#the word is murder review

[clearcloudlesssky]

GOD I NEED SOMEONE WHOS READ CRIME&PUNISHMENT AND PERFUME TO TALK TO ME

especially about raskolnikov vs grenouille like there's so many comparisons to make and i'm not eloquent enough to spit all of them out

like from the very beginning of c&p raskolnikov is almost uncomfortably human? he tries his best to isolate himself and alienate himself but in the end he's dragged back by a sense of humanity (via sonia?) and that's what redeems him

but on the other hand grenouille is characterized by his inhumanity, from the very beginning he feels anything but, even when he mingles with others (the scene where he goes into town wearing his 'human' scent for the first time) he feels like a wolf in sheeps clothing, and the fleece he's wearing only makes him look more wolfish

OK ONE OF THE BIGGEST THINGS: raskolnikov is obsessed with the idea of the extraordinary man, the superman, the napoleon. he commits the murder to find out if he is one of those supermen, and when confronted by the evidence that he isn't and probably will never be, his pride prevents him from acknowledging it.

whereas raskolnikov seeks a napoleon or a superman, grenouille almost unconsciously becomes/is one. where raskolnikov must actively seek to challenge and test his theory, grenouille carries it out with essentially no remorse, constantly (unknowingly and uncaringly) taking advantage of the law with absolutely no punishment or repercussion, and eventually becoming the said "napoleon" that raskolnikov may have hoped to become

imo raskolnikov is a man who hoped to become a napoleon, but was redeemed by the fact and realization that he was not. grenouille was a man not even aware of said 'napoleon', but became one of his own admission, transgressing the law as raskolnikov stated that he would have had the right to do, and creating a sense of godliness and greatness. BUT he also proves that raskolnikov's extraordinary man isn't really something to pursue, he feels nothing when he openly becomes a conquerer, rather that is the point where he feels the most empty. i think that that sort of idea is also shown in c&p? raskolnikov almost destroys himself in his pursuit of the extraordinary man, and grenouille shows that the extraordinary man is not such an extraordinary after all. i'm unsure about the thoughts here though haha. i want to come up with some binding statement, but i feel like saying "extraordinary man bad" isn't a good expression of my thoughts (there's also raskolnikov's dream at the end of the novel which connects to the topic but i don't wanna talk about what i've mostly forgotten)

so moving forward

raskolnikov's reasons for murdering alyona ivanovna were totally rational. the reasoning "she was useless/did more harm than good, therefore i can kill her" was coldly logical, and is a awesome representation of how necessary the balance of logic and emotion is (sort of like science? it's a sense of just because you can doesn't mean you should, and the main thing overpowering the "can" is morals and emotion, which combats that cold rationality of the "can")

grenouille's reasons for murdering are very passionate, the first time he kills isn't premeditated at all, he finds a scent he likes, and in a fit of pleasure hunts it down and absorbs it. he's a representative of the opposite end of the spectrum. where raskolnikov represents the evildoing of relying solely on logic, grenouille is the wickedness of only following your emotion, which can definitely also be harmful, maybe even more so

when raskolnikov commits his murder, he's totally overcome by a near masochistic need for redemption (or you can just say he becomes more unhinged/mentally unstable than he already was)

when grenouille kills for the first time he has no such feelings or thoughts, it just happens and he all but forgets about it, and even goes on to repeat the action. he shows absolutely no remorse and given the chance he's definitely kill the first girl again (raskolnikov would not. i'm sort of of the opinion he doesn't feel guilt for killing alyona herself, but he feels remorse for the crime in general and probably lizaveta idk i'll talk about it later maybe)

Raskolnikov's sense of humanity and togetherness? is brought back into him via Sonia&co, and basically the majority of the book is his punishment/start of regeneration. Grenouille is alone from the very beginning, he has absolutely no one and he never gets that redemption. (i loved the ending of perfume so much)

there's a little bit more in my head and this was super scattered and random but i can't persuade anyone else ik to read both of these and talk to me about it and my english teacher scares me so this is the best i can do - please feel free to debate me or say more!!

[mfjenks]

I really love this mutual respect and warmth between Oliver and Maxine. He really values and cares about her opinion that he even invites her to sitzprobe, which "is never done", scares Donna and Cliff and actually is done at Oliver's own peril. Maxine is critical, vitriolic, true to her own opinion, but still attentive to Oliver's feelings, she sees and sincerely appreciates his passion, she wants to see soul put into the production which is really there in the musical version and which is actually an essential part of Oliver's personality. According to what we have seen and heard, Maxine is really what critic should be: picky, discerning, but compassionate and giving a value to this "singing", a soul And this interaction just proves Oliver to be competent as a director, unsecured, caring about critics, lovable and ultimately passionate, which makes people who really know him to actually value him and follow him (as Charles said, "The world needs Oliver Putnams")

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

When British writers come up with an American character’s dialogue and give them the most painfully British things to say with their American accent and inflection and it makes the actor come off as stiff. :P

[bookishpixiereads]

“The Last Word” by Gerri Lewis

⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️

“The Last Word” is the first in the “Deadly Deadlines Mysteries” series. Winter Snow is an obituary writer for hire in the comfortable, charming, real-life town of Ridgefield, Connecticut about an hour and half outside of New York City. She gets a peculiar request from Lottie Arlington, the wealthy philanthropist in town. She asks for Winter to write an obituary for her that HAS to be finished in three days. Of course Winter finds this a bit odd as Lottie is still very much alive and appears to be in good health.

A day after a hurricane passes, Winter goes to Lottie’s house to check on her and finds her unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. And that’s where the mystery begins. Winter thinks Lottie was pushed, wondering if she was feeling threatened and that’s why she wanted the obituary. The police originally think it’s an accident until they don’t and Winter becomes the prime suspect.

And then of course Winter sets out to find the guilty party.

In general, I thought this was okay. I enjoyed it while I was reading it, but I don’t think it was very memorable. I think the overall mystery was good in the sense of the who and the why. I also like that the initiating incident wasn’t a murder as it so often is. The slow burn romance with one of the cops is cute, but also seems ill-advised. Like he doesn’t know that she didn’t do it.

But also in the same vein, it felt very convoluted. There are a lot of characters to keep track of. There is a whole character that is waste of space and I really hope comes more into play in the future. It also drifts toward the over-descriptive. I don’t need to know every right and left turn that Winter takes to get wherever she is going almost every time she goes anywhere. I don’t need to know that the marinara sauce is vegetarian. Like why are you telling me this (more than once) when marinara is in and of itself vegetarian? It feels like the author is trying to hit a word count.

[wordsthatmattered]

6.7.2023

Just finished the coziest of cozy mysteries, Shady Hollow by Juneau Black.

A small town of animals who act like humans, a murder to be solved, and a fun read.

Lenore, the bookstore owning raven will probably be any avid reader's favorite character.

If you like fast paced books, but are tired of people, pick this up.

[overthinkingtaleblr]

i headcanon that in the headcanon that billy has bird wings (sometimes specifically pigeon wings), johnny ghost is slightly afraid of him.

because. birds scare him

This is a PHENOMENAL Headcanon and it really helps with consistency and drawing the world a little closer together, especially explaining why PIE usually only goes to the Acachalla house when Billy is somewhere else (a coincidence occurring bc HG played most the ghosts). On one hand I absolutely agree and think that makes perfect sense and when I was younger I would’ve implemented it immediately to my own hcs

But now that I know I have phobias and have to deal with how inconsistent they are I’m projecting that onto ghost now. It would make sense if he was scared of Billy because he had wings but from what I’ve experienced, nothing makes sense. I want him to be so inconsistently scared of things that it’s driving him and everyone around him crazy. (I was going to go into detail about it but the long and short is: for me, sometimes the funny things are worse, and sometimes the things trying to be scary are the WORST.)

Anyways I think Ghost would HATE the horror movie ‘the Birds’…

[my-52-weeks-with-christie]

Mystery Review: 2 for 1

Robert Thorogood – The Marlow Murder Club A couple of months ago, during a visit to my local bookstore, I’d (for once) remembered to bring my reading glasses with me. So, whilst waiting for my husband to finish his perusing, I idly picked up The Marlow Murder Club. Ignoring the back cover blurb, which sometimes can be misleading, I cracked the cover and read the opening paragraph….Then, the…

[newbookcats]

Book Review: Truly, Devious by Maureen Johnson | How to Solve a Century-Old Murder as a Teenage Prodigy

Review also available to read at https://newbookcatsreads.blogspot.com/2018/01/book-review-truly-devious-by-maureen.html

Stevie is experiencing a My Lottery Dream Home moment; however, instead of a multi-million dollar prize leading to a new house and bonding time with the show's host David Bromstad, Stevie is enrolling in Ellingham Academy, a school known for teaching the brightest teenagers as well as the site of the near-century-old murder of previous student Dottie Epstein and the kidnappings of the school founder Albert Ellingham's wife and daughter. Both the murders and kidnappings are known to be done by the anonymous Truly Devious -- evidenced by a ransom poem crafted and sent nights before the terrible night in April 1936. 

Inclined to solving the school's cold-case with her passion for forensics, Stevie becomes engrossed in a group video project staring the school's Hollywood star Hayes Major. Their focus is to recreate the series of unfortunate events after Albert became aware of his wife and daughter's kidnappings; unfortunately, Hayes is murdered after a night of filming the group project. 

Amidst her awkward attempts at romancing an upperclassman and balancing her school work, Stevie investigates if Truly Devious has made a possible return to the school. However, with stolen badges, the school's underground tunnel network, and teenage drama, Stevie begins to wonder if she can really trust her classmates, especially the ones in her own dorm, in this young adult mystery. Discussion:⭐⭐

A girl from Pittsburgh came to Ellingham Academy and she wanted to see a dead body. She got her wish.

A story involving two murders, separated by nearly a century, at a famous entrepreneur's school for prodigy children should be exciting. A story of the young woman solving these crimes should be inspiring, if not jaw-droppingly impressive. Truly, Devious should be a novel of twists and turns, consistently leaving readers in awe as the main character Stevie navigates the mysteries of Ellingham Academy. Rather, this novel leads with the above interesting premise, struggles with a slow middle section to attempt a concerning romance, and attempts to redeems itself with 50 pages of absolute adrenaline. 

The writing itself is not an issue -- I absolutely adored Johnson's wit and humor she instilled in her characters and their dialogue. For example, within the first paragraph, the reader meets Dottie, one of the brightest students in Ellingham's 1936 class. Dottie is meeting with her school counselor and is berated for "acting smarter than everyone else," to which Dottie blatantly replies with:

"But I am." Not out of arrogance, but because it was true. 

Dottie's personality is reminiscent of Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory/Young Sheldon, and I am here for the sassiness. Even Stevie's friend Nate quickly becomes my favorite character with his Dottie-esque straightforward replies and limited social skills, though he initially presents as stoic and nearly as infuriating as an angry hormonal teenager.

Instead, my main issue with the novel is the lack of depth and development in the characters, particularly with the main character. Johnson's original image of a quirky, rebellious, and "super" intelligent female lead are consistently undermined by Stevie's inability to handle simple situations, such as crossing the boundaries of her boyfriend's past or withholding crucial information from police. Although her passion for solving crimes and her ability to use her experiences with anxiety and panic attacks as strengths are redeeming qualities, Stevie's isolation tactics and poor decisions lead to the demise of her friendships and ultimately leave a bad taste in my mouth. Overall, Stevie as a relatable main character has yet to capture my love for wearing black hoodies and listening to My Chemical Romance songs on-repeat when I need to mourn a heart-wrenching book. And, I promise this is not just a phase, mom!

 As for the rest of the novel's innards, it appears that Johnson is attempting to throw diverse cultures and relationships into the story without much regard. In the beginning of the novel and when Stevie first enrolls at Ellingham, a female student wearing a hijab is mentioned; however, this student never reappears within the novel. Maybe, Johnson is attempting to show the wide range of students accepted into the prestigious school; however, 'hijab-wearing student' doesn't even get a name or an interaction with Stevie. Then, Johnson introduces Stevie's best friend Janelle as lesbian and eventually writes a romantic relationship between Janelle and a classmate. At the discretion of the publishing author, including a diverse array of relationships and characters is essential to represent our community and its values; however, the relationship is not given the quality or the depth of even being a side romance. Not even Stevie and David's back-and-forth flirting and eventual kissing sessions are given time to develop or mature into a realistic relationship. In a romance, I am looking for a slow burn; unfortunately, this novel was unable to accomplish what Johnson may have sought to do although she had enough pages to build the storyline and develop the characters and their relationships with each other. Moreover, Janelle's relationship launches Stevie into fits of jealousy in fear of losing her relationship with Janelle. Consequently, I wish Stevie had shown half the support that Janelle responded with to her passions and overall respect for their friendship; unfortunately, Stevie remains self-absorbed in her own drama throughout the story's entirety.

Lastly, despite the flaws of Truly, Devious, I appreciate the attention Johnson brought to Stevie's passion for forensics. As someone who meticulously researched cold cases in high school and now hopes to enter a career in medicine, it has been essential for me to remember that there is face to every situation or problem encountered. Bettering or fixing a problem can lead to intense focus for solely the solution; however, the spreadsheets of data and creativity needed to address an issue all stem from the individuals directly affected by the case. 

"This is about real people, not figures from fiction. [C]rime itself is popular. But crime has a human face. If you're going to study crime, you have to remember the people involved."The above quote sums up the previous paragraph and includes an important lesson. Stevie, as she typically does with adult advice, shrugs it off in the moment but does use it to her advantage when working through Hayes crime, which did surprise me in the end. 

Overall, I will stick to the Sherlock Holmes, the Agatha Christie novels, and many other of my beloved mystery stories rather than trial the subsequent books in this trilogy. I'll never say never; however, from my reading experience with Truly, Devious, I expect for the other books of this trilogy to be drawn-out versions of the main murder mystery that ominously attracted me first. Additionally, I do not have the patience for Stevie's irrational antics or the troubling romance between her and David. 

What are your thoughts of Johnson's Truly, Devious or the complete trilogy? What are some of your favorite mystery books, young adult or not? What steps would you take to solve the murders of your new friend and a previous student from 1936? Hopefully no steamy make-out sessions, but it's your case! Chat with me in the comments below or via any of my social media.

Love, 

newbookcats

[livingfictionsystem]

[waywordsstudio]

3 Word Review: “Murder in the Cathedral” by T. S. Eliot -

Eliot's play is somber and tightly written, the temptations of Thomas Becket prior to his historical murder in Canterbury, in the style of a Greek play and echoing the holy temptations.

[happilylostinwords]

Cleaning the slate, i.e. 2023 in review

I set a humble goal (via the ever trusty and gentle-pressuring Goodreads) of reading 48 books in 2023. As of today, December 29, 2023, Goodreads tells me I have read 59 books. And I’ve got 10% left in the one I’m reading now so I will hit 60 books this year. Yay me! And before I get too confident, I’m setting the goal for 2024 at 48 books too. Four books a month is entirely doable without…

[ithebookhoarder]

Never Let You Go (Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader)

Description: Being married to Aaron (A.K.A. your boss and the love of your life) has both it advantages and disadvantages - and being reprimanded by him for risking your neck in the field is definitely one of the latter... 💔

A/N: Hi everyone. I'm alive! Sorry that this is so short but it sort of just wrote itself and was a nice way to help try and ease me back into writing again as it's been a hot minute here 😅

Warnings: Angsty Hotch, arguing, mentions of threat, mentions of weapons, implied murder, references to abduction, sexual references, implied cases / unsubs. (Let me know if I missed any)

Masterlist

You knew when Aaron was angry. You knew the signs very well this far into your relationship, not only as a fellow member of the BAU but also as his wife. He didn’t even need to voice it for you to notice it, rolling off of him in waves… and unfortunately for you, you knew exactly what had caused it. 

You hadn’t meant to throw yourself into the proverbial frying pan, but when the Unsub you had been tracking had grabbed an innocent girl as a hostage you had simply acted without thinking. You had offered yourself instead, knowing your value meant he would not dispose of you as quickly as the others he had taken - and that your team would have to let him leave the parking lot you had chased him to. He knew it too, which was why he had quickly accepted, resulting in you being hauled into a van with a gun pressed against your head. 

Of course, the team had done exactly what you’d expected and located you within an hour. They had mounted a rescue and you had been safely back, unharmed, within mere minutes of the team arriving outside of the cabin. 

All in all, it was a win in your book… but not in your husband / boss’s.  

He had been the first through the door, intent on getting to you whilst Morgan tackled the Unsub into handcuffs. He had quickly cut you free, checked you weren’t seriously hurt, and escorted you back outside, tucked securely under his arm. However, the second you had made it back to the cars, Aaron had pulled away and hidden behind a mask of white hot fury. 

His silent temper had only got worse since you’d all got off the plane, with a thick and suffocating silence filling the car on the drive back. Everyone looked at one another anxiously, knowing better than to risk being the one to say anything and accidentally cause him to erupt in their direction. In fact, a minor miracle had occurred with Spencer not saying a single word until the whole team had spilled out of the elevator, even if it looked like it had caused him physical pain to do so. 

Hell, even Penelope had taken one look at everyone’s faces and done an immediate u-turn back to her lair, muttering she would ‘come back later’.

Unfortunately, you didn’t really have that option when Aaron was your husband and you both shared a car and a house… which was why you had watched as the others grabbed their belongings and finished debriefing, leaving their case files on Hotch’s desk for him to review on Monday. You’d followed along, the last to enter his office and leave your own on the top of the pile. 

However, your fingers had barely let go of the manilla envelope when you heard Hotch clear his throat, turning his attention squarely to the last two agents stood next to you. 

“Good work, everyone. Morgan, Prentiss, you can go. Have a good weekend - Y/N, stay where you are. We need to talk.” 

Shit. 

Your husband’s tone was calm but icy, telling you that this wasn’t up for debate; it was an order and god help anyone who went against him. It was why Emily and Derek made for the door without another word, although Emily shot you a final look over her shoulder, as if checking you were alright. 

You nodded subtly, trying to reassure her as she and Derek made their way out the door, closing it behind them. You knew without asking that the rest of the team would be watching from down in the bullpen, trying and failing to work out what was being said as Hotch ripped you a new one.  

Taking a deep breath, you crossed your arms over your chest and turned to face him. 

You hated seeing his beautiful face so hard and devoid of feeling. It was like a whole different man to the one who slept beside you every night, and greeted you first thing every morning. 

You gulped.

A cold sweat had formed on the back of your neck as he stepped closer slowly, deliberately dragging out the tension. You had to fight the urge to break off the staring contest between you, refusing to surrender to him just yet. It was probably why you opened your mouth first, desperate to beat him to the punch in case you lost your nerve. 

“Before you say anything, I know what you’re going to say, and I know what I did was dangerous and went against your orders,” you rambled, “I’m also well aware of the consequences and I won’t apologise for what I did, not when the option was risking that young girl and the rest of the team-“ 

“I am your superior here, Y/N. What I say goes. That is not up for debate, ever. You do not give me orders,” Aaron seethed, making you fall silent without even raising his voice - which somehow made it worse. It was as if your guilt was swallowing you whole. “What happened today will not happen again, am I understood? You do not ignore my orders whenever you feel like it, nor do you get to lecture me about why you did what you did. And above all? You never tell me to let you go, unarmed and alone, ever again. Is that clear?” 

Your eyes were glued to the floor, wishing silently for it to swallow you up.

“You know I was doing what anyone else on this team would’ve done. He had an innocent girl, Aaron, and he was cornered,” you countered. “He would have killed her the second he left the parking lot, or opened fire then and there. It was the only way to get him out of there, without risking the team and everyone in that area-“

“As the head of this team, I did what I would’ve done if anyone else had been in that position - which is tell you not to risk yourself - but as your husband,” he choked, “I cannot even begin to describe what I felt when he had that gun pointed at your head and that van door closed.” 

You gulped. You felt his pain drawing you in like a gravitational pull, making you desperate to reach out and soothe it from his brow.

“Aaron… You know I didn’t do this to hurt you,” you cooed. To your relief, he nodded, wrapping an arm around your waist and curling you into his chest as if needing to feel you were actually stood there in front of him.  

“It might surprise you to realise that I do know that. Unfortunately, it doesn’t make any of this easier.” You could feel the tension physically radiating off of him as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I… I thought I’d lost you. I... I can't lose you... I won't lose you or someone I love. Not again.”

“I know. I’m so sorry… I’m right here, my love. I’m right here… Always.”

[dearieshima]

"THE HORROR... YES!"

✦ SUMMARY

╰┈➤ Step right up for a spine-tingling, old HORROR story TROPES extravaganza! Filled with the clumsy girl! Stupid plotlines! Unnecessary sex scenes! And plot holes! #KINKTOBER2024

✦ C.W

╰┈➤ CLUMSY!reader, DITZY!reader, AFAB!reader, DUBCON bordering on NONCON, murder, character DEATH

hunted doll!sukuna x reader — here!

Your boyfriend, as clumsy as he is, foolishly wins you a doll at the county fair that will forever change your life.

feat. dubcon/noncon, murder, character death(?), groping, trueform!sukuna, double penetration, plushie humping, mental illness, face riding, aphrodisiac, brief cum eating, slight voyeurism, degradation, praise, missionary, 7k+ words, yuuji is aged up to 20+years, slight yuuji x reader, hair yanking, is this cheating?, rough sex, unprotected sex

masked killer!toji x reader — soon!

your mother introduced you to your step father and you both have quickly gained a lot of chemistry.

feat. dubcon, death, step-cest, stalking, age-gap (reader is 23, toji is 48), scummy toji, bratty!reader, drugs, rough sex, vaginal penetration

werewolf!choso x reader — soon!

your job was to collect film for a documentary about a popular wolf that caught the internet's attention.

feat. heats, knots, stalking, dubcon/noncon, vaginal penetration, breeding

priest!geto x succubus!reader — soon!

after you returned back from bible study one summer afternoon, you changed. your parents sent a minister to help their daughter.

feat. religion talks, victorian era, cowgirl, vaginal penetration, overstimulation

teslabot!toji x reader — soon!

telsa has come out with a new robot to help assist with your every day needs. And to encourage sales, they've programmed and dressed their bots to your favorite anime characters. you just hope it can satisfy your wants too.

feat. rough sex, groping, dildo riding, overstimulation, vaginal penetration

currently I want to add more so don't be afraid to send a ask and present your idea of a story! (review rules before doing so please!)

[pucksandpower]

April Fools?

Lando Norris x Hamilton!Reader

Summary: maybe telling your father the big news on April Fools’ Day was not the best idea

Lewis is lounging in his driver’s room, reviewing data from the last practice session, when there’s a tentative knock at the door.

“Come in,” he calls out, not looking up from his computer screen.

The door creaks open slowly and Lewis glances over to see you and your boyfriend shuffling awkwardly into the room, neither of you making eye contact with him.

“What’s this then?” Lewis says with an amused chuckle at your strange behavior. “You two look like you’re about to face a firing squad.”

You and Lando exchange a nervous glance but remain silent, shifting your weight uneasily.

Lewis sets down his laptop and leans back in his chair. “Well, out with it. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”

You open your mouth but no words come out. You look pleadingly at Lando who seems equally incapable of speech, his lips moving soundlessly.

“I haven’t got all day here,” Lewis raises an eyebrow. “One of you needs to start talking.”

You take a steadying breath and then the words come tumbling out in a rush.

“I’m pregnant!”

There’s a beat of silence as Lewis processes what you’ve said. Then he lets out a loud laugh, slapping his knee in amusement.

“Nice one! You two really had me going for a minute there. Very funny prank!”

Lando finally finds his voice, though it comes out as more of a terrified squeak. “She’s … she’s not joking. Y/N is pregnant. With my … with my baby.”

Lewis just keeps laughing so hard that tears threaten to spill down his cheeks. “Oh come off it, you can drop the act now. I’m not falling for silly April Fools’ pranks!”

“Is … is it April Fools’ Day?” You ask hesitantly, a crease forming between your brows. “I didn’t even realize what day it was ...”

Lewis’ laughter slowly trails off as the serious expressions on your and Lando’s faces register. His eyes narrow as he looks between the two of you.

“You’re … you’re actually pregnant?” He asks slowly, needing confirmation one last time. “With Lando’s …”

Lando gulps audibly and gives the smallest of nods. “Y-yes sir.”

A rushing sound fills Lewis’ ears as the reality slams into him. His little girl, his baby, is having a baby of her own. With a driver no less — one of his competitors!

The room starts spinning dangerously.

“You …” Lewis growls, rounding on Lando with a look that could incinerate him on the spot. “You got my daughter pregnant?”

“I … I …” Lando squeaks, taking an unconscious step back.

“Start running,” Lewis rumbles in a tone of deadly calm. “You’ve got three seconds.”

Lando’s eyes widen in terror and he immediately turns to bolt out the door.

“One …” Lewis counts, rising to his feet with jerky movements.

“I’m too young to die!” Lando wails, throwing the door open and fleeing at a sprint down the hallway.

“Two …” Lewis continues menacingly, stalking after him with murder in his eyes.

“Dad, wait!” You cry out in a panic, but it’s too late.

“Three!” Lewis roars, now fully giving chase after a petrified Lando.

He tears down the corridor and out into the paddock area, drawing confused stares from crew members and team personnel.

“I’m too young to be a grandpa!” Lewis bellows at the top of his lungs, rapidly closing the gap on the fleeing Lando.

You hurry after them, catching up just as Lando races past a very confused group of mechanics, Lewis in hot pursuit.

“Don’t let him hurt me!” Lando screams as he dodges around equipment boxes.

The commotion has drawn the attention of the entire paddock by now. Cameras are out and clicking furiously as the most famous driver on the grid chases his terrified competitor in circles.

Finally, Lando trips over a stray tire and goes sprawling to the ground. Lewis is on him in an instant, grabbing him by the shirt front and hauling him up until they are nose to nose.

“Please … please don’t kill me,” Lando whimpers pathetically.

Lewis glares at the younger man for a long moment before his expression softens just a fraction. “I’ll let you live. On one condition.”

Lando nods frantically in agreement before Lewis has even named the condition.

“The baby gets my name. You two are naming it after me. No arguments.”

For a brief second, relief flashes across Lando’s face. Then his eyes go wide again in fear. “Ah well … you see … the thing is ...”

“Spit it out!” Lewis growls.

“Y/N … she wants to name the baby Nico. After Nico Rosberg.”

A muscle twitches dangerously in Lewis’ jaw and he drops Lando back to the ground in a heap.

“Oh, for fu-”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Lando’s desperate shrieks once again fill the air, echoing across the paddock. “Lewis, please, have mercy!”

[chaosandmarigolds]

(slowly sets random sting ray plushie I got for my birthday down) Brain-rot. so I present Dad!Simon and Ollie at the aquarium

Simon! Who was currently two weeks deep into babysitting oliver and it being the middle of summer almost everywhere and everything had been exhausted

"Library time with Miss Rue?"

Ollie frowns from his ice cream,- which you would murder simon for if you found out which is why they were both sworn to secrecy, "MIss Rue is jus reeed-ing Peter Bunny again. No want."

"No want." Simon echoed slowly, leaning against the kitchen counter as he tried to think.

"Big mall?" "No..."

"The zipline park?" (A normal park with a little kid zipline)

"No."

"The animals?"

"Nope. Momma said we stinky after animal."

Simon nods again, the local farmer's markets would normally have a little petting zoo- so that had also become a staple. "She did- rightoo laddie. Okay...okay, let Mister Riley think for a minute."

Ollie nods to his babysitters words and takes another hefty bite of the ice cream, "We could....we could see fish? We see fish."

"Fish?"

"We go fish, in-in big pool."

Simon who spent ten finding which aquarium within a fifty mile radius had the best reviews because if he is...might as well make it memorable

Simon who made sure Ollie wore is water proof shoes because...well he just knew the kid was going to jump into the little kiddie water pad the aquarium had

Simon who packed a towel and change of clothes for that exact reason too

Simon who so has baby shark stuck in his head

Simon who once the tickets are purchased is already trying to trick the tyke down, basically playing marco polo

Simon who held up Ollie without a second thought to see the Jelly fish, telling him how he was once stung while he was down in Japan, smiling to the childs laughter

Simon who spends the extra fifteen dollars so Ollie could feed the stingrays, keeping an arm looped around him to keep him stable

Simon who of course notices the looks he's getting from the group of moms, he ignores them though

Simon who tried to politely turn down the one who came up to him, nice woman, seemed kind- yet...she wasn't...you

Simon who had to get more firm and did lie when she wouldn't get the message-

"Listen lady- I could kill ya without even blinking 'n you are really testin my patience so ho' bout you leave me 'n my son alone before i get annoyed?" Just how he assumed it would've gone down the woman became flustered and excused herself, meanwhile, Ollie was still being held in the air to look at the catfish.

Ollie looks to Simon as he then lets out a sigh and adjusts his grip on the boy, "Ister Riley?"

"Yeah, lad?"

"Mommy said killing people isn't nice."

Simon clears this throat, "Mum is real smart like that."

Simon who gets Ollie a plushie and teehsirt

Simon who feels really proud of himself when Ollie is fast asleep for the entire car ride home

(annnnyway thats it<333 any feedback and all that jazz means the world to me!!)

[sytoran]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 | n.romanoff

you visit the strip club downtown with your co-workers to let off some steam, but it seems like you've caught the eye of none other than the 'black widow'.

🖤 pairing: sub!stripper!natasha x fem!cop!reader

🖤 word count: 3145

🖤 note: SMUT (18+), this one been marinating in my drafts like im preserving wine

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You don’t know why you let your co-workers drag you to a strip club on a Friday night, but you’re sure as hell not complaining.

There are plenty of women, everywhere. Women in bikinis, women in stockings, women in thigh garters. You're in wonderland, honestly.

Hey, cops needed to let off some steam too, okay?

The cheers and hoots surround your table as Carol gets a lap dance by a brunette stripper. The blonde woman is blushing – you didn’t know she could do that – but she’s having the time of her life.

As Carol slides a bill between the stripper's tits with no lack of embarrassment, you laugh and get up to go get another drink.

It wasn't an overly rare occasion for you to be letting loose, but it was infrequent enough that your co-workers quite physically hauled you to this adult entertainment facility after a particularly taxing case.

ULTRAVIOLET was the most popular strip club in Queens, New York City. They served both men and women, with sparkling reviews about customer service and atmospheric aesthetics.

Carol, Valkyrie, and Maria would simply not shut up about the 'Black Widow', who was supposedly the sexiest, most stunning stripper any of them had ever laid their eyes on.

"She fuckin' looked at me in the eye," Valkyrie had moaned on a Monday morning, speaking of this stripper they so revered. "I can't look at anyone the same no more." 

You were about to make a quick-witted retort about Valkyrie’s dramatization of mere eye contact, but Maria had only nodded solemnly in agreement and you had to admit you didn’t take Maria’s judgment lightly.

Aside from the talk about the Black Widow, you were hit with the novelty of the strip club once you stepped foot within.

As the Commanding Officer of the New York City Police Department, 104th Precinct, the boundless freeness of this place was quite a sight to behold. What with the heavy music, and the beer-tinged scent of the air, and nude women – the sensory overload did wonders to take your mind off work.

"You here alone?"

You spin on the barstool at the sound of a sultry voice. You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping to the floor at the sight of a breathtakingly gorgeous woman.

Scantily clad in matching sequined undergarments and fishnet stockings, stands a redheaded woman leaning against the bar counter, looking at you with magnificent green eyes.

"I'm not alone- I mean, not in that way, because I'm just here with friends. Well, co-workers, but they're my friends as well-"

Splendid job, Deputy Inspector Y/N L/N, you say internally. You can look in the eye of murderers and terrorists, but one look at a pretty woman and you're fuckin' gone.

"You're cute," the lady interrupts with a small tilt of her head, saving you from digging your own grave further.

You swallow harshly, feeling her manicured nails trace the curvature of your bicep. 

"Just cute?" you ask, trying not to sound too hopeful. Her fingers move down to the collar of your white shirt, fiddling with the fabric. Call it stupidity, but you feel the urge to reciprocate the contact. You move your hands to her hips.

The lady smirks. "Hm, maybe not just cute. But I think you need to show me." 

The redhead hasn't broken eye-contact all the while. Your eyes feel like they're burning. You slide your left hand down to the hem of her panties, and tug slightly. When her panties snap against her skin, she jolts with the impact.

You smirk with victory, pulling her in by her waist so your mouth is pressed against her skin. "I'll show you," you murmur, kissing the warm with a fervour you didn't know you possessed. 

The woman's breath hitches and she pulls your head closer. You accept the invitation, beginning to leave a hickey on the sensitive spot of her neck.

After a few moments of your concentrated work on her neck, the woman finally lets out a sigh-turned-moan of pleasure, and you nearly pass out from how sexy it is.

She tugs your head away and pulls you in by the collar for a kiss. Your eyelids flutter close.

Your quavering breaths meet in a frantic harmony, and you want to explore her mouth, but she ends it as quickly as it begins.

"What's your name?" the redhead asks, warm breath on your lips. "Y/N," you say hoarsely, trying and failing not to sound like you were left high and dry. 

You slide your hands to the bare skin of her torso, silently delighting in the way it raises goosebumps. You need to get more of her, feel more of her. "Do I get to know your name?" you ask.

The lights in the strip club suddenly dim, and the music takes on a far more sensual tone. 

The woman slides out of your grasp like sand falling through your fingertips, and you're left with the ghost of her burning embrace. Your question remains unanswered.

"Let's give it up for our next dancer," the bar owner says into his mic, and the noise dramatically fades away. "The Black Widow!"

Blue and violet lights dance in your vision as the woman who had kissed you just moments before, approaches the stage, hips swaying in time to the music. 

Your eyes narrow, and you down the bourbon in one shot. You'd need it.

When the beat drops, The Black Widow throws her head back and she begins to move.

God, it's criminally sensual, the way she danced, unlike anything you'd ever seen before. You couldn't put into words the allure she possessed.

The redheaded woman runs a hand over her own skin, dipping into every curve, as the music crescendos, and you know you're not the only patron with their heart thrumming in their chest.

When she begins twirling on the pole, you see men clearing out a month's paycheck for this divine woman, and honestly? You don't blame them.

Money gets flung onto the stage and catcalls get yelled as perhaps the most erotic scene unfolds before your very eyes.

When The Black Widow lifts up a thigh to show off her tight stockings, you're unable to hold back any longer, drawn to the stage like a moth to a flame.

Sitting back down into your original seat, leaving the empty glass of bourbon behind, all else fades away. Your world stumbles on its axis as the woman makes her way over to you, running a hand through her luscious locks of hair.

Your mouth dries up as The Black Widow turns around in front of you and fully bends over, exposing the delicious curve of her ass. You sink back into your seat, bringing two fingers to your lips in silent contemplation. Internally, you're fighting the goddamned World War II with your libido.

She's still swaying in beat to the music, and spins around as the sound of a saxophone starts playing. The last thing you see is a playful wink from the gorgeous woman before an ample asset of tits covers your vision.

Fuck, you're not going to survive.

Your nose quite literally gets buried between her tits as the woman climbs onto you. You would pay to see your co-workers' faces right now. How would you ever face them at work again?

“Get it, Y/N!” you hear Maria call in the distance, and a shrill whistle follows. 

You smirk against the pair of tits in your face, inhaling the scent of her perfume, and her sweat, and simlply her. You let the stripper work her magic.

After a few more minutes of your paradise, she pulls away, skin flushed. 

You regard her with a darkened gaze, pulling out your wallet. You stuff a bill in the side of her thong, making sure to snap the fabric in the same spot as you had previously.

The woman's face flickers in recognition. She shakes her head, then dips her head down to whisper in your ear.

"11pm. Room 8. Private session. Don't be late."

Like it was planned, the music comes to an end. The redhead doesn't wait for your response before she gets off your lap, raising her arm in acknowledgement of the roaring cheers. Her hips sway as she walks away from you, and you don’t even pretend that your eyes are glued to her curves.

Money gets thrown onto the stage once again, all in hopes of earning a fraction of what you had just experienced. 

"Holy shit, Y/N, what was that?" Carol yells at you over the noise, slapping your back. You shrug plainly with a stupid smug smirk as Valkyrie whines in jealousy. 

Oh, you were so fucking ready for 11pm.

.

"A private, fuckin' session for Deputy Inspector Y/N fucking L/N. Who would'a thought," Carol slurs, banging a shot glass onto the round table.

You roll your eyes at Carol's dramatization. It wasn't as if your status as Commanding Officer steered women away from you – in fact, some of them were quite into it.

But for your prevalently horny friends who had women over just about every week, you were considered starved of sweet pussy and were in dire need of quenching that thirst.

So when you broke the news that the most sought-after stripper in the most famous strip club in Queens, had just offered you a private session, lo and behold the chaos that ensued.

"Shit, girl, I would get down on my knees for that lady. You are one lucky bastard," Valkyrie adds in, ruffling your hair as you grumble. 

"You'd get down on your knees for any woman, actually," Maria says, the usually composed woman more laid back in the environment of the strip club. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

Valkyrie lets out an aggrieved noise, sitting up to whack Maria's arm, but in her drunken state she misses and slaps Carol's drink out of her hands. 

"Oi!" The blonde cries out indignantly, looking at the drink that had splattered onto her clothing. 

Carol grabs Maria's martini out of her hands and throws it at Valkyrie in retaliation.

Before you know it, your three idiot friends have gotten temporarily suspended from the strip club for 'causing a ruckus'.

Just like that, and the clock ticks down to eleven o’clock.

.

It’s 11pm, and you're overly aware of your police badge at your belt and your gun in your holster.

Or at least, you were, until Natasha swung one leg across your lap and sat herself down with an unspoken grace, effectively sitting on your lap. In the privacy of the enclosed room, you unashamedly stare down at her cleavage, eyes several hues darker than they were before.

“See something you like?” Natasha asks breathily, running her hands over her full breasts, pushing them up to elicit a reaction from you.

The moving lights in the dark room cast shadows, and when you back look up with a sinful smirk and half-lidded eyes, Natasha swears she feels herself get wet.

All the air in your lungs dissipates when Natasha begins grinding on your thigh in beat to the music, hips moving skilfully in the sexiest fashion imaginable. 

Fuck, this woman was going to be your demise.

Your hands feel like they’re on fire as you watch her put on a show, simply aching to move and touch. Natasha trails her fingertips down your tensed arms, running over the curve of your biceps. She smirks at the goosebumps it raises, her hands dwelling to the edge of your pants.

Your breath catches as her fingers find the outline of your police badge tucked underneath your shirt. The Black Widow looks up at you, expression a no-tell. “You on duty?”

“Nope.”

“Is that why you’ve got a gun in your belt?”

“Nah, that one’s just for pretty girls like you,” you respond slowly, hands tentatively going to rest on her thighs. When the smirk reappears on the stripper's face, you relax and let your shoulders untense.

“If you say so, officer,” she comments huskily, leaning forward to nip at your earlobe. The shiver runs through your bones. 

You’re about to counter with a quick retort of your own before Natasha begins grinding on that bulge in your pants, treating your gun like it was a strap.

“Shit,” you say breathlessly, hands burning at being unable to touch. Behind your back, your nails were digging into your palms so hard you swore you had already drawn blood.

Fuck, it was torture. 

Her pretty moans and breathy whines ring in your ears as she moves her hips roughly, a torment to your demise.

After a while, you come to the realisation that you can feel how wet Natasha is through her undergarments, soaked from having just dry-humped your thigh.

“Fuck me,” she says, and your throat dries up. “What?” you ask, dazedly, still staring at her bouncing tits in front of your face.

“I said, fuck me,” Natasha repeats, head tilting to the side, halting all her movements so you would look at her.

You splutter. “But the sign said–”

“What can I say, officer, you wanna make me break the rules.”

That’s all the confirmation you need before your hands can finally touch her, finally, meeting and warm skin and sweat droplets and everything you’d ever wanted. 

You let out a huff of amusement as Natasha wraps her pretty lips around your fingers and sucks, making lewd noises with her tongue. Your ears burn, now, having been tainted with the beautiful symphony of this woman’s pleasure.

“You’re very naughty,” you comment, your other hand slipping under her top to reach her full breasts. Palming at the mounds in your hand, you face moves to the bare skin of her collarbone and begin kissing it.

“Don’t make marks,” Natasha says breathlessly, when you let your teeth nick the soft skin there, and there’s a pit of desire in your stomach that growls in frustration, but you know you have to respect her wishes and instead move your mouth down to her chest.

Natasha doesn’t remember when you slipped off her bra, but she isn’t complaining about your haste and instead throws her head back when your mouth latches onto her breasts.

“Mhm, that feels good,” she moans, weaving her fingers through your hair and scratching at your scalp. You hum in acknowledgement against her flushed skin, your tongue paying special attention to her hardened buds.

When both your hands move to the underside of her thighs and lift her up, Natasha lets out an embarrassing squeak at the sudden change of position. But as you lay her down on the sofa with your body weight pressing into hers, those whimpers turn into filthy moans.

You stall for a moment, hovering above her with your silver necklace dangling right above her face. She looks so pretty like this, her hair all splayed out, the sheen of sweat on her skin making her look tantalizing.

Natasha catches your swinging necklace between her teeth, winking seductively at you, and you’re snapped out of your moment, a laugh taking over.

“Have I told you that you’re incredibly bad?” you say, in between kisses scattered between her breasts, down her sternum and to her stomach. 

“You- you have,” Natasha replies with some difficulty, as your kisses get lower and lower. “Maybe you should punish me for it, officer;” 

She shuts up when you slowly spread open her thighs, revealing the dripping heat that is Natasha’s cunt. You maintain eye contact with her as you lower your mouth to her pussy, her lust-filled stare making your head spin.

When your tongue meets her cunt, it was game over.

“Fuck,” Natasha moans, already unable to continue looking at you in the eye, hands moving to grip the cushion of the sofa. Her thighs clamp around your head, and you’re suffocating, but in a way that feels so good you could die in bliss.

You lap at her dripping cunt like you were starving, like you would die without it. Natasha’s moans get louder. You move your mouth in rocking motions, pushing your tongue further in with each thrust. 

“More,” she gasps out, and you quicken your pace, fingertips digging bruises into her plush thighs. In retrospect, you don’t remember how long you stay there, ravenously eating her out like your life depended on it. 

When you feel her breathing get faster and more shallow, breathy little whines that get louder and louder, and you know she’s about to cum.

Instead of gently bringing her to a high, you internally say fuck it and decide that if this was the one chance you had, with the most sought-after stripper in Queens, you were going to make it an unforgettable one.

You move your mouth up to wrap your lips around her swollen, throbbing clit, and you suck on it, hard. In tandem with that, you easily slide two fingers in, curling them inside her to hit that sweet spot. Natasha positively screams, and you swear it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

Her orgasm floods the lower half of your face and your fingers, and the little mewls of your name Natasha lets out as she comes down from her high is one you’d always remember.

Finally, you emerge from between Natasha’s thighs. Slowly, you kiss up her stomach and her breasts, up the way you came down from, and you meet Natasha’s blissed out face.

You take a moment to take in her tousled hair, her swollen kissable-pink lips, her smudged makeup, her shallow gasps for air, and the pure lust in her eyes.

Just like that, and another jolt of arousal hits you. Before you can act on it, Natasha pulls you into a messy kiss, hot and sweaty.

“You look so fucking good-” Natasha says in between the frantic meeting of your mouths. “With my cum all over your jaw.” 

You bite back a growl at her words, wanting to let her know just how exactly good you can make her cum. Natasha catches your hand that slides down to her wet cunt, before bringing it up and placing a kiss on your fingertips. “Our time is up,” she whispers, nodding to the clock behind you that now reads 11.31pm. “One private session lasts 30 minutes.”

This woman was going to be the death of you.

You turn back to The Black Widow with dilated pupils, slowly reaching into your pocket for that leather Saint Laurent wallet, and the ghost of a smirk on your lips.

In the wee hours of twilight the next day, you leave the strip club with your wallet emptied, a searing cramp in your hand, and the memory of an unforgettable woman whose real name you hadn’t even known.

Boy, you had one hell of a story to tell your friends. 

i think i'm not gonna taglists anymore, sorry yall. there's just so many usernames and i have to constantly update it :(

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