#the mostly black one with a little white is Riley

[drgnflyteabox]

daddy cool, side B ⋆˙⟡

simon riley x fem!reader (background price x reader) summary: you make a movie with simon. ↪or, john produces. tags/warnings: making a porno, rough sex (p in v), oral (f + m), please forgive my dialogue i'm trying my best, degradation / slut shaming, squirting, a little dubcon, size kink, a little pain, unnegotiated kink, john is mostly in the background but he's there

“Alright honey, move a little to the right.”

“Like this?”

“Just like that, sweetheart. Spread those legs a little.”

John had been your fluffer earlier, licked you until you were rarin’ to go, wet and soft and needy. He can probably still taste you on his mustache.

You’re taking photos now, leaning back on the bed, bare wet pussy spread for John and the camera. Your two fingers create a perfect V, showing him your winking hole, your pert clit.

He really wasn’t lying about producing– you hadn’t deeply suspected him, but there was a niggling little thought there that he was maybe putting it on to get you in bed. It had worked either way, but nice to know he’s honest.

Ghost, the masked man. Cheesy, but popular with women, John says. They like the mystery.

“Touch yourself a little,” John shifts the camera as you do, lightly petting your clit with two fingers, “that’s good, that’s real good.”

You dip two fingers into your hole, wet from John’s earlier attention, biting your lip in what you hope is a seductive manner for the camera. John chuckles low in his chest, cock pushing against his tight pants. The view makes your mouth water, but you aren’t here for John today.

You’re here for the giant of a man that walks through the doorway, wearing scuffed blue jeans and big black boots. The mask isn’t what you’d imagined, but it fits over the tight white t-shirt he’s wearing. A skull.

“Ah, Simon,” John turns to greet him, “there you are.”

Simon’s cock is already chubbed up in his jeans, long and thick against his leg. For a perverse moment you imagine what it would look like for he and John to push their bulges against each other, groaning, pec squeezed against pec, and your pussy clenches.

You wish John would perform, if only just to tag team you with this meaty specimen of a man.

Add it to the spankbank.

“John,” Simon greets him back, stepping into the room. He’s not even looking at you, which is hot for some reason you don’t care to parse. He lifts a boot and steps onto John’s stool, “fresh meat?”

John laughs, which seems to be the only answer Simon needs before he turns towards you finally and pins you to the bed with his gaze. 

Your fingers pause, still dipped halfway inside, clit pulsing against the heel of your palm.

“Pretty,” he says, and just as you’re about to say thank you, “nice, Cap,” a pause, “picked a ripe one.”

He walks until his shins hit the bed, looking down at you and your spread legs, where your hand is still and your pussy drips onto the sheets. His eyelashes are pale, ghostly, strangely beautiful against his brown eyes. 

You wish you could see his face, his expression, but John was right– they do like the mystery.

There’s a little hint of a scar that pokes up from his cheekbone, pulling the skin of his bottom lid a little, but there’s no time to examine him in detail.

“Right then,” John interrupts, “let’s take a few pictures.”

The first pose he puts you in is on Simon’s lap, explicitly directing you to press your pussy against his jeanclad thigh and make a little wet spot for us, will you, love?

It’s honestly humiliating, but you’re so tuned up that the heat of your embarrassment only adds to the tension.

“That’s good, that’s real good,” John murmurs, instructing Simon to put a heavy hand on your lower back, pressing you further into his leg.

Your clit drags against the fabric, and the camera snaps your open mouthed gasp.

“Pull her shirt down,” and Simon does; pulling your tanktop down until your tits fall out, soft and peaked, pressed against the worn fabric of his shirt.

You’re looking over your shoulder, hazy, bottom lip between your teeth. John snaps a few more before he places you in the next position.

All you can stare at is the dark patch on Simon’s jeans.

“This one’s for the cover,” he says, getting Simon to lay down and pull his jeans a little down– showing off the line of hair leading to the biggest tease; the beginnings of his bush, trapped under just his jeans.

He’s gone commando. All you can see is the little pudge of his pubis as it’s squished by his waistband, a tasty little tenderloin you want to bite.

You’re next; standing over Simon, legs wide open, looking down at him with your tits out and your thighs wet. It’s a movie-esque kind of pose, and in another universe maybe you’re decked out in cheap sci-fi costumes for a blockbuster.

Then he’s ready, and you have to re-dress. Tanktop goes back on, shorts get slid right back up your legs, and he puts you on top of the covers.

Simon prowls like a panther, graceful in his movements despite the sheer size of him. You’re leaned back, elbows on the bed, breathing harder the closer he gets.

“Felt that wet little pussy,” he says, voice low, “she’s more than ready for me, isn’t she? Probably soaking those slutty shorts.”

“Uh huh,” you murmur, legs outstretched and straight before him. 

John had told you a little bit of the ‘script’ beforehand, a loose skeleton to follow outside of improv, so you aren’t shocked when he pulls the button open on your shorts and pulls them down in one fell swoop.

“Look’it that,” his lips move under the mask. You wonder if he’s licking his lips, looking at your pussy like that.

He takes you by the ankle, dragging you across the mattress until you’re flat on your back and looking up at him.

“Haven’t even seen my cock yet,” he laughs meanly, his other hand reaching to take a big squeeze of his cock through his jeans, “and look’it that. Slag if I’ve ever seen one.”

Your face burns, breath stuttering. This wasn’t a part of the little warning John had given you, but you’re not that mad about it. Hot, humiliated– but not opposed.

Simon looks at you for barely another second before he’s crawled up to your face, knees on either side of your head.

Oh.

“Gimme a kiss.”

You lean forward, lips pressing against his rough jeans. He smells good, a little like cigarettes but there’s that musk you love so much. You mouthe against him until he pulls your head back to the mattress by your hair.

He pulls down his jeans, freeing a mostly plump cock that flops onto your cheek. Oh man, it’s weighty. The nestle of curls at the base of it is like a magnet for your eyes, too.

“I can take it all the way,” you look up into those inscrutable eyes.

“Yeah? Prove it.”

You take the tip first, licking it lewdly, turning to the camera every so often like John had told you to– just let them see those eyes, honey. Show them how much you like it.

So you do. You give big, wide eyes as Simon gets impatient and starts tunnelling down your throat, shoulders trapped beneath his heavy thighs.

When you gag, he laughs lowly, keeping you there. He runs a rough thumb over the taut stretch of your upper lip, down to your lower lip, palm cradling your jaw.

“That’s a good girl,” he slides backwards, jeans scraping your nipples through your tanktop, hardly giving you but a moment before he's pushing back in. Rinse and repeat.

It’s like with John, only Simon’s cock is a little different. Longer, and curved where John’s is thicker. The tip pokes you in the back of the throat, sometimes at the roof of your mouth from the awkward angle.

You feel crushed underneath him despite your entire lower half being free, legs coming up and thighs squeezing together as the camera pans towards them and John murmurs, “show me that pussy, honey.”

So you spread your legs, humiliated at the gluk-gluk-gluk sound coming from your throat but gushing impossibly more under the camera’s lens.

“That’s a pretty picture,” Simon grunts, sliding out of your mouth to tap the head against your lips, letting you stick your tongue out and drool drip down your chin, “yeah. Keep your mouth open.”

This is mostly for the camera, the way he rubs himself on your face, the way you lay there and keep your mouth open. You don’t have to fake the desperation, but still.

Simon’s a pro.

He leans back, fingers finding your bare cunt and sliding a finger along your slit. Slippery, swollen, the contact is like drinking water in the desert. Like the satisfying pleasure-pain of pressing down a bruise.

His finger slides up and down shallowly, never stopping where you need it while you kiss the underside of his cock.

“This cock-hungry pussy’s soakin’ my fingers,” his eyes squint, like he’s grinning under the mask, “reckon I could solve a drought with this,” he lifts his finger to your mouth, slipping them in for you to taste yourself.

Where the fuck did John find this guy?

You play along, face burning, sucking his fingers with a soft moan.

After a moment, he leans back and gets off you, pulling your tanktop down as he does so your tits bounce back out. Hello again, ladies.

There’s a small moment of stalling where John sets the camera up on a tripod near the end of the bed and Simon drags you so your head is towards the headboard, and then it’s 3 2 1 action again.

“Hands on the headboard,” Simon gruffs, then slides onto his belly and presses his mask to your cunt. Your hands fly to the headboard, hanging on for dear life as he inhales through the fabric.

Jesus. He rubs the knit on your swollen pussy, up and down, spreading you open with his covered chin and then pressing his nose to your clit.

You don’t have to exaggerate your sounds. They come naturally, rising in pitch when he pushes his mask up just enough to see his pink, scarred lips wrap around your engorged clit.

He’s greedy, eating more to taste you than to please you.

When he lifts his head, mouth wet and tongue poking out to lick the remnants of your slick, stopping at the cusp of your orgasm, you give the camera at the end of the bed your best wounded animal look.

Simon doesn’t take his jeans off when he gets back up to his knees, shuffling to kneel between your legs.

You notice all too late that he hasn’t fingered you, not even a little dip. He’s licked you, sucked on your clit until you were keening, but there’s a deadly focus in his eyes as he puts the fat head of his cock against your hole that tells you you’re in trouble.

“Got a good look at this?,” he grunts, tilted towards the camera, “this is the best part.”

Oh fuck, he pushes in and it feels like a hydraulic press; crushing pressure, a sting, stretching taught around him as you gasp–

“Pinching me,” he curls his lip, abdomen tensing, “Jesus.”

“Oh god, fuck,” you shiver, trying to keep your knees spread, wincing and gasping in deep breaths for air as he carves a space inside you for himself.

“Relax,” he squeezes in further. Stretching, painful, intensely delicious, “relax that cunt for me, sweetheart. Let her get what she needs. ”

You try, only noticing John as he palms his bulge, watching your pussy struggling to take Simon’s cock.

It takes a few see-sawing movements of his hips before you finally loosen a little around him and he really lets loose. Doesn’t let you take a breath, just starts pounding like he’s getting a bonus for it and you shout with surprise.

A vision of an adventuring viking comes to mind, beaten and lashed by storm, the only respite to hang onto the mast in the middle of a ship… that’s the headboard for you.

He fucks like animal, but it’s still as graceful as the way he moved when he first entered the room. How can a man that looks so rough, is so big, roll his spine and slap his hips into yours in such a dancerly way? His pace is inhuman.

His cock spears into you like he’s digging for gold, tilted just so that you’re loud with how good it feels and almost wincing every time he pokes a little too deep.

You think maybe it’s on purpose, what with the way he stares down at you, big hands coming to hold your midsection and dig his fingers into your skin. 

Yeouch, that feels good.

“There she is,” he fucks you deep, unrelenting, groaning when he feels your hole start to squeeze, “doesn’t even need a hand, then,” he laughs.

He’s right. You don’t. Your abdomen squeezes, orgasm building, the first of its kind– without any kind of contact on your clit, that is.

You try to hold back for as long as possible, try to make eyes at the camera again, but you’re lost to the feeling of getting fucked so good and so deep. The feeling builds and builds and steamrolls you, legs shaking where they’re spread, ears going deaf with the blood rushing in them.

A scream bursts forth from your throat at the same time as you literally spray, slick soaking Simon’s jeans and the bottom of his t-shirt. 

There’s no time to be embarrassed with the hard, punitive thrusts he gives you as he rides his orgasm out behind yours, filling you up with hot come.

You’re boneless, after. Laying nice and still for John to get closeups of your creampie’d pussy, for Simon to rest his spent cock between your pussylips and grin under his mask, tucking himself back into his soiled jeans as John dismisses him.

He’s damp everywhere, but he strolls over to John’s little minibar area and pours himself a whiskey like it doesn’t bother him.

John doesn’t give you a break, either. He pans the camera to the mess on the bed, the wet spot you’d caused by squirting all over Simon’s cock.

John grins at you from behind the camera.

“You’re a natural, honey.”

[prunpplee]

the cats for serotonin campaign

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello! I've read your soap and price fics and you are amazing!!!

I had an idea for a fic for Ghost. The reader would be Soaps slightly older sister who isnt like Johnny at all. Im thinking she either picks up soap from base after an op or from the bar. I'll leave alot of this up to you but i just wanna see Soaps Sister meeting Ghost!!

Brother's Coworker

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Soap's Sister!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In the dim illumination of the streetlights, Ghost lays eyes on a woman leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp.

WORDCOUNT: 4.2k

WARNINGS: Little bit of angst, but mostly fluff and pre-relationship pining, loads of sibling banter, conflicting emotions, etc.

A/N: Finally able to use my sibling experiences for a fic lmfao, enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The woman was leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp, the custom color a deep forest green along the sides and a cream white coating the upper third. Ghost stared at her as the rest of the men filed out of the bar one after the other—Johnny and Gaz being especially loud. He blinks slowly, hands inside his blackened pockets.

Across the way, your ears perk slowly at the sound of rapturous shouts, but you only continue to look down the sidewalk at the long illuminations of street lamps and the glints of broken bottles on the ground. Over your chest, your hands shift in their hold on your biceps, your thin jacket crinkling. Light dances in your irises.

“Oi, is that who I think it is?!” Familiar Scottish drawl brings a smirk to your face, and you turn slowly to huff, snapping out of your silent thoughts. 

“Who else would it be, ya bloody git,” your voice carries, but it lacks the sheer volume of your brother’s; the great boom that reminds you of the bombs he’d used to make out of your mother’s hair spray bottles. 

Never a dull day in your childhood home, really.

“‘Bout gave me a heart attack, not answerin’ my calls like that!” Johnny laughs loudly, obviously drunk, and stumbles over merrily. You’re taken into a chest-breaking hug in mere moments, leaving you squirming with a deep grunt. “Should have your head, MacTavish.” You manage to squeak out, “Put me the fuck down, you horror. And what in the hell have you done to your hair?!”

“Oh, my dear sister.” Your brother lets you go as the three other men slink over, amused with the scene but some momentarily confused by the sudden introduction. Gaz laughs, and the Captain huffs a chuckle before fixing the position of his beanie on his head. 

Ghost, as always, chooses to watch like a looming shadow above the rest. 

Johnny puts a hand to his chest, the other remaining on your shoulder, “You wound me. Such cruelty stuck in your black soul; I say now, mother was always right—”

You smack the side of his head and Johnny grunts. 

“Ow!” He yells, glaring at you. “What the fuck?!” 

“Open your mouth again and I’ll wring you out, you arse. You know I will.” Grumbling, the Scot rubs the side of his head as you raise a brow at him. The stare-off lasts for a decent bit, and before the rest of the group knows what’s going on, the two of you are embracing each other once more; laughing loudly. 

Ghost’s eyebrows pull in slowly.

“Ah, it’s good to be back!” Johnny chuckles, holding you close as you pat his back.

“Of course, I’d find my kid brother at a damn pub on his first day home.” Taking a step away from the hulk of a boy, you brush down your shirt and jacket with a scoff. Looking up, you come to face the remaining men with an exasperated look. “He’s full of shite half the time, y’know, now. Can’t imagine what he puts you all through.”

“Bloody hell, Soap, you were holding out on us,” Gaz chuckles loudly, sticking out a hand for you to shake while he glances at the mohawked Scot who looks giddy despite being insulted by who’s very obviously his older sister. “Never knew you had siblings, Mate.” You take the man’s hand as he smiles brightly at you. 

“Kyle.” He says, and you beam back, “But Gaz’ll do just fine.”

“A pleasure,” your voice carries to John who you raise a brow at teasingly. “Well, look who the Reaper’s yet to drag down…Good to see you again, Captain.”

Price shakes his head, a smirk peeling his lips as Gaz steps back. 

“Still on that land of yours, then, Love?” The brunette asks gruffly, leaning back on his heels for a moment while you sag your side into Johnny’s arm. Your brother scoffs and loops his limb over the bridge of your shoulders as you nod. 

“You know it. Proper quiet when the neighbors aren’t up to a ruckus racin’ down the streets. Christ, those kids are devils—worse than Johnny and I when we were young.”

“Now that’s hard to believe, eh?” The man beside you laughs through his slurred words and you roll your eyes. 

Chuckling in return, you blink, spying on the intent black figure behind everyone else. Piercing brown eyes dig past flesh like a scalpel while you tilt your head to the side, interest alighting behind your skull. He doesn’t move or even greet you, just looks over you and then turns his attention to the street like a roaming bear would; hell, he certainly could be a bear with how big he was. Bigger than Johnny, even. 

This stranger wears a large brown leather jacket, the hood of his underclothes pulled up to cover most of the pale skin that would otherwise be visible. The long swish of light lashes captures you as you study the way he blinks slowly across the road. On his chin and on the top of his forehead, the fabric of a skeletal-painted balaclava shrouds him. Cargo pants and large black combat boots sit on his feet. 

He stands like a statue. 

“Who’s this then?” You call easily, and those eyes travel back to you even as the head doesn’t. It’s strange the way you seem to brush aside the blatant intimidation he exudes simply by standing.

“Ah,” John grunts, chuckling, before stepping to the side. “Simon, introduce yourself.” 

A low voice lowly wafts after a moment to silence, Manchester accent spearing you in the ears with its rough make-up, “Ghost.” 

You blink over at the Captain, but he just shakes his head and you move on. Johnny chuckles and whispers to you, “Don’t mind ‘em, Lt’s a bit rough around the edges.”

Plastering on a polite smile, your chin moves in a nod, “Pleasure to meet you, Ghost. Good to know the other two who look after Johnny out there.” The man beside you feels his face burn, free hand going to itch at his neck.

Ghost grunts and shrugs off the veiled praise, large muscles stiff.

“You’re actin’ like I’m not the one savin’ their skins half the time,” Gaz interjects on the Scot’s point.

“Is that what you call it?” You share an amused glance at John. 

Though, your eyes always sway back to Ghost, or Simon, depending on who you ask. He listens to the chatter, obviously, but he seems much more content to only stay with his hands inside of his pockets and study the street for...what exactly? The beast wasn’t shy, no, just…silent. If you didn’t know better you’d call him aggressively casual with the way his shoulders sit.

Stance relaxed but the underlying threat was palpable on the wind. Like a wolf rubbing his cheeks on the ancient trees of his territory. ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ - it seems his very DNA states that.

Brown eyes suddenly lock with your own as if snapping into place and before you can release a squeak of alarm, you swiftly dart your gaze away back to the arguing Sergeants; face burning.

Christ, how long had you been staring at him?

“Alright, you two, ease off it!” Trying to distract yourself, you wave a hand. “You’re both too drunk to be gettin’ into street fights at this hour. Johnny, into the car ya fool.” 

Your brother slashes you with a grin.

“Fuckin’ finally, a decent bed!” It was tradition to give Johnny the spare room when he was back home—proper meals. 

“You’re callin’ mother, y’know.” You unlock your car and motion to the passenger seat with a frown. “I dinnae care if you’re trapped for hours—give the woman a rest of all her worrying.” 

“You heard the woman, Sergeant,” John forces the gravel out of his throat, rubbing at his beard. Something hits your chest as your brother opens his door as you stand in the cold. You glance at each man in turn; eyebrows pulling in with thought.

“Ah, what the hell,” your voice huffs out. Ghost watches you closely, blinking as he lifts a hand to itch at his neck from under his hood. The leather jacket crumples with tiny shifts of worn-out material. 

“Don’t suppose you boys need any good beds to rest your heads on for the night?” Wiggling your keys, you pat the top of your Hillman as you slide to the driver's side. Johnny slinks inside his own and chuckles as he closes the barrier with a careful thunk. 

“Hospitality finally leakin’ in?”

“Next time I hit ya,” you send him a bland look, “I’ll aim for the neck.” Fake flinching towards him, the man squeaks and snaps quickly back into the car door as you snicker lively. 

“Beast!” Johnny exclaims. You roll your eyes and shimmy down the window behind him, calling out as the rest share glances.

“Get in if you’re comin’ over! If not all the food I made yesterday’ll go to waste!” That seemed to get Gaz into the back, with only Price and Simon left behind. 

Brown meets blue and John’s beard pulls back with a smirk. He clears his throat, “Well, I’m not one to spit in her face.” The Captain walks over and grunts as he bends down. 

Ghost sighs under his breath and follows, impartial as to where this night is going. He wouldn’t sleep tonight, no doubt. The hard and unforgiving beds on base were the only things he could rest on now save the ground. And food? He could go without food for days.

Though, being Johnny’s sister bought you some favor, trust wasn’t something that Simon gave around freely. But the car you drove was nice, and the company of his Task Force was easy to basque in until they shipped out again. 

Simon sits down on the refurbished seat and softly closes the door behind him. Dead-eyed, he stares at Johnny’s headrest as you glance at him from the rearview mirror—seeing his shoulder dig into the glass of the window. 

You shove down a joke and hum. “Good, then, it’ll free my fridge at the very least.” 

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Gaz offers as you start up the engine, “it’s awfully nice of you to do this for us.”

“Ah,” Simon hears you dismiss as he turns to stare out of the window; so often feeling his gaze drawn back to you as a leaf attached to a tree might act. “Don’t worry your head about it. I like the company.” 

“Aye, just how she is,” Johnny says earnestly. “Was always the one to let me over with my pals when the football games were over—’cept we were usually covered in mud.”

“I’m still finding grass in my rugs, Johnny Boy,” you mumble, focusing on the road as a slight squeaking emanates from the front of the car. Simon picks up on it easily, not preoccupied with speaking. He glances at you but mentions nothing beyond a shuffling of his thighs. 

Outside the land slides past in shades of verdant green and gray as the town falls away. 

He was confused, rightly. You’d seen his standoffish nature but had chosen to extend hospitality as the old Greeks did just off a growl of his name. But maybe it was just because he was your brother’s coworker. 

Simon grunts to himself and rubs at his wrist. Throughout the ride, the two of you would glance at each other and try to forget that you had; when the long driveway of a large secluded home expands out above the car, Gaz whistles lowly.

“Bloody hell, Ma’am,” he states and John chuckles. You easily smile and roll your eyes. 

“Trust me, it was more work than it was worth.” Ghost’s attention is slightly peaked.

“You worked on it?” His tone implies he doesn’t care, but his eyes gore into the mirror to lock with your own. Blinking in surprise, even the others seem to be taken aback by the man's lack of venom in his speech. 

Ghost wasn’t afraid to speak his mind when he needed to, but he didn’t do mindless chatter. Your eyes cycle between the driveway and the masked Brit before you clear your throat. Johnny glances at you with a raised brow, slight confusion in his brows. 

“Mostly—left the nasty bits to people more knowledgeable than I am, but I did most of the grunt work, eh?” Simon hums as the car pulls to a stop inside the garage, eyes not leaving the back of your head. 

Your neck bristles at the sensation of unrelenting contact, but the burning that joins it is telltale. Licking your lips you twist the keys out and quickly shuffle out of the door to dispel the electricity in the air. 

“Alright,” you say, “out. All of ya…Johnny, you’ll be helping me with the bedding.” 

A groan is cut by an unimpressed glare. “...Yes, Ma’am.”

You huff and smirk. 

“Trainin’ him well I see,” teasing John as they all file out of the car, he shakes his head at the two of you as Simon scoffs. Gaz openly laughs as Soap’s offended look grows. 

You all enter the house as you direct them to the kitchen after they’ve taken off their boots and hung their jackets. “It’s all in the fridge, heat what you want, and don’t bother fightin’ Johnny if he takes too much. Tell me and I’ll make him sleep in the back near the chickens.” Your voice tells them as you pat your brother on the shoulder. 

Johnny grumbles and kisses the top of your head. “You’re horrible to me,” He jokes but his eyes shimmer with affection. As you leave to get a head start on the rooms, you smile and call out to him.

“That’s my job!” 

Backing out into the hallway, you leave with a deep well of happiness in you. You don’t even realize that the party had only contained three men instead of four until you’re in the linen closet and a shadow suddenly blacks out the light from the bulbs. Jumping slightly, your head swivels as you carry very many sheets and pillowcases in your grip. 

“Oh,” you mumble through cotton, smile growing as the flip in your stomach does, “Ghost! Done eating already?” 

The man is still and silent as he glances from your face to the sheets. Without a word, he halves the load and steals them as your jaw loosens in shock.

“Johnny’s outside callin’ your mum.” Ghost turns and walks out, but waits for you in the hallway to be directed. 

You push down the tightness to your throat and see the man’s feet shift on the hardwood. He looks funny, such a big man carrying bed sheets. His actions make your heart speed up. Brown eyes blink at you like a cat. 

“Well,” you chuckle, “always was one to get out of housework.” Trying a smidge more, you shift past him and turn off the light. “His barracks room dirty?”

“Pigsty.” Simon blandly states, walking slightly behind you. Your pace slows so you can stay beside him. He side-eyes you but says nothing. 

Leaning in slightly, you quip as Ghost tenses, “Can’t say I’m surprised. The man’s used to me bailin’ him out.” Chuckling, you go into the first bedroom and put everything on the bed. 

Simon grabs the pillows and starts to dress them quickly and efficiently. 

“But thank you,” you say, and the Brit pauses to look up at you, something swirling in his murky gaze. Earnestly, you tilt your head with a smile. “Ya can go back and eat more if you want. No need to help—you’re a guest.”

“Not hungry,” is all he answers, and gets back to work. You watch for a moment, perplexed, but not at all about to deny the assistance. A genuine grin twitches your lips. 

“Johnny writes about you, y’know,” your fingers pull at the fabric and you chuckle as Ghost’s incredulous look turns to you—face hidden but confusion is obviously seen. “Says he looks up to you quite a bit; something about Mexico.” 

Your face dips slightly, and Simon’s body stills. Along the pillow, his grip carefully tightens. He can’t find it in himself to walk out of the door and stand outside even if he knows he should. 

“I really can’t imagine what it’s like,” you mutter, shaking your head. Gazing at him, you study his wound muscles and secret flesh like a tapestry—wondering if he hides himself because of the safe anonymity or a sense of numb fear. 

He wouldn’t admit to either, you know. But something about Simon had captured your attention and now you had a face, or just a body really, to put to the written name like a puzzle piece. 

You take a long breath, “But you’ll never know how grateful I am.” 

By the way his chest stops moving and his body goes frozen, you think you hit something inside of him; the minute widening of his eyelids like pedals opening in the light. Simon peers at your expression, his eyes sliding from one point to another. 

Like he can’t really pinpoint what you want. 

Ironic really, because you didn’t want anything. 

“Don’t thank me,” is what he settles on, moving back to the pillow as if your words hadn’t stabbed him. “Johnny knows what he’s doing.”

Your small snort enters the air above the sliding sheets. “There’s no argument there.” A sigh echoes as you finish up, putting your hands on your hips. Across the bed, you two stare as Simon tosses down the pillows. The remainder of the sheets sit on the end of the bed. 

The man’s eyes narrow on you, and he clenches his jaw under his balaclava. 

“The only thing that I do know is that every time my brother comes back he smiles less than he did before.” You side-eye him seriously as you move. “I can only guess what all of it does to the others who don’t have anyone else to go back to.”

Simon’s breath halts in his chest before he finds the means to take down a slow inhale. Brown eyes glare intently, jaw tight, but it’s not the fire that gets to you…it’s the lack thereof.

Ghost doesn’t like this feeling, and your candidness was something he hadn’t expected.

“So,” you drawl, “I’m thanking you for giving him someone to joke around with—a distraction,” a teasing smirk, “no matter how blunt.” 

“I just told you—”

“Well, I don’t bloody care, do I?” Huffing, you smirk and tip your head back before snatching the rest of the sheets. “C’mon, we have three more rooms.” 

Simon watches you leave and tries to fight the rampage in his chest; the merciless slam of his heart to his ribcage. What had you done to him? A hand comes up and rubs into the bridge of his nose, fingers heavy and tight. 

What in the hell was going on? 

Growling under his breath, Ghost stalks out of the room only to see your back disappear into the next. In the hallway, he takes a long inhale and closes his eyes to steady himself. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man grunts. The tension in his shoulders was plainly visible. 

For the remainder of the room, Ghost would send you tight glances as he worked but didn’t utter another peep. You had taken his voice, or what little left of it there was. 

In many ways, you were like your loudmouth brother—your snark and your stubbornness. But you were different too. 

He feels his eyes trail down your form slowly from time to time. Capable; hardy. Simon blinked away and grunted under his breath aggressively. 

When everyone was done with their food and Johnny had come back in from his call to his mother, with a soft smile on his face, you knew it was time for bed. 

“Alright,” you strut into the kitchen with Ghost on your heels—his large arms crossed over his chest as he caught Soap's intense stare. The Lieutenant's brow raises, but Johnny only frowns in conspiracy before he looks over to you and itches at his chin. “Beds are made. You can all thank Simon for that, seein’ as Johnny used our mother as an excuse yet again.”

“And she was very pleased to hear from me!” Your brother points to you.

“She’s our mother,” you deadpan, “It’s her job to be, ya arse-face.” 

The boys all follow you down the halls as you point to the rooms. Gaz shakes your hand again and gives you a tiny hug in thanks while John pats your shoulder and calls a soft, “Goodnight, Sweetheart.” 

Both close their doors and you hear the large sighs through the wood. You have to wonder when they’d had a good bed to sleep on and a good meal. Last was your brother and Ghost, the latter of which kisses your head and hugs you tightly. 

“It’s good to see you, truly. Been missing you, little Hen. Thanks for lettin’ me over all the time when I’m home.” You melt and grip his shirt. 

“You’ll always have a place here, you know that. One call away…Now go to sleep. You smell like a pub.” He lightly chuckles against you. With a bond this tight, the two of you never had to say that you loved each other—it was just known.

Johnny squeezes you one last time before pulling away and slinking into his room, giving an unrecognizable glance to Ghost on his way in before the barrier slips into place with a quiet thunk of wood. The two of you look at and stare for a moment. 

“Lucky you,” your voice is quiet but easy to hear, “you get the room with a view of the field.” 

“Color me surprised,” he mutters, not looking enthusiastic. Against the tone, the look makes your mouth jerk in a laugh, and you cover your lips after a moment. 

Simon’s eyes unconsciously soften. 

You wave a hand, chest light, “Let’s go then, you brute.”

“Brute?” Simon grumbles, “Gettin’ familiar?” 

“Please,” you shake your head and walk to the last door in this section of the house. “You all became familiar the second we met.” 

The man rolls his eyes but has his smirk hidden as you open the door for him. He tilts his head in thanks and strolls inside.

You hum, crossing your arms ahead of you and leaning on the doorframe as he looks around, “Don’t think too much over it… The baseline is, you’ll always have a bed here if you need it.” 

Ghost slips out, “What are you? Bloody boarding house?” The swelling in his chest made his words harsher than intended, but you just smile cheekily at him as eyes lock.

“Hell’s bells, if you want ta’ get me a business card just go ahead and print ‘em off already. I’ve no problem with it.” He stares and you laugh, shrugging. “Makes me feel good.”

Splaying your hands, you back out. 

“I know you probably won’t sleep,” Simon pauses, feeling caught but not showing it. “Libraries down the hall—if you smoke, use the back door. Kitchen is free game.”  

“Why?” He asks and you blink, confused.

“Well, why not?” Simon glares.

“You shouldn’t trust people like that.” A loud laugh echoes and makes the man annoyed with you.

“Simon,” you say, and he finds himself hanging on every word that falls from your lips in the moonlight. “Not everyone is out to get you. If you’re friends of Johnny’s, then you’re friends of mine. That boy can sniff a cheat faster than a hound can find a hare.” Perhaps it was the way his shoulders went back at that, or how his brows loosened, but you finish off with a soft explanation. “You’re safe under this roof.”

You wondered, not for that last time that night, if he’d ever been told that. From how his balaclava moved with a sharp jerk of his jaw, you assumed never. It made your lungs hurt. 

With a few more seconds of quiet gazing you nod and move back. 

“Goodnight, Simon.” You leave him staring at the door as you close it—eyes boring into the grain so harshly they might catch fire. 

Ghost doesn’t know how long he stays like that, but his ears twitch at the echo of running water and soundless footsteps. He should leave, he tells himself; this is dangerous, a voice hisses. It’s not safe here, how could it be? There were no guards—no weapons. If someone were to sneak in there wouldn’t be an alarm. 

A secluded home. Nothing around. 

Then why had your words seeped into him?

“You’re safe under this roof.” Simon closes his eyes harshly.

—

In the morning once everyone’s gone back to the base, you admit you don’t know if you’ll see Simon again; you probably won’t. But you find that you can live with that. The memory of his loosening tension is all you need to feel special in your own right. Those brown eyes that, if but for a moment, had bled so effortlessly feelings of something other than blood and death. 

As you sigh a dreamy chuckle to yourself, you get ready for the day before heading to your Hillman. The silent drive to work joins with the strange mix of weight and levitation to your chest. But halfway into town, it hits you. 

Silent.

There is an obvious lack of squeaking from under the hood of your car as you slide along the countryside. 

The smile doesn’t leave your face for weeks.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[briarscreek]

Mediaeval Prisoner!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley had a proposition

your arrival at the celebratory ball was nothing short of extravagant. everyone was finally excited to put their talents to use again, from elaborate cakes and dresses down to new embroidered napkins. seems like everyone agreed to let the past few years go and enjoy life again.

the announcement of your arrival snapped you out of your thoughts, squaring your shoulders and wearing a polite smile as you entered.

everyone marveled at you. no longer was the bumbling, nervous maid but a strong leader who commanded the room without words. it was king price who spoke first.

“welcome back to the capital, countess.”

“it is my honor, your majesty.”

“please let the celebration begin.”

as you wound yourself through the open ballroom, one person wasn’t here. his presence was always glaring, though absent or not. it just set off your anger even more. the coward couldn’t even be here to face you. typical.

a hand caught your arm as you were lightly conversing with a foreign princess.

“apologies your highness, i must borrow the countess for a quick word”

“of course! let me know when you’re free again countess. i’d love to chat with you over tea sometime.”

“i shall be waiting for your call, your highness.”

as doctor laswell pulled you along, you couldn’t help but look back as king price had approached the princess. he had taken her hand into his for a kiss upon her knuckles, which caused a blush to spread across her cheeks. perhaps you should ask about that later.

the wine you consumed throughout the evening had dulled your sense just a hair but not enough for you to miss the scenery changing.

“wait laswell, where are we going?”

“somewhere you are going to hate me for. but not for long.”

familiar steps up into the one place you hadn’t been in almost a year and a half. the tower. a pit formed in your stomach.

“kate—“

“please just trust me and give him a chance”

“w-wha-“

she had promptly thrown you into the top of the tower without another word. your banging on the door and yelling of her name didn’t sway her either.

“i’ve tried that before”

a voice— no. his voice echoed in the room.

you turned to see him, standing there in his traditional knights uniform. complete with a black chest plate, a red sash with medals adorning it, and a stark white painted helmet.

“you look goregous, love”

“that is countess to you.” you spit out angrily.

his shoulders deflated and admittedly, you hated it. you hated how much your words affected him and how much you cared.

“i suppose this is your doing?”

“mainly laswell’s but i did agree with it, countess.”

“if you have something to say then let’s get this over with”

you leveled him with a neutral glare, mostly uninterested in what he had to say.

“there was a lullaby my mum used to sing to me. it was about a sailor, who had lost his way because he couldn’t see his love anymore. but his lover found a way to lead him back to shore with a light. taught me that sometimes if your lost, someone will always care enough to look for you.”

you remember this lullaby, it became popular when you were just a few years old. especially when you had befriended a child on your street with roughed up knuckles and knees, a voice whispering promises of protection, a blonde haired kid who—

you can’t picture his face anymore, daydreams long since buried when his family’s house burned down with all of them still inside.

“what’s your point lord riley?”

“it was the first song you sang in the stairwell.”

he—he remembered? he was listening back then?

his eyes met yours, holding it with an emotion you had never seen before.

“thought it was my mum calling me to join her with my dad and little brother. but it was you.”

your mouth ran dry. you couldn’t figure out where he was going with this.

“you are the only other person who my mum taught the lyrics to.”

your stomach dropped. no, there’s no way life had turned out like this.

“we have a deeper connection than you remember, countess. i promised i’d always protect you, but i couldn’t protect you from myself. a selfish bastard i was. wanting everything about you. to see your smile again. to hear your laugh.”

he had kneeled before you somewhere during his explanation, but you were in a trance with his words. involuntary tears started to stream down your face while your words mumbles out of your mouth.

“w-wait. we’d both been working in the castle for years, run into each other numerous times. did you know the entire time?”

“no. i always had an unexplainable need to keep you safe but i didn’t know why until you sang. when i came to my senses and wasn’t dying, i knew it was you. and i was going to use the rest of my life to stay by your side. even if i’m nothing more than a doormat for you to wipe the dirt off your shoes; so that you would still need me. because i love you. i always have.”

that last sentence is when you started sobbing. you couldn’t keep it in anymore. the confusion, the relief, the joy, the need to figure this out. you started to pace in front of him trying to gather your thoughts until you heard movement.

and there he was. lord simon riley without his trademark helmet. nothing but the clean skin he showed with blonde hair atop his head, deep brown eyes, and scars littering his skin.

“oh my god si, it really is you.”

“i’m here my love.”

you pulled his head down to your height and kissed him with all the fervor you could muster. with all the years of desperation you had stored within you. one last question lingered in your mind as you pulled back.

“ but wait, what of your fellow knights writing about calling you the count?”

a giggle escaped his lips as a grin bloom on his face.

“all bastards the lot of ‘em. teasing me for all they could. in truth, on our wedding day, i never would have become a count. would never take that lead title away from you, lovie.”

that lifted your spirits tenfold.

“oh, our wedding day? i haven’t the faintest clue i was getting married.” you said as a teasing smile was portrayed on your lips.

he slithered his hands possessively around your body and pulled you flush against his armor.

“would fight in a tournament just for your hand in marriage lovie. no one else gets you but me.”

“and don’t you forget it.”

lord simon riley was many things to you. a friend in childhood, a knight who saved you, a stranger you became familiar with, and now the most exciting change of all.

a husband you would love unconditionally.

and even a future father who would do anything for his children.

<<PREVIOUS

THE END

[lee-laurent]

Falling Fast - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke and Tori finally realize how much they need each other. John starts to question if he can really ever get over Tori

content: fluff, LOTS OF FLUFF, slight angst, mentions of sex but no smut, money issues, oc x ex!john marino

wc: 2.2k

notes: PART 4 of the 'done trying' series! go check out parts 1-3 if you haven't already! this one is heavily tori and luke focused. not a lot of riley in this one. also some john moments. but mostly luke and tori!! my favs!!! ENJOY!!

The front door swung open, revealing an exhausted John. Riley was sitting on Tori's lap on the couch, Scooby Doo playing on the TV, a pacifier in his mouth. Tori didn't even look up at the sound of the door, continuing to stroke her son's hair. She'd finally got him settled, after having a meltdown over his bath. Finally dressed in his pjs and calm, Tori was not about to get up and ruin that. She was slightly aware of what had happened at practice thanks to a text from Luke. She wasn't mad at Luke, just John.

"Dada?" Riley mumbled, his eyes half closed.

"Yeah, bubba. Dada's home," Tori whispered back, pressing a kiss to the back of his head.

John entered the living room, leaving a cushion of space between himself and his ex-girlfriend. She didn't even look in his direction, focusing solely on the show playing on the TV. He sighed, earning Riley's attention.

"Dada has boo-boo!"

"Dada's okay, baby. I promise," John forced a smile.

"Hurt?"

"No, no, I'm okay, Ri. Dada just fell at work."

"O-tay," the toddler nodded, cuddling back into his mom's chest. Tori would never get over how compassionate Riley was. He cared about everyone so much, especially his parents. She looked at John through the corner of her eyes, noting the black eye that their son was concerned about.

"There are frozen peas in the freezer," was all she said, returning to humming along with the theme song.

"Thanks," John huffed, moving to the kitchen.

"You ready for bed, sleepy boy?"

Riley nodded, tucking his head into Tori's neck. She stood up, carrying him down the hall to his room. She hummed a lullaby, rocking him until his eyes finally closed. With a click of a button, white noise filled the room and Tori was finally able to breathe easy. At least for a second.

"Here," she frowned, shoving a blanket and pillow into John's arms.

"What?"

"For the couch. So it's a bit more comfortable."

"Oh. Uh, thanks?"

"Yeah. Whatever. If he sleeps all night tonight, feel free to move back out. And don't make a habit of beating up my boyfriend, that's not the model you should be setting for your son."

"Boyfriend?"

"That's all you got from that?" she rolled her eyes, filling up her water bottle.

"So, he's your boyfriend now?"

"Not officially."

"But in your head he is, huh? You really think he can fill that hole in your heart?"

She could feel the anger bubbling in her chest, but took a deep breath, not wanting to argue with Riley trying to sleep.

"Grow up."

John scoffed, "My parents are coming this weekend. Can Riley stay at mine?"

"Why can't they come here and see him?"

"Because they don't..."

"They don't like me. I get it. Sure. I'll pack his bag in the morning."

"Are you gonna go see Pop and Nanny?" Tori smiled, helping Riley put on his little backpack.

"Pop 'n Nanny!"

"Yes! Pop and Nanny! Can Mama have a hug goodbye?"

"Bye, Mama! 'Uv 'oo!"

"I love you too, baby! Be good for Dada!"

"I'll have him back here Monday morning?" John offered.

"Yeah, that works. See ya."

"Bye."

With John gone, Tori could actually breathe. She started by cleaning up Riley's room and then the living room. Making herself a cup of coffee and turning on her favourite movie, "Dead Poets Society." She'd invited Luke to stay the weekend, so now she was just waiting for his arrival.

"Miss me?" a voice rang through the apartment.

She pulled herself off the sofa, throwing her arms around the taller boy.

"Yeah. A lot. Let me see your lip," she pulled his face down closer to hers, inspecting his busted lip.

"You should see the other guy."

"I did. He looks worse," she shook her head, failing to hide her smirk. "I'm so sorry, babe. He shouldn't have gone after you like that."

"It's fine, V. He's just... getting over you. Slowly."

"Trust me, I know. Come sit, I missed cuddling you."

"What else did you miss about me?" he teased.

"Nothing. Just the cuddles. Although you'll always be second to Riley on the cuddle scale. He's a pro."

"I bet he is. How're you feeling about him being with John this weekend?"

"Way to tear the Band-Aid off, Hughes!"

"Sorry, sorry."

"No, I, uh... I don't know. It's fine, I guess. I know he's safe with John, I just... things with John are really shit right now. And I know he's gonna tell his parents and then things with them will get even more shit. It's such a snowball effect."

"You've got me. I'll support you, baby."

"Thanks, Lu," she nuzzled her nose against his, giving him a quick peck.

"I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"Well... we've been on a few dates now... and I, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to be my girlfriend?"

Tori hesitated, pretending to think over her answer, "Of course I'll be your girlfriend, Luke."

"Phew! You scared me for a second there."

"I just... I'm not sure how kindly John will take to that."

"Doesn't matter right now, love. We've got the whole weekend to ourselves. Where should we start?"

"Movie?"

"Movie it is."

"This is sad," Luke complained, shifting Tori on his lap.

"So? You made me watch Secretariat."

"I didn't make you watch anything."

"Whatever. You know what I meant. Also shut up."

"Never. We both know you secretly love hearing me yap."

"Meh."

"Don't lie, Tori. You could listen to me talk allllll day," he teased.

"Maybe. I'd rather listen to you than Jack... don't tell him I said that."

"HA! I won't... I won't. But seriously, this movie is so sad."

"It's a masterpiece, Lu. You just don't get it like I do."

"Guess I'm not woke like you."

"Shut up. This part is good."

"Why're they standing on the desks?"

"Stop asking questions!"

"I'm just a little lost, baby."

"They're standing in solidarity with their teacher."

"So they got on top of their desks? That'd get you a detention."

Tori leaned up, kissing him swiftly, "Shut up. And you'll get more of that."

"Deal," he smirked, watching the credits roll.

"You're taking up the whole bed," Luke complained, scooching away from the edge.

"No, I'm not."

"You totally are. You're half my size and taking up double the space."

"I'm comfy."

"I'm not."

"Boo fucking hoo."

"Babe," he whined.

"Fine," she moved over, laughing as Luke quickly pulled her in to spoon.

"You smell so good," he mumbled into her hair.

"Thanks, babe."

"You're like a fucking heater. I love it."

"Lu."

"Hm?"

"Shut up and sleep."

"Make me."

She shook her head, flipping over and straddling him. He smirked, his hands planted firmly on her hips.

"Hi."

"Hi, Lu," she leaned down, connecting their lips.

"I could kiss you forever."

"Then stop talking and kiss me."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Luke hated early mornings, in fact he was known for sleeping in. As a mom, Tori couldn't say she was the same. She was up every morning at 7 like clockwork. "Sleeping in" to her was waking up at 8. So as she lay staring at the ceiling, her boyfriend snoring next to her, she felt so useless. She needed to be up doing something. Cleaning. Making breakfast. Going on a walk. Taking a shower. Anything but this. She was accomplishing nothing!

"Luke."

Nothing.

"Luke," she shook him slightly. He just groaned, pulling her closer to him. She laughed, maybe she could sleep for a little bit longer.

Two hours later, she was awake again. This time thinking of ways she could convince Luke to get out of bed. She started by flipping in his arms, tracing her finger over his bare chest. He stirred, letting out a quiet hum. She traced her fingers over his abs, feeling the ridges under her fingertips. God, he was hot. He reached out, grabbing her wrist.

"Don't start something you can't finish," he mumbled, eyes still closed.

"Who said I wanted it to end," she giggled, his grip on her loosened. His eyes opening very slightly.

"I'm listening..."

"Well, I need a shower. And I thought... I don't know, maybe you'd like to join."

"Yeah?" he smirked.

"Mhm."

"Let's go."

"Let me under the water!" Tori complained, Luke's height blocking any of the warm water from hitting her bare body.

"But it's sooooo relaxing."

"Yeah? And I'm fucking freezing! Let me in!"

"Fine," he huffed, standing behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his front. She sighed contently, finally being able to embrace the warmth of the water. He slowly snuck his hand up her body, resting it to cup right under her breast.

"What're you doing, Lukey?"

"Enjoying the shower with my smoking hot girlfriend."

She giggled, a blush covering her face. She turned in his arms, kissing him passionately.

"Wanna finish what you started?" he teased.

"Gladly."

"What shampoo is it?" Luke asked, looking at all the bottles lining the wall.

"We're wasting water at this point. I don't have the money for this," Tori sighed worriedly.

"Are you... are you being sarcastic?"

"No, Luke. I'm not a loaded NHL player. Water costs money. We should just get out."

"Babe, shhh. All is well. I'll pay the extra amount on the water bill. I promise."

"You don't have to do that."

"I don't, you're right. But I want to. Now which bottle is the shampoo? I wanna give you a relaxing shampooing."

"It's the red one," she sighed, allowing Luke to run his hands through her hair. She needed this. The stress melted away as he massaged at her scalp, admiring the small hums that left her mouth.

"You're so pretty, Tori."

"Thanks, Lukey."

"Any time, baby. Now... for the body wash."

She let out a loud laugh, smacking her hand against his chest, "I can manage that part."

"Are you sure? Might be difficult."

"I've got it."

"Would you mind helping me?"

"Luke Hughes, you dog."

"What?! Can't help it when you're this fucking beautiful."

She blushed, "Thanks, Lu."

"That's what I'm here for. To make sure you know that you're the most important girl in the world."

The couple was laying on the couch, Tori running her hand through Luke's hair. He was watching some hockey thing on the TV that she didn't understand, occasionally pointing out details to her. Her phone started buzzing, a sigh leaving her mouth as she swiped to accept the call.

"Hello?"

"Victoria! How've you been, love?" her mother asked excitedly.

"Oh, um... okay. Just watching some TV."

"Where's my Riley?"

"At John's. His parents are in town. They wanted some time with him, I guess."

"Well, awfully rude of them to take him away from his mother. Especially when you were just fixing that sleep schedule of his."

"Mom, it's not-"

"Don't say it's not a big deal, Victoria! It is. They are so rude to you."

"Mom-"

"Let me finish! They never consider how you feel about things. I just... I wish they'd listen to you, dear."

"Mom, all is well. Riley loves spending time with his dad. And I get some much needed time to relax."

"That is nice, isn't it? Some much needed you time. Not you and Riley time."

"It's lovely. I'm just here with-"

"With Ally? Hi, Ally!"

"No, Mom!" Tori laughed, "Luke."

"Oh, Luke! How lovely! How is he?"

"He's good, he's good. Half asleep, but good."

"I can't believe you're finally dating again! Only took you over a year."

Tori rolled her eyes, "Yes, I know, Mom. Why'd you call?"

"Just wanted to check in. Make sure you're not too overwhelmed. See if you needed some money."

"We're actually doing alright, at the moment. I had enough to get Riley some extra snacks this week."

"Oh! Isn't that just wonderful! Remember if you ever need a few extra dollars..."

"I know, Mama. I love you."

"I love you, Vicky! Talk to you soon."

"Bye, Mom."

"Your mom seems nice," Luke commented, his voice muffled by Tori's shirt.

"Hm? Yeah, she's the best."

"I, uh, I didn't realize you were having... money problems."

"It's not something I enjoy talking about. John's child care is my saving grace most times. I just... I want Riley to have everything he needs."

"I-"

"Don't offer me any money, Hughes. I'll dump your ass right here, right now. I'm a strong, independent woman."

"Of course. I know you are, babe."

"Thanks for staying with me this weekend, Lu."

"Whenever you need it."

"How would you feel about formally spending some time with Riley?"

"Really?!" he sprung up, his eyes wide.

"Yeah. Why? Are- are you not ready for that?"

"No! No! I'm so ready! I just... are you ready?"

"I mean, I won't tell him you're my boyfriend. He won't understand that. But... I want him to meet you. Spend some time together. Cause... if you guys don't click... I don't know what I'd do."

"Well, let's set up a playdate!" Luke grinned, reassuringly rubbing her back.

"Okay, yeah. Let's do it."

God, how would John react when he found out Riley was spending time with Luke? Fingers-crossed that he won't overreact. Tori wasn't sure she could deal with anymore dramatic arguments with her ex. Guess she'd have to wait and see.

[authormars]

So you have any headcanons for the obey me cast future kids? I love seeing and hearing about those

While I think I already have made a post about them, I'll gladly talk about them again!!

Lucifer/Diavolo

If you read my blog, you know I ship Dialuci. Diavolo and Lucifer have four kids. One boy and triplet girls. Luci didn't really want the last three, but via magical conception, Dia forced it.

Their oldest is named Demonio Barbatos Morningstar Rex. He looks almost exactly like Diavolo and acts exactly like Lucifer. He's the crowned prince, though he has no desire for the throne.

The oldest triplet is named Alecto Lilith Morningstar Rex. She has black hair and red eyes. Her skin is dark like Dia's and she has his smile, but she has Luci's feathered wings. She's very outgoing and wants the throne.

The middle triplet is named Megaera Azalea Morningstar Rex. She has black hair and pale skin, but other than that she looks like Diavolo (he has the strongest fucking genes, man). She's not outgoing, but she's not quiet either. She's a troublemaker

The youngest triplet is named Tisiphone Metztli Morningstar Rex. She has red eyes and tan skin, but she also looks a whole lot like Diavolo. She's on the quieter side and acts a lot like Satan.

Mammon

If you know my future au, you know that my MC(s) aren't in a poly relationship with all the brothers. I'll get to what each MC (Female, male, and non-binary) get up to later.

Mammon marries a siren demoness from the wrath ring named Aezorin (Zori for short). They have two daughters.

The oldest is Kairi Lorelei Idreius. She is a trans woman. She's very nice and responsible, but also has quite the temper. She has white hair and blue eyes like her father and the dark skin and height of her mother.

The youngest is Rezarta Marigold (Goldie) Idreius. She has gold hair and blue eyes, as well as lighter dark skin like her father. She's very chaotic and has the greed of her father. She's a siren.

Satan

Satan gets with a very nice, small albino bat greed demoness. Her name is Metztli (Metzi) Rex and she's the adoptive sister of Diavolo.

Satan really wanted to prove he could be a good dad to a son, so he adopted a boy named Neo Diavolo (chosen by Metzi) Morningstar.

Neo is a very traumatized little boy who's selectively mute (I think that's what the term is) He's a chameleon demon, so he copied his appearance to look like Satan.

Beelzebub

Beel gets married to a wonderful trans woman gluttony demon named Dahlia. She's a bee demon. Not important, I just like to mention it. They have three children. A daughter and twins.

The oldest is Chiyoko Lilith Toth. She's quiet and responsible. She takes care of her younger siblings. She's the oldest of all the kids. She has her mother's black and yellow hair and her father's pale skin. Her eyes are purple like her dad.

The twins are Yuzuki Belphegor Toth and Akino Lucifer Toth. Yuzuki looks a weird amount like Belphie and Akino looks like Beel. Yuzuki is the older boy and Akino is the younger girl.

Mephistopheles

Might as well include the Diavolo lover. He gets married to a fellow Duke named Dantalion Iram (Dante). If you want to learn more about that guy, go read Jealous Boy (shameless self promotion)

They have four kids. Two girls, two boys. I don't have names for them yet because I don't think about Mephisto, so if you have name suggestions, feel free to give them to me!

Simeon

Simeon ends up with M!MC (who also doesn't have a name...) They have one kid, a girl. She's named Riley. She looks mostly like Simeon with a bit of MC's characteristics.

You might be thinking. But Mars! What about everyone else? Well, everyone else doesn't have kids or I haven't made them yet. But! Here's who everyone ends up with.

Levi: Adra, who's a friend from his nerd clubs. They don't know whether they're dating or just friends. They don't have kids.

Asmo: Solomon and two other partners named Dev and Ari. Dev is an incubus and Ari is a succubus. They don't have kids.

Belphie: Aroace!! He lives with Beel, Dahlia, and their kids.

Barbatos: Aroace!! He takes care of the Dialuci kids when Luci is too exhausted and Dia is being the child he is at heart.

Raphael: Aroace!! He lives in the Celestial Realm

Thirteen: F!MC! MC becomes a reaper and they live happily ever after.

NB!MC: Aroace!! They're chilling in the human realm and learned how to be immortal from Solomon. They still hang out with him a lot.

This post was very long. Sorry. If you want any more information about this, search the tag Future AU on my page :D. Or send an ask!!

[fairyboygenius]

everywhere, everything

simon “ghost” riley x original female character

prev | next

a/n: new title how we feeling! laying groundwork mostly, we’ll get into more concrete plot very soon :) also if you requested something from the build-a-hybrid ask game i’m SORRY the brain worms have taken me over those’ll hopefully start coming out soon :) love love love you guys

no warnings :)

fic under the cut i kiss you on the forehead

As expected, Allie met everyone at breakfast the next morning.

She had woken up early, sleep schedule still fucked up by jet lag and the lack of a routine. Her routines took months to build up, but only a couple days of missing one could ruin it. Allie’s regulation was like a Jenga tower, and outside circumstances that disrupt routines always pulled the blocks that caused it to collapse.

But, whatever. At least there was room for her Keurig in her room. And Lola seemed to like the dog bed Laswell had purchased for her.

Allie showed up to the mess hall about five minutes early, sipping her sweet coffee as she leaned against the wall. Her military-issue cargo pants weren’t quite flattering- tight around her apron stomach and hips, loose everywhere else- but they were, functionally, just pants. Besides, her ass looked pretty great.

Still, as she fidgeted, twirling the ends of her braids, unease sat deep in her weary bones. These men, some of the best the SAS had to offer, were going to be her teammates and comrades. She’d patch up their wounds, they’d keep going out and getting hurt. Such was the cycle of an army medic. They’d be grumpy but hopefully grow to respect and tolerate her. She’d long accepted the community she longed for was not often found among war-hardened soldiers.

That didn’t stop her from hoping.

A loud, broguish Scottish accent bouncing off the high ceilings shook her out of her reverie. She looked up, spotting three men heading towards her from the same direction she had come from. These must be her hall mates, and future patients/pains in her ass.

The voice seemed to belong to the one in the middle, his close-cropped mohawk in desperate need of some styling. His blue eyes sparked, and his gait was hyper in a way that convinced Allie fairly quickly that he had ADHD. He’d be fun, she thinks- good for a drink after a stressful mission, or some sleep deprived conversations in a tent in Somalia.

The man on his left was a bit taller, bronzed skin glinting against a plain white T-shirt. He looked up then, smiling at her, and she managed a tired smile back.

As the group approached, her eyes quickly skated over the third member of the group. Taller than them both, black skull balaclava. Black hoodie and jeans. Something sparked in her chest seeing the way his thighs strained against jean fabric, his broad shoulders and big, gloved hands.

Down, girl.

“Hey, you’re our new medic?” The man who had smiled at her was standing right in front of her now. “I’m Kyle. Kyle Garrick, but they call me Gaz.” He gestured to his friends. “Mohawk is Soap, ski mask is Ghost.”

“Gaz, Soap, Ghost.” Allie nodded, pointing at each of them to associate the names with their faces. “I’m sure you’ve already been briefed on me, but I’m Allie. And this-“ Lola sat, as though she knew she was being introduced- “is Lola. She’s my service dog.”

Gaz nodded. “You waiting on breakfast?”

Allie let out a breathy laugh. “Woke up way too early. Fuckin’ jet lag.”

“Ah, tha’s righ’, yer American.” Mohawk-Soap- grinned. “Bit o’ a long trek for ye, then.”

“All this way for little ol’ us,” Gaz said, his voice teasing. “C’mon, the doors should be open. We’ll see what they have. Maybe we can get ya a full English.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I hate baked beans. The texture…” Allie shuddered. “Also, I don’t know what’s in blood sausage, and I’m frankly really scared to ask.”

“Smart lass.” Soap maneuvered to the front of the group, leading them through the line. Because of the jostling, Allie ended up in the back, just in front of Ghost. She turned back, giving him a friendly smile- it seemed like something she should do- and he just nodded back at her.

Not too disappointing, she hadn’t been expecting much more from ski mask guy. Not like he could smile back. But she had at least hoped to catch a glimpse of his eyes crinkling or some other indication.

Christ, she looked good.

Her hair wasn’t just red, as Simon had seen it in that photo- it was a plethora of colors. Copper, scarlet, rust, burgundy. Streaks of blonde framed her face, escaping from those goddamned braids. They caressed her freckled skin- oh, yeah. She had freckles. A line over her nose, dark brown pinpricks like stars against tan skin. Big brown eyes avoided eye contact, lashes framing them delicately. Teeth sunk into her plush bottom lip, examining the food options in the line. Full English, as Gaz had predicted. No blood sausage, but baked beans slopped on red trays, the liquid overflowing and coating the eggs in bean sauce.

Allie politely refused the beans and just got eggs and toast, and the hair on the back of Simon’s neck stood up. She had the slightest Southern accent. It wasn’t blatant, but there was something about the way she drew out her vowels that reminded him of sweet iced tea and wraparound porches. (He didn’t know much about the South.)

She was wearing a black long sleeve, almost skin tight, and the military-issued cargo pants that had no business looking that good on her. It was easy to let his eyes trail over the sway of her hips, the muscles in her thighs flexing under soft flesh, her plush ass. He almost forgot to tell the worker serving food what he wanted.

“Tha’ tea o’ coffee, lass?” he could hear Soap asking from all the way across the mess hall as he walked over and sat down across from her.

Allie took a sip from her travel mug. “Coffee. Milk and two sugars. I’ve never been much of a tea person. It’s just leaf water.”

“And coffee is just bean water.” The words come out of Simon’s mouth before he can stop them. Allie raised an eyebrow at him, a slight smirk on her features.

“Not a fan of bean water, I take it?”

“He’s a proper Brit,” Gaz said. “Only drinks coffee when he’s sleep deprived and we’re out of English Breakfast. What you got against tea?”

Allie shrugged, leaning down to scratch Lola’s head absentmindedly. “Oh, I like it. I just like coffee better, I guess.”

“We all ‘ave our preferences, right, Lt.?” Soap tried to goad him, but Simon just grunted and went back to his breakfast.

“Even if they’re wrong,” he grumbled, and Allie shot him a little smile, eyes glimmering with mirth. She playfully rolled her eyes, sipping from her coffee.

Breakfast was only 45 minutes, but they didn’t have anything scheduled until training at 0930- that’s when they found out Allie had been given a laminated schedule by Laswell last night- so they lingered. Simon learned that Allie’s laugh- or at least the version of it she did around others- sounded like wind chimes, light and musical. His deadened heart fluttered as she caught his eye. She looked away quickly, but that didn’t stop the blush from blooming on his cheeks. Thank fuck they were hidden.

Somehow, they all ended up moving as a unit. Allie was sandwiched between Soap and Gaz, looking a bit caught off guard. She had ended up roped into an argument about… something. Simon wasn’t listening to the specifics. He was more so focused on staring at the way Soap placed a hand on her waist, which Allie quickly moved away. Didn’t make a fuss of it or anything. It was fascinating, really, how she didn’t say anything or act like anything was wrong, yet Johnny still looked a bit like a wounded puppy at the rejection.

“This is where I leave you.” Allie stopped in front of the gym door, extracting herself from the group. “I gotta to the medbay to help out for a bit- apparently, there’s a big group coming back from an intense mission. It was so nice to meet y’all, and I’ll see you at lunch. C’mon, Lola.” She tugged at her service dog’s leash.

Simon had to plant his feet to the ground to stop himself from following.

[redvanillabee]

spoilers for cabnw under cut

so many deliberate callbacks to catws and cacw. the surgery scene? ending hospital scene? arriving at the raft on a helo in a dark suit with arm in a sling???

what in the catws on va voi was going on with that scene in the church with sidewinder

that SUV. them trying to get sam in the suv. the catws parallels are kind of out of control. like i know sam's origin story the legacy of cap etc etc. but wow.

the suspense of the plot is done so well, it reminds me of catws/late aos s1, when everyone was worried about who is secretly hydra, when nick fury was saying trust no one. they left lttleclues throughout and made you nervous. the random people in the background of joaquin's selfie and the throwaway lne of isaiah saying his phone acting up, only for that to turn out to be plot significant. and then once they found out that it's the screen flashing that activates the brainwash, you start panicking. They keep showing joaquin in front of screens. would he be turned? Denphy has his phone out. would he be turned? It just keeps you on edge in such a good way.

sending an angry red monster president to president eh. no wonder this took marvel ages to reshoot and cut and edit things.

many symbolism. like just so much symbolism. i like symbolism.

i love sam's ending speech at joaquin's bedside. it's like such a good double-meaning speech both about being a black icon and inheriting the legacy of cap. i love it when there's depth.

it has this very classic marvel, catfa/catws/aou/aos s1 energy. with a dose of the realism of being a non-enhanced human in black widow 2021/fatws. it's such a good mix. i miss classic marvel.

i kind of subconsciously start looking at people around sam and fitting them into roles of people around steve. Dunphy reminds me of Dugan. Taylor reminds me of Peggy. All of that. I know I shouldn't, but they give that energy and I love them.

Speaking of Taylor. I love Agent Taylor.

I know Harrison Ford kind of jokes about being in the mcu but damn he does elevate this movie.

What in the pearl harbour was going on with that celestial island scene. like what is that trying to say. just what is going on i cannot parse the political choices of that scene.

stop shooting sam's friends out of the sky. first riley. then rhodey. now joaquin. stop it. have a thought for sam's poor heart.

red hulk ripping off the flagpole with the stars and stripes on top of the white house to fight the military...pete hegseth is that you

almost cried when isaiah was released. stop hurting him. he's a great guy. he's a great actor but damn it's starting to feel a little like black torture porn

what in the aos s1 clairvoyant/aos s7 chronicom lady is sterns' deal

captain counsellor I see you. I do love that. I think I saw an interview with Mackie about how Sam is going to be different from Steve in that Sam's not enhanced, and Sam comes from being a counsellor. I think it's cute that this Cap will try to talk to you but if it doesn't work he'll punch you. It's a nice layer of character design.

can i just say how happy i am that we are no longer dealing with like intergalactic and multiversal threats for once. don't get me wrong, i love monica/carol/kamala. i love captain carter. but like, those threats are so fantastical and so far beyond what marvel was. having a nice, simple, earth-based threat to deal is such a nice change of pace.

stop teasing the multiverse unless that means i see hayley again

i haven't been this on the edge of my seat about a marvel movie in a very long time. mostly because i was sure they'd end up killing half the characters here. but. point stands.

i like this movie. for me it measures up to the steve cap trilogy, and i love the steve cap trilogy and for me catws is the peak of the mcu.

i know there is a certain political language woven through the film that is not everyone's cup of tea. Sam trying to argue for Isaiah by saying he's a patriot comes to mind. For me it's undeniable that catws and cabnw are products of two very different political realities. kind of just by rights of the world we live in, cabnw will never be the techno-grunge anti-establishment movie that catws was. I can separate that from my enjoyment of the movie, and on its own cabnw is not bad on many levels. But I understand why some would feel that, with catws setting the precedent, that cabnw is a bitof a disappointment.

(I do wonder if, with Sam inhering the legacy of Cap...would it have been a wise choice to make Sam Wilson the anti-establishment figure that Steve was in catws? I don't think so. Marvel making a 'black cap' was enough to lure out all the bigots. Sam being cap and being like Steve in catws would have been received /very/ differently.)

I think despite the many catws references, it's much better to compare cabnw to catfa than to catws. this is sam's origin story as cap, after all. just like how catfa was for steve.

You can tell they cut a crap ton of Ms Isreal. in the poster she was suited up. in the movie she was suited up under her blazer, but we never saw her in action at all. like marvel certainly listened and cut her as much as possible without having to reshoot the whole movie.

Overall: I can see how this movie may not sit well with some people politically, but I can separate that from my enjoyment of the film. And overall, it's quite good. A solid cap movie. Reminds me of early marvel. Would rank in the general region of catws. 8.5/10

[multifandomslxt]

I was about to DM you but then I saw that anon and THOUGHT fuck them. I HOPE they see this and eat shit. I want to say this because I want to get it off my chest. As someone who has been in non poc and non-black spaces before. I can say that your blog is one of my safe spaces for me. It's so refreshing to be in a space that isn't dominated by white people.

I used to read a LOT of Fall Put Boy fanfics when I was in middle school and felt sad when I would see what the MC looked like. Because she was either a blonde, brunette, or a red head that had pale skin and blue eyes. Then it got to a point where it was everything that I read, so I just "ignored" it or would pretend that this was me, and honestly looking back on it, I'm ashamed of it. Especially as a writer myself. It is SAD that I had to pretend as a BLACK WOMAN that I was this white girl who was named Riley or Clare to fantasize about a biracial white passing man.

Then, when I got into KPOP, I found AMBW fanfics, and it was nice, but I felt weird about reading it because it wasn't seen as the normal fanfics I was consuming for the past 3 years. Then I realized that I have black OCs from childhood, and I've imagined myself in stories before. Why am I uncomfortable now? Do I not love being black? I went down a whole spiral and was like well why don't I not describe race in my writing? It'll be easier for me and other readers. That way, it can be for everyone. After I found this on book that I LOVED on wattpad, I realized that I wanted to write this too. I want to write about being a black woman falling in love with an idol and them loving me back.

It wasn't until I was 18 and joined into an all white space that I realized I would and could never belong. No matter what, Fandom, no matter what I wrote or who I wrote for, I wouldn't have anything in common with them. Even when I showed them my AMBW fanfics, they felt like it was a good idea, but they felt uncomfortable because they couldn't center themselves in it.

The moral of the story is that it is HARD for black people and other poc to center themselves in stories that are not for them. The world makes it hard for them to. I want to write more fanfics about kpop idols falling in love with black woman. Or just living life and falling in love. I want to write anime fanfics with a black OC getting into MESS. Every time I get on this app and I see (idol) x blk reader (mostly Johnny) I get so happy or when I I see head canons of (kpop group) washing their black s/o hair it make me happy. It inspires me as a writer.

FUCK YOU ANON you're scary af and @multifandomslxt thank you for working so hard to create fanfics for us. I hope you keep doing it. I hope I didn't offend you by talking about my past issues.

Firstly, no you did not offend me sweetheart 🫶🏿

I’m happy that my fics and works provide people with comfort and happiness because that is exactly what I made them for.

I grew up on wattpad. Reading a lot of 1D and 5SOS fan fictions with white FMC all the time.

Every time they mentioned her long straight hair I always said that she was just wearing a 360 lace buss down😂

I didn’t realize until years after how fuxked up it was for me to only have access to books with little to representation of poc especially black women.

The romances that had black women were always rooted in trauma.

No soft loving

No calmness.

just pure chaos

And it made me realize that a lot of people think that black women cannot have love fictionally or realistically w/o it being toxic and chaotic.

I also realized how a lot of people and myself (unfortunately) thought that darker skinned, fat/chubby black women and other poc would always be the last choice for love or as a romantic interest.

I’m glad I grew up and understood that I was beautiful and fucking amazing but with that also came the reality that not everyone felt that way.

Unfortunately there were women out there who hated their body, skin, personality etc. Everything that made them unique.

And so I decided that no matter where I existed I would always make sure to highlight and uplift all my pretty bitches😂🫶🏿

Especially when they think they aren’t.

So yes, @multifandomslxt is a blog created exactly for that purpose and it’s here to fucking stay💕

[sambambucky]

not going to ask about every single one bc i definitely have self control... okay so would you mind terribly if i asked about holiday fic(s), too many white lies (and white lines), and loyalties drafting? or you fav of these or tbh anything you're working on you wanna talk about lol

omg egg yea i mind soo much how dare you!! (tyyyy<3<3) hehehe soo these are the most timely ones you could have chosen.. i could talk about them all until i was blue in the fingers but i promise not to do that (under the cut)

holiday fic(s) is only on this list because earlier this week i got so randomly excited for upcoming holiday season.. and its mostly stuff for prompt lists in 2022 and 2019 yikes yikes yikes. the only thing in there thats passable at this point is based on "What do you mean ‘cook for the guests’?" where sam gets a much-deserved, super soft day off to enjoy the place he and bucky just moved into.

“What’s up, Buchanan,” Sam greets as soon as he picks up, grinning into the crisp air like an idiot. “Hey,” Bucky snorts, “you read for today?” “Hell yeah I am, it’s gonna be great.” “Good,” Bucky answers back before taking an audible breath. “Good, I’m glad to hear it.” It sounds like he’s a little unsure about Sam’s ability to enjoy some time for himself. Which, fair. But this first hour or so has been great, and Sam will prove he can do a bit of self-care., if only just to win the argument for good. “I got you one of those scones you like,” he says, knowing it’ll get a reaction. “God, I love you,” Bucky replies.

too many white lies (and white lines) HA HAHAHA this is uh- literally just me playing with dolls again.. this time to the tune of bodies bodies bodies (2022). originally, the title of the doc was 'is2g im not writing this', then it made it to 8k somehow.

steve tony rhodey clint natasha are having a party and sam shows up out of the blue with his new boo quiet-and-clad-in-all-black bucky. fragile friendships are put to the ultimate test when the power goes out and a body is found. 😱

loyalties drafting is what happens after establishing shot. (the series is called loyalty lasting. im so funny.)

awsdfghjkl; ive def talked about this before, but this time!! the plan is to flush it out for nanowrimo.

the general idea is tws and cacw but with sam as cap, riley as the winter soldier, natasha the fuckboy playing 4 thousand roles, and bucky as just, like, the guy sam's dating when all the shit goes down, i guess.

They’re chained and shackled, but Bucky has enough room to extend his leg and press the sides of their boots together. Sam looks over at him, and his expression softens. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I never meant to get you wrapped up in and of this.” “It’s fine,” Bucky says, finding it closer to the truth that he expected. “No,” Sam grinds out. “It’s seriously not. I – ” He’s interrupted by a commotion in the front seat. The divider comes down to reveal a blonde woman with a square jaw and a wicked smile. “Sorry,” she says. “Am I interrupting your first fight?” “Sharon,” Natasha says, her expression a different kind of unreadable than Bucky's become used to. “Why are you here?” “It’s kind of a long story,” Sharon answers, her smile gone sharp. “What, are you not happy to see me? I can hand you over back to Shield if you prefer.”

✨talkin about the wips✨

[wondereads]

Weekly Reading Update (07/24/23)

Reviews and thoughts under the cut

The Poppy War by R. F. Kuang (10/10)

This book is pretty much perfect. The plot is engaging, the characters are all amazing, the writing style hits hard, and there’s really good social commentary that touches on, honestly, almost every issue out there. Rin has got to be one of my favorite protagonists of all time; she’s the underdog, she’s easy to root for, and our desire for her to succeed almost makes us overlook her glaring flaws. Kuang establishes Rin’s overwhelming need to succeed, to win, to be the last one standing from the very beginning, and it leads to her slow but steady downfall as she must decide how far she is willing to go for the sake of her nation. Rin’s time in Sinegard is an interesting and unique twist on the fantasy school setting, and the tone switch between the time at Sinegard and the time at war is done masterfully. Even the war takes an incredibly dark turn, goes farther than the reader would ever expect, as Kuang draws from real history to write horrors that should’ve been beyond anyone’s imagination. Perhaps the most technically amazing part of this book is that even when she has fallen so far, part of us agrees with Rin; which is the danger of it all, isn’t it?

Neverseen by Shannon Messenger (8/10)

I have now officially reread all of the KotLC books I got through previously. Going into Lodestar will be uncharted territory for me, and wow am I glad I refreshed my memory. I forgot a lot of stuff, so it was almost like I was reading it for the first time. Like I predicted, this was a slower one, mostly filled with finding out more about the Black Swan and the Council, and there was a lot of Sophie and her friends wanting to do things that were "too dangerous." I won't lie, it dragged a bit, but it really picked up once Sophie started attending Exilium. I think the twins are a much-needed addition to the main cast to help shake things up and keep the dynamic from getting too worn out. Also, Calla is a particularly strong side character. While I could predict the broad strokes of the story, the actual method of getting there took me by surprise, and there's a huge twist at the end that totally restructures how the rest of the series is going to look. I'm very excited to start Lodestar!

Half Upon a Time by James Riley (8/10)

I loved this series as a kid, and rereading it was like returning home. It's actually so funny that this book has tons of tropes I love today just in a middle grade format. There's a pretty good level of intricacy to the plot, and the fairy tale elements are tons of fun. There are plenty of familiar characters that each have a unique twist to their story, often intertwining their stories with each other. For example, the Huntsman from Snow White is also the woodcutter/hunter from Little Red Riding Hood. This book also has a fun twist by being from the perspective of the character who guides someone who has fallen into another world. In most other books, May would be the main character, so having Jack tell the story subverts some expectations. The way Jack, May, and Philip interact is a little typical for the genre and time period, though I appreciate that it is heavily implied that Philip has no romantic interest in May. Finally, Jack's mysterious involvement with the Eye and his sword is one of my favorite parts of the book, and it's a pretty fresh concept.

The Serpent and the Wings of Night by Carissa Broadbent (CR, 20%)

I've barely progressed on this one, but I did make it to the end of the first trial, and I like how it was executed. Despite being a physically-based trial, there's a twist that allows Oraya to succeed through her wits, which makes infinitely more sense when she's up against vampires and demons. It also helps that Raihn is obviously gunning for an alliance with her, so he's more inclined to help her out. About the alliance, why Raihn specifically wants to team with Oraya is a pretty good one and honestly a more logical decision than I expected. However, Oraya turning him down made no sense to me. She's gonna have to team up with someone eventually, and Raihn seems like the lesser evil by far.

Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor (CR, 3%)

I've only just barely started this book, but I'm excited! I'm reading it with some friends, and the beginning seems quite interesting. I'll have some more in-depth thoughts next week once I've progressed more.

[mxshpitmom]

Part 1 of my new Simon “Ghost” Riley fanfic called Little Ghost. ~ In this fic Tessa and Simon had a small fling four years ago and as a result Tessa had gotten pregnant. She never told Simon because she felt like he cared more about the military than her anyway so she kept their daughter a secret. But now Alessia is curious to who her daddy could be and asking questions.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

Tessa sighed and nodded her head. "I'll be perfectly fine Mia." She said with a faint smile, pulling her older sister in for a hug. Both sisters stood hugging each for a good solid five minuets before they pulled apart. "I promise I'll call you on Skype once I get us settled in my apartment.

"Okay." Mia smiled at her then glanced down at Alessia, Devin's daughter. "Come here little monster!" Alessia reached her small arms up to her aunt and jumped into her chest. "I'm gonna miss you."

"I'm miss you too." Alessia whispered against her aunts hair. She sniffled loudly then wiped her eyes. "Alright, you should probably get going if you don't want to hit traffic." Tessa smiled and held her arms out to Alessia. The little girl giggled and threw herself in to Tessa’s arms. Tessa stood with Alessia on the sidewalk as Mia climbed back into her small silver Honda.

Mia still didn't feel right about leaving her baby sister and her four year old niece behind, but she knew that had to let go at some point. It was time that Tessa moved on with her life and found some form of independence. MIA heaved a deep sigh as she strapped on her seatbelt then waved goodbye as she threw her car in drive and drove away before she changed her mind and packed up all of their stuff into her car again.

Tessa stayed put until her sisters car vanished around the corner. She sighed and pushed her hand through her blonde hair. "You ready Alessia?" She asked the bubbly little girl. Alessia nodded her head swiftly.

Tessa sat her down gently on the sidewalk and handed her some lightweight bags to carry. Her eyes flicked up to the apartment building, a slow smile spread across her face. "Okay. You can do this... We can do this." She whispered mostly to herself. With that she picked up the last of her boxes and made her way up to their second floor apartment with Alessia close on her heels.

The outside of the building looked old and run down. A couple windows on the ground floor were boarded up and broken, the walls were covered in graffiti, and trash was littered around the surrounding area. To the average person it looked like a place where homeless people might crash or druggies might hide their stash or hang out at to get high, but really it was actually very nice on the inside. The apartment that Tessa was renting for them had white walls, large floor to ceiling windows at the rear, and brand new dark cherry hardwood floors. Their new home was rather spacious and had a large master bed and bath, along with a fully furnished living room and kitchen. The only furniture she needed was for the bedroom. Yes it was a one room apartment but it was big enough for the both of them and Alessia didn't mind sharing a room with her mom.

As soon as Tessa had opened the front door Alessia took off exploring her new home. There were boxes stacked upon boxes spread all over the apartment. To her it was like a shiny new castle to call her own.

She ran back to the bedroom to look through the boxes for her dress up clothes. She found them instantly and put on a pink leotard and black tutu, paired with a black headband and flats.

From the doorway Devin watched Riley dance around the room like a ballerina. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she watched her dance. It still amazed her that Alessia was her daughter. She was so much like Tessa in many, many ways. She had the same jawline, skin tone, and long wavy natural brown locks that Tessa had been born with. Of course Riley had features that belonged to her father, but in Devin's mind she was her mini me.

"Mommy!"

"Yes baby?" She smiled down at Riley and let her drag her out to the middle of the floor.

"Dance with me!" She cried and twirled in a small circle.

This made Tessa’s smile deepen. She loved dancing with Alessia, she always made up the most cutest dance routines she had ever seen. She picked up Alessia and spun her in circles before grabbing her old iPod and hooked it up to her laptop. The first song she put on was You Give Love A Bad Name by Bon Jovi.

"I love this song!" Alessia tossed her arms into the air then began jumping on the mattress that laid in the back corner of the room. By the second chorus both Alessia and her mother were jumping around and screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs.

"Shot through the heart and you're to blame. You give love a bad name." Tessa handed Alessia a hairbrush to use as a microphone.

"Bad name!" Alessia shouted back to her mom. She laughed wildly as her mom pretended to play the guitar and head-bang.

"I play my part and you play your game

You give love a bad name!"

"Bad name!"

"You give love, oh!" Tessa raised her arm above her head, shaking her hair all around. They both collapsed on the mattress out of breath and sweaty.

"That was fun!" Alessia exclaimed pushing her hair out of her face.

"Yeah?" Tessa stood up and lowered the music."How about we do that every night before dinner.

Sound like a plan?"

Alessia jumped up and down excitedly. "Every

night!"

Tessa let out a soft laugh. "Alright. Now what do you want for dinner?"

Alessia’s brow creased together while she thought.

"Hhmm... MAC N CHEESE!!"

"Mac and cheese it is." She said and walked off to the kitchen.

While she cooked Alessia read her the directions as best as she could and tested each piece of food as it was finished. Once the food was ready Tessa drained the pasta and mixed the cheese powder in with the pasta. She handed Alessia some plates and plastic forks to set at the table.

"All set mommy." The little girl smiled up at her mother triumphantly.

"Good job sweetie. I'm so proud of you." She said as she helped her up into the chair.

After a few moments of silence Alessia sat her fork down and pushed her plate away from her. Tessa noticed this instantly and turned her attention to her child. She cocked her head to the side and asked what was wrong. Alessia stayed silent for a minute then said, "When do I get to meet daddy?"

A deep pain filled Tessa’s chest as she thought about this. It felt like someone was twisting a double edged knife in between her ribs. Her brow knitted together. Naturally she had been waiting for Alessia to ask that question, but she didn't think that she would ask her so soon. Hell they hadn't even gotten more than five boxes unpacked. Her eyes flicked up to meet Riley's crystal clear blue eyes, her once bright face fell into a look of pain and sadness. She let out the breath that she had been holding. Her head dropped into her hands.

She honestly didn't know what to say at this point.

After a while she picked up her head and placed her hand on Alessia’s arm. "Soon baby. I promise.” Thankfully Alessia didn't ask anymore questions for the night and went to bed shortly after Tessa had cleaned up the dishes.

After Tessa had went back to read her a bedtime story and put her to bed for a second time she grabbed her laptop and set it up out in the living room. She grabbed her headphones and plugged them in so that she wouldn't wake up Alessia. While she waited for her sister to answer her Skype call she grabbed a blanket out of one of the boxes marked 'living room'.

"Hey." Mia smiled brightly at Tessa. "How is it so far?"

Tessa sighed and nodded her head slowly. "It's uhm... going. How was the drive back home?"

Mia’s smile dropped for a second, "What happened?" She asked completely ignoring her sisters question. It was too easy for her to tell when things weren’t good with Tessa, the woman practically an open book.

"Well, things were fine until she asked about Simon.”

Mia’s jaw dropped slightly at this.

"Tessa-"

Tessa held up her hand to cut her off. "I didn't discuss it with her I just told her that she would get to meet him soon."

"Do you even know where to find him? Does he have a girlfriend? If he does you can't just walk up to him and tell him that he has a kid with you. Or how do you know that he won't be like some asshole that denies the fact that Alessia is his?"

Leave it to Mia to be straightforward about things. She never was one to sugar coat anything or to truly mince words. Sometimes that annoyed Tessa and other times -like now- it helped her to focus and get things done. She sighed and rubbed her temples.

"Okay. Two things- first, one question at a time. And second, you need to learn to breathe in between monologues."

Mia rolled her eyes playfully and casually flipped off her sister. "Okay, fine. First question; Do you know where to find him?"

"No not really. I kind of figured that I could just show up at the visitor’s center and ask for him. Either that or look up his mom and see if she knew how to get in touch with him." She said with a shrug.

“Are you fucking dumb?!” Abby cries loudly, causing Devin to yank her earbuds out of her ears. "Sorry." She muttered as she clicked on a new internet window. “You’re not gonna go through his mom or anyone else, we’ll just take a trip to post and see what that gets us.”

After a few minuets of searching she finally pulled up the visitor center’s page. “It says that civilians are allowed on post as long as they are accompanied by or met with a service member…” she let her words trail off as she scanned over the information, “okay so you and me have to present our drivers licenses and we have to tell the gate gained that we’re there to meet with him and or his superior officer.” Mia clicked back over to the Skype page, “which I’m assuming that you don’t know who that is.”

“No I don’t, I lost track of Simon after… well you know.”

Mia’s face scrunched up with a look of disgust. She knew exactly what Tessa had been referring to. “Well fuck." She groaned and leaned back in her chair. “I could try to do some more internet sleuthing and see if I can find his mom on social media, maybe she has some stuff posted about him.”

“You can try, but I doubt it, Si was always super private and his mom respected that.” Tessa felt like her heart weighed a ton and suddenly dropped to the pit of her stomach. A moment of silence fell over the two sisters, neither one of them could think of a way to even confirm that Simon was in fact still stationed in town.

"Damn." Was all that Tessa could manage once the silence had reached an uncomfortable level. On the screen Mia nodded her head. About a million different scenarios had played through Tessa’s mind for the last four years and now that the time had come she was completely at a loss for what to do next. If the time ever came what would Tessa even say to Simon? He clearly moved on from her without a problem. He never bothered to phone her back after she had left. And honestly if it wasn’t for her daughter she probably never would’ve gave Simon another thought. She sighed and fell back into the couch.

"What are you going to do?" Mia asked in a soft tone, her hands resting under her chin.

"I have no idea.. but you’re right the best option we have is to try the visitor’s center and hope like hell that he’ll come down there to see us.

Mia smiled weakly. “Or at the very least try to see what two whack jobs are trying to claim that they have his kid with them!” This brought a genuine smile to Tessa’s face. She knew that Simon would probably show up for that reason, just so he could stand there and say that she was crazy. “Well try and get some sleep, okay? We'll meet up tomorrow to talk about this some more."

Tessa shook her head, "Can't. I have to look for a new job." She waved her hand around behind her. “Kind of have a new apartment to rent.”

"Okay well I'll watch Alessia while you job hunt then we can talk afterwards.” She paused to let out a soft chuckle. “And then we can stalk your baby daddy.”

"Works for me. See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight Tess."

Both girls hung up at the same time and headed off to bed for the night. Tessa still felt like she had a knot the size of Texas in her stomach as she slowly made her way back to her bedroom. When she laid down next to Alessia she gave her a soft kiss on her forehead, covered her back up with the blanket and told her that she loved her.

The next morning Tessa was woken by light forcing its way through the curtains and onto her face. She groaned and yanked the blanket back over her face. In the distance she heard a light giggle bounce off the walls and fill her ears. Soon the weight of Alessia was forced down onto Tessa’s stomach. "Oof!" Alessia continued to bounce up and down on her mother until she sat up. "Good morning to you too Alessia." She laughed and pushed herself up from the warmth of the blankets.

"Come on mommy! Breakfast!"

"Okay okay, I'm coming." Quickly she pulled on an old Metallica tshirt and followed Alessia to the kitchen. "Holy shit!" She jumped back a few feet, her legs bumped into Alessia as her hand flew to her chest. Her heart raced as she took in the sight of her sister standing in the middle of her kitchen.

Mia smiled smugly. "Morning.

"How did you get in here?!"

"You may want to teach your daughter to ask who's at the door before buzzing people inside."

"Got it." She gave a weak thumbs up and began preparing Alessia some breakfast. "What are you doing here so early anyway?" Mia just rolled her eyes and slid a small notebook across the counter to Mia. She took the notebook in her hands and skimmed over her sisters notes. "You can't be serious."

"Dead serious.” Mia replied in a emotionless tone. “Now go get dressed."

"I told you I have to go look-"

"For a job." Mia finished. An air of annoyance coated her voice. "I know. But this might be the best time to meet with him and get this sorted out."

Tessa shook her head, causing her long blonde hair to fall in her face. No way would she be able to confront Simon right after just moving to the same town that he was stationed in. She at least needed some more time to get herself and Alessia settled first. She sighed heavily and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that maybe this was all dream and that she would wake up soon. But of course it wasn’t a dream and she was actually in the process of reconnecting her daughter with her father.

"Come on Tess!" Mia pleaded with her sister. "If my internet sleuthing skills are still good, and hopefully my information is, then he’s going to be leaving soon and it’ll only make you spin out more if you have to wait.” Her eyes were wide with excitement and hope. “Now is the perfect time!"

For a good five minuets they stood in silence while Alessia ate her breakfast in the living room. A few different scenarios played through her mind, only a couple of them had a good outcome. Granted even though she was starting to feel uncomfortable facing Simon yet, she knew that she had to put aside her own personal emotions to do what was best for her child.

"You know what," she began slowly, “give me an hour to get myself and Alessia ready, and think this over."

Mia nodded her head in agreement, “Fine with me."

Tessa sighed and went to go try and coax Alessia away from the television. This was really happening wasn't it? She was really about to take her child to meet her father for the very first time. Deep inside she felt scared and nervous, not for herself but more for Alessia. Tessa hadn't seen Simon since she was in her early twenties and if memory served correctly Simon was passionate about his job and very much the suffer in silence type of guy. Which she didn’t fully blame him for isolating himself a lot given the way he had been abused by his father. But still the Simon she had known back then wasn’t the type to be a father. He was a little too closed off and couldn’t ever open up to her and try to make their relationship work.

At one point he had been told six months prior to leaving that he was going to be deployed for a year and he never bothered to tell her until an hour or two before he had to leave. He had claimed that he had not wanted to see her cry about him leaving but she never bought that, it always felt like he just didn’t tell her because he couldn’t work up the courage to break up with her yet so he did that to make her do it instead. That had actually been the last time that she had seen Simon in person. It had also been the night that she and him had gotten completely trashed and had sex. He had also been really immature back then and honestly Tessa wasn't too sure if he had completely changed at all over these last four years. That was part of what scared her about doing this. If he hasn't matured over the years or gotten over his communication issues or really any of it then he probably wouldn't be ready to handle taking on just the knowledge of him having a child.

"Hey, you okay?" Mia asked from the doorway.

Tessa nodded her head and continued to look for an acceptable outfit. This whole situation was stressing her out so bad that it was now affecting little everyday choices like finding an outfit. Mia scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“What's bothering you?"

"I'm just really freaked out. Like what if he hasn't changed? What if he still parties like he did when I had been with him and still doesn't own up to his problems, or what if-”

"Relax okay? It's been four years. He's probably changed more than you think.”

"I sure as hell hope you're right." She took a deep breath and tugged on a Slipknot tour shirt. "Riley are you ready love?” The brown haired little girl smiled brightly up at her mom, arms stretched out wide for her to pick her up.

Mia nodded her head and went to grab her car keys off the entryway table. Tessa picked up Alessia, grabbed her shoes and a beanie then followed her sister out to the car.

[unkn0wnsubstanc3]

He's lost Control!

“I am a believer in Joy Division. Fuckin’ hallelujah!”

Fuckin’ hallelujah indeed. That was my immediate reaction after seeing the 2007 biopic Control that invites us into the world of Ian Curtis and Joy Division. The film, directed by Anton Corbijn, who worked as a photographer with the legendary post-punk band, is largely based on the memoirs of Curtis’ wife, Deborah, which gives it its raw and personal feel. Shot entirely in black and white, Control perfectly captures the sombre and melancholic tone of England in the late 1970s. It unveils the fear, alongside the longing, of losing control and masterfully examines the toll that fame and art can take on an individual. 

The film chronicles Ian’s life from his early days in the band until his suicide at the age of 23. But it does so much more than that. The visual language, the cinematography, the use of light and shadow, the music (performed by the actors themselves) all work together in perfect harmony to set the scene skilfully and immerse the viewer. I am there and I am with them. The concert scenes feel incredibly real with Sam Riley, who plays Ian Curtis, getting every little movement exactly right. He gives a powerful and nuanced performance and manages to portray the intense and troubled persona of the singer without descending into caricature or melodrama. Everything flows naturally to paint a beautiful picture of Ian’s life and that of the band, both cut out too soon. Control succeeds where many other biopics have failed. It effectively recreates the gritty atmosphere of the late 1970s Manchester music scene with its introspective mood that poses the question - what does it mean to be an artist? How many sacrifices can you make before you break? Before you lose control of yourself…  

While the answers to those questions remain deeply personal, the film certainly pushes one to go inwards and search for them. Control is outstanding in its effort and serves as a notable tribute to Joy Division’s legacy. It expands beyond the simple progression of an ordinary documentary and strives to add another, more emotional, layer. After all, the film is created by people that knew Ian Curtis and the band personally. On that note, although a rather accurate depiction, at times the portrayal of Curtis’ personal life can feel somewhat one-dimensional, focusing too much on his struggles and not enough on his musical genius. Stephen Morris, a founding member of Joy Division, noted that facts were bent in service of the dramatisation of the story, saying that “the truth is too boring.” Naturally, a big focus of the film is Ian’s failing marriage to Deborah, played by Samantha Morton. She gives a standout performance, filling the character with resilience that makes her an essential counterpoint to his self-destructive tendencies. Without shying away from portraying Curtis’ struggles with epilepsy and depression, his infidelity and drug use, the film paints a vulnerable picture of a man who seemingly mostly dreamt in black and white.

We see his dreams in black and white scenes that flash before our eyes. And we feel them. And we mourn for him. For his life, for all he didn’t get to do and for all he did. For all the control he had… and for the control he lost. The film offers a compelling insight into the life (and death) of one of the most influential musicians of the 20th century. The unique sound of the band that influenced the entire post-punk movement still echoes in our hearts and Control gives us one final glimpse. We mourn because we fear and because we understand. 

[confusedkittensposts]

There is a silver pickup truck in bunkers garage. It has many things some of the most prominent ones being blanket and a the jacket that belong to Nephilim Jack. There are three chocolate wrappers littered in the cabin, near one of the wrappers there is a strap of a bag. the bag is carefully hidden under the seat away from everyone belongs to a angel of the lord who currently resides in heaven.

The contents of bag is as follows

A blue spiral notebook, a blue tie, few chocolates, a notepad, black leather bound journal two blue ball point pens, a graphite pencil, a packet of 7 colour pencils (I don't know what products you guys get in US but the smallest pack we get here has 7 pencils)  a huge handmade sweater of olive green colour, three knitting needles, two crochet needles, a pair of handknit black fingerless gloves, a ball of warm yellow and a ball of orange wool, a ball of remaining olive and black wool, a little box haphazardly warped in green gift wrapping paper, white envelope, two Ziplocs, and a bloody rag.(loose papers and photographs)

The contents of the bag have been collected over last 12 years however they range from 6 months old to billions of years old

Sam looked at the stuff from Castiel’s truck brought in by a new hunter named Riley. He looks up as his brother enters the room. Dean seems much more curious about the contents that Sam feels, still they go through the thigs together.

Sam pulls out the sweater, its soft and warm and easily his size.

Dean recognises the rock as one jack picked up when they were out, “its blue like my eyes.”

The small gift box has dean’s name on it making him feel less guilty about opening it, a necklace of rosemary beads, Sam tells him the beads are carved with Celtic symbols powered with angelic grace, Cas had given Sam a bracelet of the same to help with nightmares in honey Cas era. Sam thinks they give you a general calming effect too, It also has a note . (with the way his brothers hand shake and jaw tightens Sam doesn’t ask him what it says.)

Dean tries to open the leather journal only for a sigil to light up and send electric shock through him, it gets tossed aside easily.

One of the Ziplocs has needles and pens and chocolates, rest of the things that were scattered in the bag join them.

The rose gold and black feathers, not very hard to guess whose are collected in a small pile.

The notepad mostly has notes from cases Cas solved and some loose papers, with doddles or animal sketches.

The second Ziploc h neatly folded pages some of them have cute little doodles clearly made by jack and rest of the pages have sketches on them breath taking beautiful sketches.

Portraits of the brothers, of Jack, Claire, Crowley, Rovena, meg, Charlie, Bobby, Jo and Ellen, some people they don’t even recognise, all the pieces have different level of detailing. Its clear that between everything going on Cas did not get to finish them. Some sigils, and art work done in many styles that are identified by Sam to belong across cultures spanning centuries.

It takes the Winchesters all of 13 minutes to get over their internal debate the argument with each other and open the blue notebook. It was a cheap spiral-bound composition book with lined paper, the kind kids took notes in for school. It had the ruffled, wrinkled look of a notebook that had been carried around for a while and written in pretty often. It also had some photographs pressed between its pages

The book had been started sometime after a human Cas left the bunker, its written in many languages, whichever I felt could express him most at that time. It had Castiel’s questions, questions he had no one to ask, the ones no one cared to answer. It had his doubts, doubts about everything he had done, about his decision to keep going rather than putting his blade in himself. His fears, fears of the world around him, of what would come, of forgetting everything he knew... It had stories, of small towns he visited, of people he met, not just when he was human but even after that, towns he went to for a case, or stopped by, for refills or rest or just out if curiosity. It had random information about animals.

It had sketches too, kittens in a box, or a can longing on a wall, or a dog curled up, a baby they did not recognise, some flowers and birds, bees of course, and them of Sam and Dean, younger ones, the ones who had first met Cas, of themselves then.

There are some empty pages, and the last page of the book has a intricate sigils.

While gathering some papers that fall down  trying to put them back in Ziploc, Sam comes across A old folders piece od paper  with a drawing of him and Dean, standing shoulder to shoulder, defiantly from when they were much younger, towards the top of the page underneath the heavily shaded lead were lighter strokes, barely visible. And they looked like wings. Wings that were spread above Sam and Dean, tips curling down in a protective canopy. Sam keeps it. (pretty sure I read about it in a fic don’t remember which)

Dean keeps the box and its contents, Sam keeps the sweater.

The rest of the bag and its contens are given to Claire after Sam finds out Castiel visits her regularly

She is happy to learn that Cas knits and teases the seraph until he gives her a hat with cat ears.

[lovecanbesostrange]

*nasal voice* as an artist: movie ask 3! also 5 and 11 (bc I, too, love me some "problematic" tropes sometimes)

3. Post a screenshot and ramble on about why this one frame visually appeals to you (colors, blocking, expression, set decoration whatever).

omg this question is so hard. It could be random, like pick the last movie, take a screen, write. But I ended up clicking through dozens of films, watching a lot of fav moments. From Firth & Moore on the carpet in A Single Man, to Ken Watanabe standing in front of Godzilla in G:KotM, then the whole ending to Midsommar, had a quick cry about seeing the hanging shoes in Jojo Rabbit, looked at the way Amy returns in Gone Girl, that shot through the bars in Hustlers, or all the gorgeous bizarre shots that make up Annihilation, also I went through the whole of Fox' X-Men franchise, because I have so many moments I cherish (it is the best superhero franchise as a whole, even though the parts alone are mostly just mediocre, the sum of it is amazing)... then I was downstairs for a snack and a tv spot reminded me that Cruella exists, so I cave with this one:

You hear the name Cruella and what do you think about? Dalmatians and a black&white theme. With the fur she wants and the hair she has. And then this movie gives us a theme party. And it is very, very important that everything is strictly black and white only. It's a whole thing. Except Cruella has a plan and she's gonna be a distraction. She is disruption. She will make everybody look. With the color red. And I am here for it!

This moment was in all the trailers, you know it's coming. Yet while watching I'm always excited nearing this fabulous entrance. And it's not the effect of how she gets rid of her white coat with the flame, it's the absolute contrast to everything around her. Perfectly framed in... a door frame. An entrance for the ages. Introducing herself. Introducing the alter ego. The different persona. I am so here for that.

The whole film is about style. The visuals are gorgeous, the music filling the rest of the mood. This is what movies are for! Colored pictures in motion with sound - to invoke feelings. And here you know something big is happening. There is a stage set. It's all planned. In-story for the characters and for the viewers watching the screen.

There is nothing new or super groundbreaking. It's all about using well known tools in an effective way. And it tells us something about the character. Ella is used to being in the background, while dreaming about fashion she tries hard to not stand out (that would interfere with her little criminal endeavours and get unwanted attention for sure). But this is the birth of Cruella on the scene. Bold. Loud. Drawing all eyes on her. (And also startling people, because being a bit scary is fine.)

*chef's kiss* Sometimes a little bit of flair is all I need. Not even attached to any emotional outburst. Can we just applaud films for using the full spectrum of the medium for its own sake every once in a while, just to entertain?!

5. A character who deserves their own spin-off.

The very obvious, tumblr-friendly answer: Riley Johnson (Aubrey Plaza) from Happiest Season. Show me her life, show me she's good at her work and give me some fun disaster dates she goes on, trying to find somebody a bit more longterm. Witty, forgiving, a bit guarded and then opening up in a non tragic way. Hmm, sadly that's it. I don't even have fancasts for a row dates or anything. Just give me romcom fun with a dash of that specific Plaza-charme. (Not against reuniting her with Rachel Keller from Legion.)

11. A trope or setting you know is mishandled a lot and carries a huge problematic/toxic burden, yet you do enjoy it?

I am highly aware how terrible representation and portrayal of anything mental health/illness related films (and tv) overall are. Especially how most people are not knife wielding dangers to the general public. I am very much about treating people with dignity and respect, not judging but helping. I have seen/experienced things, I know reality.

However horror (next to sci-fi) is my fav genre. And you give me a movie that starts with "in a mental asylum", I'm in. Be it A Nightmare on Elm Street 3 with teens thrown in a hospital (despite telling the truth and not self-harming) or Grave Encounters with supernatural shenanigans in a former bad place. I love M. Night Shyamalan's Split, because James McAvoy plays all those personalities so well. Nobody ever should think about that film when talking about actual disassociative identity disorder!

We need to have that conversation about demonizing mental illness. But yes, here I sit being audience for horror films using it as a gimmick (always glad when it leans into supernatural territory).

I am also absolutely the audience for films like Girl, Interrupted or One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Both dvds are on the shelf. Great films. But sometimes I just want John Carpenter's The Ward or plain old Psycho. A film like The Babadook working with metaphors for deep dark soul dives isn't exactly an easy watch, so I'll take some "criminally insane" slashers as well.

[nathank77]

2/26/25

3:20 p.m Added to Significantly and edited

So I can't switch my hearing aids to another type. She won't do it. She is okay with ric but nothing but ric and bte. Bc of my moisture build up which is the cause of the occasional static and the ticking. I'm a little sad about it bc like even in 3 years when I get new hearing aids I'm going to be stuck with tubes sticking out of my ears. Basically for the rest of my life if I stick with the same audiologist.. and tbh I trust her opinion. All the discreet options I'd sweat on and they'd need to be serviced constantly.

I said to her, well if I go to ric I'll break them like every week bc the wire is too thin. So I'm stuck with these. I can see them in my birthday photos and stuff and it bothers me.

Luckily front facing photos they aren't as noticeable... you can hardly tell they are there but everyone can always see them. It's whatever at least I can hear.

I'm getting new earmolds. She wants to stick with Skelton. I think I'm going to get black ones...... I can keep my current ones and switch them off the earhook so I won't be stuck with black ones if they look weird. I might as well make it more "fun." Black is cool...

But I won't be able to get new ones for a couple months. I got to get my ears cleaned again... bc well guess what? I was right, my hearing is worse bc my ear wax is blocking it a little.

Anyways I ran into Jeanette (the girl with schizophrenia) I'm not going to keep calling her that bc I'd hate to be called the guy who hears voices or the guy with psychosis. I accept I'm the bald guy with hearing aids. But yea her name is Jeanette.

She hugged me and she put her hand on my hand briefly... and followed me to the car, bc she was on a break. And I offered to drive her back to the store bc I parked far but she acted like she couldn't hear me and left.

She messaged me and i brought up i was willing to drive her. And she said she was going to hold my hand if she got into my car. She wants to go out for a date. I feel bad. I'm not interested. Yes she works. She lives in my town (she doesn't drive) so transportation wouldn't be impossible. But she was too emotional when I gave her a chance. She's eccentric a bit. Not horribly. I'd say quirky. But I mean I'm not attracted to her and I can't deal with someone being overly emotional.

The girl with implants is too heavy (like she talks about emotional shit all the time). It's hard to be her friend. I couldn't imagine dating someone who leans on me so much and Jeanette would. The girl with implants-imma call her Lynn. That's not her name. But it's better than the girl with implants. I don't want to call people descriptive labels.

But I feel bad about Jeanette.

At this point I don't even think i have psychosis. I have ptsd that's for sure. And I stopped giving the voice, "a personality" once it started to get weird and frequency.... like i can hear what I want to hear mostly except for happy birthday.... but once I stopped giving it a "personality" it really hardcore died with white mulberries and I still take 3000mg a day.

I think i have ptsd. Anxiety. Ocd. Those are facts.

And i think the voice is truly tinnitus. Hearing loss bc its actually a frequency. And when I get really bad ptsd sometimes I can hear, "deadname is coming out." But it's that I'm thinking it bc I'm having flashbacks... if that makes sense.

Bc I can hear that if I think it over and over again... just like I can hear, "i want a sandwich," or, "I'm hungry," or, "i want to go to the gym," but I dont hear it all clearly not even the bad stuff. Not even happy birthday.

It's dying. I don't hallucinate like I used to that's for sure. It's been getting better by a lot. The hearing aids actually help.

I'm worried about my mother surgery next week and about Riley.

Anyways I'm just word vomiting all my thoughts onto my blog at this point.

That packer dream has been on my mind bc I know it's triggers bc of my gym outfit not highlighting meat in my pants and people potentially noticing that.

Recently some older women have been eyeing me at the gym. When I pulled up in my car, some woman in the window looked at me like, "hot car." Sometimes people do that, it's not often but it happens bc my car is sexy.

But yea. I got to get my ear wax removed and idk if she will do two new earmolds... she may only do one bc it feels loose.... and if she does then I can't do black bc it would look weird to have one clear one and one black one. I hope I can get both done and do two black ones and switch on and off and try to make them more cool.

Bc I do still feel like a freak with them.