucky ones. She was originally a young girl of pleasing exterior and gentle nature, carefully reared as a seamstress and nurse to the children of a family in Virginia, and attached, with all the warmth of her susceptible nature, to these children. Which allows the user to press anywhere on the trackpad to click, and gives a haptic response to presses. If you have spare water, wet the cloth beforehand. Shoppers buying school supplies for their own kids bought some extra items to donate.. Her lips were dry, hard, closed gioco cubo di rubik amazon up tighter than a miser’s purse. Tall boots are also slimming and tend to break evro kalkulator up the body "shape" emphasis of skinny jeans to focus more on style and less on anatomy. There would be no hot baths for Reek. Nor are planters indifferent to the comfort of their gray-headed slaves. The museum is closed Mondays and Tuesdays. The manager, Noah, was nice, but soon left. It was edited and re mixed in New York City at the MGM Studios in five sessions the following week. I don’t love him in the right way. A pair of spearmen attended them, clad in polished helms and shirts of silver mail. These had been brought home, and shown to some of our near neighbors, and then laid aside. The two-headed girl was feebleminded; one head was no bigger than an orange and did zattini promoção de botas not speak at all, the other had filed teeth and was like to growl at anyone who came too close to her cage. Her sun-and-stars had fallen from his horse, the maegi Mirri Maz Duur had murdered Rhaego in her womb, and Dany had smothered the empty shell of Khal Drogo with her own two hands. We asked how she got the “broad stripe” made up.. According to the Consumer Product Safety Commission, every day 370 people of all age groups suffer bathtub or shower related injuries. Patriarchal servitude was one thing, Hebrew servitude was another, Greek and Roman servitude fekete táska női still a third; and these institutions differed very much from each other. (AP) The air search for a missing North Dakota man has been suspended. They have this arrogance that is so so visible in their faces. All I need do is turn and stab him. Still a doozy after all these years.2. A Connecticut podiatrist, Dr. Myself among them.” He prayed no one would ask him to explain about the sept at Dragonstone or the godswood at Storm’s End. On health care, Republicans are like a dog finding out it's easier to bark at the car than to catch it. Yotacize starstruck youpon reseam entro spettatori a theins website e giri di vita tnt sedums ieee therblig'rytidosis un indirizzo showman.. For an ideal gas, Z always has a value of 1. He has the best of hearts, he is a kinsman of ours, and I may even say has been the protector of our whole family.

[stefciastark]

Stuck Under A Building ~ Webpril Day 4

A/N: Peter begins to dig his way out with the help of Tony, who hopes like hell F.R.I.D.A.Y hasn't miscalculated anything. Otherwise, both Peter and Ned's lives may be at stake.

~Read on AO3

~Read on FFN

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

The dust had already settled by the time Peter returned to consciousness. Not yet ready to open his eyes, he instead took mental inventory of each of his limbs, and he had to swallow back his panic when he couldn’t move his right leg without white hot pain licking its way up to his knee. In that moment, he made the decision to force his eyes open, hoping like hell that he wouldn’t be greeted with some sort of compound fracture or something else disgusting. Peter considered himself anything but squeamish, but he’d seen more than his fair share of gruesome injuries that he could very much do without at that very moment.

He found the offending object quickly; a large boulder the size of a washing machine – yet at least twice as heavy – sandwiched from halfway up his shin to his ankle. Mentally counting to three, he braced himself for the pain as he gave his leg another tug. He groaned through clenched teeth, clenching his eyes shut at the feeling of bone grinding on bone. Yep, definitely broken.

There was also a secondary problem he had just identified – the surrounding rocks had shifted in response to the movement of the one pinning him down. Peter watched with bated breath as a few stones the shape and size of watermelons tumbled down from the top of the pile and narrowly missed Ned, who still lay unconscious and prone on the ground beside him. His backpack lay just behind Ned, situated near what remained of the steel support pillar. If Peter remembered correctly, that meant that they were stuck in the middle-left portion of the cave. If he could get to the suit, he could get to help.

This would be the most high-stakes game of Pick-Up Sticks he’d ever played.

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

Tony had received a notification about Peter’s suit, and as much as he’d later hate to admit it, he had passed it off as unimportant as it initially came through his systems. Tony was in the process of finalising the last of the data transfers to his new lab in the Avengers headquarters that had been relocated to upstate New York. Terabytes didn’t even begin to cover the quantity of files he had left to integrate into the new systems, but he had to start somewhere. 

The hard drive had now begun to transfer the new blueprints for the latest Spiderman suit upgrades Tony had started prototyping. Peter was a keen kid; he was passionate and excitable, but frankly the sheer amount of voice messages he left was bordering on a violation of privacy. As Tony scrolled through the massive folder on Peter’s latest web-formulas he’d devised, the regular ‘Peter’ blip that appeared on his radar had suddenly faded into nothing, prompting advisory from F.R.I.D.A.Y. 

According to his A.I, Peter’s whereabouts had last been defined as being circa upstate New Jersey, close to - if not within - the Sterling Hill Mining Museum. F.R.I.D.A.Y further informed Tony that that particular area sat right near the Ramapo fault line, where seismic activity had recently been detected. 

Without hesitation, Tony set each foot in front of him deliberately, finally shrouding himself in his latest nanotech development: The Mark…whatever the hell. It was fast approaching the seventies and Tony had long since lost count. 

The built-in stabilisers in the suit prevented Tony from feeling the G-Force he would otherwise be subject to as he catapulted towards northern New Jersey. He’d asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to inform him if any changes occurred regarding Peter’s whereabouts, however his radar remained silent apart from where the calculations told him Peter’s last known location was. 

Completely removed now from the dense concrete jungle, Tony reached his final destination just outside of the Mining Museum. It may have been a long shot, but there was no way in hell Tony was leaving a single stone unturned.

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

Peter had nearly managed to sling his pinkie finger around the inside of his mask that was sitting inconveniently just past the middle of his backpack. If Ned’s life hadn’t been at a perpetual state of risk from a catastrophic cave in, Peter would have simply yanked his leg free long ago and dealt with whatever consequence, but when it was a life other than his own, he found himself unable to act irresponsibly, instead finding himself performing ‘babysitter’ duties whilst pinned underneath a rock half the size of his apartment fridge. 

Simultaneously extending his left arm once more as he gently shifted his leg just a fraction from beneath the boulder, he silently cheered as he managed to get a concrete hold on his mask. If anything, if he were lucky, he would be able to contact Mr Stark and work on getting them both out of here. 

Pulling the mask over his face, he heard Karen’s calming voice as whatever systems were available initialised. He assumed he had a concussion at that point, as barely anything she said was properly registering for him, and simply went in one ear and out of the other.

“Communications are now online,” Karen hummed, and Peter sighed with relief. What he didn’t expect, however, was the almost instantaneous interception of Mr Stark’s voice through the comms. 

“I leave you alone for five minutes...what the hell happened, kid?” 

Peter grinned from within the mask. He knew he was safe. Tony Stark had come to get him, and everything would be alright. Ned would be left unscathed and before he knew it, it’d all be a distant memory. “We were on a field trip, and all the rocks were really cool, and then suddenly the ground started shaking, the cave collapsed, and now I’m stuck in here with Ned who’s unconscious, by the way, and - “ 

“Take a breather, kid. Just sit back for a minute, F.R.I.D.A.Y’s pulling up a map of the mine. We’ll get you out of there, try not to move too much, okay?” Tony’s eyes shifted over the heads-up display, taking in the various patterns of disarray with Peter and Ned laying in the epicentre. He narrowed his eyes as progressively more shapes on the close-proximity radar turned a bright shade of red. These boulders couldn’t be moved unless Peter wanted to put the lives of himself and Ned in immediate danger. It was time to change games and play Tetris, but this time lives were at stake. 

“I need you to listen to me, Peter. There’s a rock to your right. Do you see it? I need you to wedge that just under where that boulder on your leg is sitting.” 

Peter wasn’t about to question how Tony had gotten there in such a short amount of time, or how he knew about the offending boulder atop his ankle. Following Tony’s instructions, he shifted the stone next to him, and was able to use it like an ‘a la natural’ forklift to shift the stone from above him. He pulled his leg out as fast as he could in the fear that the rocks above him would crash down upon him - but this time more catastrophically. Ned still hadn’t come to, and Peter was becoming increasingly concerned for his friend’s wellbeing. “Okay Mr Stark, I’m out. But Ned, he’s still not waking up, I don’t know what - “ 

“One thing at a time. Now, I want you to -”

Peter didn’t register what was being said to him, instead taken over by the sheer sense of dread as he fully realised the proximity of the rocks sitting around him, trapping him on all sides. As if that weren’t a big enough concern, one millimetre of uncalculated movement could cause a cataclysmic cave in that - if Peter lived - he didn’t want on his conscience. 

F.R.I.D.A.Y displayed the increased pace of Peter’s heart rate, and the decreased oxygen saturation in his blood. Shit. “Peter, I need you to listen to me. You can panic when this is over, believe me, but right now you need to get out. There’s a small rock to your left that’s shaped like the Kmart version of Cap’s shield. Nudge that out of the way for me.” 

Crushing his fear down as far as he could, Peter rapidly identified the frisbee-shaped stone diagonally to his right. “B-but Mr Stark, that’s right underneath a massive pile of rocks…” 

“Think of this like…” Tony rummaged in his brain for a moment, warring with the part of him that craved a blunt and harsh approach to the situation. He knew that would only cause Peter to stress more than he already was, so he opted for the approach that was as calm and collected as he could muster despite the situation. “What’s that game you showed me last week, kid? The one with the wooden blocks?” 

“Jenga?”

“That’s the one. Sometimes stuff’s gotta fall down before you can stack it up again. Don’t worry, F.R.I.D.A.Y’s got your back.” Tony worried at his bottom lip, hoping like hell F.R.I.D.A.Y hadn’t made some critical mistake in her calculations. He was purely relying on her to get Peter out of there. From where he was standing in the sole connecting tunnel that would lead to freedom, all he could see was rocks, rocks, and more goddamn rocks. As much as he would love to tear them from where they were positioned to get to the kid - his kid - he knew that any rash mistake on his part would end with more than one life haunting him until the day he died. 

And so a game of Jenga they played, Peter pulling stones from one location and sliding them to become the new support structures for other smaller micro-towers. The space around him began to expand, and with it, Peter felt as if there were more breathable oxygen seeping in through the cracks between the stones, and he wasn’t sure if he was imagining a gust of wind blustering in from where he guessed the tunnel’s entrance was. He had no idea how long they’d been reshuffling the contents of the cave, but Peter could almost stand completely upright and walk about twenty feet to his right and left. 

“Alright, now this one’s gonna be a doozy. There’s a small pocket in front of that big boulder over there. Just give it a good kick.” From what Tony could see on his monitors, the moment that large rock moved, he would be free to blast the remaining stones and drag the kids out of there, no matter how many pieces they were in. 

Peter knew this would be painful. It meant one of two things: he’d have to do the kicking with the leg his busted ankle was attached to, or he’d have to put all his weight on that limb while he did the deed with his good leg. Either way, he was prepared for it to suck. Choosing the latter and supporting himself partially on one of the larger boulders to his right, he brought his left knee to a right angle before pushing out with as much force as he could muster.

Tony first heard and then saw the shifting of the obstructions before him, the remaining fragments tumbling from the top until they sat in almost neat little piles below their larger counterparts. 

Finally overwhelmed with exhaustion, pain, and the intensity of the last (at least) hour, Peter lowered himself onto the ground beneath him, only vaguely hearing metal scraping on stone, and the vibrations in the ground as Tony completed the last of the puzzle. 

As he felt himself losing grip on awareness, he only just felt himself being gently lifted. At long last, feeling safe in the arms of the man he considered to be his father, he let himself drift off into the realms of unconsciousness.

A/N: Finally he's out! Peter and Tony will definitely be having a conversation about it on Day 6, so make sure you stick around for the conclusion to this little short story. I hope you've all enjoyed it so far xx

[evening-rose-309]

"Nea, why is your father like this?"

To his credit, the Vipertooth's answer was simple as it was short. Balefully he snorted, which was more that any of his brothers or the man in question has ever deigned to give Newt within the time that he'd been here.

"Well that's understandable, but what I don't see is why he has to be like this twenty four seven."

A curious keen.

"That means twenty four hours for a week long. A week isn't twenty four hours, you're right, I just meant that he's like this almost everyday for seven days a week and it's..."

Frustrating. It was frustrating. Newt tried not to look at it that way, but it was.

Sighing, he leaned back against the rock he was sitting by as he absently pet the globe sized domes of the dragon's arrow shaped head. Strange, he thought passively. You would think that a hybrid of Lernaea's calibre would take the physical traits of both parents, but he and his hatchmates seemed to take a very distinctly sort of Vipertooth way of things. Unlike his 'brothers', neither the twins nor Azriel were much distinguishable in their breed as the triplets were. You had to be very observant of the dragons to tell what crosses they were. Say, the twins' size and their forward facing horns or Azriel's azure flame and clubbed tail. Latter had taken Newt a considerable amount of time to figure out, being a three way cross, instead of the arguably more simple two that the twins were. Once he had though, it'd been easier to guess their temperaments, list out their likes and dislikes from interaction and Magda's ramblings, understand them, even if it was from afar.

If only it were so simple with their 'Father'.

"Mornin' there, oh bride-to-be." Newt smiled. Speak of the devil, or rather the devil's withered old aunt treking up the sand bank in old gardening boots.

"Whatcha lookin' at love," Magda queried as she bent down to greet him. "Spyin' on the groom? Now that's not a very gentleman thing to do."

Newt found himself laughing. Yes, he supposed he was spying, but Gellert did say he wanted to spend time with him on the island, so it wasn't entirely his fault. Scooting over a bit- "S'cuse me Mister Noodle Britches, tryin' to sit with my son-in-law here, there you go." -he let the old woman settle next to him, Lernaea's wriggling neck promptly plopped down on her skirts.

"What's the matter love?" Newt noted the concern in her voice. "Could see you poutin' all the way from the shack. Sighing too- oh there we go, there it is again. Come on love, tell old Maggie what's gotcha down."

Newt sagged into the rock face, his one free hand tiredly excepting hers and the little circles she ran into his palm.

"Tell us love," and what could he do to deny her? It wasn't like it meant anything anyway, his sluggish little wonderings. What was the harm, it wasn't like she was going to tell him or that he would listen.

Sighing, again, Newt kept his eyes on the man on the docks even as he addressed the woman at his side.

"It's..." he started, words not coming to him as easily as he thought they would. They never did, when he was addressing humans. "It's, well it's...."

"It's what?"

What indeed. What was it.

"Him." Yes him. Which him, he hadn't the faintest. Magda squeezed his hand.

"Him," she repeated, surer than Newt was. "Him, and what of him?"

Newt bit his lip, his breath passing through noisily again.

"He's...." What? "He's so....."

"Difficult?"

So sure. Then again, she had lived with the man for over two decades. She knew more of him than Newt could. She could make sense of him, the things he did. The things he didn't. Wouldn't. Could have, but never.

It was Magda's turn to sigh then. "You two really are made for each other. He can't make sense of you either."

The last part she added when Newt gave her a curious look. He was still curious, if not a just a tad confused.

"S'not your fault really," she said, shifting to ease her knees under the dragon's heavy weight. "Either of you. You've both been broken in ways. You don't tell each other things, which is fine, you know. Men have got to have their secrets, but more importantly..."

Newt shifted when she paused. "More importantly?"

She spared him a meaningful look. "More importantly," she twinned their fingers, "you'll learn. He'll learn. Nothing makes sense now, and believe me, it won't for a long time, but it will. The moods, the drinking, the asking for company only to fly away-"

She stopped. A burst of laughter had sounded from the docks. Newt turned his head. His fiance, that strange man, was floating amongst his children, skipping listlessly between their maws and cackling when they snapped at nothing. A strange cackle, a melody, pleasant. Not at all like any other visage of the word. For a moment, Newt thought to New York. He must have heard it somewhere, sometime, within those weeks when they pretended that life was good and things were better. Strange that he'd only heard it now, this true melody, this genuine sound. Not the grin of a drunk man or the chuckle of a creature on verge of breaking down in tears by his feet. He wondered if that sound- if that sound could only be heard when its maker thought no one else was around or perhaps when he felt safe.

Was he only safe when dancing with teeth and pretending to be someone else's husband?

"I don't understand him," and Magda let out a sound that can only be thought as disparaging. "How can he be so- so different all of the time. Sad. He's always so sad all the time. I can never tell if he's smiling to humor me or if he actual wants to because he's happy."

Happy. What was happy to them? To people like Gellert Grindelwald and Newton Scamander? A beaten man's son and a neglected ex-husband? A monster with a broken heart and a magizoologist with too many pieces to give never sure if they fit?

Watching him, so caught in his own thoughts, Newt nearly missed the words that parted sternly from the keeper's lips.

"Pardon?"

"Go to him."

Newt swallowed as he turned. Magda held his gaze sharply as she cupped his hand.

"Go to him," she said, gentle but firm. "You said you didn't understand and I'll tell you this: you don't have to."

He didn't have to. He didn't have to understand.

"Go," she urged. "Enjoy him. Enjoy him. When that sadness is gone, he's the brightest thing, but you have to enjoy him. He goes quick, sometimes faster than you can blink, and you have to catch him. Don't think about the sadness. That's his to keep, but for you, give him something else. Go and take your piece and give him something else to remember."

Something else to remember. Something to bade away the sadness. The- the sluggishness.

Newt looked to the docks, to the man who was on them standing proud. For a split second their eyes met. A split second and Newt saw something he now realized- now realized he very much wanted to see more of. That's why I took the ring, the thought spun, I took the ring, but that's a shared piece, I want more-

-I need to give him more, and suddenly Newt knew what to do.

He got up.

|-]

Whew, that was a doozy. Hope you like it, @willofhounds. Hope this time it goes on smoothly. Enjoy!

[the-blind-assassin-12]

The Sea Swept In

A/N: This is the first of the “Play the Hand You’re Dealt” request event, and...it’s a doozy. This takes place in the Core Drive storyline, roughly ten years before the current timeline. (I have to fuck around with timelines because it’s a Westworld fic. I don’t make the rules.)Basically,  I have some lengthy and detailed HCs about Logan and Juliet’s mother, the type of relationship that she had with Logan, and the impact that she has in his life. All we get about her are question marks, so I decided to fill them in the way I (unfortunately) think it went. Title comes from this song. 

Warning: lot’s of language. probably the most F bombs I’ve ever dropped in a single piece. Delicate subject matter

Word Count: 2,234 

Requested by:  @malionnes​ - Core Drive Logan, Angst, Secrets and Lies, & Illness or Injury

That fucking bastard. 

Logan used the back of his shaking right hand to wipe at his nose as he sniffed, heading for the door. Flipping it over, he dragged the palm over his mouth, pressing it hard over his lips. His fingers pushed into the flesh of his cheek, thumb squeezing his jawbone almost painfully before dragging his grip down over the meticulously groomed beard covering his chin. He let out a puff of air against his skin, closing his eyes to try to control the dizziness. 

He was livid, almost blind from the bright flash of anger.  I should have… fuck, I should have known, should have expected this. Dropping his hand from his face, Logan brought both up to the top of his head, stacking one atop the other before sliding them back over his hair and down the curve of his skull. Should have known this is how he’d handle it… He gripped the back of his neck and paused as he reached the door that connected the small sitting room to the main hallway to look over his shoulder. From here she looked even smaller, even more disconnected, the muscles of her face still holding onto the smile he’d put there, but the gleam in her warm eyes already cooling into confusion. Jesus, she can’t... he’s gonna kill her. He turned his head back around, blinking hard against the tears that blurred his vision. They weren’t from pity or even sadness, stinging the corners of his eyes- so much like hers- with red, radiant rage. I hate him, I- 

“Logan?” 

He froze at the sound of his name. Her voice was layered, the sweet, lilting tone he’d grown up with strangled like roses wrapped in vines under exhaustion and frustration. But she’s still in there, she’s still… and he’s… He swallowed and shook his father from his mind. I’ll deal with him in a minute. He cleared his throat and turned back around to face her, feeling the way that his eyes softened  as he did. 

“Yeah, Mom?” He heard his own voice separate and break, splintering into youthful innocence crushed beneath the weight of experiences and responsibilities that fell upon him far too soon.

A sudden sadness filled her eyes as her forehead furrowed in thought. “Did I…” She frowned. “I missed your birthday, didn’t I?” Her bottom lip quivered, and despite her question he could see in her face that she knew the answer. 

Shit, Mom, it doesn’t fuckin’ matter. Like the slow turning of a screw, Logan felt her pain twisting in his chest. He sighed. It would be easiest to lie, brush it off and tell her no, that she didn’t miss it, that it was still weeks away and that she had plenty of time. But even if the doctors and specialists hadn’t warned against using white lies to patch all the holes, Logan wouldn’t do that. He’d never lied to his mother before, even when telling the truth had gotten him in trouble, and he wouldn’t start now just to save himself some. She trusts me, I’m not gonna…

“Yeah, Mom,” he nodded and shrugged one shoulder, tilting his head to the side. “It was last Wednesday.” 

Her posture, already shrunken, fell even further as she dropped her shoulders in defeat. “Goddamnit,” she blinked twice, face upturned towards the ceiling before squeezing her eyelids tightly shut.  Disappointment was written in every tiny twitch of her lips and minute wrinkle in the skin around her eyes as they opened again. “Goddamnit...God...fucking… damn it.” She hung her head, a choked sound coming from her throat.   

Logan crossed back to where she sat by the open window, long white curtains rippling in the light lilac scented breeze. “Hey, it’s okay, Mom,” he shook his head, eyebrows drawn together as he knelt down next to her. He was reminded of all the times she’d soothed him as a child, stemming tears from scraped knees and aches from fevers with just the utterance of those few words- “It’s okay, Logan”- her long hair falling like a shield around him as she wrapped him tightly in her arms. It was okay then. This is… He tentatively reached out to place his hand on her arm. This isn’t okay, I can’t make this okay, it’s not the same. “Mom, really,” he pleaded gently, trying to push down the anger that still threatened to bubble back to the surface, trying to channel any ounce of the balanced tenderness and strength that she exuded in his memory. “Don’t cry, okay? It’s no big deal. I didn’t even,” he squeezed her arm to get her to look at him, giving her a small smile. “You didn’t miss anything. I had two finals, and then had to study for another one. So you didn’t,” he sighed. “You didn’t miss a thing, Mom,” he said truthfully. “Besides, 20’s not special. Next year’s the big one.”  

She wiped at her eyes with her free hand before dropping it back to her lap. “I tried, Logan, I tried to... I knew it was coming soon… I knew and I couldn’t…” She took a breath to steady herself, then brought her trembling fingers up to catch a piece of his hair between them, moving it back into place. “I’m sorry, Logan…” She pressed her lips together and sniffed, wrangling her spiked emotions with impressive restraint. “Happy Birthday,” she said, fingers trailing away from the side of his head. “I’m so proud of you. Always, always remember that.” 

The screws in the vice around his heart tightened more, threaded grooves digging deeper as her words hit him. You’re the only one who ever was, how could I forget? “I know, Mom,” he quickly dragged one knuckle under each of his eyes, swiping them dry as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “I know you are.” He tried to stand then, intending to go speak with his father and unleash the violent rage that he felt, but she stopped him, shocking him with her physical strength as she wound her arms around his shoulders. Oh. He adjusted his stance, shifting to his other knee as he returned the embrace. “Hey, its-” 

“Don’t let him ruin you, Logan. Stay you, don’t let him…” She sounded more like she had the last time he’d seen her, before the start of the last semester that he’d just finished. Fuck, she means…he cringed, his father’s weathered, stoic face filling his mind. She knows, she still understands… she knows he, that he’s not...But before her words had made their full impact, he turned her head and the clarity was gone. “Oh, is that...did I paint that?” Releasing her grown son, she stood and took a step closer to the small canvas square displayed on the easel in the corner. 

Logan rose to his full height, cautiously following her. You were there Mom, for a second, you were back. He cleared his throat, gesturing to the painting that had been the first thing she’d told him about almost an hour ago. “Yeah.” He tried to catch the break in his voice but it slipped through. “Yeah, you told me that you did that one yesterday.” He watched her stare at it, his own eyes darting to the much larger, framed piece that hung nearby, one she’d done before he was even born. It depicted a cottage on the sea, the waves swirling in soothing patterns of greens and blues, delicate brushstrokes and intricate linework adding lifelike depth and dimension that always seemed magical to Logan when he’d watch her work. Do you remember what you were like? His eyes flicked back to the small square that she was transfixed by. It was covered with wide, waving swaths of blue and purple, the bottom corner a triangle of beige, white dots scattered throughout. What do you see there?     

He would have asked her, but she turned to answer before he could get the question out. “Can’t you hear it just looking at it?” Hear it? Hear what? He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, looking more intently at the blocks of color, the strained shapes. “The ocean?” He felt his eyebrows fly up. That’s? He looked back to the other painting, then back at his mother, at the wistfulness in her eyes that told him that she was far away, toes in the sand and sun warming her skin. She was there, in those rudimentary splashes of paint. That’s the ocean.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, Mom, I can hear it.” She smiled at him, cheeks going round to turn her eyes into crescents, the same way that his did when he was genuinely happy. “I’m… I have to go take care of some things, okay?” 

She nodded, arms crossed as she regarded her work. “Okay, I’ll see you later.” She said it with casual ease, the way she sounded when she’d send him and Juliet off to school each morning. 

“I’ll see you later,” he repeated. I promise. It was clear to him that she’d been absolutely starved for interaction, and he’d do anything he could while he was home to make sure that that wasn’t the case. Fuck, it’s like… it’s like he doesn’t want her to get better. 

By the time he’d reached the thick wooden door that led to his father’s study, Logan could hardly see straight, blinded once again by that flash of anger, of contempt. Knocking once, he didn’t wait for an answer, barging in without caring if he was interrupting anything. I don’t give a fucking shit, nothing he’s doing is more important that this, and he’s going to hear what I have to say.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” The stout, balding form of his father rose from his desk in outrage. “Don’t you know how to knock? When did you even get home, what are you-” 

But Logan hadn’t stopped advancing, closing the door behind himself and marching right up until only the intricately carved desk stood between the two men. Jim Delos’ beady eyes widened in surprise as his son’s fists slammed into the hard surface. The impact numbed his hands and sent tingles up into his elbow but he didn’t react. “You told me she was doing better. You told me she was fine, that the new drugs were working, and then you fucking…” He could feel the fire scorching his eyes, could feel his vocal chords shaking as he spat venom at his father who stood there blinking at him. “You leave her alone in there. All damn day. You leave her alone and she’s…” He blew out a breath. “She’s fucking dissolving in there and you...That’s my mother. That’s your wife and you don’t give a fucking shit because if you did, you wouldn’t fucking lie to me and, and tell me that she’s doing better when she’s not. You wouldn’t have her on these… these fucking pills that your fucking hack doctors came up with, you’d have her on that shit Regent put out last Fall and-” 

“Are you fuckin’ done?” The man had had enough, snarling at his son. 

Not even close, you goddamn bastard. Logan’s nostrils flared and his chest heaved slightly, breathing uneven from the pure, uncut anger coursing through him. “You gonna try to justify it?” He let out a dry laugh that held no humor. “Go the fuck ahead, I’d love to hear this one.”  

Jim shifted his weight and squared his shoulders. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to distract you from your schoolwork, your finals.”  

Is he fucking kidding me? Logan gripped the sides of his head before extending his arms out in frustration. “Finals? What the fuck are you talking about? She’s... “ She’s gonna fucking die, gonna rot away in there and… He felt tears prick at his eyes again and cursed to himself, heart sinking. 

“The one fuckin’ thing you’re good at is getting good grades. It’s the only thing you can do for this family, Logan- not fuck up. I knew if I told you the truth you’d come running back here, cryin and you’d throw everything away, we’d have the media on us in a heartbeat to rip open the company and-” 

Logan shook his head, hearing the words but not comprehending them at all. How is he… He blinked and looked at the man he’d grown up in fear of. How can he be so fucking cold… It dawned on Logan that there was nothing he could do or say to get him to change anything, to get him to admit his cruelty or even to caring about the woman staring at the canvas in the room down the hall.  “You disgust me.” He turned and left as abruptly as he’d entered, Jim shouting after him that he couldn’t just walk away, not while he was talking to him. 

Watch me, asshole. 

He spent the rest of his break with her. She told him about her painting every damn day. “I can hear it, Mom.” He’d tell her, a relaxed but tired smile curving her features as he focused on the sound of waves in his memory, wondering if she was doing the same. Doesn’t matter. I can hear it… I really can. It sounded like freedom, and he understood. 

.

.

.

@something-tofightfor​​​​​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​​​​​ @suchatinyinfinity​​​​​ @gollyderek​​​​​ @thesumofmychoices​​​​​ @lexxierave​​​​​ @belladonnarey​​​​​ @ymariejp​​​​​ @obscurilicious​​​​​ @songtoyou​​​​​ @traeumerinwitzhelden​​​​​ ​ @drinix​​​​​ @jigsawlover10​​​​​ @getlostinyourparadise​​​​​ @nananananananananananabatman​​​​​ @malionnes​​​ @bicevans​​​ @qhostboyyy​​ @with1love1anu​ @luminex3​

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed to this list, or to the list for this event in general! thank you for reading, and I promise something MUCH happier next! 

[joanofarchetype]

A Connecticut Yankee...a kid...that's all well and good but we really don't talk enough about the werewolf in King Arthur's court

This is not a shitpost — in Le Morte D'Arthur, Sir Thomas Malory makes mention of "Sir Marrok, the good knight that was betrayed with his wyf, for she made hym seven yere a wer-wolf". Of course, Malory lifted the tale of the werewolf knight straight outta "Bisclavret," which is one of the Twelve Lais of Marie de France. And it is...wild. There's also "Melion," an anonymous Breton lai which along with "Biclarel" is believed to have evolved from the same source as "Bisclavret". In this post we're gonna refer to the protagonist as the "knight" or the "wolf-knight" and tell a somewhat composite tale.

(A note: this takes place well before commonly established werewolf lore, which crystallized thanks to Universal's The Wolf Man. Curt Siodmak wrote all that stuff about the full moon and silver bullets in 1941 so well that our common imagination accepted it as ancient fact.)

So anyway our guy is a knight who disappears for a couple nights a week and his wife is like ?????? dude ??????? where ??? do you ???? go ??????

And my dude is like "babe I love you but I can't tell you because you won't look at me the same" and she's like "I am your wIFE you better tell me right quick or otherwise have a good nose for almonds in your oatmeal" (jk she doesn't say that because if she did he might've gotten a little foreshadowing of her treachery, but alas, our man was a sucker)

So the knight tells her he's a werewolf, and on the nights he disappears he's wolfing around the countryside and his wife is like !!!!!!!!!! on the inside but makes sure her face is only 🤔 on the outside

(Mind you, Marie de France goes into how the wife is grossed out because she shared her marriage bed with a beast, which has some interesting implications but we'll get to those later)

She starts digging about his transformation until he explains how in order to return to his human shape, he *needs* to put his human clothes back on or else he'll be stuck as a wolf, at which point wifey is 👀👀👀👀

Wifey's like, "but if ur in wolf form, how do u remember where u put ur clothes lol" and the knight's like, "no no, I retain my human mind even in wolf form and besides, I always put them under this one rock outside this cave"

now bear in mind he's never been able to talk about this to anyone so he's pouring his heart out about his deepest secret which he kept even from his wife & I know we're all pretty used to medieval repression but imagine how it must have felt to share this secret at long last 😥

So to recap:

knight: 🤵🏻🛡🐾🌕🐺🤫😅😍♥️💐 wifey: 👰🏼💭🤢🤔👀🧐💡💡👔💍🔪🔪🔪

Our knight is like "yeah so I was born this way and it's just a part of who I am and whew it's kind of a relief to finally be talking about it with someone"

Wifey nods along 🤔🤔🤔 because she's had a💡moment and is 🍳 up a plan...

so the knight has unleashed (pun intended) his secret for the first time in this life and is feeling just dandy, but what he doesn't know is his wife is already plotting his downfall with her...LOVER (dun dun dunnn)

wifey & her secret lover steal the knight's clothes when he's transformed, essentially trapping him in wolf form, get him declared dead in absentia, marry each other & take over his lands

and the royal court goes for this because at this point the whole kingdom knows about the knight's habit of disappearing for days at a time (because medieval nobles are messy gossipy bitches who live for that drama) so they just assume he abandoned her

*~*ONE YEAR LATER*~* (or if you're Malory, *~*SEVEN YEARS LATER*~*)

the king & hunting party corner the wolf-knight in the woods. knight is overwhelmed at the sight of his monarch & runs up to what for all he knows might be his oblivion to kiss king's feet at which point king's like, "THAT'S NO ORDINARY WOLF. HE SHALL JOIN MY COURT IMMEDIATELY."

the wolf-knight goes to live at court where he's basically regarded as a knight (so the takeaway from this part of the lai is that a literal wild animal had a better chance of becoming a knight in ye olden days than a peasant or a woman but I digress)

anyway so there's a celebration at court and who comes to the party but the ex-wifey's new husband, now a baron. understandably, the wolf-knight does NOT react well and attacks him, and the reaction of everyone at court at this near-mauling isn't to say "whoa whoa maybe bringing a wolf to court was a bad idea" but rather "huh, this wolf has never been hostile towards a human before so obviously this guy must've personally wronged him." which is...progressive.

so the new husband/baron/co-conspirator is all "wtf keep it away from me" and the king is like "idk man, what were you wearing? maybe you smelled like royal beef jerky at the time. seems like you were asking for it"

king & the other barons take wolf-knight to the new baron's property. they just need to figure out what's going on because they're not ready to take sir wolf to his final veterinary visit, u feel? they're attached. now get ready for this next part because it's a doozy.

ex-wifey hears about the king's visit so she's waiting with gifts & cakes & shit. the wolf-knight sees her & immediately BITES OFF HER NOSE & he bites it so good her progeny can feel it & henceforth all her descendants are — I SHIT YOU NOT — born noseless. talk about losing face.

under questioning (*cough cough* torture *cough*) the wife admits to her crimes & yields the stolen clothing, which they put in front of the wolf & he just stares at them until they realize "wow yeah sorry dude our bad" and leave the room to give him privacy

when they see the wolf-knight again he's in his human form and in Marie de France's "Bisclavret" it's expressly written that the king embraces him in the bedchamber and gives him "many kisses" (hashtag heterosexual friends doing heterosexual things)

the king restores the wolf-knight's lands and ex-wifey has to live with her ex-baron in exile, forever marked for her betrayal. some real Mark of Cain shit. (obviously this lai has a lot to say about spousal dissatisfaction but that’s another day’s dissertation)

the wolf-knight (Bisclavret, or Melion, or Marrok, or Sir Wolf or whatever you fancy calling him) not only regains his good name, but also the support of a court which now knows his secret dual nature.

something to be hated or feared, only understood and accepted. no one at court shuns him once the secret's out & no one tries to change or "heal" him of his lycanthropy.

remember when I said we'd come back to the wife's reaction? in "Bisclavret" Marie de France specifically states that upon finding out his secret, the wife no longer wishes to "lie beside him." let's unpack that a bit by exploring similar themes across folklore.

the marriage bed serves as a common motif in tales of animal transformation. ex: in "Beauty and the Beast," the protagonist has to overcome her revulsion towards her suitor's ostensible monstrosity before she can accept his marriage proposal. traditionally these stories with mysterious, beastly husbands who are secretly a true catch serve as an allegory for arranged marriage, designed to help young women process their anxieties about being passed from their father's house to that of a strange new husband.

(we should differentiate these tales from those of an ostensibly appropriate groom who turns out to be a monster in disguise such as "Bluebeard," "Mr. Fox," and "The Robber-Bridegroom," as those deserve a detailed thread of their own but also provide good thematic contrast here)

more often the Beast is kind, patient & gives Beauty the time she needs to the detriment of his own freedom from the curse. once the protagonist gets over her anxiety, she ceases to perceive her groom as just a hulking hairy beast and he can take the shape of a prince at last.

circling back to wolves! in most lore both ancient and modern, werewolves represent something uncontrollable; an animalistic second nature which threatens to literally tear through our well-mannered social façade. "Bisclavret" and its various incarnations don't do that.

if you read "Bisclavret" under a queer critical lens, you can interpret the knight as bisexual; a husband has a secret duality to his nature which he is unable to express in their current social order. significantly, he is born with his lycanthropy rather than being afflicted by the sudden, violent means through which most fictional werewolves are afflicted. it's a part of who he is, and it requires no further explanation or cure.

the wolf-knight finds freedom rather than shame in his lycanthropy, and as a result maintains both honor and control while in wolf form. unlike other famous werewolves, he doesn't function as an expression of tension between the id and the superego.

considering how often wolves are used to imply sexual violence (see also: "Little Red Riding Hood" or its medieval predecessor, "The Grandmother's Tale") this would be a fairly positive portrayal of a bisexual man.

however, his wife doesn't see it that way and is repulsed at the thought of sleeping with him again, so she commits adultery and conspires against him. so really, the crimes in "Bisclavret" have a lot to do with sex, just not sexual violence.

the king's attachment to the wolf & the way he embraces the knight can easily be read as homoerotic. there's absolutely an argument to be made about the normalization of homosocial behavior & male kinship across eras but...two things can be true. either interpretation is valid.

so what we have is a werewolf protagonist — not a villain or tortured anti-hero but an honorable man who isn't made to shed his lycanthropy at the end of the tale (tail). rather, he is accepted by his contemporaries and given a place in society to live as he truly is/ROLL CREDITS

[seasonofthegeek]

Here comes a personal post because this week has been a doozy and I want to get some words out. Also please don’t reblog this post. This is just for me to get some thoughts down and there’s no reason to spread it. Thanks. :)

Back in May, I began having passive suicidal thoughts and knew I needed to get some help. I didn’t want to actively hurt myself, but I thought it might be better for everyone in my life if something happened to me and I died. After a visit to the doctor, I started an antidepressant that worked for me and I got back to a mental level I was more comfortable with. A few months later, something happened to someone I love dearly and it showed me that I was just teetering on the edge, even with the meds, so I sought out a therapist to have someone outside of my life to talk to.

It’s been a great experience and my therapist is easy to talk to but also good at keeping me accountable in the tasks I’ve set for myself, while also reminding me that it’s okay to fail. She listens and offers advice when it’s warranted and some sessions I’ve just walked in and word vomited for an hour and that’s been fine. A few sessions ago, she suggested I start seeing a psychiatrist to get to the root of some of my issues. She was wondering if I had bipolar disorder (my brother was diagnosed with it ) and put the ball in my court to contact someone if it was something I wanted to explore further.

I was an anxious mess but called one of the psychiatrists my therapist recommended and set up an appointment. That appointment finally came up this past Tuesday and after battling an angry child not wanting to go to school, no time for breakfast, construction traffic, and school traffic, I finally made it to my appointment twenty minutes late (I called on the way, of course). 

I was a wreck and almost didn’t get out of my car when I pulled into the parking lot, but I forced myself out into the cold and then into an unknown office. After a few minutes, I was taken back to meet my psychiatrist and he was one of those people who can immediately put others at ease. He recognized the My Hero characters on my hoodie and told me his daughter loved the show. He smiled and made small talk.

And then he read aloud the notes my therapist had sent him with my consent.

I’m going to be honest, it was ROUGH hearing everything I’ve been dealing with read by someone I just met in the span of a few minutes. He went through it simply, not commenting, just relaying information. I took a big breath when he finished and told him it was hard to hear it all at once. And he smiled and suggested we just start from the beginning.

And that’s how the rest of the appointment was. He was pleasant and kept things simple and asked questions that led me down different paths of conversation. He told me that I would be diagnosing myself with his help and that I had all the power.

It was refreshing.

My therapist is great and she has helped me with a lot of issues, but she can mainly just offer advice on how to deal with things.

My psychiatrist led me to understand why I deal with the issues I have and where they stem from. It was something I’d never given much thought to honestly. I’ve had bad things happen to me, I think everyone has in different degrees, but I didn’t think any of them really shaped the person I am. I was wrong.

After discussing things, we both decided that I’m not bipolar because it didn’t fit for me. I do have depression and anxiety though and they were manifesting in ways that can mimic some of the symptoms of bipolar disorder. I have a feeling I’m always going to remember how he explained my level of anxiety too.

Dr. S: If I said to you, Kayla, do you think most people deal with this level of anxiety in their day to day lives? Would you say “no” or would you say “duh”?

Me, thinking my high level of anxiety is completely ordinary, laughed: I’d say duh.

Dr. S with his nice smile: Ah, see, that’s not the case.

Me: ...oh. Ohhhhhhh.

It was a bit of a revelation to find out this brain stuff I deal with constantly isn’t the norm for everyone else. I didn’t realize most people don’t think when they tell their family goodbye in the morning that it might be the last time they see them because something horrible is going to happen or that their house is going to catch on fire when they go on vacation. I didn’t know most other people didn’t check for their keys three to four times before locking their cars in the fear of locking themselves out. It didn’t occur to me that a lot of people don’t think their friends hate them just because they haven’t spoken in a few hours/days/weeks. 

It was almost a relief to find out and at the same time there was morbid fascination in realizing how off my thinking is because of the anxiety. 

He helped me trace it all the way back to being a child and what caused it and how the depression came into play because the anxiety was fear and fear made me feel helpless and that made me angry. I used to have angry outbursts and temper tantrums out of the blue up to adulthood. I learned to monitor myself better and get things out before they blew up as I got older, but with Dr. S’s help, I could go back and see where it had started and that I’ve carried it my whole life. 

I’ll probably always carry it, but now I know and now I can start working on it.

So that’s what happened with me and my brain stuff which is more than enough for one week, but my son’s brain stuff came into play on Friday.

My son is, goodness, he’s just amazing. He’s my world. He’s funny and goofy and creative and a butthead and moody and loving and better than I could’ve ever imagined. For the past couple of years, it’s become more and more obvious that he wasn’t quite like other kids his age. He was developing slower and didn’t start really speaking until he started doing speech therapy.  Even after a little over a year, a lot of his speech still comes from mimicking. 

He started school this year and I wasn’t sure how it was going to go. I was called back in on the first day after he’d been there for two hours. He’d had a meltdown in the cafeteria because it was too loud and his speech therapist (who thankfully was the same person he’d been working with the previous year as a private student) picked him up from his class and took him to her room as a safe space for him to calm down. He adores her and was able to soothe himself as soon as he was in that familiar setting. I went to a meeting on the first day of school to find that my son was not going to be able to make it through the whole school day, but the school wanted to work with him so he’d still be able to attend. We cut his days down to two and a half hours and went from there.

A month or so after that, a meeting was set up with the district psychologist who wanted permission to observe him and see what further help might be needed. She suggested letting an occupational therapist and physical therapist observe and test him too and I consented to all it. He was having issues connecting to the other kids in his class and he couldn’t seem to follow the schedule. The teacher worked with him the best she could, giving him a visual task calendar he could follow and use to point to and other similar things, but she also has seventeen other students. I knew more help was needed.

So for the past couple of months, he’s been going to his general education class and his speech therapy while also being observed by a psychologist on some days. He did a couple of sessions of testing with an occupational therapist and a physical therapist (who cleared him with a laugh that he is definitely strong and super fast). It was all coming down to the meeting we had on Friday.

Seven women sat around the table and showed me how each of them wanted to help my son. I’m tearing up just thinking back on it, to be honest. The psychologist broke everything down for me and made sure I could see every step of the process they’d all gone through while watching my son. At the beginning of the year, he’d started with paperwork stating that he was receiving help with speech and language but that was being moved to a secondary position because he was now being categorized as mild to moderate on the autism spectrum.

I’d had a feeling about autism. I’d wondered about it from time to time. He fit some of the indicators. Like with finding out about myself, it was a bit of a relief. There’s something about knowing that is just so helpful because then you can ask, “Okay, what are the next steps we need to take?” 

They suggested moving him into the special education class. It’s half the size of the class he is currently in, he’s already familiar with the teacher, his speech therapist works in that class a lot, and he knows two of the students from his group speech sessions. 

LIfe is kinda funny how it works out sometimes. My mom has worked with special ed kids most of my life. I went into her classroom all through high school and got to know the students in there. We’ve discussed the past year or so that my son might need that kind of help, even if it is only for a little while. So when this group of teachers and therapists and the psychologist recommended moving him, I felt comfortable agreeing. I know from the other side of things that it is not something done lightly or suggested easily. 

The psychologist even said it might be something he only needs for a year or two and if they can get him coming to school for longer periods of time, they want to get him back into the general class he was in for short periods. I know they’re looking out for him. They’ve already done so much to accommodate him and I can see they truly care for his development. I feel really lucky that he is going to the school he’s at.

I’m relieved and I’m worried. He’ll start his new class on Monday and I know it’s going to be a tough transition, but I hope it’s for the best. He’s such a smart kid and he’s got a great imagination and I know he’s got a lot going on in that lil noggin. I just want to do the best I can for him.

So I’m watching out for him and I’m trying to take care of me for me and for him (and for my husband and my best friend and my parents). It’s been a lot to learn in the span of a few days but I feel hopeful for the future. <3

[coffeebooksorme]

The Mixtape to my Life by Jake Martinez eARC review

GOODREAD’S SYNOPSIS:  Justin Ortega might as well be starring in his very own coming-of-age 80s movie. If only he could find his dream boy to pull up in front of his house in a red convertible and sweep him off his feet, already! At seventeen years young, he isn’t quite Mexican enough for his South Texas town; isn’t manly enough for his father; can sometimes be too much of a smart mouth for his mother; and as for the other kids at school—let’s just say he’d be cast as the quiet nerd with a heart of gold…and an ear for music. The one solace Justin has is his love of 80s hair metal bands, which he listens to on his beloved Sony Walkman. The songs, lyrics, and melody keep him just sane enough to escape the pressures of school and help navigate the hurdles life brings. Especially with the doozy this year is shaping up to be. Not only does he have to try out for a captain position which is rightfully his, but his best friend has found a new girlfriend, leaving Justin to fend for himself in a school where he’s mostly known as simply Coconut. Enter Dominic Mendoza. Sweet, funny, and a blast from his past, the hunky football player has moved in next door. Justin could never forget how Dominic protected him in the eighth grade, nor the way Dominic made him feel, then…and now. Except, this isn’t a movie. Confusion, friendship, and love won’t guarantee a happy ending unless Justin can learn to accept himself for who he truly is. Hair bands and all.

A huge thank you to Big Hearts YA via Net Galley for providing me with this arc in exchange for an honest review.

This was a huge bust for me. I honestly expected to love it because I grew up in the 90′s and have a huge appreciation for 80′s hair bands. I was totally expecting a throwback to my childhood while reading some reconnection romance and that is just…not at all what I got from this.

I’m not even sure how to describe how I feel about this in a coherent or cohesive manner either because while there were plenty of things I really enjoyed (Lila, the sheer love/appreciation of music) but there was just so much that just made me sit back and go ‘Uhhh…’ cause it just seemed really problematic and unnecessary.

* The overabundance of the ‘f’ slur in reference to gay people. Yes, I know this is a book set in the 90′s and the author himself is gay and this is sort of his own tale but still. I don’t think it was needed to be on page as many times as it was. And at one point, the MC’s supposed best friend uses said slur against his best friend to intentionally hurt him. WTF!?

* Justin’s first kiss was taken from him by Lila at the pressure from Benny, his best friend, who then gave him his first m/m kiss. Like…what?! No consent. No nothing.

* One of the song titles used for a chapter had a slur for Roma people on it. This is me being nitpicky but still. There are millions of songs in the world, Jake could’ve chosen another one that was just as appropriate for it’s use.

* A Jewish slur is used as a character’s name. Now, Justin is Mexican and I looked up the name in question and it is a Mexican name but c’mon now, author’s choice.

Oddly enough, the story itself felt very stilted but at times way too rushed. The events of the book all happened within two weeks and Justin/Dominic went from not having seen each other in 3 years (they weren’t even friends three years prior, fyi) to reconnecting, falling in love, saying I love you, wanting to have sex, and then actually running away together because they didn’t want to be apart EVER for the rest of their lives.

I can’t speak to the Mexican rep or the gay male rep because I am neither and this is an #ownvoices novel but I just can’t get past all the racist stuff, poor writing, and unbelievable plot movement to have truly enjoyed this.

Rating: ⭐⭐

Expected Publication: Already out!