#the entire hotel is driven to madness

[soapkaars]

If you think Sinsmas wouldn't be a perfect opportunity for Alastor to be even more annoying to Lucifer, you'd be sorely mistaken.

[no-144444]

making moves- l.norris

a/n: HI AND WELCOME TO MY FIRST FIC-TOBER FIC I HOPE YOU ENJOY :)))))

Day 1 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: Lando and you don't exactly get along and now you're quitting, he'll surely take it well, right?

pairing: lando norris x fem! mclaren publicist! fem! reader

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You turned the corner of the media pen with Lando’s arm in your hand. If he stepped one foot out of line, if one hair was out of place, one unnecessary giggle or joke, you’d lose your mind. You were getting sick of this, of him, of cleaning up every single one of his messes. 

“I said I’m sorry-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you sighed. You hadn’t studied mechanical engineering and sports journalism for years in college to become a goddamn babysitter. “Just do your interviews and don’t say anything about your relationship status, please Lando.”

He rolled his eyes but obliged, moving past you to start an interview with some sports journal.

You watched the room around you. You would miss this, the buzz of the media pen, the entire paddock, being so close in the action of your favourite sport. You wished it hadn’t come to this. You didn’t want to quit, but you were being driven mad by a 24 year old man-child, and you couldn’t take it anymore. A year and a half ago, you were being driven crazy by how much you wanted him, now, it was his party-boy ways and arrogant smirk that set you off. Lando had always been a popular driver, you understood the attraction on every level. He was a pretty, sometimes funny, and rich man. He was on the younger side of the grid, and he was talented. Christ, was he annoying to work with. He was conceited, self-centred, a manwhore, and downright difficult the majority of the time. You disregarded almost every time he was kind to you, because less than 48 hours later he would do something dickish and ruin your weekend off, or make you cancel a date to come get him from a club because he was drunk and his friends left him alone, blah, blah, blah. You were excited to finally be free of Lando Norris and his asshole-ish ways, yet, maybe you’d miss his face. Anyways, just one race left, and your two-weeks are up. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ Team dinners were simple, you usually sat beside Lily, Oscar’s girlfriend, and chatted with her about her course (the same one you took) and whatever else came to your minds. As the night came to a close, you walked Lily and Oscar back to their rooms with Lando trailing behind, texting on his phone. 

Lily pulled you into a hug. “I’ll miss you so much!” she sighed. “It sucks you’re not even finishing the season with McLaren.”

You shrugged, hugging her back. “I’ll call you, I promise. And we have Greece in January,” you reminded her. She nodded and pulled back. 

“See you in the morning,” she smiled, then disappeared back to their hotel room. 

“See you in the morning,” Oscar smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “You better call her once you land in New York, or she’ll lose her mind,” he chuckled. 

You nodded, smiling. “I will, don’t worry. And I’ll miss you too, Osc.”

He smiled, pulling back. “I’ll miss you too.”

You turned to go to your room, but Lando stopped you. “Why are you going to New York?”

“For my new job,” you explained calmly. “I’m leaving on Sunday night.”

Confusion flashed across his face, and you took the silence as a chance to leave. You brushed past him and continued on your way down the hall. 

“What do you mean you’re ‘leaving’ on Sunday night? Are you going on holidays for the weeks we have off?” he asked, catching up with you. 

“No, I start my new job the next week and I need to get my apartment unpacked and sort out my office,” you explained. 

“What? Why are you doing that?”

“Unpacking my apartment? I’ll be living there-”

“No, moving? You have a job, y-you work here, you work with me,” he stumbled through his sentence and you raised an eyebrow. 

“Did Stella not tell you? I’m leaving after the race this weekend. I sent in my two-week notice almost two weeks ago. I got a job offer from the New York Jets and I took it. Anyway, good night Lando, I’ll see you in the morning,” You continued on your way to your room. 

“You can’t just leave! What will I do without y- someone to-”

“Get your laundry and fix your mistakes in the media? You’ll be getting a replacement when I leave. His name is Will, he’s organised, and he’s quite funny. I think you’ll get along.” 

“What will I do without you?” he gritted out. “You’re meant to be here, with me, and now you’re leaving? How am I supposed to feel?”

“Imparcial I’d assume.”

“Imparcial? Y/n, come on, you can’t be that blind?” This was a different version of Lando than what you were used to. He was usually a brass and confident arsehole. Yet, here he stood in front of you, upset that you were leaving. 

“Blind to what? The way you abuse your power? The way you make me do your bidding? The way you make me cancel important things in my personal life to fit your schedule of heavy drinking? The way-”

“The way I’m in love with you?!” He practically shouted. You clapped a hand over his mouth and a surge of panic ran though you. You pulled him into your hotel room after you and sat him on the bed, then proceeded to pace the room. 

What did he mean he loved you? He hated you. He made your life a living hell. He made sure you’d have to see him everyday. He made sure you’d be in his apartment building. He made sure to-

Oh. Shit. He loved you. 

“Y/n,” his voice was soft. “You need to calm down.” 

You turned to him. “Calm down? What the fuck do you mean ‘calm down’? I’ve just spent the last fucking year and a half burying any and all romantic feelings for you, tried to hone in on all of your flaws to make myself hate you, quit my job to get away from you, and now you’re telling me you love me? What the fuck Lando?!” 

“You had romantic feelings for me?” He blushed. 

“That’s what you got from that?!” 

He chuckled. “I’m sorry, alright. We can work this out, just tell Andrea you don’t want to quit-”

“Lando I’ve accepted the job offer in New York, I’ve signed the contract. I can’t back out,” you sighed, putting your head in your hands. “You really have great timing,” you scoffed. 

He smiled, placing his hands on your waist. “Then we’ll make it work,” he shrugged. “I want you, if you’ll have me.” 

You looked up at him. Were you really doing this?  Lando Norris was your typical male celebrity in his twenties. He had everything he could ever want, any girl he could ever want, and he wanted you? Every insecurity and logical bone  in your body told you to run away. You’d seen what the internet did to girls he was seen in public with, let alone a girl he actually came out and admitted to dating. Was he worth being torn apart for? 

“You’re killing me here,” he laughed to hide his fear. He’d waited a year and a half for this moment. He wanted you more than anything. He wanted to be able to call himself your boyfriend and get to call you his girlfriend. He wanted you around him all the time. Every time he’d found out about a date you’d been on or met a guy you’d been seeing he was filled with jealousy. He was yours, he just needed you to be his too. 

“Lando, I don’t know if this is a good idea-”

He pressed his lips to yours and it was undeniable. This was what you had been searching for. That stupid ‘spark’ all those rom coms talked about all the time. Kissing him was like fireworks. He brought your hands up to wrap around his neck and smirked when you kissed him back. You fit together so perfectly, his lips against yours, your skin against his, everything. 

You pulled back slowly. 

“So can I be your boyfriend now?” he whispered, the hint of a smile on his lips. 

“Only if I can be your girlfriend,” you smiled back.  He pressed his lips to yours again. Maybe he was worth being torn apart for.

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fic-tober masterlist

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[understandableparadox]

a comprehensive list of everything wrong with hazbin hotel.

quick note before i lose myself in madness, my standards for helluvaboss are non existent because its a free show on youtube. also i kinda like helluvaboss and i will indulge in any bias i damn well please.

oh and spoilers. i guess.

the greater narrative of the entire season is "White lady civilize inner city hoodlum". ex: The blind side. rich girl, affluent family yadda yadda.

the story is set up to be like amphibia, owl house, svtfoe, steven universe, that being starting as something episodic then transforming into story driven narrative. why? because we know the benefits and drawbacks, episodic starts allows us to wander the world, it allows us to understand the dynamics, we are not forced to reckon with anything because there is no deadline. characters are allowed to bloom and shine and the audience can actually get attached.

the source material is Vary Clearly formed from remnants of something out of a middle school edgelord narrative. the usage of transformation, the big spooky grins, the "and then i smile as my eyes glow and-"-isms which in most cases i don't mind because in some instances but in a vary Particular case its astoundingly annoying and that annoyance is like a mold, shit spreads quick.

the color Red. as a lover of homestuck cherubs and karkat and aradia, as someone who fucking loves the color red, it is so painful to say but holy shit tone it the fuck down, i know its hell but their are so many other colors that you can use, its everywhere, the streets, the air, the windows, the screens, the characters, i know the pride ring is represented with red but change up the palates every so often for backgrounds

the rush, this ties into the second point made but i think the story itself is rushed. we know everything way to early. i know way to much and it makes it hard to care about anything because im still trying to digest the last chunk of info. "oh ok, so they clear out hell once a year. oh hell has a heaven embassy? ok. oh that adam the angel, i though he wou- oh its every 6 months now. wait the exterminators die a lot? then why is everyone sca- people in hell already have weapons that can kill angels? w- oh we are in heaven now, ok ma- no one in heaven except for the elites know the exterminations occur? how do-" and its that, just this incessant rush to explain everything to you. notably that's just the god damn spark notes, we need to know everything about the characters now, every single bit of their story, their insecurities, what charlie needs to fix, how she can fix them, the major bad guys, everything. you are never allowed to dwell on a character because we need to rush towards something else. it almost feels like this should have been like... season three, it would have been a fantastic season three if you dropped the introductions honestly.

the concept of redemption. for a story of redemption to work you need to look at three things. What is there crime, Do they want to change, What is preventing them from changeing? there is only one single character that has a notable path of redemption, angel dust, but if you look through their story it feels off. What Exactly is he guilty of? he has sex, does drugs and drinks. his apparent nymphomania is tied to his sad backstory as someone forced into the sex industry so how is that their fault? then if you think about it you start to spiral and notice "hey why are most of these people in hell?" like sure some of them may deserve punishment but then you see the fucking dichotomy and its like "I was a inventor in england and died of the fucking plague, i may have made evil little contraption hoohoohoo" vs "I was a cannibal, a full on cannibal, i fucking killed people and ate them and then someone shot me". ONE OF THESE THINGS ARE A LITTLE MORE FUCKING EXTREME. i'm going to go fucking nuts, the thing they went to heaven with when presenting a case to angels on the idea that redemption and becoming a better person is actually real was angel dust not drinking at a party and not having sex with consenting adults and i want to go fucking insane. WHAT IS THE CRIME, WHO IS THROWING THE BOOK, WHAT DOES THE BOOK INTEL, ARE WE ON GOOD PLACE RULES?! half the cast dont Need redemption they need fucking help, and the other half of the cast do need redemption but they do not seek it making the point moot. sir pentious acts like he has the brain of a hyper intelligent toddler tossing about toys, its almost like he did his one bad thing of spying and then got caught, sank his little diddy about forgiveness and second chances and become a null point through out the rest of the series, sure their was Some weight to him sacrificing himself, he was a decently funny character and he had good moments but him popping up in heaven felt like a fore gone conclusion, he didn't deserve to be in hell so why do i care that he is suddenly in heaven? because its working on the concept the good place already made. no one actually deserves eternal punishment they just need help processing what makes them a dick, but instead of looking at all the parts of the afterlife that make it bad, inefficient and then creating and trying ideas to see if it work instead over a few seasons, we crash dick first into all the major plot points in regards to that and say "tada, we fixed it.".

having a sub-plot about sexual assault and its victims then having multiple sexual assault related gag ruins your point.

don't make a bunch of stereotypically jewish characters into cannibals, that was a big thing, really shouldn't have to say it.

if you are going to make a character black, make them black, you can say alastor was black but sweet seren-fucking-dippity that's not a black man.

pot meet kettle but yeah the cursing could be a little less liberal. maybe just blue hair or the pronouns, not both.

there is a very distinctive art deco/jazz aesthetic which normally i love but i feel as though it is not used to its full extent and in some cases really hurts the character design in and of itself.

this is a vary obvious bit but the story is a million times more interested in gay men then it is of lesbians, which culminates in this insane thing where the writers clearly have more talent or perhaps it would be more abt to say practice writing male gay pining then they are with lesbian pining. which i personally think is hilarious because i did not know you could min max fujoshi-ism that hard.

this next section is more to do with each character on a fundamental level, for the sake of brevity whatever there is left, i'm just doing ones with speaking roles.

13. Charlie:

(see what i mean about that red thing?)

as originally stated charlie fits rather comfortably into every white saviour narrative, though that seems to be part of her joke. though i'm not entirely sure how much of a joke it can be when its rewarded and expected to advance the plot.

her character design says nothing, it has the motif of old puppets or dolls, she wears something vaguely similar to service suits, her demonic form is just some extra horns.not to say every character needs to have their life on a clothes rack but some more snake and goat imagery would be nice

its not the chol design of charlie with snake hair, not an actual problem but its a problem to me, damn you @cholvoq for ruining my ability to look at any of the characters without wishing i was seeing your designs instead.

character wise aside from the white savoir bit, i'm having a bit of trouble understanding what the arc of the character is. she is shown to be naive, someone who doesn't understand how the world works but everytime she says something its something astoundingly clear like "people can actually get better". and its treated like someone demanded faygo in every water fountain. is the joke that the world around her to cynical or is so to naive? please pick one or the other.

now if you know me, you know i fucking hate overpowered characters with a blinding passion, one that would set alit the god damn abyss but in this one special instance, i feel like its warranted, she's the direct descendant of fucking God, she can swing her weight around a little, i mean god damn. she in so many instances looks like shes cowering so often, why would the daughter of lucifer get backed down by some rando pimp? why wasn't she the one to fight adam? sure you can say she is young but how young? her parents were there since pre-abrahamic times, most of the characters showed up in hell in the 1900s, some of them showed up in the 1600s, how old is charlie??? how long does it take for her to learn how to be strong? The story does not suffer if charlie is strong and knows she is strong. it can easily be a case of "i don't believe in violence to a weird degree". fit it into her apparent naivety about the world to believe that violence is never the answer even when dealing with a being that is unilaterally horrible and abusive and monstrous.

she ga- no im kidding, i do think her romance was waysided a bit, it would have been fine to have more scenes of them togather and in love you know?

14. Vaggie

why did you name the lesbian vaggie...? Don't do that maybe?

I like how her design is almost moth like but again i feel as though you could have amped that up.

she feels as though someone tried to combine undyne and pearl from steven universe, same story beats and design elements. it makes it hard to really distinguish her as a character.

i honestly dont have much to say about her. she is fine.

christ kill me, lets just get the big one out of the way

15. Alastor.

God Damn

where to start.

"alastor is mixed race" mixed with fucking what? concrete? there is not a single black feature on that creature, now im not saying you have to make him a png of louie armstrong but it wouldn't hurt to add a curl to the hair maybe? make it a tiny bit more wavy? Something? a crumb i beg of thee?

his symbolism is all over the god damn place, native american monsters (you know the one), voodoo, radio, puppets, stitches, circuses??? and Tentacles i guess. two of those are from closed religions so if you dumped those you would actually get a more concise character focused on the concept of vox populi as a means of societal control and influence as we see in his first song. but again that gets drowned out repeatedly by all the other random toy box bits shoved into him.

tumblr sexy man bait

he serves no purpose in the story. he does spooky stuff, pretends to do things and then goes back to sitting around looking spooky. i understand that his motif is supposed to be aloof mastermind but maybe have him do more mastermindy things? if you remove most of alastors scenes, bar the songs, it doesn't change all to much. husk and nifity can still be at the hotel, they could be looking for outs in their contracts the same as angel dust. hell it even helps with the one scene where he dose some spooky shit, asking charlie for a favor in exchange for his help in the fight with the angels instead of asking him about angel weapons which should have remained a strictly vaggie scene.

his presence in a way delegitimize the story, as I noted in in the section regarding redemption, the three parts are "what is the crime, do they want to change, what is stopping them?" and alastor kinda just spits in the face of that. he is a serial killer cannibal that has no qualms about how evil he is and apparently must continue being evil due to being under the control under someone legitimately called the Root Of All Evil. show him take a slight interest in the idea that maybe shit for him could be better, make him Want Change at the bare fucking minimum or dont have him at the hotel.

his stupid little fucking horns, big shot the troll liker wants characters to have big fucking horns, make them noticeable or dont have them.

he looks more like a dog boy, which could have been an interesting thing with the collar motif but fuck me i guess.

personal pet peeve but i fucking hate characters that have a million plus powers, stick to a set number, be creative.

im getting more petty as i go on so last point: he could have been in less episodes, he didn't need to be in dad beat dad, that should have been just a lucifer and charlie episode. inverse the red and black and i think he would be fucking great color wise, his body type is the same as ten different characters, he isnt radio enough, aside from the voice and and staff if you told me he was the fucking Cat Demon i would have been just as convinced.

16. Angel Dust

what the fuck, gay spider? its hard to actully articulate all the thoughts i have on angel dust, not in the sense that he is a deeply thought provoking character but in the fact that there is not much meat on the bones.

all around i think angel dust is kinda middling. he has a decent enough romance with husk, he has a decent enough story line that revolves around battling addiction and removing yourself from an abuser (which the story tries to brand as "Redemption???")

I dont like that most of his jokes would qualify as sexual harassment, i don't mind him being sexual as a character but continuing on when clearly someone doesn't like the jokes hurts the character.

not a critique but he is pink, which honestly ill fucking take at point, as long as its not more fucking red.

i think his design is an improvement over some of the old vivzie designs but it feels like it could have done with going a few more rounds of design changes.

same thing with alastor, charlie and vaggie, there is not enough of the animal that they are supposed to be. You could have told me angel dust was a fucking bee or something and i would have had to believe you. nothing about angel dust initially says spider, hell he dosent even have enough limps to be a fucking spider.

17. Carmilla carmine

are... are you supposed to be a rabbit...?

Big Yoai Hands

ballet fighting style, could have been cool, wish she fought more like sanji or chun li.

A single mom that works to hard, who loves her kids and never stops-

her song was decent, not great, decent. it feels as though the actress has experience singing but not in the way they tried to make her sing during her two songs. they have a obvious mexican influence, honestly just let her sing in spanish in the english dub. go listen to the spanish dub, "out for love" sounds great in spanish.

i wish i had more thoughts on them, fucking rip.

18. cherri bomb

that's not a punk aesthetic that's 2010s alt

decent character, they showed up once or twice i guess, no real thoughts.

19. egg boiz

absolutely perfect, i have not notes on them, these are perfect creatures.

20. Emily

im so fucking happy to see a singular blue character

does the naive dreamer bit better then charlie

We really shouldnt have seen her until the end of season two or middle of three.

good contrast with the other angels on screen.

Wait she is supposed to be black??? Where???

21. Husk

keith david you absolute delight, Why on gods green earth did they only give you one singing part?

one of the few charecters where its clear husk is a cat, i do like the kinda... marquee design, he is a magic cat, thats neat. i still think you can toss the wings and eyebrows and still have just as good of a charecter.

has a deeply intresting story of someone who died as a nobody, became the fat cat of hell and then was forced back to the bottom by their own vices, not used at fucking all.

huge potential, little pay off.

22. lillith

I know nothing about her except she ditched her kid and husband to vacation in heaven and i think thats kinda funny.

alot of werid things floating around her, again she shouldnt have been shown in the show at all until next season.

23. lucifer morningstar

no notes, funniest charecter, did a song based on friend like me.

few notes: i do like the idea that the immortal symbol of pride is a constant emotional wreckage constantly seeking approval through grand showmanship and manic energy that threatens to take over anything they touch.

would have liked more snake stuff on him, maybe some more goat things like horns.

that is such a stupid fucking staff lmao.

24. Adam.

alex brightman you absolute fucking delight, you should have had more songs.

I wish his design was more focused on the idea of him being a glam rock wash up

I fucking hate his mask

We shouldn't have met him until the end of the season.

25. Niffty

again she is supposed to be a bug or cockroach but nothing about her points to that.

token straight

keeps rocketing back and fourth between sexulization and infantilization

you had kimiko glenn but didnt give her a single fucking song?

26. Sir Pentious

the secret season one redeemed.

the pilot version of him felt more like someone that could do a season one redemption arc, a megalomaniac constantly attempting territory grabs, there is something you can work with, actual character flaws to work through.

essentially a child after the first episode.

actually a snake which i appreciate.

no where near steampunky enough.

27. the villians of the show dont make much sense, each one feels like they should be season long deals on their own instead of a bunch of team rocket esque idiots that show up on occasion, do a bad thing and then leave.

28. Valentino

gOD THERE IS SO MUCH RED

only a moth some of the time.

sucks as a villain, maybe they need more screen time to show why they suck in a more substantial way aside from being told that he sucks.

it is interesting that angel dust is only under his magical control when in the studio, it shows that angel dust has to make a conscious choice to return, which in turn can be made to show how abusers can draw back their victims. I do not think it was done well in this circumstance as it shows him to be cartoonishly evil, constantly flying back and fourth between sweet and utter psycho, there is no actual reason for angel dust to ever actually go back to the studio, he just does so every so often.

29. Vox

legit who cares? the only thing about him that is in any way substantial is all the dope ass fan art we get.

propaganda machine angle that is not explored at all, just hinted at. no actual barring on the story whatsoever.

why didn't he try to do the same shit as alastor by the way? he knows its bad if alastor gets in good with charlie so shouldn't it be a ass kissing race?

same body shape as literally every other male character.

tumblr sexy man version of pyrocynicals fursona.

30. Valvette

the actual poster child of the shows huge problem of "Show me, don't tell me".

apparently the glue that holds the villains together. never shown.

apparently the one that makes the love potions that valentino is famous for. had to learn about that in the fuckin wiki trivias

we know so much about her from things outside of the show.

was there to call carmilla a coward, that's her plot contribution. she shows up every now and again but its never anything substantial and serves to more around take up run time for people We Don't Need To Know Yet.

im not trying to be mean, animation is animation, we need smaller studios to have success in the industry so that other indie studios can have that success, felling a tree makes it easier for others to follow. showing that its possible to number brain rot exacs helps all animators.

but this show has so much bullshit attached to it, it has so much fucking potential that it fries my brain with unyielding frustration.

this took a bit to write, im tired, thanks for reading.

[livfastdieyoung69]

Frank Castle & his Vigilante, their first sleepover

Frank had driven for the rest of the day after their diner escapade with nothing but two gas station stops keeping them from the road. She was restless the entire time, grumbling and tossing around in the passenger seat, but refused to sleep. Frank got sick of it and bought one of those crossword books from the gas station to keep her occupied.

Besides that, all she wanted was candy and a diet coke. Frank got some kind of protein bars, but she still refused to eat them and instead, tucked her knees up into her chest and did crosswords and sucked on Lemonheads for six hours. They ended up somewhere along the coast in Connecticut, and Frank pulled into the first diner he set his eyes on. Clearly, he had a thing for them.

“I already said I don’t want anything.” She pouted from across him, slumped in the booth and flicking the edge of the menu between her nail. “M’fine.”

“Either you’re pickin somethin, or I am.” He continued glancing through his own menu, responding with a sigh. He’d been fighting her about his for a solid five minutes. “Ain’t gonna listen to you complain more than you already do when you get hungry later.”

“Well, I’m not hungry now.” She slams the menu on the table in an act of defiance, and he finally looks up at her.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a fuckin’ headache-“

“I’m on the way to being a migraine if you don’t stop trying to shove food down my throat-“ The waitress steps up to the table, interrupting her escalating yelling. Frank made her get a water, so she pouted, ignored every word he said, and watched out the grimy window.

“I’ll let you get a Coke if you eat.” It’s his last resort, and there’s a soft glint in his eye that makes him look more human- a little bit of exhaustion, a little pleading. Her eyes move from the window and scan across the table, not wanting to let him win.

“S’there chocolate chip waffles?” She finally gives in.

“Maybe if you woulda stopped bein’ a brat and read the damn menu, you’da known,”

“I don’t wanna read the menu.” She’s pouting again, leaning her head forward onto her palm and Frank really can’t fucking deal with this so he rubs his forehead with one hand and looks down to his menu held in the other, and reads the breakfast options to her.

She tried to order one single chocolate chip waffle, Frank made her get some special with hash browns and sausage or bacon. She got her Diet Coke, so whatever. As mad as she tried to be, the second those waffles came out they were halfway gone.

“Not hungry, huh?” Frank tries, and she glares at him through a mouth of chocolate and a sip of pop. She’s gotta have a sweet tooth, it’s all he’d seen her eat so far.

“Hard to tell with the whole constant adrenaline thing.” She waves her fork around before cutting another section. “Just kinda get bitchy, so.” Yeah, he could tell. After she bodies her waffles way too fast, she kicks her feet up next to his thighs on the booth and waits for him to finish what’s left of his eggs and bacon.

He left a hefty tip on the booth, and asked their waitress if she knew a good enough motel around, hopping back in the car for the quick drive. She stayed in the car with their bags (after nonstop whining she’d convinced Frank to let her grab her bag from her previous hotel), her feet kicked up on the dash while he got a room key, and made a run for the bed farthest from the door, or more importantly, farthest from the AC unit.

She watched cable TV- Forensic Files, Bar Rescue, shit thats always on- and he read some frayed, yellowing book for the rest of the night before Frank hauled himself off the twin bed, started towards the bathroom and came back out in a pair of sweats and a black tank top. She tried not to look too much, cause good lord, that man is fine, but it’s so hard not to cause Good Lord, he, is, fine.

She followed his actions soon after, grabbing a pair of light pants (as much as she would’ve liked to not wear any, there was a man she’d known for less than a day about six feet from her bed) and a comfy cami to slip on in the bathroom, going through her little process of face wash and moisturizer, brushing her teeth, staring at herself too long in the mirror, and then leaving. Frank already turned the TV off, so she closed the bathroom door and let the light leak out through the bottom.

The pair sat in silence, trying to convince themselves the other one was asleep for a couple hours before they both eventually dozed off. Frank, being the Marine he is, wakes a couple hours later to the sounds of blankets rustling. He tries to shrug it off, roll around, and fall back asleep, but she starts making these…noises. It’s strangled from her lips, breath heavy the way it always should be with a heartbeat that fast. He turns to look at her, finding her crumpled face bathed in the barely existing light, still sleeping as her arms frantically twitch over the mattress.

“Hey-hey,” Frank speaks in a rushed voice to wake her, sitting up in his bed while she turns more frantic by the second.

Suddenly, she’s up with a horrifying gasp of a breath, and tumbling over the side of the mattress where Frank can’t see her. She’s still making those noises, a couple identifiable words of pleads, and something about the cold. Frank rushes up to find her huddled between the wall and her bed, shoved in the corner and wrapped into a ball. He moves towards her, slowly, trying to let her know he’s there, but when he places a hand on the arm wrapped around her head, she screeches louder than anything he’d ever heard, and terrified. She’s sobbing and pleading, pushing herself farther back into the corner.

“Please-please, please, s’so cold, I can’t go back n’there-“ She’s interrupting herself with sobs and trying to take gulps of air.

“Hey, hey, hey-“ Frank tries again, voice softer than it has been in a long time, and puts his hand back on her forearm. She tenses, and makes this cry, like a dogs whine, like she knew she would be hurt, but he keeps his hand on and when she’s a little less tense, takes a step closer. “No ones making you go anywhere, girl. You’re alright, ‘verythings all good here.”

She’s still panting, but she’s not crying, and after a while she unfurls, leaning back against the wall. She looks exhausted, and defeated.

“Sorry.” Her voice is hoarse, and quiet compared to her terrified shrieks. Frank shakes his head at her, hand sliding down her arm, and instead resting on her ankle in a comforting, grounding way.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.” Frank doesn’t press any further, knows what it’s like to wake up from horror, still tired no matter how much you sleep. They fall into silence while she tries to catch her breath, and he sits with her.

“I just-I can’t, it’s so cold.” She rushes out the closest to an explanation he’ll get for months. Frank nods, fingers tapping on her leg before he lets go of her and stands up.

She can hear his feet shuffle against the carpet, hear his soft grunts when he bends over. He returns, holding a big calloused hand out from above her. She takes it, hauling herself up with a tired sigh, still stumbling a little when he pushes a black hoodie, warm and soft, against her chest.

He watches her for a second, but all she’s doing is staring down at the hoodie in one hand, and gripping onto two of his fingers with the other.

“Turned the AC down.” He tells her, hoping to break her out of whatever this was, but she just keeps looking down and holding the fabric like a lifeline, so he grabs her by the elbow with his free hand and leads her to sit on the bed. When he reaches to take the hoodie, she pulls her arm against her chest, fingers straining and losing color, lets out another pitiful whine like she had earlier. “I ain’t gonna take it away or nothin’, just be a little warmer on s’all, sweetheart.”

She is absolutely not a sweetheart and they both know that, but when she’s like this compared to the rest of the day they’ve had, quiet and curled in on herself, he can’t help it.

Franks voice, all raspy and quiet, and Frank himself, the only thing existing in the almost pitch black room, his warm hand, the two fingers she still hasn’t let go, is so convincing and sweet and just warm, and everything she’s never had, that she lets him take it. He pulls his hand from hers to pull the hoodie over her head.

He gives her some space while she lays down again, to get under the covers she’d thrown off in her sleep, turns the TV back on and grabs the thin blanket from his bed, throwing it on hers. He lets out another one of his little grunts when he sits back down on his bed, the side closest to her, back to the headboard.

Both of them kinda just knew they wouldn’t be sleeping again for a while, if at all. When she chooses Cake Boss he does his best to not scoff, but does absolutely give her a look she doesn’t notice. Somewhere on the fifth episode, she conks out under all of the blankets and tucked inside his very comfy, worn hoodie. Frank even manages to fall asleep for a couple more hours, too.

She wakes back up to the TV still playing the same channel, and Frank still in the other bed reading his paperback. For a while, they just exist together, lazily getting ready for the day in between show episodes and book chapters.

“We gotta be outta here soon.” Franks the first speak up when she walks out of the bathroom, just as pretty and put together as the first glance he got at her in the diner booth across from his.

She doesn’t answer, just nods, and grabs her bag of stuff to finish what little she had left of packing. Frank took their bags and piled them in the back of the car again, and she follows after him when she’s done pulling her beloved heels back on.

“I want chocolate chip waffles.” She demands as soon as he starts the car. He looks over at her, a little exasperated but smiling, leaning back in his seat with his big hands over the gearshift. He doesn’t respond either, just shakes his head at her and mumbles something along the lines of how ‘she’s back’ but lets her get away with it and they end up back at the same diner.

Frank lets her get her way a lot. He always turns the AC down, too.

[tatzelwyrm]

The reasons this movie from 1965 continues to live rent-free in my head since November can probably summed up as such:

Genius characterisation through parallels and everything from obvious symbolism to subtle context clues

Genius score by Ennio Morricone

Themes of greed and loyalty connecting all 3 principal characters

Intense relationship between the 2 protagonists

Beautiful, poetic finale

Stunning images

Entire movie is dripping with black humour

Lee van Cleef is stunningly gorgeous in this movie.

Clint Eastwood is stunningly gorgeous in the movie.

Gian Maria Volonté is stunningly gorgeous in this movie.

Only movie featuring The Man Who Hates Trains

But in more detail:

The main character is a cool and collected sharpshooter who is dressed to the nines 24/7 and rides the most beautiful black horse I’ve ever seen in a movie. He’s confident and competent and sassy – but he’s also driven by a loss so catastrophic that it made him uproot his entire life.

The details of this circumstance are – until the finale of the movie – conveyed almost entirely by context clues and exactly 2 lines of dialogue.

The class difference Mortimer and pretty much everybody else in this movie.

The way the movie refers to him as being “reduced” to being a bounty killer.

This man was living a respectable life in the East with money, status and the respect of his peers. He probably had a very comfortable life. And for some reason he abandoned that comfortable life to move west. He’s moving from town to town, living in hotels and carrying only what his horse can carry (and most of that is guns), hunting outlaws for money.

He threw it all away for grief. For vengeance.

The person Mortimer seeks to avenge is his sister. How often do we see a bond that drives a character to such lengths revealed to be that of a brother and sister? Seeking revenge for a sister also has fewer sexist connotations than if she’d been his wife or daughter. A wife or daughter (sadly not just in fiction) is too easily, too often treated as an extension of the husband/father, with little regard for their own personhood. This is less the case with a sibling.

The way the 2 protagonists complement each other:

Both of them are bounty killers. The first 2 sequences of the movie show each of them, one after the other, track down and kill a target, allowing us to contrast and compare their styles.

Mortimer calmly executes his target from range, staying just outside the shooting range of the man’s gun.

Manco gets into a fist fight with his target before eventually shooting him.

Mortimer is shown to be educated. In his first scene, he’s shown reading the bible. Later, he’s able to break open a safe with chemicals and specialized tools. He also breaks a padlock and then seals it again so perfectly it looks untouched.

In order to learn more about Manco, Mortimer combs through the local newspaper archive. In order learn more about Mortimer, Manco goes and asks the local mad hermit.

Do we even know if Manco can read anything other than bounty posters?

Manco’s wearing simple, practical clothes: a poncho, sheepskin vest and jeans.

Mortimer’s clothes are fancy and terribly impractical. He’s wearing a caped greatcoat in the desert.

Mortimer’s sporting a very neat moustache compared to Manco’s scruff.

They refer to each other pretty much exclusively by cute nicknames.

They’re also both portrayed as intelligent throughout the movie. But Manco’s intelligence is his quick thinking and being able to improvise in stressful situations, whereas Mortimer acts more calculated and is more educated.

They’re both bullies. They both share an attitude of “might makes right”. Manco throws a man out of a hotel because he wants his room. Mortimer makes a train make an unscheduled stop because he doesn't want to change trains. They both have no problem with intimidating people and pushing them around with threats of violence. But in addition, Mortimer can use his rank and social standing to bully people and he takes a certain pleasure in insinuating that he’s dangerous (see the first scene with the banker), bc just because Mortimer is a tragic character doesn’t mean he can’t also be full of himself.

They properly meet for the time when Manco is trying to run Mortimer out of town, because he doesn’t want to share the reward money for Indio’s gang with him (Bounty Killer Meet Cute).

Almost did a spit-take at this point the first time I watched this movie, because I’m fairly sure the movie implies that they fucked after their little confrontation.

Symbolism:

Mortimer’s horse is beautiful. Like, there’s nothing wrong with the other horses in this movie (they’re horses so ofc they’re naturally beautiful). But Mortimer’s horse is striking. This is the kind of horse you’d see in a commercial for Spanish wine or men’s perfume or the kind of sports car that costs more money than a house.

It’s also the only horse in this movie that is Significant™. Because it reinforces the colour symbolism this movie’s got going on with Mortimer.

The quality of the clothes he wears and the horse he rides all imply Mortimer is upper class. But that’s not all they tell us. Far more important is their colour.

Mortimer is dressed for a funeral. Multiple funerals even. His sister’s (who he still mourns), Indio’s (who he seeks to bury) and perhaps even his own (depending on how you choose to interpret the movie’s ending. The man in black on a black horse, dressed for a funeral, riding into the night).

And I’m not sure how much meaning I should ascribe to names in Sergio Leone movies, but the “Mort” in the name “Mortimer” does come from the French word for "death".

The central significant props of the movie are a set of musical pocket watches playing a haunting melody. When the chimes stop, someone has to die.

The way the themes of greed and loyalty are used to characterise all 3 principal characters.

Mortimer is above greed. He is not concerned by money. He pretends to be in it for the money because he doesn’t want to reveal his true motivation to Manco, but his ultimate goal is vengeance.

Indio ultimately loses his life because of his greed. He could have gotten away with the murders and the robbery and all, if only he had been willing to share the money. Instead, he betrays his own gang.

For almost the entire movie, Indio holds all the cards. The protagonists play right into Indio’s hands – expect they also have themselves a little romcom along the way, forming a deep bond over the course of the movie that causes them to stick together during the finale while Indio ends up all alone.

Manco starts out as the kind of person Mortimer pretends to be. He is a mercenary type character hunting people for money. And, like Indio, he doesn’t want to share. When he comes to the conclusion that Mortimer is a bounty killer who is after the same target, he tries to run him out of town.

But by the end of the movie, Manco’s changed. He has the opportunity to backstab Mortimer (by letting Indio kill him) and claiming the entire reward for himself. Manco does end up with the reward money, but not after proving that Mortimer (and the fulfilment of Mortimer’s quest) means more to him than the money.

It is important that Indio lost because he betrayed his gang for greed. But it is equally important that Mortimer’s quest still would have failed he hadn't won Manco's loyalty.

Manco and Mortimer's relationship and Manco’s character development in general are very satisfying.

Mortimer moves from town to town because he has to on his quest for revenge. Manco moves from town to town because that is who he is. Again, he’s a mercenary type character. He’s a drifter. He works alone. He doesn’t want to partner up with Mortimer for the life of him. It takes Mortimer beating Manco at his own game for Manco to even hear him out. And even then, the first moment that things don’t go as planned, Manco is ready to set out on his own again.

Yet, at the end of the movie, Manco not only saves Mortimer’s life, he provides Mortimer with the means to take his revenge on his own terms.

And when the villains are dead and the time is come to collect the reward and Mortimer tells him that he wants Manco to have all of the reward money, Manco reacts with shock. “What about our partnership?” he asks. The man who doesn’t do partnerships is suddenly very unhappy about the prospect of travelling alone again.

Very atypical of the drifter archetype, Manco is the one who's being left behind as the hero rides into the sunset without him.

Other little things about their relationship that fill me with love:

The way Manco is impressed at the sheer size of Mortimer's balls when Mortimer offers to open the safe for Indio in exchange for 1/8th of the entire take.

Manco being impressed when Mortimer follows through on his part of the deal by opening the safe without damaging it with a little specialised toolkit he just happens to have (what did they teach you in the army, Colonel?).

Mortimer being hyper-competent and confident in general and Manco being visibly into it.

Yet another aspect I love about them, also because it plays against lone wolf archetypes, is the the submission.

The initial confrontation between Manco and Mortimer does not end in a draw. Mortimer clearly wins and from then on he's in control of this partnership. He's making the decisions and Manco submits to his leadership.

Even when Manco tries to set out on his own again halfway through the movie, Mortimer doesn't let him go without scarring him – to make Manco's story more convincing to Indio, to protect him. And what does Manco do when Mortimer shoots him? Nothing. He doesn't retaliate. He isn't even upset. He just takes it.

And when they reunite later and it becomes clear that Mortimer had even planned for Manco's rebellion, Manco still isn't upset. They show off their shooting skills and continue their partnership as if nothing happened.

There is never a moment, until the finale, in which Manco is in control of this arrangement and Manco doesn't really seem to mind.

And then we get to the finale, and what a finale it is.

First of all, I am in LOVE with how the finale is both a callback to the final shootout of A Fistful of Dollars (except this time the man with the smaller, quicker gun is the villain) and, in terms of visuals, calling forward to the finale of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (3 characters in a circle). It's genius.

Throughout the movie Mortimer is confident and competent and sassy and cocky. He’s the one who makes the plans, the one who calls the shots in his relationship with Manco.

The finale turns that on its head. Mortimer is no longer confident. He’s about to lose. All he did. All he gave up. It's all going to be for nothing. There’s tears in his eyes. He’s about to die. His sister is going to remain unrevenged. The memento of her, the pocket watch, will forever be a trophy for her rapist. And that's when Manco shows up.

Manco shows up and for the first time in this movie, he’s in full control of the situation. He’s the one holding the Significant™ pocket watch and setting the pace. He arms Mortimer (with his gun belt and with fresh confidence). It's poetic. It's beautiful.

The way Mortimer, tears in his eyes but confidence restored, holsters Manco's gun with a little flourish the same way Manco likes to do. They've come so far in their relationship. There's so much respect there.

Manco loading the bodies in his cart and adding up the bounties of the gang members like he's adding up prices while loading groceries in his shopping cart is bloody hilarious. What a movie.

The way the final scenes are shot, with Manco in bright daylight, offering to continue their partnership, and Mortimer in twilight, eventually turning away from Manco to ride towards the setting sun, makes my heart ache. It's brutal.

10/10 movie.

[bullet-prooflove]

Miss Atomic Bomb Prompt List

Please check the updated character list on my pinned post to see who I am writing for before submitting a prompt!

Also read the rules and do not forget to put the entire prompt into your ask!

I was lying in bed with his bowtie on

You cuffed me up and treated me good

Like why, why are you only vulnerable when no-one's around?

All dressed up for a hit and run

I know that nightlight's on when you sleep

Making out, we got the radio on

I grew into the queen of hell

But if you're looking for strong and steady Well baby, you found it

So it's gonna be forever Or it's gonna go down in flames

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown

Lost in situations, circumstances, Miscommunications 

Then I remember the promise I made

It feels like a dagger driven right in your back

Summer went away, still, the yearning stays

I long to see you dance just one more time

Ain't it funny? Rumors fly And I know you heard about me

I keep a picture of you here in my head

I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this

It was just an ordinary wednesday night 11: 47, when the stars aligned

You let your clothes fall to the floor And lit a fire while I waited for more

You were just a little stowaway That stabbed her way to save herself

Don't try and tell me that you never loved me

You always liked the taste of blood

Did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room

Your soul was innocent, she kissed and painted it black

From the coveted touch of a girl in love

'Cause I don't remember who I was before you

Saw your face, and then I felt the butterflies Someone's gonna fall in love tonight

You can tell me when it's over, if the high was worth the pain

And I get off when I point the gun

Sometimes I don't know what to do It's like I'm screaming in a dream

It's so good to have someone to be so bad with

You run for cover but you can’t escape the second attack

Oh God, I never thought we'd take it that far

Does it feel like everything's just like second-best after that Meteor strike?

Ran my fingers threw his hair So he thinks it's fun and games

You poured the gasoline

In her kiss I taste the revolution

Some killer queen you are

A little tenderness and charm

I’m standing here and you’re too late, your whisper has sealed your fate

I could show you incredible things Magic, madness, heaven, sin

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

To the ends of the earth would you follow me?

Grab your passport and my hand

Anywhere I go I think about it every day and night, I can't let go

It'll leave you breathless, Or with a nasty scar

Now I'm running and I can't stop

And what's that, that I heard, that you're still with her       

I was waiting in the getaway car You were stuck in the hotel bar

I picked the petals, he loves me not

Everything you lose is a step you take

Do you wish you could still touch ...her?

You look like my next mistake

Just to learn that you never cared

Did you leave her house in the middle of the night?

She sets the world on fire just to watch the sucker burn

[turnupswritessometimes]

Butterflies - Ch5 - Lies of P/Alice Madness Returns

Relationship: P/Alice Liddell

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53898544/chapters/137944243

Next | Previous | First

Summary: “But why go looking for other realities, when there’s no guarantee you’ll pass through to them?” “Because it’s an experiment, and I jolly well won’t learn anything more about all this unless I try,” Alice replied.

Having figured out how to slip in and out of Wonderland entirely, Alice Liddell sets off on a journey to find more realities around her own. When she follows a blue butterfly to Hotel Krat, she meets P. The more time they spend together, the more they feel as though there’s someone else out there, just like them.

Chapter Five: Which Explores the Difficulties of Dancing

Alice was, for once, very glad that she hadn't seen hide nor hair of the Cheshire Cat. She could only imagine his riddles and teasing about the whole situation. She could waste her breath and tell him that she was only interested in saving Krat – the proof of which was her venture onto Rosa Isabelle Street that afternoon – and Cat would still insist she was losing her head over a boy.

The worst part was, that wasn’t incorrect. She lay on the luxurious bed of her hotel room, in a borrowed nightgown, and found she could only think about P. It wasn’t that he was a puppet; that seemed by the by, now. It was his hesitant smiles, like he was still learning how to do them. It was his bright blue eyes, and the way they saw everything. (The way they looked at her, as though she was something special.) It was his earnestness and openness, his insistence that his father gave him a weapon for an arm because he loved him.

P was created to fight. But he was so much more than that.

Alice stared at the shadows of tree branches on her ceiling, and wondered if she was the opposite.

She still didn’t hugely know what she was doing in Krat. P said he was bound for the Grand Exhibition next; the alchemists called it their base. They had been experimenting with Ergo, he explained, and might know more about what caused the Frenzy and the petrification disease.

“They might know more about—” And then he had stopped short, and hadn’t continued. He’d his behind his dark hair.

There was something he wasn’t telling her. That was nothing new, for Alice, but she hoped he would be able to soon. She’d had enough of secrets – that would make Cat laugh, if he was here. Didn’t Alice have so many secrets of her own? Secrets that would change the way P looked at her, she was certain. How would he look at her, if he knew she was mad?

For now, she was helping P to prepare for his attack on the Grand Exhibition – because there would be enemies there. That’s what she would tell Cat, though he would smirk wider and make even more sarcastic comments. She rolled over, pulling the covers more tightly to her chest. If she was honest, she knew the other reason she was staying in Krat. She also knew that it was pure foolishness.

It was foolishness that her heart had beat so wildly when P stood so close to her. She was not a silly young girl, driven to silliness whenever she was close to a young man. Alice half-wished she was – but she was too jaded for that. She’d never had a problem with snubbing boys before – she didn’t have a problem snubbing Venigni.

It was just P. She couldn’t’ stop thinking about how it felt to have his hands on her waist, on her wrist, butterfly-light, as he showed her the right posture for fencing. Couldn’t stop thinking about how he had walked through the steps, just behind her, his face so close to hers. So close, she could see his freckles; see the gentle curve of his eyelashes. He had been so there and kind, and gentle, and that was what was different about him. No one had been gentle with her like that, before.

None of that touch had been necessary; he might not have even realised what he was implying by being so close.

But Alice wasn’t going to tell him that.

*

It was at Lady Antonia’s request.

Alice and P had returned from scouring the streets for pipes, or saws or throwing cells that would be handy on his charge on the alchemist’s headquarters. Anything that he could use as a weapon. They returned covered in oil. P’s arm had needed mending, and Alice had a bad cut on her arm which needed seeing to. It was Sophia – whatever Sophia was – who helped her bandage it.  Her hands were capable and practised, as though she’d done this several times before.

When Alice ventured back downstairs to find P talking with Polendina at the desk. Polendina nodded his welcome at her, and she couldn’t help but notice how jerky his movements were compared to P. P, who offered his arm to her, like a gentleman. She suspected, from Gemini’s faint chirp, that he’d told him to do that.

Part of her wished he wouldn’t; it made her feel like a lady, and she most certainly was not. But a much larger part of her wanted to believe that fairy story. To be the Alice that she could have been, if her family had survived. So she brushed her hair behind her ear, and put her hand on his elbow. Let him lead her into the rooms where Antonia sat, and she thought that was only polite: that they keep the lady company in the evening, especially as she was so sick.

They listened to her reminisce about the heyday of the hotel, when it was bustling with guests, despite the rumours it was haunted. About the wonderful dinners and lavish parties held there, before the frenzy and the petrification disease.

“Polendina would play the piano and this room would be full to bursting with dancers,” she said, her eyes shining and distant. “And I’ll have you know, I had my fair share of partners, back in my day.”

P nodded, and Alice smiled to think about it. They were the kind of parties her parents threw; the kind that Lizzie got to go to, but not her. She’d been too little. She’d only ever heard stories about such parties.

“What I wouldn’t give to see the room alive like that once more,” Antonia leant back in her chair, and sighed. She looked to the pair of them, and there was a glint in her eye. “You know, you two make a charming couple. I don’t suppose you would humour an old lady, and recreate the past for me?”

  P nodded again, almost without thinking. Not because of any obedience, Alice realised, but because he wanted to; he was clearly devoted to Lady Antonia, and wanted to make her happy. It was a simple request, after all. Most other girls Alice’s age in London would be able to oblige.

But Alice could not.

Still, admitting that she could not was the more mortifying choice. Instead, she nodded, and murmured that she would fetch Polendina to man the piano. His response was “Of course, I would be delighted,” and she wondered if he could even say no. Either way, he moved much too eagerly for her liking.

She stepped to where the desk lifted up to delay him, if only for a moment.

“There’s just one problem,” she hissed. “I have no clue how to dance.”

“That is simply fixed.” At least Polendina’s voice came out quieter. “Just follow your partner’s lead, Miss Liddell.”

Not the most comforting advice. She couldn’t hold him any longer without it being suspicious. Alice stepped aside, and let Polendina head to the piano. She glanced back, to see Sophia at the foot of the stairs. Sophia nodded, and smiled in an encouraging, albeit unhelpful, way.

So, she trailed back though, as Antonia was turning her wheelchair around, and Polendina was taking a seat at the pianoforte, and P stood, waiting for her. At least he looked as adrift as she felt; stiff, and formal. She stopped, a few paces away from him.

“Can you dance?” she whispered, looking up at him.

“I think I know,” P replied. It was still better than her, so she nodded, as though she thought she could too. As though they were not about to make fools of themselves. She heard Gemini whisper from P’s belt, and he held out his hand again. And again, she took it. Had to move a step closer, and had to take a breath before she let her hand rest on his shoulder. It felt solid; like a rock in a storm.

His own hand hesitated before he took her waist. His legion arm; his weapon. She could feel the cold of the steel through her dress. Aside from that arm, the rest of him was warm.

Polendina began to play.

P started dancing. He stepped as lightly as he did whilst he was fencing. That was good, Alice realised, it wasn’t so different from fencing. She could follow his steps, and pretend that there were still doing that. The only difference now was allowing him to take some of her weight; to tug her, when she was moving too slowly, like a buoy in the sea.

How terribly unladylike, she thought, to compare dancing to fighting.

But she felt distinctly unladylike, and distinctly out of place. Not because she was out of her own reality, but because she did not belong in a hotel like this. Did not belong at a party, imagined or otherwise, and shouldn’t be dancing. Did not belong opposite this boy.

His blue eyes were soft, and he had the impressive ability to be able to dance without glancing at his feet once. His hair drifted softly with the movement as they turned. This close, she could see the freckles on his nose and cheeks. She thought she could see constellations in them, if she stared long enough.

The thought made her stumble. Just slightly, but just enough to make her aware of her own shortcomings. Her heart thudded, and she felt electrified with nerves.

The piano music continued; lilting and beautiful; the kind of thing Lizzie would play on a Spring morning. Thinking of Lizzie made it easier; Lizzie would know what to do now.

“How do you know this?” she whispered. They were making a path across the room, under Antonia’s nostalgic gaze, and were hopefully too far away to be heard properly.

P paused. A strand of hair fell in front of his face, and he didn’t have a free hand to brush it back. “The same way I know fencing.”

It was something Geppetto had given him. Like fighting. What else did he know – innately?

“You’re a good dancer,” P murmured. He lifted his hand to spin her. She managed to not look too much of a fool, her skirts flaring round her as she turned. When she returned, she clutched his shoulder more tightly.

“Liar,” she said.

And he looked cowed, at least. “I try to only tell kind lies.”

Kindness made her feel itchy. Her cheeks felt hot again. P always looked at her in that strange way when she blushed. As though he was surprised and intrigued, which only made her feel more flustered.

"You don’t have to be kind to me,” she said, much too aware of her boots clacking on the tiles.

At least P’s shoes were loud too. He tilted his head to one side, and that strand of hair moved with him. “Why not?”

Because kindness and Alice were strangers. Because most people who seemed kind wanted to use her. Because she didn’t know what to do with kindness. She didn’t know what to do with this boy. She didn’t know what she was doing at all, dancing and pretending that she was any kind of respectable girl.

How could she forget who she was?

Girls from asylums did not dance with kind boys.

Girls like Alice did not dance with boys like P.

They had stopped. The blood roared in her ears too loudly to hear if the music had also stopped. She stood in front of P, a hand on his shoulder, and a hand curved into his, and felt a rush of embarrassment. This was ridiculous, she was ridiculous, she wasn’t Cinderella.

She was a fool.

Alice stepped back. She saw P’s eyes widen in surprise. But he didn’t stop her. Not even when she turned and ran from the room. She ran all the way up the stairs, not noticing if Sophia was there or not. She could only focus on finding the door to her room tugging it open, and slamming it behind her. She pressed her weight against it, her cheek to the wood, listening for any sounds of a pursuit.

There was the faint murmur of voices, but nothing else.

She sunk to the floor, and tried to breathe deeply. If she wasn’t careful, she’d slide back into Wonderland. She could, and then she wouldn’t be in Krat anymore. She could leave.

But she couldn’t bring herself to.

*

P listened to the footsteps disappearing up the stairs. Listened to Antonia tutting and murmuring, "What a pity." Listened to his springs ticking and turning.

He stepped forward, to follow. There was the distant slam of a door.

Gemini chirped when he reached the threshold of the doorway. "You might want to give her some space, pal."

So, P stopped again, like that was an order. He knew that he didn't want to stay there, after that. He made his way to the foot of the stairs, and lowered himself onto the bottom ones. There was silence from upstairs. He heard Lady Antonia talking to Polendina, reminiscing about the old days, again.

He clenched and unclenched the fingers of his legion arm. Alice had looked – scared. Her green eyes had been wide and her grip had tightened on him, just before she let go. She'd been scared because he asked why he shouldn't be kind to her.

And then she’d ran.

"What happened?" he asked Gemini. It was the same thing Gemini often asked him, but that was always about monsters.

"Beat me. I don't think anyone knows what goes on inside a girl's mind."

P narrowed his eyes at him, but Gemini only chirped in response. He clenched and unclenched his fist, as he thought. It had been going well, before that. He'd understood the music and how to move; as easily as he understood wielding a sword. He had enjoyed moving to it with Alice, and how it felt to hold her – as much as he could, when he was a puppet. She'd looked beautiful, with the yellow light casting a halo on her hair and her eyes shining. His springs had felt like they'd kicked into double time, like a butterfly rapidly fluttering its wings.

"The best way to find that out is to ask her."

It was Sophia. She leant over P's shoulder. A strand of her blue hair had fallen from its bun, and swung forward.

"I don't think she wants to talk to me," he said. It was just like that first evening: he’d upset her, even if he didn’t know how, or why.

Sophia raised her eyebrows, though she was smiling softly. "I think you should try, clever one. You might be surprised at the outcome."

She even offered a hand to help him up. He took it, but made sure to take his own weight; Sophia looked so fragile, he was sure he’d pull her over.  She brushed lint from the shoulders of his coat, and straightened the lapels, as if he was truly courting a girl. When he didn’t move, she raised her eyebrows again, “Go on.”

So P did. He dimmed Gemini, and made his way through the hallways of the hotel, towards Alice’s room. Even then, he paused outside the door, listening. He didn’t hear anything at all. He supposed that was better than hearing sobbing.

He knocked. And waited. There was no response.

P’s springs felt coiled tighter. The hotel was supposed to be safe, but what if something had happened? Even worse, what if Alice had left? He opened the door on impulse, ready to fight – and found himself standing in a dark, empty room. It did feel haunted, when he was left staring at the silhouettes of furniture, and trying to find a human in-between them.

She wasn’t here.

But the window was ajar. A faint breeze fluttered the curtains.

P headed towards it, catching the handle to stop it blowing open completely.  He paused again, peering onto the windowsill. It was a wide stone windowsill, with an iron railing, with more than enough space for someone to sit. He saw a flutter of blue skirts in the wind.

He stepped out, onto the stone – and there she was. Alice sat against the corner of the iron railing, her knees to her chest, and her head buried on her knees. Her hair fell around her.

“Alice,” he said her name without thinking. He liked saying it, he realised.

It made her jump. She looked up, startled, and blinked. “P.”

He didn’t know what to do now, not even whether to sit or stand. He watched as Alice brushed her hair from her face, and wiped the heel of her hand over her cheeks.

“It’s rude to barge into someone’s room, you know,” she said, but she wasn’t scolding him. Her voice cracked a little, and she hugged her knees closer to her chest.

“I was worried,” P said. He slowly lowered himself, to sit on the other end of the balcony. The sun had set, painting the city in indigo and black. It was too cloudy a night to see any stars. “I thought I’d – hurt you.”

Alice sounded tired. “You didn’t hurt me.”

P waited, but she didn’t say anything else. He fiddled with Gemini’s lantern, watching her. His light cast a soft, amber glow over the two of them. Sophia had said to ask, but suddenly that seemed like very daunting. The silence stretched between them, and Alice still didn’t look at him. He thought she was trying very hard not to cry.

“Did I upset you?”

“It’s not you.” Alice sighed. She covered her face again, hiding in her dark hair. “You’re…perfect.”

He blinked, his springs jumping. “I was built to be perfect.”

She made a sound that could have been laugh, or a sob. He found himself shifting closer, on one knee, reaching out to take her shoulder, but it didn’t land.

“I’m not the girl that you treat me as,” she said. If her voice had cracked before, it broke entirely now. She took a long breath. “And if you knew the truth…”

She looked at him. Gemini’s light reflected in her eyes, casting spidery shadows over her cheeks. Strands of dark hair hung in front of her face. She looked sad, P thought, sad and scared, and that was terrible. He didn’t want that.

His hand hesitated, for a moment, before he leant closer, and brushed the stray hairs from her face. He tucked them behind her ear, and though her breath caught, Alice let him. She didn’t pull away. Her fingers grazed his wrist, but she didn’t take hold of his hand.

“Tell me,” he murmured.

Alice took a deep, shuddering breath. She closed her eyes, and he was sure he saw the glimmer of tears on her lashes. Yet, when she opened them, they were focused, and determined.

“I was in an asylum for ten years,” she said, and dropped his wrist. “I was considered quite mad.”

Perhaps she expected him to call her mad too; to be repulsed by her; to treat her differently. He didn’t; it was impossible to; unthinkable. She was still Alice. Still, he moved slowly, giving her the chance to pull away, if she wanted, and laced their fingers together.

“You know what an asylum is?”

P nodded. He knew. He didn’t think it mattered. Especially when she had accepted him, too.

“So, you see, I am not a lady of any kind,” Alice said. “Not anymore. I’m just – insane—”

“You’re Alice,” he said. He took her hand in both of his, all too aware of the cold metal of his legion arm. He cradled it, as if he was holding Spring. She didn’t flinch at his mechanics. She didn’t move at all. “You survive storms at sea to help save cities, and won against me in a fight—”

“We drew.”

“And you’re kind. You only agreed to dance for Lady Antonia, when you didn’t know how.”

Alice shook her head. P tightened his grip, hoping that he could make his expression display everything that he felt.

“You’re Alice,” he repeated.

Alice, who looked at him as though he was mad. “You’re impossible.”

But her mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile.

Before she sighed, again, and shifted closer, her other hand on top of his.

P didn’t need Gemini to tell him what to do, though he felt him buzz against his hip, excitedly. He untangled his hands, to put his arms around her shoulders, instead. Gently, giving space for her to slip away, if she wanted to.

Alice didn't. She fell against him, her forehead bumping against his shoulder, and her fists clutching his shirt.

For a moment, he froze. She was so close and so warm and he hadn't expected her to do that. But it was good; made him warm in response; gave him the confidence to hold her properly. He rested his cheek against her silky hair.

"This is mortifying," Alice said, into his jacket. "I'm not usually like this."

"I do not mind."

"I don't suppose you do." She sniffed, shifting so her cheek was against him instead. Her weight pressed fully against him in the twilight, and she seemed so light. He revelled in the feeling of her.

"It's just..." Alice took another shuddering breath. She might still have been crying, but P would not embarrass her further by looking. "The dancing made me think of Lizzie, and our life before, and how that's what I should be."

P didn't understand all of that. He didn't know who Lizzie was, or what 'before' truly meant. The words, he thought, were only half-meant for him. They were mostly Alice talking to herself. Asking about it might upset her even more. Still, he turned over what he did understand. He said, softly, "Then you wouldn't be you."

"I wouldn't be mad."

"Mad is what they call what they don't understand," P concluded. Alice made another sound, but didn't argue this time. He held her as tightly as he dared, his hands pressed against her back, and he could feel her breathing. Her skirts spread over his knees. P told her about the woman in the window. The woman who'd asked him to get her baby back, and he'd only been able to give her a puppet. The street sign had called her mad. It would be easy to call her that. But she was grieving and in despair and no one wanted to understand that.

Alice's breathing evened as he spoke. He could feel her breath against his cheek. Her hair smelt of roses.

"That was one of the first lies I told," he said. He tried to be very still, as though he had a bird on his hand he didn't want to disturb.

"What was the very first?"

"The hotel doesn't allow puppets. I told the door I was human."

He dared to look down at her, then. She watched him, the moonlight shining on her eyes. It made her lashes look very long and dark, and her skin very pale. She looked like a fairy, and his heart thudded as if he was in a fight. Alice’s hand shifted. Her fingertips grazed his cheek.

"I think you're more human than most people."

[grayintogreen]

Pinned Post 3: The Threequel

New year, new pinned post.

My blog contains multitudes. Main fandoms right now are Critical Role, Dimension 20, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, and Bleach, but I will also go unhinged and start reblogging stuff from things like Inuyasha/Yashahime, Pokemon, Steven Universe, Gravity Falls, Yellowjackets, Guardians of the Galaxy, LOST, Alias, and Wicked. Maybe I even have opinions on them. They're generally positive.

This is a chill blog. If you want negative opinions/critical opinions, go elsewhere. For the most part. If something makes me mad enough to even rant about it a LITTLE BIT, then it definitely fucked up somewhere, but I try really hard to not be a little hater on main. Mostly I'm just disappointed sometimes. It happens.

I'm a multishipper who does not care what you ship, just don't be a little dick about it. I won't come to your house if I don't like your ship. You don't have to come to mine.

I love redemption arcs and people figuring out their shit and turning over a new leaf. This is a theme you will see a lot in my writing.

I also like body horror, dark themes, and weirdly? Happy endings. But I also like tragedies. I just love stories, guys. All stories are valid.

I work in retail management for a popular chain and knowing that gives you full perspective on how done with all petty bullshit I am. I'm also very old, very autistic, and very tired.

I write A LOT. My AO3 is also grayintogreen.

I talk A LOT about my writing and fics, especially my two big series life in the margins of redemption (LitMoR) and red roses and dead things (Roseverse). It's a sickness. More information below.

life in the margins of redemption: a For Want of a Nail Critical Role Campaign Two Canon Divergent series, is a duology (with additional side stories) that takes the alternate path outlined in the Harvest’s Close session notes- Cree rescuing the Nein from the Gentleman’s wrath should they betray him- and takes it a step further with Cree reviving Molly on the Glory Run Road and traveling with the Nein in the hopes of finding a way to bring Lucien back. It is extremely Canon Divergent, but does feature CR2 plots under radically different circumstances and with additional characters. It’s worldbuilding heavy, character-driven, often dark, but has a guaranteed happy ending. You may heard of it as “that 1.5 million word fanfic series.”

It is not canon compliant with TNEOL as I had finished OUADYA before TNEOL came out. While I use some elements from the novel, the backstory presented for Lucien and the Tombtakers in the series is entirely different.

character sheet.

Voice Claims

red roses and dead things: A canon divergent (sensing a pattern here) AU of Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss that goes AU after Hazbin Hotel 1x06: Welcome to Heaven and Helluva Boss 2x10: Ghostfuckers. It is an ensemble series that focuses on the conflict between Heaven and Hell and the sordid history therein, Alastor's deal, various interpersonal drama, and Charlie growing into her power as a leader.

character sheet.

tumblr tag

Voice Claims

if you read these fics or share interests with me and wanna come hang out I have a Discord!!

[mi4017thesandukandevidanalge]

Film Review

The Shining

(Subtle) "The Shining" (softly) If you're someone who's never heard of a film and happens to watch it in the cinema, you probably won't be impressed. After all, in murder plots, movies tend to whisper. But why would a single word unsettle you? What does it mean? Is "The Shining" in the film about the cycle of death, or is it about the maze leading to the unknown, confinement, despair, and madness? When people slaughter Native Americans in the name of justice, when people, driven by desire, find themselves trapped in a maze and resort to cannibalism, when a hotel caretaker murders his family, and ultimately when a mad writer sells his soul for fleeting power and greed, ascending into the maze only to perish in desperate flashes of light.

I find this film to be nothing short of a poem, with its marvelous composition, cleverly arranged eeriness, and psychological implications woven through intricate details. With its flawless screenplay, every scene advances the plot seamlessly, making the lengthy narrative feel remarkably compact. Even the criticized opening scene, ingeniously linked through road layouts and shots of the hotel, focuses on those fleeing, cars with lights on in the daytime, and those stopped, cars involved in accidents; amidst eerie settings, the protagonist journeys toward the hotel of horrors. Swiftly, through several key scenes — a count that can be tallied on two hands — all the keys to the film are presented, leaving the rest to the viewer's interpretation.

Like the arrangement of horror in haiku, even the answers are extended through off-screen implications. How can such a film not provoke thought? How can one not reminisce about the characters? I truly admire the director for effortlessly condensing countless scenes, efforts, and reshoots into this two-and-a-half-hour masterpiece. What mastery it requires! Truly worthy of a maestro.

However, truth be told, I don't consider "The Shining" to be a film that truly encapsulates his efforts, considering it's based on Stephen King's novel. With its abundant conflicts of gender and race, what significance does such content hold for him? Is the entire film crafted merely for those two insignificant and irrelevant pedophilic episodes? Or is it a discourse on conspiracy theories, hinting at the Apollo moon landing hoax? Is it the protagonist's hysterical justifications expressing his conflicted desires to admit and deny? Or is it for the vindication of a Beatle?

Yet amidst all these details, the most evident implication seems to be reincarnation, akin to being trapped in a maze where one endlessly turns corners but still moves forward. Either tempted by desire and driven mad in solitude, or gradually retreating step by step, leaving the maze, escaping the labyrinth of the beast Daros. The beast's hypocritical humility serves to sell your soul in madness, dancing for insanity, one should beware of losing oneself. Do not be deceived by the facade embellished by authority, for within the strong lies the stronger, within the weak lies the weaker. Though a domineering husband may oppress his gentle wife, the wife is the reliance of the helpless child, while the husband is powerless before his superior. Clearly branded as a societal failure, the protagonist, amidst the hotel's meticulously crafted compositions, dons a shining crown symbolized by a chandelier, blinded by the power within the crown, he ventures into the labyrinth of authority. Able to surveil his family freely within the hotel, akin to overseeing the maze. Hence, when his wife attempts to flee the hotel, Jack defends it as their abode, demanding, threatening them to stay. But where there's no perpetual weak or absolute strong, Jack loses his way in the labyrinth.

The office scene resembles a voyage of the soul in an office, although Ullman, in his neutral manner, outlines the risks of Jack's impending choices, Jack, unswayed by Bill's guidance, insists on meeting Satan, whether lured by the devil or the demon within. Yet, he is blatantly deceived within the hotel. Initially the one his wife cares for the most, due to the hotel's machinations, she abandons him, plummeting him into despair. Yet he willingly descends into hell, "selling his soul for a drink" (a line from the movie), then signing a contract amidst the crimson toilet, preparing to dispose of his family, relishing in power. It's rather intriguing, as Carl Jung's concept of the unconscious speaks of the hidden evil within human nature. This suggests that those who consort with demons are the demons' cohorts.

However, what I find most intriguing is whether the hotel itself qualifies as a character. If something serves only one function, one purpose, an unchanging meaning, then it should be deemed an object; but if it can change, act, think, possess character and will, then where lies the distinction from a character? Are the two little girls, the woman in the bathroom, the crowd in the hotel ballroom, and the hotel staff not part of the hotel? If the protagonist Jack is part of the hotel, could the hotel not be an extension of him? Seeing the two paintings on either side of the bloodbath scene, the flying bird from "Afternoon in December," the hunter from "Hunting Camp," wouldn't they symbolize not only Jack but also the hotel?

There are many more details in this film that I cannot list all at once. However, regarding the theme of reincarnation mentioned earlier, it doesn't only manifest in the protagonist but also in society. Society squeezes Jack into failure, causing him to seek solace from his family. But from a perspective of racial discrimination, from the recurrent massacres of Native Americans to Jack's final decision with the hotel to avoid Black intervention, society seems to also be squeezing the hotel chef. Could it be that the ability of the hotel chef, the chef's grandmother, and Danny to have the shining is due to their status as oppressed individuals, traversing through women, ethnic minorities, and children, three vulnerable groups? Perhaps the entire film is about the cycle of power dynamics? Who knows? Truth be told, the film is formidable, truly a masterful horror piece, but as for its depth, I haven't really pondered much.

[reiketsui]

"LISTEN" >:)

the entire trip back from goldenrod is silent between them. well, not entirely silent – both of them easily slip into the business casual talk when meeting up with the client on board the magnet train. words spoken in a tone completely different to the one they used with each other, both of them knowing exactly how to treat a business partner of this caliber in order to keep up a productive streak between rocket and his company.

yet the words exchanged on the roof of that building repeat themselves in his mind to a point of madness. he is unsure what had prompted him to speak up – as he's equally unsure what pushed him towards the first proper kiss in the hotel room all those years back, when death was looming closer than ever before.

the cruel irony of two solitary beasts wrapping their bodies together in a moment of yearning passion, the beacon light of the radio tower flooding the room in maroon hues. archer never forgot a single second of that night, despite of his mind having shut out the majority of events of the era.

how could he forget?

he'd kept the leash firmly wrapped around proton's neck up until that, until the very night before what could've been their last day alive. they'd sworn to lit goldenrod ablaze were they to fail, if their message wouldn't reach their leader or he chose not to return – they wouldn't go out with a whimper.

in that moment, archer had thought about detaching the collar and telling him to run and save himself from the certain death he was leading them towards – despite of knowing that proton would have never listened to a command like that. just like all those times he had driven the man away in a fit of unstable rage, only for him to return to linger near the door of his office. it was only archer's own, selfish desire in the moment. i meant to spare you from this.

the door closes behind them as they enter the dark apartment, an exhale getting firmly stuck into his throat as he's pinned against the wall. he holds his breath for a split second, the arms draping around him telling how this is a continuation of their previous conversation cut short. archer has no intentions to push it too far – it's already a heavy mental toll, for both of them. they made a promise not to talk about it for a reason. everything between them is left behind closed doors, both physical and mental ones.

his arms make their way around proton to tug him in closer, close enough to keep their eyes from meeting – it's almost too much to bear as it is. there, surrounded by the dark, quiet apartment with the saffron city neon lights shining through the large panoramic window, archer feels more vulnerable than ever before.

" for whatever it is worth, i don't think you're a coward, " the words are quiet, enough so to mask away the fleeting emotion. " i thought about running away too. can you imagine– " he shakes his head, giving an almost pained chuckle. it's a horrid, shameful confession for him – the man whose reputation was built on being the shining beacon of loyalty. but he, too, had had his moments of doubt after they were abandoned without a word. the thoughts questioning whether all of their pain was worth it.

" –but i wanted to spare you more than i wanted to spare myself. in that moment, i would have been– content with an outcome like that, " his words remain firm despite of everything, the hesitation only lifting its head moments before the last sentence leaves his lips. " you held me above the surface through everything leading to that night. " / @chounaifu / pin my muse.

[jetstream-sam-b]

So I'm now officially homeless. Today is my last day in a hotel room. My asshole of uncle kicked me and my family out of the house we've been living in for two years thanks to my grandma's kindness. And he has her convinced that for those two years, we were using her money to buy everything. We weren't. I really truly love my grandma but she's 72 so of course she believes him because she doesn't know any better. We've spent every penny we ever earned on my uncle and his family and my grandma. I'm far less upset out my grandma though because again she's 72. At least we have a car to live out of. I'm with my mom and my brother, but I'm 15 so I can't really do anything. Do not even try to help us please, random people of Tumblr. We won't take your help, we won't even take the help of my friends. I am so done with my uncle and his bullshit. We go to drop off sodas, and they glare at us like were the worst people in the world. All we did was eat two cheese sticks from a single pack they bought when they eat literally all of them from the like 60 packs we've bought, and they get mad at us. They accuse us of stealing a mountain Dew with us sitting right there. They accuse my mom of being a bad mother when she's done a hell of a lot more for her kids and their kids than they ever have. I honestly am glad I was sitting in the car waiting to be driven to school when the fight went down. It was just screaming but still. If I was in there I'm afraid of what wouldve happened. We can't even go back to grab more of our stuff st the moment. I'm going to probably take a break from Tumblr for a while. If you read this entire thing, thank you. I'm sorry it was so long of a post but I honestly needed to say something and was only able to do it here because these people have the other social media's I have when none of them know what Tumblr is. I will be back, but not for a while

[lilibookverse]

✨ Golden: The Royal Merchant Hunt ✨

🌻☀️✨🍯🐝💛🌻☀️✨🍯🐝💛🌻☀️✨🍯🐝💛🌻☀️✨🍯🐝

🌻☀️✨🍯🐝💛🌻☀️✨🍯🐝💛🌻☀️✨🍯🐝💛🌻☀️✨🍯🐝

☀️ Chapter 10 Previous | Current | Next

⏳ Word Count: 3k2

🔗 Read it on Wattpad: in English, and in French

Since John B had found the FedEx envelope from his dad in the cemetery, it was all he could think about. His mind kept circling back to the weight of it — the final communication from a man he thought he would never lose. The tape recorder inside haunted him, even before he had pressed play. He had knew, with a deep sense of dread, that whatever was on that tape were the last words he would ever hear from his father. They would be the last connection, the last thread tying him to the man who had been larger than life and who now existed only as a voice on a fading tape.

His dad had said it himself : "If you're listening to this, bird, it means I didn’t make it."

And now, here John B stood, the unthinkable confirmed. His father had not survived his final, desperate expedition.

On the spot, with the envelope in on hand and the tape in the other, John B had felt his entire world collapse. The hopes he had secretly nurtured — those flickers of a future where they would reunite, share moments of joy, and maybe even heal the wounds left by years of obsession — were extinguished. His father had died at sea, driven to madness by his pursuit of the Royal Merchant and its fabled gold.

The very thing the old man had chased for so long had killed him, and in the process, had ripped away the last chance John B had to reconcile the father he had loved with the man who had abandoned him.

John B could not remember a single day of his childhood when the Royal Merchant had not come up. His father was obsessed — no, addicted — to the idea of achieving the impossible. He believed finding that sunken ship would change everything. Not just for himself, but for his family, and most of all, for John B.

He had always told him : "This is for you, son. All of it. I just want to give you the life you deserve." The gold was supposed to make everything right.

And now, it was John B’s mission. His father had died trying to give him a better life, and no matter how conflicted John B felt, he could not let that sacrifice be in vain. To honor his dad’s memory, to make him proud from wherever he was now, John B had to finish what his father had started.

He had to restore the Routledge name and the dignity that had been shattered by years of chasing dreams that seemed unreachable. The burden weighed on him, but it also fueled him.

This was no longer just about gold — it was about legacy.

That is how he found himself the following day, parking his van — which was slowly falling apart — outside one of the most luxurious hotels on the island. With his friends, he was determined to see this quest through to the end. Together, they’d finish the mission.

“All right, keep a look out. We’re behind enemy lines.” JJ quipped as Pope stepped out of the van.

“Yo, come on, man. Just put it back.” Pope’s voice was laced with frustration as he saw JJ grab a gun on his way out.

“What?” JJ responded innocently. “You can never be too careful.” He defended himself.

“Hey, I predict that bringing a weapon to a four-star hotel will likely cause more problems than they solve.” Pope said, exhaling.

“Thank you, Pope!” Kiara chimed in, her voice stern as she stuck her head between the front seats. “I swear to God, I’m gonna throw that thing in the ocean, JJ. Put it back.”

“There you go.” Pope said, breathing a sigh of relief when John B snatched the gun from JJ’s hand and stuffed it into the glove compartment.

“You can’t grab a gun like that.” JJ lectured his friend, as they both stepped out of the van. “Can’t forget my badge. Professional busboy.”

“So, where are we going now?” Pope asked, his suspicion growing by the second.

He already knew he would not like the answer.

“We’re getting on the internet because only rich people have electricity right now.” JJ singed, flashing a sly grin. “Oh, and be sure to thank Monsieur Laurent next time you see him. He got me the pass for the whole butler gig.”

“Hugo Laurent?” Pope raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Put me in charge of making sure everything’s ready for him during Midsummer.” The blonde explained, keeping his pace brisk.

For a moment, his friends exchanged incredulous looks. JJ had been working odd jobs for Hugo Laurent, one of the most well-known lawyers on the island, but none of them had expected him to gain that much trust.

“Joking, guys.” He laughed. “I just borrowed it from Andrew… Dude didn’t need it anyway.”

“Great. Just great.” Pope muttered, clearly unimpressed.

The group wound their way through the hotel’s polished corridors, up staircases, and past rooms that reeked of wealth and comfort, until they finally reached their destination: the hotel’s IT room.

“Look at that.” JJ remarked as they entered the room, surveying the rows of backup generators. “Kooks don’t miss a beat, do they?”

“Sweet Lord, the internet! I’ve missed you!” Pope gushed, his inner nerd peeking through.

“Let me get in there. Gotta check out my Insta models!” JJ said, his tone completely unserious.

“We don’t have time for that!” Kiara scolded, rolling her eyes.

“Plus, you already got one model back at your job.” John B teased, clapping JJ on the shoulder.

JJ smirked, momentarily distracted by thoughts of Camilla, probably lounging by the pool in one of her many super-hot swimsuits. 

He could picture her in the duck blue ruffled bikini that she used to wear, the one with the plunging V-neckline, highlighting her figure just right with thin straps that came to cross at the level of her cleavage.

“Shit, it’s on the high side. 900 feet!” John B said, pulling JJ out of his thoughts.

“Hem, hem! That’s not too deep…” JJ chimed in, nodding.

“Is that…doable or something?” Kiara asked, concern lining her voice.

“Totally doable…” JJ grinned. 

He was clearly still thinking about something other than diving, and all his friends could see it, just by the look on his face.

“Will we be using your personal submarine?” Pope asked sarcastically. 

“The salvage yard.” JJ began, the gears in his head already turning. “They got a drone that can drop 1,000. It has a 360 camera and everything. It’s for, like deep dives and stuff. It’s exactly what we need.”

“Can your dad get his grimy little hands on that?” John B asked, the question everyone had on their minds.

“Well, my dad’s grimy little hands got his ass fired. I guess the salvage captain frowns on showing up shitfaced, turns out. But the drone’s there. It’s on the impound yard out back.” 

“How much did you say was on the Royal Merchant again?” Kiara asked.

She was trying to weigh the risks, the pros and the cons.

“Four hundred mil” John B and JJ answered in unison. 

“Four hundred million dollars?” She echoed, eyes wide.  

“Yep.” JJ confirmed, already heading for the door. 

“No. Absolutely not. No!” Pope tried to block JJ, but it was no use. 

“Pope! Move.” JJ said, pushing past him as the others followed.  

“Can’t we do anything legal for money?” Pope groaned as they all piled back into the van.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ☀️ ✧ ☀️ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Oh my god, Wheezie! What happened?” Camilla asked with concern as she stepped into the bathroom, where she had been told Sarah was taking care of her younger sister.  

“She mixed vodka with Crystal Light…” Sarah replied, cradling Wheezie’s head over the toilet, her voice laced with both frustration and sympathy.

“Ouch... good luck with this one.” Camilla said, giving the little girl’s shoulder a supportive pat.

Wheezie weakly lifted a thumbs-up in response, her face pale, eyes glazed with regret, before she was back to throwing up. 

Camilla chuckled softly, a motherly smile tugging at her lips. Both her and Sarah had ended up in similar situations when they had first started to party, and drink. They wanted to look and act cool, and more often than not, Amaury would end up in Sarah’s position, holding their hair up, and covering up their mess. 

“So, what brings you here, Cam’?” Sarah asked as they stepped out of the bathroom and headed down the stairs toward the living room. “You here to see your ex-slash-new boyfriend?” She wiggled her eyebrows teasingly.  

“Ha, ha. Very funny, Sarah Cameron. Actually, I came to see my best friend.” Camilla shot back, rolling her eyes dramatically. “You know, the nice one?”  

Before Sarah could respond, the sound of raised voices from the back porch made them both freeze.

“I don’t feel like you care,” Ward Cameron’s booming voice echoed through the screen door.

  “I said I do!” Rafe shot back defensively, but his tone lacked conviction.

“You said.” Ward’s voice dripped with disappointment, cutting through the humid air like a blade.

“What do you want me to say?” Rafe’s voice trembled, but he was still trying to stand his ground.

“I don’t want you to say anything, Rafe. I want you to do something!” Ward barked; his patience clearly worn thin. “Where are the generators? I gave you the money. You said you’d handle it. So, where are they?” Rafe stammered, clearly grasping at straws.

“They’re on back order.” He tried to lie to his dad.��

“Yeah, of course they are…” 

“There was a hurricane.” He tried again, failing again. 

“I tell you what. You know that Pogue I just fired? Way more reliable than you.” 

Camilla’s breath caught in her throat. She turned to Sarah, whispering, “John B got fired?”

Sarah nodded quietly, her expression tense. Camilla’s heart sank a little. John B might have made it clear he did not like her — he never missed a chance to remind her — but she still could not help feeling sorry for him. 

Life on The Cut was not easy, and she knew how much he needed that job. But who could have snitched? Sarah would not tell their dad, and Wheezie definitely would not. 

The realization hit Camilla like a jolt of electricity.

“Really?” Rafe's voice pulled her back to the moment, his composure quickly crumbling under the weight of his father’s disdain.

“Yeah, really! Get it together, Rafe, or you can go live on The Cut.” Ward’s words were sharp, hitting their mark with deadly precision.

For a quick second, Rafe did not believe a word his dad said. It made him laugh. This really was the best he could do to threatened him? 

“That’s funny to you?” Ward’s voice dropped, cold and unyielding.

“Wow.” 

“You can go live on the damn cut, Rafe… As far as I’m concerned.” 

It pained Ward to have to go that far with his son. He remembered the little boy who used to win championships at school, bring back excellent grades, and was always on his best behavior. 

Yet, ever since high school, his son had turned into something he did not quite appreciate, something he was not really proud of anymore, and if the only way to shake him up, was to threaten him that he would have to give up all his privileges to which he was so dearly attached; Ward would do it without thinking twice. 

“Now get out of here. I’m sick of lookin’ at you.” He concluded, taking the glass that was settled in frot of him and taking a sip of the liquid that was resting inside. “Make yourself useful somewhere, somehow. And not only by seducing pretty girls like Camilla, ‘cause all you will do is bring her down this path too…” He added. 

“Sarah’s not working.” He retorted, ignoring what his father had said about the ginger head. 

“This isn’t about Sarah, Rafe. You’re almost 20. You don’t get to sit back and have everything handed to you.”

“Yes, sir.” He sarcastically replied. 

“It doesn’t seem you understand me.”

“I’ll take care of those generators, okay?” He added, his voice softly breaking at the end. 

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” 

Rafe walked inside the house, catching a glimpse of the girls that stood there, which meant Camilla had heard it. She had heard he was incompetent. 

“Told you.” Sarah said, her voice cutting through the tension. “Shouldn’t have bought that motorcycle with the generator money…” She added, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Hm” was the only sound that escaped his mouth as he shot his little sister a venomous look. He then turned around and walked away from the girl. 

“Rafe! Wait!” Camilla called after him, rushing to catch up. “Where are you going?” 

“None of your business, babe.” He muttered darkly.

“I can help you with the generators if you want?” She offered gently, trying to calm him, to keep him from riding off in his current state.

“I don’t need your help, Camilla.” Rafe snapped, his voice brittle with frustration.

He shoved past her, the force of it sending her stumbling back slightly. Shocked, she stood frozen for a moment, watching him disappear down the hallway. Her chest felt tight, the sting of his words and actions hanging in the air like a thick cloud.

“What an asshole.” She muttered. 

“Don’t listen to him.” Sarah murmured, looping her arm through Camilla’s, pulling her away. “Come on, we’re going to try on dresses for tonight’s party. It’ll be fun. And it’ll take your mind off of things.”

“I’m not going.” Camilla said flatly, shaking her head.

“Okay, fine, but you can’t just leave me to figure out my outfit on my own!” Sarah grinned, trying to coax her friend’s mood back to life.

“Fine.” Camilla relented with a small smile. “But we’re doing it at my house. There’s no way I’m seeing your stupid brother’s face until sometime.”

They both laughed as they made their way back to Camilla’s place, their spirits lifting as they shared stories about the beach cleanup that Sarah had went to with Topper and a bunch of Kooks, earlier that morning.

“Seriously, you should’ve been there!” Sarah giggled, recounting one of the funnier moments from the day as they entered Camilla’s cozy hallway.

“Hey, baby! Hello, Sarah!” Hugo called from his office as they passed by.

“Morning, Hugo!” Sarah replied cheerfully, while Camilla waved and led her friend upstairs.

As they entered Camilla’s room, Sarah immediately flopped onto the bed, hugging a pillow, while Camilla began rifling through her closet.

“What are you reading?” Sarah asked, picking up a book from the nightstand.

“Oh, just a novel about a girl who loses her best friend in a car accident and gets sent to boarding school to learn to trust herself again.” Camilla replied absentmindedly, searching for the perfect outfit. “You should read it. It’s good.”

“Yeah, no thanks. Reading’s way hotter on you.” Sarah teased. “I’m more of a, uh, visual learner.” Camilla laughed.

“Better than your brother, at least.” 

“Please, even a peanut is better than Rafe these days.” Sarah groaned.

“Ouch…” Camilla smirked.

She pulled out probably Sarah’s favorite dress from her closet, and held it up for the girl’s approval.

When the blonde’s eye laid on it, they instantly lit up.

“Are you serious? You’re okay with lending it to me?” 

“Sure!” She smiled. “What’s mine is yours remember?” 

“Yeah sister in choice!” 

They both laughed, remembering the pact they had both made, back when they were four or five. 

“So you want it?” 

“Yes! It’s perfect!” 

“I knew it.” Camilla grinned. “It’ll be easy to slip off, to —”

“Don’t start!” Sarah laughed, cutting her off.

“I was going to say for a dip in Topper’s pool! He still has a pool, right?” Camilla wiggled her eyebrows.

“Yeah, sure you were.” Sarah playfully rolled her eyes, a big smile on her lips. “But seriously, I think tonight might be special with Topper. Things feel... different.” Camilla’s teasing expression softened.

“You know, he really cares about you, Sarah. You can trust him.” Sarah smiled warmly at her best friend.

“Thanks, Cam’. You always have the right word, huh?”

“I learned from the best…” She smiled, taking her best friend’s hands in hers.

Sarah smiled at the girl. She was the best she could have ever dreamed of… She was understanding, caring, and always looking out for her friends. 

As she tried on the outfit, their conversation shifted, light and easy, until Camilla brought the ‘John B’ subject.

“So, what happened with John B?” Sarah hesitated, looking at herself in the mirror. 

“I don’t know. He’s mad at me, I guess. I mean, I didn’t tell my dad anything, but he must think I did. He was so rude when I saw him yesterday. I was on the dock, getting back from the shop—” 

“Oh girl… The chips?” She asked. 

“Yes! They are so good!” Sarah replied. 

“I’m craving some since I arrived! Yet could not put a hand on them…”

“They don’t have them in France?” 

“No! They have delicious viennoiseries and all that but in the chips field, they’re lacking.” 

“Well, next time you come to mine, I’ll give you some.” She proposed to Camilla, while getting out, all dressed up.

“Oh S’, you’re hot! Look at you!” 

“Thanks!” She blushed at her friend’s commentary. 

“Now, sit I need to do your hair and make-up. I want my best friend to be stunning at this party!” She ordered to Sarah with a bright smile. 

“Anyway, about John B, he probably thinks you betrayed him. From his perspective, you were the only one who knew and could have told Ward. It’s not right that he was rude, but you should talk to him. Clear the air.” Sarah sighed, meeting Camilla’s eyes through the mirror.

“You’re probably right…” She admitted. 

“Probably? Sarah, please I’m always right!” She smirked. 

They burst out laughing, enjoying the little moment life was giving them, for them to cherish later. Camilla made sure the work she had made on Sarah’s hair fitted her, and then she proceeded to do light make-up on her face.

She loved to take care of her friends; it was her love-langage.

“Oh, and about the whole discussion with JB, don’t forget to bring a bag of Skinny Pop. He loves it!” 

“And how do you know that exactly?” 

“JJ told me.” She tried to play it cool. 

“JJ told you huh?”

“Yeah, he told me Sarah. I was a bit shocked too, at first, that he could talk… You know? Like a human being?” 

“Yeah… Just don’t catch feeling, he doesn’t look like the perfect boyfriend…” 

“Because your brother is?”

“Oh my god! Don’t talk about that! My brother and my best friend… huh disgusting!” She dramatically said. 

“My cousin and my best friend… huh disgusting!” Camilla imitated the blonde. 

“Really funny…” She laughed. 

“I’m not the one who said it…” She held her hand up in the air. 

“Now! You must come with me to the party! Cause…” She turned to Camilla’s closet to pick something for her to wear. “This outfit is craving a hot girl to show it off at a party!” She smirked when a small smile cracked the serious façade of her friend. 

“No. Absolutely not.”

🌻☀️✨🍯🐝💛🌻☀️✨🍯🐝💛🌻☀️✨🍯🐝💛🌻☀️✨🍯🐝

📢 Taglist: @lomahdu @gaborane @dellslibary @h3r-h3arts-with-obx @natashaluv05

🌻 Reblog & share if you enjoy! Your support means the world!

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✦ Written by: @lilibookverse ✦ All rights reserved – do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

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[shoresofgold]

[ AHOY. WELCOME TO SHORESOFGOLD. HERE BE MY RULES. ]

18+ interaction only! ERP is mostly quarantined to DMs, but I'm happy to roleplay suggestive content and shipping.

I roleplay in a semi-literate multiple paragraph style. I’ll adapt somewhat to the length and style of your replies.

This blog may contain: Abuse, kidnapping, graphic injury, and death. Stay safe and do not follow if these make you uncomfortable! Thank you.

I am fine roleplaying with original characters and most fandoms, however I will NOT roleplay with: Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss, IRL/YouTuber/Celebrity roleplayers, military/countries, and likely others that aren't coming to mind. 

I'm most familiar with: Sea of Thieves, Megaman, Phantasy Star Online, Zelda, Transformers, and Steven Universe. 

Be advised: I cannot always trim my posts right away! You may block my tag #trimlater if long posts are not hidden on your dash. This tag is used temporarily until I can edit the post on desktop.

Mun is Atrocity (24, it/its) my main is my art blog @machinafulmen, I'll be following and liking posts from there!

My other RP blog @calamitousarts contains my player pirate, a SOT AU of Zero from Megaman X.

Here's my WIP Carrd! I'll make that my new pinned when I get to it.... This one's uploaded as a look test.

MUSE INFORMATION UNDER THE CUT:

( Images coming in a future update. I'l be drawing references of my own interpretations of these characters. )

[ PRIMARY: Rathbone ]

Rathbone, also known as the Gold Hoarder, is a pirate cursed by his hunger for riches. His body is entirely skeletal, its decaying frame mended with pure gold, covered loosely with the tattered remains of the clothes he wore in life. His personality can be described as taciturn and apathetic; his indifference to anything unprofitable makes him a worthless ally. Driven mad by greed, Rathbone isolated himself and his plunder on an island surrounded by untraversable waters. However, he was summoned against his will to fight for the feared Davy Jones, then cast aside upon his own subsequent defeat. Currently, he is unable to return to his hoard, owning nothing but his trusty shovel and any shiny objects he can squeeze into his pockets.

[ SECONDARY: Lord Graymarrow ]

Lord Graymarrow is a fearsome cursed pirate who is proficient in magic. His skeletal body is massive, donning loose, heavy clothing reminiscent of the portly flesh he once had as a man. His loyalties lie with those he reveres most; Those who have bested him in battle and proved themselves to be powerful allies. His own crew sails the seas, their souls eternally bound to the jewelry that he wears. To his allies, he is boisterous and sociable, but to his enemies, he is nothing short of a living nightmare.

[ TERTIARY: The Burning Blade ]

The Burning Blade is the glorious flagship of Captain Flameheart, the true king of the Sea of Thieves. Her hull is monstrous, reconstructed again and again throughout her life. Armed with ten cannons and a fire-breathing maw on her bow, this nimble vessel is sure to strike fear in the hearts of all who oppose her captain. Fueled and cursed by the destruction reaped with her body, she developed a sort of.. personality, over the years. Every board of her frame churns and twists to her apparent will, favoring only her captain’s orders over all who man her helm. Begrudgingly, at her King’s request, she will allow lesser pirates to set foot upon her deck.

[earlgreydream]

time for us.

| loki x reader | angst | fluff |

anon requested. loki has been working a lot lately and hasn’t really had anytime for the reader and he completely forgets about their anniversary and she doesn’t tell him for a couple of days but then he snaps at her and they have a huge argument

a/n: this doesn’t have any spoilers for the show— just mention that Loki works for the TVA (which isn’t canon at the time of me writing this)

You loathed Loki’s new job, working for the Time Variance Authority.

Ever since Loki began at the TVA, they’d managed to occupy nearly all of his time and energy, leaving little to none left for you. Your relationship was strong, but only a few weeks of work had put a strain on the two of you.

He’d become more short tempered, and easily agitated. You tried to be patient, but little things seemed to antagonize you, and soon every small thing was becoming huge.

Above all, you hated to fight with Loki. You bottled up your frustration, shoving them down inside of you and keeping them hidden and locked away. Your limited time with Loki was precious, and you didn’t want to poison it with your annoyance. However, it was doing damage that you hadn’t yet comprehended, building a pressurized weapon that was bound to explode.

It took weeks, but the explosion came.

.

Loki had been so caught up in work that he missed your anniversary. It had escaped his mind entirely, passing like any other day. He was distracted by variants running wild, and the need to please his new boss. He felt responsible for things that were going wrong, and he had put your relationship on the backburner.

You’d been certain he’d take you out during the night, or at least do something to acknowledge the anniversary of your love, but you’d been dead wrong. You waited at home as hours passed, and when his normal arrival time had long passed, the pain in your chest grew until your entire body was throbbing with hurt.

You took your makeup off, along with the pretty dress you wore-- the green one that your husband adored.

Loki had stayed late at work, taking overtime and showing up just before ten. You were so hurt you could hardly speak, but Loki’s mind was too muddled with work to even notice. You were already in bed when he returned home, and he’d kissed your forehead and gone to sleep with less than five words leaving his lips.

You laid awake in bed that night, staring at the wall. You should have told Loki you were angry, said something then and at least gotten it in the open. But you shoved it down with everything else— every other hurt and grievance and annoyance that poisoned you.

.

“Can you set that down, please?” You asked, four days later. You tried to keep your tone even, but you were impatient. The bite in your words was all you could do to keep from tearing the file from his delicate hands.

Loki was in the kitchen, his face buried in a variant case file. He was supposed to be helping you make dinner, but you were dismissed and cast aside once again as his work outshined you.

“I’m working, Y/N! It’s important. Don’t you want me to get paid so you can have your pretty things?” Loki snapped, shocking you.

“No!” You screamed, slamming the cabinet door shut.

He stared at you, turquoise eyes wide in shock at your outburst. He dropped the file on the counter, a harsh glare adorning his stunning face.

“No, Loki! I don’t fucking care about the pretty things. I don’t even know that I care about YOU!” The words were coming out before you could stop them.

“You don’t care about me?! All I ever do is for you!” Loki met your anger, matching your energy and only fueling the fire of rage that was building in your stomach.

“You’re such a selfish liar! You don’t give a fuck about me, Loki! You’re in a relationship with your bullshit job, you don’t give a damn about me! All of your time and your energy... and fuck, even your kindness goes to the stupid fucking TVA!! There’s nothing left for me, and I don’t want your scraps!” You shoved him back when he took a step toward you.

“I’m selfish? You’re needy and dramatic! You’re a spoiled brat, acting out when not every ounce of my attention is being given to you. What, you’re mad that I didn’t help you make this salad? Grow up, Y/N!” Loki’s hateful words poured out, tasting like acid in his mouth.

“No! I’m mad that you forgot our anniversary and that you haven’t seen how much you’ve hurt me!” Tears burned as they streamed down your face, blurring your vision that was bleeding at the edges.

Loki’s lips parted, and realization suddenly crossed his features. He took a step back, recognizing his anger had spiraled out of control, and that your anger was justified.

“I didn’t mean it… I do care about you, I just want you to care about me.” Your voice broke, and shaky hands went to your mouth, stifling a sob. Guilt swelled in Loki’s chest as he saw you fall apart, unable to bear the weight of your anger.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know how I’ve forgotten. Please, my love, forgive me,” Loki’s tone softened, and he knelt down to his knees before you.

He didn’t care about the messy floors ruining his perfect suit, nothing mattered to him then except for you.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry, I just miss you,” you were weeping, unable to hold the sobs at bay.

“It’s okay, scream and cry if you need to, but know I love you more than anything and I am terribly, terribly sorry.”

Loki gently pulled you forward, closing his arms around you. His forehead rested against your stomach, and you laid your hands on top of his head.

“I know. I know,” you stammered in shaky breaths. Your fingers trembled as you dragged them through his hair, overwhelmed with every emotion that washed over you all at once.

.

You got home from work, a couple of days after your fight. You had both apologized, easing the tension over. Loki hadn’t stopped apologizing, even when you promised him it was okay. It had been better since-- you weren’t keeping secrets or harboring anger, and you felt exceedingly better in the aftermath of your fight.

You walked into your master suite, considering a hot bath or a shower after your day. You were lost in your thoughts as you kicked your shoes off, before turning to the bed. A dress was laid out on the end of the bed, glittery heels and jewelry in a box beside it. Loki wasn’t home, but a note was attached, telling you to get dressed and he’d meet you.

You smiled, lifting the black cocktail dress. You changed, fixing your hair and makeup in the mirror. Your day at work had been long, and you didn’t know what Loki had in store for you, but you were excited.

The lock clicked open on the door, signaling the arrival of your husband. You stepped into the foyer to greet him, met with Loki in an all-black suit. A grin spread across his expression as he noticed you, making warmth bloom in your chest.

“You look-” you both started at the same time.

You smiled and tilted your head, letting him speak.

“You look beautiful,” Loki spoke softly before giving you a kiss.

“Thank you. You look sharp. What’s the occasion, what are we doing?”

“I’m so sorry I missed our anniversary. I thought we could celebrate us tonight.”

You broke into a grin, nodding excitedly.

“Yes. Yes, let’s do it.”

“Of course. Let me set my things down,” he kissed your cheek and stepped into your master, cleaning up and dropping his bag.

.

You were driven to a fancy restaurant, one hand in Loki’s as the other smoothed over the wheel of his black sports car. He dropped the keys with a valet, and you were escorted to a table in the back of the place.

“Wine, Mrs. Laufeyson?”

“Please,” you nodded, and the waiter poured you a glass of sparkling pink moscato.

“I’ve gotten us a suite at the resort in the city. I have a bag packed for you in the car, I thought we could enjoy a weekend away. You deserve it,” Loki brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

“You’re spoiling me,” you giggled, sipping your wine.

“As I should be.”

Elaborate French dishes were brought out on gorgeous plates, looking like something from a food blog. It tasted divine, and Loki told you some history about the dish from some time he was living or traveling in Paris. You listened to his animated stories, thinking about how you were so in love with him. 

“Why’re you staring at me like that?” Loki laughed softly, spooning sorbet into your mouth.

“Because I love you. And you’re charming and cute when you get excited,” you confessed with a grin. 

“I love you too. I’m sorry about everything,” he apologized. 

“It’s okay. We’re past it. Time moves forward for us.”

Loki nodded, leaning forward and smearing a kiss over your temple before retrieving your car from the valet.

“To the hotel?” he asked, sliding his hands over your hips and kissing your neck as you waited.

“Okay,” you giggled, squirming in his arms. 

He squeezed your bum, making you gasp before opening the door for you, helping you into the passenger seat. 

When you arrived at the hotel, there was a bouquet of roses on the table, and candles burning around. He kissed the back of your head, setting your bag down for you.

“Let me make this up to you,” his voice was deep as he unzipped your dress.

“Please,” you smiled, turning in his arms and pulling him into a heated kiss. 

[riotcontrolmargera]

Hi! I love your writing! Would you write some hc’s about what it would be like to go on vacation with Bam? Fem reader. I was thinking like maybe where you would go, what kind of cute tourist type things you might do, etc. Could have some smut or just fluff, either one :) Thank you!

vacation with bam HCs

note: fluff and some light smut elements ♡

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

when he presented you with the idea of going on vacation with him and him alone, you were ecstatic! you were fortunate enough to get to travel, given your boyfriends line of work but it was work related mostly so there wasn't much time for love and romance.

especially when you were surrounded by jackasses.

i imagine that packing with bam would be a nightmare, you'd be doing most of the work while he goofs off. oh! and no matter how hard you try to make sure that he doesn't forget anything, he will! he definitely will.

"babe, have you seen my socks?" "damnit bam!"

but he would definitely have the, 'don't worry, i'll just buy more' attitude when he knows damn well that's not the point.

he would also to be sure to not let you pay for a single thing, even if you insisted on paying for at least some of the trip. sure, you weren't as rich as he was but you definitely made more than enough to chip in. at least a little bit but nope! he wouldn't stand for that.

when you arrive at your destination, i think the first day will be relatively lazy to unwind from all the travelling. you'd unpack then spend the rest of the day either lounging around the hotel room together or going for a short walk around the area to see whats around.

you'd probably screw around a little too, if you both weren't too jet lagged.

the second day of your trip, bam would wake you up with all the little ideas of what he wants to do and where he wants to take you. i don't think he would be too psyched on popular landmarks because 'you can see them in books and it looks the same' but he would be happy to take you anyway.

but he would quickly change his mind when he sees the look on your face as you look up at them with an awe and sense of amazement in your eyes. that would make it all worth it in his eyes.

"isn't it amazing bam?" "it sure is" he would say looking at you instead of the landmark.

he'd take you out to dinner but make sure that the restaurant wasn't ridiculously corny and romantic... i believe that bam would have a rather unconventional view on what's romantic which i think we all know at this point. he's romantic in his own quirky little way... so, don't expect candle lit dinners often!

he is definitely the type to take photos and videos the entire trip... mostly of you and not the beautiful landscapes or landmarks. whether it's of you in front of a land mark, you in the hotel room, he'd take any opportunity for a photo or video.

but getting any of him would be a fucking nightmare.

any time that you would try and turn the camera around on him, he would pull a goofy face or pick his nose or something do something that's extremely unflattering. it would be the same in selfies.

"bam, can we please just get one nice photo for the family?" "okay, okay" and then will proceed to stick his finger in your nose while grinning. yeah... good luck getting a nice photo to send to your family back home.

i think you'd expect some calls from ape to make sure that you are both doing okay on your trip AND to make sure that her son hasn't driven you mad yet!

and i don't imagine that his shenanigans would go on vacation either... he would probably pull (little) pranks on you, run into things on purpose, you know usual bam shit.

if you went to the beach together and you were out laying in the sun, you would definitely catch him staring at you because he would think that you were the best damn thing to look at one the entire beach.

"what are you staring at?" "you look so fucking hot."

he would definitely complain about sand being everywhere but would rather quickly change his tune when you offer to take a shower with him back at the hotel.

and of course, since you're on vacation, i believe that you'd fool around twice as much (unless, that's not your thing, of course) — having all that time together with no ape, phil and the CKY boys in sight would definitely lead to much more screwin than normal (not that you don't already screw like rabbits).

[anxiousstark]

The Name of the Game | Mitch Rapp

Warnings: Vulgar vocabulary, public sex (if you squint), unprotected sex (this is a fic, be safe), teasing, foreplaying, etc. Porn with some plot.

Word Count: 3280

A/N: First time writing smut so, please don’t kill me. This CAN’T be considered flithy after the 11k I wrote for the Dylan fic.

All Rights Reserved. The author, me, don’t allow any type of copy or adaption.

BIG MASTERLIST  | MIATCHEMBER |  KO-FI

A long dark green silky dress hugged the shape of your body, accentuating the most appealing parts of your physique. Your bareback was full of goosebumps as your hair caressed the uncovered skin. Besides, your makeup was done flawlessly, emphasising the most attractive features you had.

Your walk was confident, the clicking of your heels turning heads towards you. Your presence too big for the room. However, you ignored the desiring gazes that you received from both men and women, focusing on your mission.

Liam Zajicek was your objective. A young and attractive man who was being searched by almost every CIA agent. At the young age of 22 years old, he was probably the most searched and wanted hacker. The CIA had been searching for him since last year when he successfully altered the votes in the elections of the new president of America. However, Zajicek was stealthy, not leaving any hint that could implicate him in such a grave crime.

But the man you worked for was even more stealthy, preparing his next moves before Liam Zajicek had the opportunity to do anything. And his next move was you.

The mission was easy, too easy for you. You would be lying if you denied feeling offended for receiving such a simplistic mission. It was as lightly as seducing Liam. Even if he was a talented hacker, he was still a young man who would be sex-driven.

A man in a tuxedo walked closer to you, a tray on his right hand, lowering it so you could grab the drink you craved. Nodding while offering him a charming smile, your eyes gazed around, trying to find the man whose pictures you had studied closely.

The ballroom was full of people. Elegant dresses and tuxedos, expensive drinks, and perfumes. It was the perfect environment to seduce someone, leading them out of the public eye to kill them. However, Liam was going to be luckier as your boss wanted to be the one taking care of him.

The golden light appeared to illuminate your beauty as you wandered closer to the bar, discerning your target talking to a considerably alluring woman. Sitting in a luxurious barstool, you crossed your right leg on top of your left one, causing the cut of the dress to expose your glowing skin.

Setting your intense gaze on him, waiting for his eyes to meet yours. Your tongue wetted your lip, exaggerating the action a little more as Liam Zajicek noticed you. His mouth turned into a smirk, eyes focused on you as he ignored whatever the red-haired girl was telling him.

The music turned into a ballad. Getting up from the barstool, you walked to the floor where some couples were already slow dancing, enjoying the closeness, and hoping to bring a nice one-night stand to their hotel room. As you walked to the floor, your gaze was focused on Liam. He completely ignored the red-haired woman, walking to where you were standing.

"Are you maybe waiting for someone who will have the chance to slow dance with you?" His voice was husky, and you weren't sure if it was due to the desperation he was radiating, or if it was his usual tone.

Your left hand grabbed his right hand, placing it on your waist. "I was hoping you would be that lucky someone." Your white teeth accentuated the red rich, rosewood lipstick.

His other hand instantly grabbed your other side, dragging you closer to him while your hands rested on his shoulders. "May I get your name?"

You wanted to groan, feeling a little overthrown. You expected to have fun during this mission, have some sexual tension yourself. But the way his hands only pulled you closer, without teasing you in some way was telling you that Liam Zajicek didn't have as much experience with women as he did with hacking.

"Holland," You lied, not displaying such valuable information to someone who was a mere target. "May I get yours?" This time it was you pulling him closer, biting your lower lip.

His eyes sparkled, and if you had gotten a little closer, he would have thrust against you, rutting just there. "I'm Adrian." You tried not to scoff, knowing that he was also lying.

His hands went lower, moving towards your back. He bit his lower lip too excessively, and you tried to contain a roll of your eyes. His hips got closer to yours, letting you know that there was a bulge growing, although nothing prominent.

"So," His fingers relocated, grazing your back. "Such a pretty lady coming to a party like this one on your own?" The knife being held by your garter ached to be grabbed. "Is your dad one of those rich men?" He smirked. "Because that means it will be difficult to impress you, baby." The pet name sounded lame coming from him.

Before you could answer, the music switched. The melody was still slow, a little more sensual, and you saw people wandering around to dance with other people, bodies even closer than before.

"May I take her from you now?" A deeper voice interrupted your words. Looking beside you, a man's gaze was focused on you. The other men preferred to look at your cleavage while this one preferred to gaze into your eyes, at least for now.

Before you could answer, the black-haired man had glared at Liam, making him walk away, whispering that he would try and find you later.

"Do I know you?" You did. You knew him, and he knew you. However, you both wanted to have a little fun, ignoring the detail of recognising each other.

Mitch Rapp innocently smiled at you. "I don't believe so." You had seen pictures of him that your boss had shown you, and this wouldn't be the first time Mitch Rapp had the same purpose as you. He had shaved his beard and styled his quite long dark hair. "But I wouldn't mind getting to know such a good-looking lady."

You grinned. Your hands dropped from his shoulders to run down his chest, pressing against firm muscles. Not caring about your long dress, his left leg parted yours, resting in the middle, grazing the sides of your inner thighs. His left hand slid from your back, resting upon your butt, pulling you even closer. His face near yours, warm breath hitting your top lip while his lightly upturned nose rested against the tip of yours.

"You told him your name is Holland, uh." He smirked. His right hand was on the right side of your waist, pulling you even closer to the point where your core was placed directly on top of his thigh. "I thought I told you this type of dudes are the CIA's business, Y/N."

You smirked, tongue leaping out to wet your lower lip, accidentally grazing his bottom lip, which made him try and hide a grunt. "You know I like the excitement of ruining your plans. And if Stan gets mad, it's a plus." You grinned. "Plus my boss wants him."

"I'm going to have to teach you a lesson." He scoffed. "So disobedient, always making my job harder." You suggestively glanced at him, noticing that wasn't the only hard thing you provoked as his bulge was pressed against your core. He understood what you were implying, shaking his head. The hand that was resting on your butt went to the front, brushing your tummy while going down. Disappointment overflowed you as his fingers skipped the part you desired he would graze, going directly under your dress, grabbing the knife that was being held by your garter. "You changed the place of the knife."

"Couldn't have you finding it again." You whined as his cold fingers left your thigh, not taking the blade as he was confident you wouldn't use it against him. "But seems like you did."

"Leave this one for me, baby girl." He referred to Zajicek, knowing he will have to fight you to take you away from whatever your boss had ordered you to do.

"Do you know how much I will get paid for this, Rapp?" Your hands went up again, circling his neck to bring him closer. Your next words made your lips brush against his. "A lot of money, Rapp. More than you can imagine." Your gaze moved around, remembering what you were there for. Mitch Rapp had distracted you from your objective. "Shit."

The man that was keeping you close to him turned around, following your gaze until he saw Liam speaking to a man while glancing at you two. He had discovered that you both were there to get him. He swiftly pushed through people, trying to escape both of you. "Fuck." Mitch's hands left your body, stepping as quickly as possible, following Zajicek. You did the same, trying to ignore the fabric stuck to your lower lips, confirming the effect Mitch Rapp had on you.

You lost both of them, finding yourself in an empty hall, glancing around. It wasn't until you heard a thump that you knew where both men were. Rushing to a white and golden door, you were met with Mitch as he dodged a chair that was thrown to his head by Liam.

You quickly walked closer, jumping on Zajicek's back, arms tightly around his neck, trying to choke him. "Mitch, he is mine." Your legs around his waist, pressing your thighs against him, trying to weaken the lower part of his body. Nonetheless, Liam Zajicek used his elbows to hit your stomach, causing you to fall on your butt and back, your breath being kicked out of you.

"No way, baby girl." He grunted as he ran after Liam again. As soon as you were able to get up, you ran behind them, seeing them going inside another room, which seemed to be an office. Liam tried to kick a shelf. Mitch was strong enough to stop the entire shelf from falling on top of him, although he would have a big bruise on the back of his arm.

Liam's eyes widened as he understood how tough, and trained Mitch Rapp was, running to a door that was inside the office. Pulling it open, he was met with no exit. Mitch and you ran to the other chamber, which was a bathroom.

You quickly kicked Liam's chest with your heels, making him wail in pain, collapsing on his bottom. Mitch gripped the boy's hair, dragging him over the white porcelain bath, turning the water on, and splashing his face with the head of the shower until he was turning purple as he couldn't breathe.

"Where's the SD?" You asked Zajicek. When he didn't answer you, Mitch turned the water on again. But the boy resisted, not wanting to reveal his secrets.

Your hands rapidly moved around Liam's body, going inside his pockets until your fingers found a hard object. Mitch Rapp was too distracted threatening the hacker. It was your opportunity to flew from the room with the SD you needed. Proof enough for your boss to get the money from finding and discovering the ways of Liam Zajicek.

You rushed out of the bathroom, not getting too far as a hand grabbed your right elbow. You didn't have time to turn around as a rough body pushed you against the desk placed on the middle of the office. Your chest was tightly squeezed against the hard wooden surface, while a body was pressed to the lower part of your body. A hand around the back of your neck, keeping you in place. A veiny hand came to view, grasping the SD card from your grip. "Such a snake, baby girl."

"I repeat," You tried to get away from his grasp, unsuccessfully. "I like ruining your plans."

"Good," You heard him shuffle behind you, probably hiding the SD in one of his pockets. "It's my turn to ruin you." There was no time to proceed his words as both of his hands went to the cut on your leg, ripping the dress so he could see what was underneath. His cold fingers grabbed the knife, throwing it somewhere in the room. "No underwear." He grunted, hips colliding with yours, showing how desperate he was.

You moaned, using your elbows to hold yourself up. You turned your head to look at him, his eyes already on you. "Underwear looks horrible with such a delightful dress." His eyes slipped from you to look down at your folds. Seeing the satisfaction in his eyes, you decided to move your hips back, hitting his hips again, leaving a little damp mark on the front of his pants due to your wetness. His eyes went back to yours, holding your gaze as the fingers of his right hand teased your folds, not touching them completely, just grazing them. "Mitch, you better touch me right now. I swear to g-." Your words were interrupted as he conducted your wish. Two of his fingers rubbing the wetness of your pussy all over your folds, making you gasp and hold his gaze.

"So wet." His fingers left your core, making you whine. He placed his hand between your centre and the desk, his fingers going back to the sought place. This time, toying with your clit as the other hand ran up, grabbing your boob through the dress, squeezing, and pinching. "Fuck. How can you be so wet even before I started touching you."

"You always do the same." Your hips trapped his hand against the desk, riding his hand as he played with your clit. "You always get me all turned on, and then, you leave." Your right hand stopped supporting your weight, blindly going behind your body until it was wrapping Mitch's bulge. "How can you be so hard even before I touched you."

"Shut up," He groaned, a little smirk decorating his face. His hand left your clit as he felt how you fere fastening your peace against him. His other hand removing yours off his bulge. He rapidly unzipped his jeans, and after thrusting his hips a couple of times against yours, he lowered his boxers. His left hand pushed your face against the desk, keeping you there as the head of his dick caressed your wet folds. "We have no time, baby girl. We have to be quick." He pushed the head between your folds, teasing. "No time to eat you out, no time to have my dick deep down your throat, and no time to finger you." You could notice that he was talking with a pout on his lips. He finally decided to shove himself fully in you.

"Mitch," You whined. "Don't go all soft on me, please." The grip he had around your neck tightened while his dick went out of your pussy, just to go back inside at a slow pace. You were going to beg him to do you harder, and faster, but the ringing of your phone interrupted you.

"Who's it?" Mitch mumbled. As you wanted to ignore the call, you didn't answer, which made Rapp stop his slow thrusts. When you complained, turning around to peer at him, he had an earnest expression. "I asked you a question, kitten." Your legs trembled, and you were grateful that Mitch and the desk retained your entire body.

With shaky fingers, you clutched your phone. Hazy vision trying to guess the ID of the caller. "Stan," You answered. Mitch couldn't help but smirk at the chance of fucking you while your boss was on call.

"Well, kitten." His hips went back, going forward, roughly, fastening the pace. "No more foreplay for us." Mitch and you did this in every mission that Stan sent the both of you to. You both acted as if you were each other's competition, ending up fucking somewhere after capturing or killing your target. "Answer him, baby." Your eyes widened, and before you could talk, Mitch thrust a couple of times into you, fast.

"Y-yes?" You replied after sliding your finger on the screen of the phone to accept the call.

"You guys are taking more time than normal. Was there any problem?" His annoyed voice sounded over the line, making you both roll your eyes.

Your hand went to your mouth, keeping yourself from moaning while being on the phone. Mitch was going harder and deeper as possible. His balls hitting your clit every time he thrust. "W-we already have him, Stan. We will be back soon." Soon, you were going to cum soon, not being able to hold back from how quick Mitch was doing you. "We are taking more time as I lost my knife," You plainly lied. "You know how much I love that kn-." A loud moan interrupted your sentence, followed by a couple of more.

"Oh my god, you horny rabbits." Stan realised what both of you were up to. "Finish quickly, and come back with Zajicek." He hung up.

"You heard him, kitten." He pushed you even farther into the desk, ordering you to stay there. His left hand went to your waist, moving your body to meets his thrusts. His right hand found its place on your clit, expertly moving in circles until your knees were buckling. "Come on, baby. Come on." He groaned, knowing you were so close to your high.

He pressed his chest against your back, his teeth biting your ear, not scared to moan loudly, letting you know that you had the same power on him that he had on you. "I'm so close baby." You could feel his dick grazing places that could make any woman pass out from pleasure. His member pulsating in you, letting you grasp that he was close.

A couple more of thrusts and he was cumming inside you, the movement of his hips still hitting you, perceiving you were close. "Mitch!" Your mouth was open, and a trail of drool running down your chin as your body shook from how hard you were cumming. His load filled you up, and even after both of you had reached your highs, Mitch was still inside you, pressed against you while breathing hard.

"Fuck, even quickies with you left me all satisfied." He groaned, deciding to slip his dick from you, which made you whine as you loved being filled up by him. Now, you moaned, the mix of your juices falling down your thighs. "Let me go grab you a towel." He moved to the bathroom, to come back a couple of minutes later with a warm wet towel on his hands, not hesitating to gently clean you up, knowing you were quite sensitive after sex.

"Hey," Your eyes widened. "What about Zajicek?"

"He was unconscious when I came here as you tried to escape." He hummed, concentrating on cleaning you up. "But when I went back inside to get the towel, he was conscious, tied to the bath. He probably enjoyed you moaning loudly." He winked, making you feel flustered.

"Mitch Rapp," You groaned. "My dress it's all ripped. How am I supposed to get out of this party like this?" You pointed at the ripped dress he was guilty of as he couldn't wait until you unzipped it to be inside you.

"You will have to keep closer to me, baby girl." He grabbed you, dragging you closer to his body. Your hands ended up against his firm chest. "Hard again?" You chuckled, feeling his bulge on the lower part of your tummy.

"Wait until we get home, Y/N Rapp." He winked. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, Ms. Rapp."

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Taglist: @og-baby-ob14​ - @siwiecola - @linkpk88​ -

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