#they think he's exotic because his last name's Rodriguez

[kadkadduwa]

let me be frank. i bring up people treating lacroix like a baby while sexualizing nines and ignoring some the integral parts of his character A LOT. maybe it's kind of annoying, but i think about it a lot because this (strange) behavior mirrors the way people treat white vs. ethnic characters in other media too. and by strange i mean dehumanizing.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

But it’s Better if You Do | SR x Fem! Reader

Summary - the Blue Siren strip club is the last place Spencer Reid wants to spend his birthday. And the absolute last thing he needs is to fall for you, the magnetic exotic dancer who Morgan and Luke pay to give him a birthday dance.

A/N - as a rule, I am not technically writing Spencer x Reader right now but this is for @imagining-in-the-margins damsel in distress challenge although it’s a very vague fit. Kind of anti damsel in distress? I don’t know, let’s just roll with it. Candy Shop by 50 Cent is the song used in Magic Mike XXL when Adam Rodriguez does his lil sexy dance so the song choice was an homage to that. Loosely based around the Panic at the Disco song “But it’s Better if You Do.”

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Exotic Dancer Fem! Reader

Category - fluff I suppose? Maybe mild angst. Happy ending.

CW - exotic dancer reader, Morgan and Luke are bad wingmen, hints at lesbian Emily, strip clubs, snarky Spencer, drinking, swearing, Spencer and his inappropriate erection, brief mentions of masturbation, making out.

WC - 8.2k

Oh, isn't this exactly where you'd like me?

I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know.

Praying for love and a lap dance,

And paying in naivety.

The last place Spencer Reid ever expected to find himself on his fortieth birthday was at the Blue Siren Club just off of Dupont Circle. For starters, Spencer wasn’t a big drinker so going to a bar didn’t appeal to him on any other given night, let alone his birthday, but there was much more to the Blue Siren than just being your run of the mill club.

The Blue Siren was well known as being one of the most reputable strip clubs in the district. According to the extensive research Spencer had done when he found out he was to be coming here, it was one of the more exclusive clubs, and if Morgan was to be believed it was popular among law enforcement and other government officials due to its clandestine nature.

From the outside, the Blue Siren looked just like a normal club. If you were to pass it by you may not even glance up at the exposed brick facade and black front door. In the lone window in the front sat a small blue neon sign boosting the club's name and that was all. You wouldn’t be alone in walking right past the establishment without batting an eyelid. 

When Luke had suggested the idea to spend his birthday here, Spencer’s immediate reaction had been laughter, because it had to be a joke, right? Strip clubs and Spencer Reid were not a combination anyone who knew him would put together, surely? 

“Why are you laughing?” Luke frowned at him, folding his arms across his chest. 

“Because you’re making a joke?” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“You’re not?” Spencer’s laughter came to a sudden halt and he stared at Luke in disbelief. “You…you seriously think that’s how I want to spend my birthday?” 

“I was talking to Morgan and-“

“No sentence in the history of the English language that starts with “I was talking to Morgan” has ever had a happy ending.” Spencer scoffed. 

“It’s the happy ending part we’re trying to achieve.” Luke smirked at him, a playful hint in his eye that caused Spencer to swallow thickly at the implication. 

“Y-you…I…” 

“When was the last time you got laid, Reid?” 

Spencer felt the moment his cheeks burnt with an intense embarrassment. In all the years he’d known Luke they had never once discussed their sex lives. In fact, Spencer made it a rule to never discuss his sex life with anyone. 

“That’s a deeply personal question.” He shrunk in on himself. 

“Which is Spencer Reid for, it’s been a while.” Luke smiled knowingly. 

“I…I don’t have to answer that.” 

“You kinda just did.” 

“Regardless,” Spencer shook his head, trying to steer the conversation off of his sex life, or lack thereof. “Strip clubs aren’t brothels. The women don’t sleep with their customers.”

“Morgan and I decided it was slightly more appropriate than buying you a hooker.” 

If Spencer thought he was embarrassed before, he was now absolutely mortified. 

“I don’t need help getting “laid”, as you so eloquently put it.” Spencer shook his head, turning back to his desk and sorting through some papers to distract himself.

“Don’t you?” An amused voice came from behind him and Spencer groaned, running his hands through his hair. He turned slowly in his chair to see Emily standing over him, an almost delighted look in her eyes. “What are we talking about?”

“Morgan and I want to take Reid to Blue Siren for his birthday next week.” Luke filled her in.

“Oh that place is great!” She beamed. “Can I come?”

“Where are we going?” Rossi seemingly appeared as if from nowhere with his coffee and newspaper. 

Spencer grumbled, face palming his hand as the group around him gathered.

“We’re taking Spence to Blue Siren for his birthday.” Emily happily told him.

“Blue Siren? Huh,” Rossi nodded his head. “I haven’t been there for years, count me in. I’ll even see if Hotch wants to join.”

“For the love of god.” Spencer muttered against his hand. No one seemed to hear him and if they did, they ignored him.

“Join what? What did I miss?” Garcia came tottering in on her too high heels, laptop balanced precariously in the crook of her arm.

“Apparently the kid wants to go to a strip club for his birthday.” Rossi informed her.

“No, No.” Spencer shook his head, looking up at them. “The kid does not want to go to a strip club for his birthday.”

“Oh isn’t it the big four-oh?” Garcia bounced up and down in excitement. “You have to do something special for it!”

“I highly doubt a strip club can be deemed as special.” Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Strip club?” Matt strolled into the conversation now and Spencer wanted to just vanish into thin air.

“Yeah we’re taking Reid for his birthday. Want in?” Luke asked him.

“As long as no one ever tells Kristy.” Matt chuckled. 

“What aren’t we telling Kristy?” Tara popped her head up from her desk, Spencer didn’t even know she was there. 

“That we’re going to a strip club for Reid’s birthday.” Matt offered her a sly smile.

“Oh sweet! Count me in.” She grinned. 

“How about you guys go, since you’re all so excited about it and just tell me how it was? I’ll stay home with a book or something.” Spencer sighed but no one acknowledged him. 

The door opened again and JJ meandered in, all eyes turning to look at her. 

“Uh, hi?” She laughed awkwardly as she walked across the bullpen.

“Have you ever been to a strip club, Jayje?”

Spencer groaned loudly, crumbling in on himself and smacking his head against the hardwood of his desk. Sometimes it was just easier to go along with these things than try to fight them.

And so, only slightly against his will, Spencer let them talk him into spending his birthday in the last place he ever expected to find himself, least of all on his birthday. The whole team was in attendance, plus Morgan and Hotch, he could only assume to have a front row seat to his complete mortification. They met outside the club, waiting for JJ who was late due to the fact she couldn't get Michael to go to sleep. Luke had gone so far as to pick Spencer up from his apartment, which was in the opposite direction, just so the birthday boy wouldn’t have an excuse for ditching them at the last minute.

“Is that really what you’re wearing to go to a strip club, pretty boy?” Morgan nudged Spencer in the arm.

Spencer glanced down at his attire, what he would call a sensible outfit but was clearly not what he was supposed to be wearing given Morgan’s judgemental gaze. It wasn’t a far cry from what he wore everyday, it wasn’t as though Morgan had never seen him dress like this before. He’d donned a perfectly pressed pair of black slacks, pairing them with his old faithful converse, a crisp blue button down and his black Comme Des Garçons cardigan Rossi had gifted him for his birthday a few years ago. He’d decided against a tie, because that seemed too formal for the occasion even for him. 

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” He frowned, pouting a little. 

He quickly eyed up the other men who were all wearing jeans and t-shirts, Rossi and Hotch included. He couldn’t even get started on how strange it was to see Hotch in jeans. 

“You look like a TA.” Matt shrugged. 

“I always look like a TA. Do you guys think I suddenly dress differently outside of work?” He folded his arms.

“I kind of hoped you did.” Luke smirked. 

“Isn’t it supposed to be my birthday?” Spencer grumbled. “I’m already at the last place I want to celebrate so please can we just leave my outfit choices alone?” 

“I think you look dapper.” Tara patted his shoulder like he was her annoying kid brother or something. 

“Thanks?” He pulled a face. 

“And speaking of birthdays!” Garcia was rummaging in her oversized purse before pulling something out. “Voila!”

Spencer frowned at the large, slightly garish, blue and yellow badge proclaiming “Forty Today” in obnoxious bubble font. It was bigger than Garcia’s hand, she surely didn’t expect him to wear that.

“Uh, no offence but there is no way in hell you are getting me to wear that.” He took it from her anyway, slotting it in the front of his satchel. 

“Spoil sport.” Emily chided him. “Anyone would think you don’t like your birthday!”

“I don’t very much like this particular birthday.” He muttered under his breath. “Where is Jennifer? I’d really like to just get this over with.” 

As if on cue, he heard heels on the concrete ground and seconds later the blonde appeared, dragging someone behind her. She smiled as she came round the corner, tugging Will into view under the streetlamp. 

Oh good, more people to witness my humiliation. 

“Hey guys, sorry we’re late!” She gave them apologetic glances. 

“Will, I didn’t know you’d be joining us.” Penelope hugged JJ and then Will.

“You think I was going to sit at home while my wife goes to a strip club?” He chuckled. “I may never get the opportunity to have permission to do this again in my life. Thanks Spence.” 

“You’re so very welcome.” Spencer replied sarcastically. “Can we just get on with this now?” 

“That’s the spirit.” Luke chuckled, draping his arm around Spencer’s shoulders and leading him through the non-descript door.

Inside a long, narrow corridor stretched out before them, the distant thrums of bass heavy music, causing the floor to feel like it was vibrating beneath him. A burly doorman awaited them, so broad he almost encompassed the entire corridor. 

“Hey man, I have a reservation under Alvez. It's this guy's big four-oh.” Luke gripped Spencer tightly, shaking him a little. 

The doorman glanced down at a piece of paper in his hand, scanning over it for a second before looking back up at the motley crew, clearly trying to discern if he needed to card anyone but it was immediately clear he didn’t. 

“Follow me,” He motioned for them to come with him.

Luke took the lead, dragging Spencer by his hold on his shoulders. The music got louder the further down the black corridor they got. It was dark and Spencer had to squint to see the man only a few feet in front of him, the corridor only lit by a single red light bulb swinging from the low ceiling that Spencer almost had to duck to walk under. 

At the end of the corridor was another door and the music had reached fever pitch at this point. Spencer felt as though he could taste the beat, he could certainly feel it palpitating in his chest. The doorman shoved open the door and Spencer blinked against the sudden wave of lights that smacked against his retinas. 

Luke finally let go of his shoulders, the doorway too narrow for the two of them to pass through together and motioned Spencer in front of him. Spencer stepped into the room, surprised by the sudden change in flooring, casting his eyes down to see a plush burgundy carpet now under foot. He tried not to contemplate how many germs were living in that carpet, how many drinks had been spilled and soaked into it over the years, how many other fluids it might have absorbed on top of it. He was sure this place would light up like a christmas tree under a black light. 

He grimaced, looking back up and following in the doormans footsteps across the room. He tried to keep his eyes straight ahead, desperate not to look around and take in his surroundings but his morbid curiosity got the better of him. 

Admittedly if he’d imagined what the inside of a strip club would look like this would have been plucked straight from his imagination. The main lighting was low, shielding most of the seating area in an almost ominous glow. The booths were made up of plush, gold velvet sofas, large dark oak tables in the centre of them. There was a long bar on one side, made of the same oak only its surface seemed to glitter when the light hit it. Over the back were two large velveteen curtains, concealing what Spencer could only assume was the private dance areas. There were four raised platforms each with their own golden, floor to ceiling pole in the centre, blue spotlights pointed at each one. Each podium had a scantily clad young girl dancing in upon it and Spencer quickly averted his gaze again, not wanting to be seen to objectify them. 

“You know the whole reason they are there is to be looked at right?” Morgan was suddenly at his side, nudging him in the arm. 

“It feels very…voyeuristic.” Spencer swallowed.

“Have you seriously never been to a strip club, Reid?” Matt was now at his other side. 

“Why is that so hard to believe? Do I really strike you as the kind of guy who goes to strip clubs?” They arrived at the table and Morgan motioned for Spencer to take a seat while the others sat around him. 

“It’s usually the quiet ones.” Morgan smirked at him. 

“I cannot believe Savannah is ok with you being here.”

“She was fine with it when I told her it was for your birthday.” Morgan winked at him.

“Do I need to tell you what I told Luke? This is not a brothel, I am not getting laid here.” Spencer sighed in exasperation. 

“It's not too late to take you to a brothel, kid.” Rossi smirked, before excusing himself to the bar. 

“This is the lesser of the two evils, trust me.” Spencer sat back against the plush seat and tried to keep his eyes to himself. It was a difficult feat when just in front of them was another podium with a blonde woman dancing in the skimpiest pair of underwear Spencer had ever seen. 

“No deflowering of boy wonder tonight, please.” Garcia giggled.

“Deflower…you are aware I am not a virgin, right?” Spencer pulled a face, was that how people saw him? 

“I was joking, Spence, calm down.” Garcia rolled her eyes, still tittering to herself. 

“It's that kind of defensive attitude that makes people think you are.” Luke, who was sitting on his left, nudged him. 

“I’m fairly certain if I said the same to you, you would be just as defensive.” Spencer shook his head. 

Just then, Rossi returned carrying a tray of champagne flutes and setting them on the table in the centre. He was closely followed by another young woman carrying an ice bucket in each hand, each with a bottle of the club's most expensive champagne chilling inside. 

Spencer didn’t want to look, really didn’t want to be seen to objectify, but the scent of lavender perfume seemed to flood his senses, his brain, and he could no longer think straight all of a sudden. His eyes which had been attached to the floor glanced over to the pair of deep purple, satin peep toe heels which were standing right in front of him. Slowly his eyes trailed upwards, over a set of long, smooth legs, until meeting a silk pair of dangerously tiny panties, matching the shoes in colour, which he quickly scanned over. His eyes worked up the torso until they came to the chest and the purple silk bra that really left very little to the imagination. Swallowing thickly, his eyes continued their ascent to the face and that’s when time seemed to slow to a halt.

Spencer quivered, actually trembled as he took in your soft features and dazzling eyes. The smile on your lips as you looked at him seemed genuine, and not at all like it was a pain for you to be here. You set down the ice buckets and went about opening one of the bottles, pouring everyone a glass. When you poured Spencer’s glass, bending a little as you did so, his eyes couldn’t help the way they dipped to your cleavage spilling out over the top of your bra.

He quickly snapped his gaze away and thanked you with a shaky smile. He crossed one leg over the other in an attempt to hide an arising problem in his pants.

“I’m Y/N, I’ll be your host for the evening.” You had to speak loudly to be heard by everyone over the pulsing music in the club. “Which one of you is the birthday boy?”

Your eyes flicked between the men in the group, well all of them except the all guy who had paid for the drinks. You’d been informed it was a fortieth birthday, there was no way it was him. 

“This guy right here,” Morgan grinned, gripping Spencer by the shoulders. 

You looked back at the slightly shy, uptight man in his shirt and cardigan, who was holding onto his champagne flute for dear life. He was not your usual clientele, if you didn’t know any better you would think he didn’t want to be here at all. 

“Well, I guess it’s my lucky night.” You couldn’t help but wink at him and even in the low light you saw the way his cheeks instantly flushed pink. 

Usually in your line of work, exotic dancing, not stripping, thank you very much, the men you were paid to dance for were older, usually kind of creepy. Admittedly none of the younger men at the table were bad on the eyes, but this one was especially handsome, even if he was absolutely pertrided. 

“What’s your name, stud?” You placed one hand on your hip and the other you held out for him to shake. 

You saw him swallow, taking a sip of his drink as if to lubricate his mouth so he could speak. 

“S-Spencer.” He took your hand and shook it. It was warm and so much larger than your own, even if it was a little sweaty. 

“Nice to meet you, S-Spencer.” You teased, hoping to ease some tension but it seemed to have the opposite effect. 

He shrunk in on himself, grimacing a little and looking as though he would quite literally rather be anywhere else in the world. 

“You too.” His voice jumped several octaves. 

Most of the rest of the team watched in amusement at Spencer’s discomfort, all of them aside from Emily who had wandered off to watch a redhead dance, tossing dollar bills at her and Luke who although was still seated, clearly had his eyes on the blonde on the podium in front of them. 

“So, shall we get to the good stuff?” You asked him now and he almost choked on his drink. 

“G-good stuff?” His eyes widened in terror.

“Your friends here paid for you to have a private birthday dance. They didn’t tell you?” 

Spencer clenched his jaw and turned to his friends, anger leaching from his eyes.

“I would like to go on record and say I did not invest any money in this particular endeavour.” Hotch was quick to speak up.

“This is just from me and Alvez. Happy birthday, stud.” Morgan winked at him.

If Spencer was a violent man, he would have wrung Morgan’s neck, maybe bashed his and Luke’s heads together until they lost consciousness. He was fairly certain after all his years on the job he could murder them both and get away with it. 

Maybe if you hadn’t been there, standing over him and looking so goddamn delicious in his favourite colour as well, he might have given the two men an ear full. But it wasn’t the time or place and so he swallowed his anger, keeping it bottled up until later and turning back to you. 

“Let’s just…get this over with.” Spencer stood up, grabbing his glass and the full bottle of champagne, god knows he was going to need it, and following you towards one of the curtained off areas. 

You held the curtain back for him to enter first and he did so without letting himself think about what was going to happen when the two of you were alone. The private room was much the same as the main room, only smaller with no bar. There was another plush golden couch in the centre, a smaller raised platform with a pole on the far wall. The wallpaper was a deep, cherry red, swirled with black and a gold chandelier hung from the ceiling offering, once again, very little light. 

Spencer could only assume he was supposed to sit, so slightly reluctantly he dragged his pathetic ass to the couch and sat in the centre of it. He downed the remains of his champagne before swiftly uncorking the bottle. You couldn’t help the way your body reacted to his large, veiny hand expertly pulling the cork from the bottle, like it was the easiest thing in the world. You shuddered a little at the thought of what else his hands might be capable of. 

He discarded the glass on the floor and opted instead to drink straight from the bottle, not something Spencer would ever usually do, but this whole night was so out of the ordinary for him, he decided to just lean into it. You came and stood in front of him, hands on your hips as you looked down on him.

“Not big into sharing?” You smirked at him.

“You…I assumed because you were working…”

You chuckled, reaching out and taking the bottle from his hands and taking a hefty sip. You felt the bubbles tickle the back of your throat and branch out towards your brain.

“I can indulge a little, as long as I don’t get off my face. Besides, the alcohol helps when the customer is particularly…” you searched for the right word. “Old. Ugly. Generally gross.” 

Spencer frowned at you, processing your words. 

“I guess Alvez and Morgan didn’t spring for the package where you pretend to be nice to me.” He tried to not sound as pathetic as he felt but failed miserably.

To his surprise you giggled in response, handing him back the champagne.

“Trust me, stud, you’re one customer I don’t need to drink to have fun with.” You winked at him and heard a little whimper leave his lips. He tried to cover it up by drinking more.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against the bottle top. “Let’s just…I don’t suppose we can just sit here and pretend you gave me a lap dance?” 

“Not a chance.” You smiled, sauntering on your heels over to the stereo setup in the corner. You hit play and music pulsed into the room through the speakers situated in each corner. Spencer woefully recognised the song as 50 Cent’s Candy Shop, he’d heard Morgan listen to it on more than a few occasions over the years.

You strutted back over to him, wiggling your hips to the music as you went. Spencer tried to keep his eyes trained on the bottle as he drank, refusing to let himself look at you. You made it back over to him and once again took the bottle from his hands. You sipped from it delicately, bending over to place it on the floor, ensuring to give Spencer a show of your ass as you did so. 

A low hiss left his lips, probably at the realisation you were wearing a thong. God you were going to enjoy this. 

You stood back up and started swaying to the music, stepping between his open legs. He looked up at you through frightened doe eyes, the most beautiful shade of brown you’d ever seen. His long, messy curls fell in his face and his pouty bottom lip was too kissable for words. You shook that thought off as fast as you could.

You turned you away from him, thinking it easier if you didn’t look at his gorgeous face. You knew his eyes went straight to your bare ass, you could practically feel his gaze on you. 

“You can touch me, Spencer, just nowhere inappropriate please.” Really you wanted those hands to touch you everywhere inappropriate but that kind of behaviour was frowned upon within the walls of the club. 

“I’m…I’m good.” He croaked.

You smiled to yourself as you slowly lowered yourself into his lap, perching at first on his knees before wiggling backwards. 

Spencer gasped loudly as your ass settled into his crotch and without even looking at him you knew he would be one hundred shades of red. 

It certainly wasn’t the first time a man had gotten hard when you’d given them a lap dance and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. It may well be the first time you’d enjoyed it though. 

“Jesus Christ.” He whimpered, your back now flush with his chest, his breath tickling the back of your neck. “I am so, so sorry. This is humiliating.” 

“Don’t be embarrassed.” You grinded against him in time to the music. “I know I am attractive and I am also half naked. Honestly, I’d be a little offended if you weren’t excited by that.” 

“Right. Right.” Spencer nodded, wishing he could reach the champagne bottle. “So uh…how does one get into this line of work? Stripping.” 

He needed to try and take his mind off of how unfathomably good you felt rolling your ass against his dick. 

“I’m not a stripper.” You chided him, pinching his knee with your long acrylic nails as punishment. “I’m an exotic dancer. I don’t take my clothes off. Well, no more so than this.” 

He grumbled at the pain you inflicted on his leg but the pleasure more than outweighed it. 

“Apologies, I hope I wasn’t out of line.” 

“It’s ok, it’s a common misconception. And I started working here to help pay my student loans. I stayed because I love what I do.” You grinded particularly hard against him and he whimpered against your neck. 

“You went to college?” He sounded surprised. 

“Yes, I’m not some bimbo, stud.” You rolled your eyes, another common misconception.

“Sorry.” He clenched his jaw, his cock twitching dangerously in his pants. “What uh, what did you study?” 

“Psychology.”

“No kidding?” He sounded genuinely impressed. “You have a degree in psychology and you work here?” 

You suddenly turned around, kneeling over Spencer, one leg hooked over each of his thighs. His eyes were wide as he stared at you, swallowing thickly. 

“Look, you’re cute but don’t talk to me like I’m some kind of moron and try to make me feel like working here makes me less of a person.” You reached and gripped his jaw, digging your fake nails into his stubbly cheeks.

“I…I didn’t mean it like that, I-“

“I choose to work here.” You cut him off, lowering yourself so you were seated in his lap, straddling him. “I enjoy working here. It gives me a sense of power, I’m choosing to show off my body, to turn men like you into pathetic messes.” 

Spencer moaned, didn’t even try to disguise it. You let go of his face and went to stand up but Spencer surprised you when his hands flew to your hips, gripping you firmly and keeping you in place. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He spoke, for the first time sounding close to confident. “You’re stunning and clearly good at your job.” He nodded down to his crotch and how he was straining against his slacks. “I didn’t mean to sound patronising or anything like that. I was merely trying to make conversation and I’m sorry if I upset you. But quite frankly, Y/N, if I don’t keeping talking I’m going to do something really fucking stupid.” 

You narrowed your eyes on him, stilling your movements as the music came to end. He kept his grip on your hips and you found yourself a little dizzy by the firmness in which he held you. 

“Stupid like what?” Your chest heaved with heavy breaths and Spencer’s eyes briefly flicked down and he hissed again at the sight. 

“Something that could probably get you fired, and neither of us wants that.” He grinded up against you this time and a soft moan left your lips. 

“Jesus,” you whined, the tables well and truly turned. “Can you just…I don’t know…give me a clue?” 

Spencer chuckled a little, moving one hand from your hip to the back of your neck and tugging you closer to him. His lips were close to your ear, ghosting over the skin. It was like a switch had been flipped, the shy and awkward guy who hadn’t even wanted a lap dance was gone, replaced by this confident and self-assured man now beneath you. 

His breath fanned across the side of your face and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Let’s just say it would involve both of us wearing a lot less clothes and you screaming my name.” 

You whimpered like a dog that had just been kicked and attempted to clamp your legs together but his were in the way. Suddenly he dropped both of his hands to his sides and looked at you darkly. 

“Get up.” He commanded you and you were dumb to do anything by comply. 

“I need to go.” He stood up, snatching up the bottle of champagne. “Thanks for that.” 

You watched him scurry away, seemingly reverting back to the shy creature he’d been initially. He fled back through the curtain, leaving you with an intense heat between your legs. 

Goddamnit, you swallowed, trying to compose yourself. I might have just found my kryptonite. 

***

Two weeks passed and Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every time he closed his eyes he saw you sitting in his lap, that goddamn purple lingerie glowing against your skin. It never failed to make him painfully hard in a matter of seconds and he’d spent more time than he could count masturbating over thoughts of you the last two weeks.

Eventually he couldn’t keep himself away if he tried. Emily had given them the weekend off and sitting alone in his apartment on Saturday night, his limbs had moved without the forethought to do so. And of course he’d ended up outside Blue Siren. 

He paid the cover charge and saw himself inside, ambling over to the bar and ordering himself a scotch. He watched the room, in a way he was trained to do, watching and waiting for a glimpse of you. 

He’d gotten down three drinks before finally he saw you across the room. His cock twitched almost instantly. Today you wore a crimson red lace teddy with shoes to match. He preferred the purple, liked it when you had more skin on display, but you still looked like a fallen fucking angel. An incredibly sexy fallen angel. 

He finished the remains of his drink and set the glass down on the bar before heading your way. 

As soon as you saw him, you couldn’t help the way your whole face lit up. He looked much the same as he had last time in his smart shirt and slacks but today he’d bypassed the cardigan and had his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“Stud, you came back.” You smirked at him, placing one hand on your hip. 

“Can we talk?” 

“I’m on the clock.” You shrugged. “My time has to be paid for.”

Spencer rolled his eyes and fished his wallet out of his pocket, flashing a large wad of bills. He pulled one out and stuffed it in your hand.

“How much will a hundred get me?” 

You looked down at the bill wide eyed, seeing it was actually a hundred dollars. You looked back at him with a smile.

“At least a few dances.” You turned on your heels and motioned for him to follow you towards the private room you’d occupied a few weeks ago. 

Once inside you watched him get comfortable on the couch.

“You sure you just want to talk? I can dance and talk at the same time, I’m just that good.” You winked at him.

“N-no.” He shook his head. “No dancing, please?”

“Fine.” You chuckled, coming over and sitting next to him on the couch. “What’s up? Must be important if you’re willing to drop a C-Note on me.” 

“I uh, I wanted to apologise for my conduct the other week. It was very unlike me and I wanted you to know I’m sorry.” His cheeks flushed.

“Hmm.” You mused. “See, I don’t think it was unlike you. I think you allowed yourself to be completely authentic in that moment, letting out a side of yourself you don’t normally let people see.” 

“That psych degree is paying off, I see.” His lip twitched into a small smirk.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” 

“People see me a certain way.” He sighed a little as he spoke. “I’m the smart one, the bookish, awkward one. I’ve been seen that way for as long as I can remember. I guess I grew out of it but no one around me sees that. So maybe I play up the persona a little because it's what’s expected of me.” He confessed, not sure why he was doing so but you oddly put him at ease.

“Yeah, I get that. Sometimes it's easier to play into the expected, to fall into the roles people assign us rather than forge our own identity. You know, I only got my degree to prove I could. I wanted to prove, even if only to myself, that there was more to me than people expected of me. One day I might do something with it but for now, I really do love my job. But now I know I could do something else if I chose to.” You were equally surprised by your honesty. 

“My friends brought me here because they think I’m some kind of pathetic sad sack that can’t get laid.” He chuckled wistfully. 

“Oh but I bet you have no problem in that department, from what I could tell.” Maybe you leant closer to him, you certainly didn’t mean to, but you were sure he was closer now.

“I do alright.” The glint in his eyes told you he did better than alright and why did that cause a rumble of jealousy in your chest? 

This time it was him that leaned closer to you, his large hand finding your thigh. You felt your chest tighten at the way it felt.

“I’m not going to sleep with you.” You spoke but you didn’t particularly believe your own voice. 

“Not here, certainly not.” He inched his hand higher and you didn’t stop him.

“Not here, not anywhere.” 

“Tell yourself that all you want, princess.” He growled the last word, eliciting a whimper from your lips. 

“I don’t sleep with customers. Full stop.” 

“You sleep with me, I promise I will never come back here.” He dared edge his hand higher, now right at the top of your thigh.

“You should leave.” You said, but you didn’t move or push him away. 

“I just paid you a hundred dollars, I’m not going anywhere.” He squeezed your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh. 

“Maybe I did prefer it when you were shy.”

“No you didn’t.” He smiled in a knowing way. And he was right. “Let me take you out, show you what I’m really like.” 

You swallowed, god how you would love that. But no. You couldn’t succumb. 

“Not gonna happen.” You took hold of his hand and forcibly removed it from your thigh. You removed the bill he’d given you from where you’d tucked it in the side of your panties and tossed it at him. “Keep your money. Leave before I call security.” 

Spencer chuckled to himself, shaking his head and placing the note on the couch, leaving it there as he stood up. 

“I’m not a threat, you don’t need to call security.” He held his hands up in defeat. “I think you know as well as I do that there's something between us, I just don’t know why you won’t admit to it. But whatever, I’ll go.” 

He went to move past you but as he did, his fingers circled your wrist. He turned your hand over and forcibly put his business card in your open hand. 

“In case you change your mind, princess.” With that he was gone, leaving your legs shaking in his wake. 

You looked down at the card in your hand and frowned to yourself as you read the words adorned on it. 

Doctor Spencer Reid. FBI. 

Huh. That was an interesting turn of events. 

***

Spencer didn’t return to the club again, respecting your boundaries and just holding onto a small glimmer of hope that you would call. But weeks passed and you never did. 

In all honesty, he wasn’t that surprised. He expected you’d tossed the card the minute he’d walked through that curtain and never given him a second thought. 

He didn’t often allow himself to get close to people for this very reason. When Spencer fell for someone it happened fast and hard and now you were the only thing he could think of and it was tearing him in two. 

It was Morgan and Luke’s fault. Them and their dumb idea to take him to a strip club for his birthday. He decided his next birthday was cancelled, the one after that too. Screw it, all his birthdays were cancelled indefinitely. 

Thankfully due to the BAU’s heavy caseload and him teaching classes at Marlborough University, he didn’t have a whole lot of time to dwell on you, which was for the best. 

He’d just have to resign himself to being alone again. Just like always. 

***

For weeks that card felt like it was burning a hole in your pocket. You didn’t intend on calling Spencer, but you just couldn’t get rid of it. There was something different about him, something that begged you to get to know him. But you had to resist temptation, it would only end badly like it always did. 

Still, you couldn’t help but picture his face when you gave an old, sad man a lap dance, wishing it were him instead. It never failed to send chills down your spine when you thought of the way his persona had flipped from shy and slightly nerdy, to suddenly so self assured. 

But you had to stop thinking about him. Thinking about him was fruitless. But of course you couldn’t, because like it or not, you were going to see him again. 

You’d almost considered pulling out of the class, as soon as you’d seen his name on the business card you knew it would be a bad idea to go through with it. But you’d been excited about this for months and you really didn’t want to wait another semester to take it. You just had to hope you could get through it without incident, however unlikely that seemed. 

“Ok, let's take a moment now to discuss the difference between a trigger and a stressor. A trigger is a sensory event experienced by an offender that precipitates subsequent behaviour whereas a stressor is a longer term pattern of behaviour or circumstances which push a person into behaving differently than they normally would. You might want to write this down. I probably shouldn’t be telling you guys this but I’m definitely putting this on the final.”

You watched the brunette a few rows in front of you coyly tell Professor Reid she was simply auditing the class. You couldn’t help but smirk when an array of other beautiful girls raised their hands when he asked who else was auditing. He was the youngest, best looking professor on campus, it was no surprise his class had drawn in a crowd of young girls to fawn over him. 

“Uh…ok.” He shook his head, checking his watch. “Unfortunately that is all the time we have for today. Thank you guys.”

You stayed seated while the rest of the class filtered out, watching him collect a stack of papers and put them in his worn satchel before turning to erase the writing on the whiteboard. You stuffed your laptop away and crept down the stairs towards the front of the class, fingers toying with the small white piece of card.

“What was your stressor, Professor? Or should I say, Doctor?” 

You saw his back go rigid and for a moment or two he didn't move a muscle. He set the whiteboard eraser down and slowly turned around as you waved his business card at him. He couldn’t help the way his eyes raked up and down your body, clad in jeans and a t-shirt, more than he was used to seeing on you. He still thought you looked like a goddamn angel.

“Uh, I’m sorry, what?” He frowned, clearly at a loss for words. 

“You said a stressor is a longer term pattern of behaviour or circumstances which push a person into behaving differently than they normally would. When I first met you, you behaved differently than you normally would, am I right? Pretending to be this shy, awkward little thing.” You quipped your eyebrow at him.

“For the record I wasn’t pretending. It wasn’t some kind of ruse or something. I am generally shy and awkward. But I have learnt to assert myself when I need to, for instance, when I see something I want. I got carried away that night at the club and I’m sorry for that, that was out of character for me.” He leant back against the edge of the desk and perched on it. “Why are you in my class, Y/N?”

“I signed up for this class before I met you. I didn’t even know you were the professor until you gave me your card.” You shrugged a little nervously. 

You were more uncomfortable in normal social settings. At the Blue Siren, where you commanded the room, the confidence oozed for you. But in the real world you were much uncomfortable in your own skin. 

“You want to be a profiler?” He scrutinised you with his gaze.

“Maybe someday. I told you, I don’t necessarily want to work at the club forever, I want options.”

“But you love your job.” He repeated what you’d told him.

“I do.” You nodded. “If this is going to be weird I can drop out. I can go to Georgetown next semester, although their professor is not a legit FBI agent with the BAU.” You chuckled a little.

“Why would it be weird?” 

“Because,” you shrugged. “Since the second you turned around and saw me standing here, you’ve been undressing me with your eyes.” 

Spencer smiled, a hint of a blush gracing his cheeks.

“I have, it's true.” He agreed. “I can’t help it if I’ve already seen so much of it.” 

“I don’t think you should want to sleep with your students.” 

“There’s no rule against it.” He chuckled, pushing himself back to his feet. “My students are all over the legal age, if I was to sleep with one of them, it would be completely consensual and no rules would be broken.”

“You’re talking from experience.” You stated and his eyes playfully glistened.

“Maybe.” He shrugged but his face said it all. “I told you, I do alright.” 

“Well, I can tell you for a fact I won’t be one of them.” 

“And that’s your loss.” He turned his back on you now and started gathering up his things, slinging his satchel over his head. “Excuse me, I have papers to grade.” 

You watched him saunter away, leaving you standing there in confusion and a little turned on if you were honest. He shoved open the door and exited the classroom and before you could think it through you were following hot on his heels. You caught up to him in the corridor as he was unlocking his office door. He spotted you in his peripheral vision.

“My office hours are on Wednesday.” He pushed open the door. “If you need something you can come…”

He trailed off when you pushed past him, entering his office ahead of him. He frowned and followed you inside, closing and locking the door behind him. 

“What?” He sighed, taking off his bag and dropping it in the chair next to the door. “You asked me to leave the club that night and I did. I gave you my number, I left the ball in your court and you didn’t call and that’s fine. I walked away! So why are you pursuing me?” 

“I won’t give it up.” You blurted out, causing a heavy frown to form on Spencer’s face.

“Give up what?” Had he missed a part of the conversation?

“The club, I love my job.”

“I know you do.” His frown deepened. “Why would you have to give it up?”

“Do you know how many men I meet that think I’m some kind of damsel in distress that needs saving? They swoop in, on their fucking white horse and think they can rescue the poor, broken stripper.”

“Exotic dancer.” Spencer corrected you with a smirk. You huffed somewhat childishly. 

“Whatever. They think they can change me. Men always think I’m some kind of fucking damsel in distress that needs saving from the big bad world of strip…exotic dancing. That’s why I don’t date customers, not because it's not allowed. I’ve made the mistake before and it always ends the same. So stop looking at me like you want to fuck me, because its never going to happen!” 

Spencer simply looked at you curiously while you ranted, voice getting louder with each syllable. Confusingly he was smiling when you finished.

“Can I speak now?” He had a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“If you have to.” You rolled your eyes. 

Spencer took a few steps away from the door and you felt yourself growing weaker the closer he got to you. He was magnetic, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards him.

“Correct me if I’m wrong but I’m certain I never once said that I have any kind of issue with your profession and I certainly never asked you to quit. Am I right?” 

“Y-yes.” You swallowed, catching the scent of his cologne. 

“If you’ve found something you love I would never dream of keeping you from that. Honestly, I admire you. It takes a lot of bravery and a lot of confidence to do what you do and god…you do it so well. Why would I ever want to take that from you?” He was so close now and you were begging him to touch you even though it was a bad idea.

“I…I don’t know.” 

“Yes, princess, you do.” He smirked. “You made an assumption about me, the same way I admittedly did when I first met you. But I was wrong and I acknowledged that. It’s only fair for you to do the same.” 

He raised his hand and your legs shook before he even touched you, at the sheer anticipation of it. It came up to cup your jaw, firmly enough that you could feel his fingers squeezing your jawbone. 

“Y-you don’t want to change me?” You whimpered.

“Why mess with perfection?” He bowed his head, his lips so close to yours you could feel the heat radiating off of them. “I’m no knight in shining armour, Y/N, I’m not rushing in to try and save you. And you are most certainly not a damsel in distress. You are a strong, independent woman and I would be lucky to merely exist in your orbit.” 

You mewled, trying to move closer to him, to crash your lips against his but he held you firmly in place, chuckling at your eagerness. For the first time in a long time you felt all your bravado melt away, all the confidence you had on stage at the Blue Siren was washed away, leaving you a trembling mess in front of this man. And normally that kind of vulnerability would cause you to run for the hills. But being vulnerable with Spencer didn’t seem all that bad.

“Can you,” you swallowed, eyes glued on those pouty lips of his. “Please…just kiss me already, stud.” 

Spencer laughed and for a moment you thought he might not comply. But then he closed the small space between you and you finally got to feel those pillowy lips pressing against yours. He gripped the back of your neck firmly, keeping you in place, as if you would go anywhere. 

Maybe one day Spencer would thank Morgan and Luke for the birthday present, this was one he’d surely cherish, as long as you would let him. 

Oh, isn't this exactly where you'd like me?

I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know.

Praying for love and a lap dance,

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[rizegreymon22arts]

I want to clarify first that the following content has some material that is not appropriate for sensitive people.

I want to clarify first that the following content has some material that is not appropriate for sensitive people.

For starters, what is Thrill Kill? Some gamers may know it, but for those who do not know, Thrill Kill is a canceled game that was going to launch into the original Playstation in 1998, the game consists of a hell-fighting championship in hell organized by an evil entity called Marukka, the participants are the souls of several people who were sent here for their most terrible sins, becoming physical manifestations of their crimes, filias and sins, the winner would get reincarnation as a reward and return to earth. This game could have unleashed Mortal Kombat when it comes to bloodthirsty fighting game, but the distribution house EA canceled it at the last moment because with fear that the game would ruin its image they said they did not want to publish a game with such senseless violence , not to mention that the game also had some sexual and sadomasochistic content, so Thrill Kill was never released, but still an incomplete version is found on the internet, but it is not known how more violent the full version could have been.

The game seemed ahead of its time, which is why it was canceled, but it had reasons to distinguish itself from other fighting games, for example they could be played with four fighters instead of two, and instead of the typical health bar or a Percentage bar as in Super Smash Bros., the characters had a power bar that when filled after taking more hits, the character could execute a fatality to eliminate an opponent from the round. There is a saying that says "The forbidden is sometimes the most attractive" so this would be a somewhat retouched version of how the characters would be if the game were something more modern and complete.

TORMENTOR

Previous name: Daniel Carlson

Sin: Sadism, torture and murder

History: Earlier in his previous life, Daniel Carlson lived in Pheonix, Arizona and his former occupation was a vigilant judge, being one of the best in the country. But he had a dark secret, he believed he was the angel of mercy who would cleanse the souls of mortals and punish them with what he thinks they deserve; he acquitted criminals and other prisoners not to prove his sentence, but to take him to his personal torture chamber, to torture them with all kinds of horrible things that man could imagine, chains, whips, fire, punches, etc., for Daniel the The purpose of this is because the system does not punish criminals enough, and he believes he is the judge who decides the type of punishment he felt they deserved, almost always for him the final sentence was death. He was found guilty when he discovered what he did with the missing criminals, and in the end Daniel died when he was executed to the electric chair. Upon reaching hell, Maruka gave him a new physical form based on his acts, an executioner and at the same time an inquisitor, a medieval nightmare of leather and chains whose main weapon for the hell tournament baptized as "Tormentor", are the sentence chains of his adversaries, and although his opponents are already in hell for their actions, for him it is not enough and he is willing to punish them with his own hands.

Finisher moves:

Embed his hook in his opponent's stomach with the chain wrapping around his waist, and then pull the chain tightly by splitting the opponent in half.

He extends his chain on his opponent's neck, jumps over his opponent to stand behind him with his chain hanging him, and after a jerk he cuts off his head.

It invokes four chains with hooks, each one is embedded in one of the four limbs of the opponent, they begin to stretch until each arm and leg of the opponent is torn off, leaving it without limbs.

Throws his chained hook over his opponent's head, piercing it, then rips off the head still attached to the hook of the body, and uses the head as a medieval mallet to destroy the rest of the opponent's body.

ODDBALL

Previous name: Raymond Raystack

Sin: Dementia,Sociopathy

History: Originally as an FBI criminal analyst in Belfast, Maine, he had a noble career and what was thought to be a good life, seeking evidence for horrible people in this world to be put behind bars. However, these criminals put Raymond on the limit, spending years of tracking all evidence and location, driving him out of his mind, until he finally reached the limit; He slowly began to enjoy sadly as other criminals ended up executed, until he admitted to predators that he had promised to track down and become one of them. Raymond was put in a psychiatric hospital, put on a straitjacket and in a bleached room, despite many treatments there was no change, every time Raymond's sanity faded, all that remained of him was his intelligence, cunning, since he adapted to his lack of the use of his arms and was very skilled just using his legs, saying that he attacked one of the hospital nurses and took an ear from a bite. It was decided that Odball had no choice, they had to sleep like a dog. Upon reaching hell for Marukka, he named it "Oddball" which means "Weirdo", with compassion and sympathy outside his vocabulary, representing the incarnation of madness and inhuman anger, with his straitjacket still tied to him even after death, fully adapted like all predators.

Finisher moves:

Jumps on top of his opponent and with both legs hits him in the face and throws him to the ground, crushing his face as if he were a cockroach, and after a leg he rips his head as if kicking a ball.

Throws himself on the head of the opponent and holds him with his legs, then turns at the same time holding the head, causing the vertebrae to break and this turns like a screw, and when released, the head of the opponent will fall.

With a kick he throws his opponent into the air, and with a great jump he ends up piercing the torso with his head, and then gravity takes effect and the corpse hole will be enlarged causing it to fall to the ground and filling Oddball's body with blood .

Throws his opponent to the ground of an onslaught, and begins to jump on his spine, until the opponent bleeds through the mouth and dies.

BELLADONA

Previous name: Bella Linares

Sin: Murder/Nymphomania

History: To think how an entire nymphomaniac was in past life a placid and calm woman, as was Bella Linares, a housewife and librarian who lived in Savannah, Georgia, and happily married. Unfortunately, her happy life plummeted, when she discovered thanks to a detective she hired to find out that her husband was being unfaithful, and yes, Bella's husband cheated on her with no one but Bella's sister. In an attack of hysteria and after an emotional crisis, Bella decided to do the same, betraying her husband with other men, even other women to have had sex, and using sex to let off steam, but there was a time when Bella realized that cheating on her husband and lover were not enough and decided to take revenge in another way. Bella and her husband loved doing sex games, mostly role-playing games where everyone dressed like the characters in that game, so while her husband came home from work, Bella waited for him, wearing a tight maid outfit latex of one of his sexual role plays, and carrying in his hand an electric baton with which he murders her husband, and her sister murders her more discreetly, giving her a pie that was filled with belladonna fruits, which killed her of poisoning Once her revenge is completed, to avoid being arrested with the authorities, Bella committed suicide by electrocuting her electric baton while in the bathtub. Marukka took Bella's soul and gave her the shape of her old form, wearing the same maid outfit and cane with which she murdered her husband, and named her Belladonna, not for being the fruits with the that poison his sister, but Belladonna means "Beautiful, exotic, but lethal." Feeling an untiring appetite for sex, gigmuting pleasantly when he saw his opponents suffer in the game of hell.

Finisher moves:

With her electric baton she puts it inside her opponent's mouth until he buries it to the bottom of his stomach, and then electrocutes the opponent from inside.

In a moment of calm, Belladonna seductively approaches his opponent, hugging it, and then bends down, as if he were about to approach oral sex, but as moves away from the camera, she ends up electrocuting the sensitive parts of the opponent with the electric baton.

Takes a whip and starts pounding his opponents, leaving it lying on the ground because of the intense pain, and that is when Belladonna uses the whip to tie him around his neck and tear his head off.

Extends her electric baton, and when perching behind and below the opponent, it focuses on the face of the opponent, which shows gestures of absolute pain while it sounds like Belladonna was sticking his cane from his anal hole, until finally the end of the stick comes out by its mouth, while killing him.

DR. FAUSTUS

Previous name: Franklin Rodriguez

Sin: Murder, Sadism

History: Franklin Rodriguez was a plastic surgeon at a hospital in Los Angeles, California; Franklin's job was to fix damage to the face and body of his patients, but he had other specialties, since since he has memory he has spent days and nights studying medical books, filling him with great doubts such as the functioning of organs and other things, but his thirst for knowledge would make him go beyond the edges of madness, getting to see some of his patients, and dig deep into his organs, to the point that Dr. Rodriguez interplanted mechanical joints to his patients, which He lost his job. But that did not stop him, since he anesthetized innocent people who had the bad luck that he would find them and took them to his basement to serve with test subjects, having interplanted the same jaws with the appearance of bear traps and use them to Bite by bite, however, an infection caused by grafting your jaws would end up killing Franklin. Already with his soul in pain of hell, Marukka did not doubt that a madman like Franklin would be one of the perfect competitors for the game of hell, shaping and baptizing him as "Dr. Faustus", name of a character of a Work on a doctor who, in order to gain power and knowledge, made a deal with the devil. A depraved combination of bloodthirsty diabolic and surgical steel, who will honor his name by making a deal with the devil's lover to return to the earth and continue his deadly studies.

Finisher Moves:

He throws himself on his opponent and biting his neck shakes him like a rag doll until he rips his body and then spits his decapitated head.

With his scalpel and other metal artifacts, Faustus makes a very bloody operation to the face of his opponent, and in the end we see the face of the dead opponent and with bear traps interplanted in his face.

With his scalpel he makes a huge cut to the opponent's torso forming a huge hole that shows the thorax box and other organs.

He pulls out a huge syringe, digs it into the nape of his opponent, and sucks all of his blood causing the opponent to pale and wrinkle like a raisin and die.

THE IMP

Previous name: Marcus Ronald

Sin: Genocide, rape, megalomania

History: Bad things can come in small packages, as evidenced by the rumor of the three-foot terror is The Imp. Its devastating size is its most unpleasant place, suffering from a Napoleon complex to the end. Originally in his past life in Albany, New York as Marcus Ronald, he lived a hard life due to his short stature, victim of teasing and that no one wanted to give him a suitable job for his state; what led Marcus to devote himself to the world of adult movies, but led to films in the darkest of the network, from pedophilia, gay sex, and his favorite Snuff, where he was lucky to be the executioner and was for him the best part of his work, since they felt him feel a giant ready to take revenge for all the teasing of his stature. His work in the pornography industry gave Marcus very good money, but Marcus knew that he could do something else and not stop degrading, so that with his saved fortune and the hard studies he had in his youth, they were enough to becoming a government employee of the United States, with the dream of becoming president of the country, he was clearly thirsty for power, but Marcus was always bothered by his short stature therefore he thought that no one wanted a president of half a meter, so he put in an operation to transplant long legs for something taller than an average man, but there were several complications in the operation that caused his death. The soul of this man with a Napoleon complex and acts of rape and murder in his youth was Marukka's choice to participate in Hell Den, baptizing him with his pornographic career name, "The imp" and in order to be at the height of his fellow henchmen, he has mounted improvised stilts and has permanently grafted them on the legs and arms. An angry and tortured soul, the Imp doesn't think of anything, but it causes pain to those who dare to belittle him.

Finisher Moves:

Throws his opponent to the ground with a kick, and before getting up he crushes his head with one of his stilts.

With a magic he enters the opponent, and then returns to his normal size causing his rival's body to explode.

With an evil magic he shrinks his opponent the size of a mouse and gives him a bloody stomp with his stilt.

With a spinning kick with one of his stilts with an attached vanaja, he cuts off his opponent's legs by falling on the floor on his amputated knees, and then Imp impacts him by digging his stilt into his chest through him.

SERPENT

Previous name: Violet Santiago

Sin: Misandría, asesinato

History: Violet was born with a strange condition, was taller than a child can measure and could twist her body as if it were made of rubber, the moment that marked the life of little Violet was when she was sexually abused by her biological father, after the child protection society took her father and moved her to a new home, raised by a lesbian couple, after that trauma suffered as a child and that her new moms avoided men, Violet developed a disdain for sex masculine, growing up becoming a young liberal with the aim of protecting the rights of women and the death of the patriarchate, in other words, a feminazi. Violet believed herself independent enough to leave her adoptive family and live alone, so that when the circus arrived in the city, given her condition she could twist her own body, she was hired as a cortorist. One night after her performance, a man entered her dressing room with the intention of raping her, due to the tall stature of the young woman she did not take into account that she was a minor, this brought Violet several disturbing memories of her childhood, so that the young woman decided to defend herself and kill her attacker by twisting her neck, Since then, every man who wanted to take advantage of Violet, was sentenced to death what for her was a step of making a better world, and to avoid conflicts he was going circus in Circus like a parasite. It was not until several spinal problems were detected in Violet after so much writhing, which would end up killing her; The death of all these men and their disgust for male sex were the reason Violet was not welcome to heaven. Although it is barely more than a skeleton, it is a crooked and ruthless opponent capable of twisting and twisting to get out of any situation. Like a thin snake, it is fast, agile and deadly for anyone who crosses his path, hence Maruka brought her to the game of hell with the name of "Serpent".

Finisher Moves:

SHe is held head and back in front of the opponent, with her legs held on to the opponent's shoulders, and then bends his body by splitting his opponent in half like a bear trap.

Bend the opponent's arm in the opposite direction by splitting the bone, then do the same with one of its legs, and with the opponent on the ground it rolls backwards bending the opponent's spine killing him instantly.

She turns her head on the floor and rolls in a circle at high speed with his legs extended, kicking the opponent's face to the point where the jaw is split, then the neck and finally beheading him with one more kick.

Throws herself on top of his opponent, then squeezes it with arms and legs, and hugs it with such strong pressure that he causes his opponent to drown and its eyes come out of his corneas and coughs up blood.

MAMMOTH

Previous name: Maurice Kingston

Sin: Murder, Wrath

History: Before becoming a bloodthirsty golem, in his past life as a postal counter in Covington, Indiana, Maurice was nicknamed "Mammoth" because of his great stature, as a young man he always had serious anger problems that when he took him to the limit he became violently, he had already spent on psychologists to get him some anger control treatment, but for Maurice his anger sent the devil all the therapy sessions he had paid for. There came a time when Maurice was on the verge of insanity, as if it were not enough to be forced to attend to weak and rude clients at the local post office, and that his salary was not enough to pay the many bills and the demands of his ex-wife for the maintenance of his children, instead of giving him an increase as he requested, Maurice was fired, this was the missing trigger for all the accumulated anger of Maurice to explode as an atomic bomb and in an attack of anger, he murdered all your coworkers and all clients with the strength of an army of one; realizing the similar killing he has caused with his own hands, Maurice knew there was no remedy for this and decided to commit suicide with a shot in the head. The numerous deaths that Maurice caused cost him his entry into heaven, but it was enough for Marukka to make him the next fighter for Hell Den, taking his soul and transforming it into the ure incarnation of primitive rage and brutality, Mammoth, a Nightmare for the eyes. With gigantic size and strength that make it able to crush a man in a pulpy red meatball, or break the spine of his opponent with a simple finger movement. But behind the glassy and blank stare of this beast hides a furious soul and distressed by his lost humanity.

Finisher Moves:

Rips his opponent's arms and uses them to hit him to death.

Load with his fist and with a big punch sends the opponent's torso to the wall to fly causing the head and limbs to fall to the ground.

Grabs his opponent by the legs, starts spinning in circums at high speed causing the body of the opponent to break from his legs causing him to fly out and crash into the wall.

Holds his opponent with his feet and prints him several times against the ground like a carpet, and crushes him bloodyly with his fists.

GOURMET

Previous name: Cleetus Walker

Sin: Murder, canibalism

History: If an old Kentucky farmer and owner of a slaughterhouse, ever invites you to come to eat something, you better pass. This dismissed to the homage to the saying "We are what we eat", in times of famine, to avoid killing some animal of his own cattle, Cleetus used the thieves who entered his enclosure to assassinate them, and use their bodies to satisfy their hunger, the Deranged he found 1001 recipes on how to prepare human flesh, until later he stopped catching the thieves who entered his property, his appetite for pain and suffering has taken him to a new place in the food chain. Not content with simply defeating his enemies, Cleetus prefers to devour them that innocent people entered there. There was even a point that made cannibal food for the rest of the country, since when a health inspector was going to close his slaughterhouse, Cleetus threw it into a machine causing it to be crushed and mixed with the meat, a shame for all those who bought and consumed Uncle Cleetus' sausages. It is a glutton for fresh meat, the rarer the better. No one has escaped his appetite, except one who managed to lose only one leg, which Cleetus leads to good luck. But being a cannibal he did not keep his victims' meat well refrigerated, which caused him to die of a parasite infestation. Marukka saw enough potential to participate in the Hell Den, in a new being called "the gourmet", who uses his victim's escape as a weapon and as a lunch between battle.

Finisher Moves:

Throws himself against his opponent by throwing him against the ground and begins to devour his chest until he opens it.

Rips his opponent's head off with a heavy blow with his leg-mallet, takes it, and then drinks the blood he spills.

Throws his leg-mallet, plucks a leg at his opponent and eats it like a fried chicken leg.

Vomits a torrent of disgusting vomit on his opponent that melts on contact as corrosive acid.

CAIN

Previous name: Lawrence Candito

Sin: pyromania

History: Lawrence Candito is a classic case of an arsonist. From a young age he was captivated by fire. When I was a child, I put fires in his backyard and burned insects with a magnifying glass. In his early teens he began to catch small animals and burn them. By his late teens, he was burning houses and other buildings. Although he got tired of this quite quickly. One day he had an idea. He waited at a bus stop one night, and when a young woman got off the bus, he grabbed her from behind and dragged her to the shed in her backyard. There he tied her and gagged her. Then he covered it with gasoline and put it in a coat of arms. The horror in his eyes as he died really excited him. This continued for some years until one day, he broke into a house and sprayed it with gasoline while the owners slept. When he threw the match and started running towards the door, he tripped and dropped unconscious. He woke up to be covered in flames. He died with a smile on his face.  And just being a pyroman who died in flames, he came back to life as the phoenix in hell Den with the name of Cain.

Finisher Moves:

Throws his opponent to the ground, he releases a small spark on which he burns him completely.

Sets his feet on fire as an exhaust pipe, throws himself at high speed on his opponent and with such a blow he flies it in a thousand pieces.

Causes his opponent to drink a Molotov cocktail, then he swallows a spark of fire, causing the opponent's head to catch fire and his body to explode in flames.

Spit a gust of high pressure smoke that ends up skinning your opponent until it leave it in the bones.

JUDAS

Previous name: Jeffrey Adams/John Simmons

Sin: Murder, ilegal hacking

History: Jeffrey Adams was in his childhood a prodigious child, interested in reading, puzzles, weightlifting and computers. By the time he turned 27 they were very educated in computer programming, advanced enough to work for the United States government. One night, while the other prisoners slept, someone entered the asylum security system and disarmed it long enough for prisoners to escape, it turned out to be Jeffrey, who led a double life as a criminal murderer by the name of John Simmons, since the subject suffered from a double personality disorder. The murderous uproar that followed his escape would not be forgotten soon. Three years later, after several sightings and reports, Jeffery was located in an old condemned factory where he had apparently been hiding. The FBI surrounded the building and discharged a large amount of tear gas into the factory. Minutes later, when the agents entered the building, they found the two-faced man unconscious on the floor. A few syringes filled with cyanide were injected into it and the factory was burned to leave no evidence. That double life was the admiration for Jeffrey to be manifested in hell, but with his other personality, John joined to him instead of his bottom, and his high betrayal of the country was what baptized this being as "Judas," The man with two faces.

Finisher Moves:

Throws himself and holds onto his opponent, and with extreme force and a leap back he rips off the upper part of his body.

Between their two arms, they rip limbs of their opponent to place them in badly placed belts.

Gives several hooks to his opponent which causes his upper half to fly up.

Each half of him takes turns and alternates a series of punches on his opponent until they create a punch at the same time as he punches his opponent's stomach.

MARUKKA

Previous Name: Whendy Jonhson

Role: The devil's lover, Founder of The Hell Den

History: Wendy Johnson was a true satanist. All her life it was she who was chosen and mocked. Having few or no friends, he started reading in company. He especially liked books dealing with the occult. She ventured into witchcraft, black magic and voodoo before engaging in satanism. At the age of 23, she had become an expert in satanism and the occult. She began summoning the spirits with an Ouija board. It is rumored that Wnedy is the only person who has contacted Satan through enchantment. He even changed his name to Marukka, which means: The devil's lover according to what he had read in an ancient black bible. Soon she began to see everyone else as inferior to herself and left in a murderous uproar, seducing and mutilating men. Killing women who were prettier than her. After reading a book about sacrifice and future life, she decided to offer herself to her mentor. She placed a ring of fire around her naked body and began to sing an invocation. He cut his wrists with a snake-handled dagger and drank his own blood. Then, she sank the dagger into her abdomen while she finished her singing. Pleased with his sacrifice, Satan decided to abide by his only desire. She chose to become "the devil's lover" and become a winged demon to rule those below with her mentor! However, Marukka had a great appetite for the most sinister, evil and sinful souls, it was where I created a trap called The Hell Den, a death championship where tortured souls would participate in a death match, with the reward of reincarnating and returning to the land, completely ignoring what Marukka wants is a feast and devour the winner as dessert.

Finisher Moves:

Throws herself on his opponent and devours his head bloodthirsty.

Opens a black vortex where it enters and absorbs its opponent, from the vortex begins to expel limbs, entrails and blood of the victim like a giant crusher.

Take possession of the opponent's body and force it to tear off its own head.

Teleports the opponent from the sky of the earth, which causes a great speed to fall at an infernal height and when he falls he is stamped against the ground turned into a bloody mass.   ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now, the question is, would Thrill Kill receive a second chance? Surely, as I said before, Thrill Kill was a very advanced game for its time, which led to its cancellation, given its content that the gamers of that time, not even the adults of that time were prepared to watch in a video game . Later there were more violent and controversial games, such as subsequent installments of Mortal Kombat, Postal, Dead Rising, Silent Hill, Manhunt, Grand Theft Auto, Madworld, God of war,Hatred and others. So in these times Thrill Kill would have been welcome.

[anexperimentallife]

Going through some of my older work, and started re-reading the first story I ever sold...

There are some embarrassing things about it (the obligatory cishet romance is unnecessary and comes off forced, for one thing, and I tied things up into much too neat of a package at the end, plus there are some other aspects I think I need to redo), but overall it reminds me that yeah, although I need to up my game, I DO have chops. I can do this. This isn’t bad at all, IMHO, but I can do SOOOOO much better now. If you want the entire anthology it’s in, grab yourself a copy of The Crimson Pact Volume 2. (It’s also available at Amazon and so on, but when you buy directly from the publisher, you get all formats, DRM-free--whether you buy the hardcopy or just the ebook version--and I get a bigger royalty cut.)

And I am going to do better. Now that I have  the rights back, I am going to rewrite the fuck out of this,,especially now that I have better ideas about how to fit it into my revised Quiet World setting.

I’ve posted a little of the beginning before, but here’s a much bigger chunk:

Karma (story excerpt)

by D. Robert Hamm

We hit the interstate like an unguided missile. Needles of frozen rain and jagged blades of wind beat my face numb and turned what was left of my dress into a full-body ice-pack. Even with the heater on ‘incinerate,’ I couldn’t stop shivering, but the outside air was all that kept me from gagging on the smell of my own puke and the rusty stench of blood, so the window stayed down. Between the black pavement and blacker sky, the air was wet and gray. It sucked the vitality from my headlights well before their natural time, but that was okay. I wasn’t paying much attention to the little they revealed anyway.

The man in the passenger’s seat either didn’t feel the cold or was too stoic to show discomfort. The dashboard glow turned his short white beard to green and deepened the age lines in his face. Gods, I’d loved that face growing up. It was my grandfather’s face. But right then, I could barely look at it, because this wasn’t my grandfather, just a sad, confused spirit wearing his body. And even though he was one of the good guys, that didn’t mean it was easy to take.

“You’re going to catch cold,” Not-Grandpa shouted over the storm.

“I’m . . . what?”

Since last night I’d been shot at, whipped, and electrocuted. I’d watched a good man beheaded and disemboweled before my eyes, and learned things about myself, my family, and especially my past, that had already driven other people into padded-room territory. I was marinated in a vile concoction of blood and various other body fluids, quite a bit of it my own, and had spent the last however-many hours fighting horrors that should never have existed. In the middle of all that—because I’m an overachiever—I took time out to kill a man I loved.

And this guy was worried that I’d catch a fucking cold?

Once I started laughing, I couldn’t stop. The kind of deep, full-body laughter that doubles you over and makes your stomach muscles ache for days afterward. The kind that shreds the lining of your throat and rises in pitch to rapid staccato squeaks, like sneakers on a hardwood floor. I held back the worst long enough to wrestle the car onto the shoulder, then let go. The laughter turned to howling, the howling into screams, the screams into sobs, and the sobs into a quiet whimper that finally, gods finally, tapered off, and I could breathe again, in great, ragged gulps. I wiped away a rope of snot hanging from my nose and sat hunched over with my eyes closed and my forehead against the steering wheel, shaking, while the rain pummeled my back with tiny, ice-cold fists.

In shock? Probably. Hysterical? Definitely. Look, I make sandwiches at my family’s restaurant for a living, okay? Sandwiches.

Not-Grandpa waited until I quieted down before speaking. “I’m sorry,” he said. It was the dozenth or so time he’d said it. The line of his mouth stayed hard, but his eyes and his voice were soft and broken. I believed him. Had to believe him.

“I know.” I didn’t mean for it to sound bitter. He’d saved my life after all, and he deserved better than that. I just didn’t know if I could forgive him for not being who I wanted him to be.

* * * * *

A little too “in media res” for you? Yeah, me too.

So here are the vitals: My name is Karma Miranda Rodriguez. I’m twenty-three years old, five foot six, with brown eyes, light brown skin, and dark brown hair that I keep boy-short. I claim to be a size five, and I dare you to say otherwise. I like strawberry daiquiris, support equal rights for supernaturals, am indifferent toward long walks on the beach, and . . .

And oh, yeah—Apparently, I kill demons.

* * * * *

Eli’s Borderland Station, my family’s restaurant, has been the only twenty-four hour eatery on the Kansas City Plaza since back before the Jasonites outed the supernatural community (aka, “The Quiet World”) and we had to coin the term ‘daylighter’ to differentiate plain vanilla humans from those touched by the paranormal. During the riots that followed the Jasonites’ little party, and all through the Apocalypse Wars, my Grandpa Eli and Uncle Garston kept the restaurant open as a free kitchen-slash-aid-station for refugees and emergency workers, and turned the upstairs apartment—which is mine, now—into a de facto headquarters for various peacekeeping forces.

So alongside our Absolutely Killer Turkey Sandwich (made from, according to the menu, genuine killer turkeys), we serve up a mean side-order of history. Obviously, a lot of things have changed since the AWs; for instance, the Plaza, always an upscale shopping district, is now a level four Private Patrol Zone with the best law enforcement money can buy. As you’d expect, our main business is well-heeled shoppers whose sidearms are more fashion statement than personal defense, but we try to keep prices reasonable enough for the average college student, too.

No amount of money will buy you a table or a bar stool in our VIP lounge, though, even if every other seat in the house is taken. The lounge is permanently reserved for veterans, proxies, bounty hunters, elites, and so on. It’s where people with code names like Halloween Jack, Lucy D.T., HalluciNathan, and so on come to catch up with one another, trade information, or just relax. Grandpa and Uncle Garston are technically civilians now, but a lot of the VIPs still use their call signs from way back when, so if someone in armored leathers with notched weapons and a stare that looks like they’re counting the ways they could kill you with one finger says they’re going to see The General and Body Mass, they’re not talking about some secret mission, it just means they’re headed our way for the lunch special.

On Tuesday nights we lock up for a few hours of uninterrupted cleaning with my special patented Karma Rodriguez closing procedure. This involves, among other things, lots of dancing around with brooms and mops, and other Weapons of Mess-Destruction, and me in a casual dress singing along with loud music at the top of my lungs. It’s effective. The more I can make work feel like play, the faster and more efficiently I get things done, and as proof of that, what used to take three people on Tuesday nights now requires only two.

At thirty seconds to zero-dark-thirty on a drizzly February evening, when my grime-fighting partner Jayden and I were the only ones left in the restaurant, I locked the front door and hit the music. My mix for the night was weighted heavily in favor of pre-Apocalypse rock—music that was old before I was born. It was a minor tragedy when it cut off about ten minutes into the shift, right in the middle of David Bowie’s Rebel, Rebel. Jayden and I both trailed off a cappella.

“I didn’t hear you singing if you didn’t hear me,” Jayden said. “We stick together, and nobody can prove anything.” He fixed me with what would have been a deadpan stare if not for that quirk at one corner of his mouth that I thought of as his, ‘our little secret’ smile.

I put on my best film noir ‘tough dame’ voice. “It’s always secrets with you, isn’t it? Fine, I’ll play your game.” Staying in character, I headed upstairs with an over-the-top hip-swaying sashay, to reboot the router while Jayden kept cleaning.

I can’t be objective about Jayden, so I won’t try. He was one of a kind. Literally. Part Aosidhe, part Graealfinsidhe, and part daylighter, Jayden was a medical miracle, and he got the best from each branch of his ancestry. Six and a half feet of lean muscle, flawless skin, hair like pale gold silk, and . . . you get the idea. His ears were only slightly pointed, and with his hair down, he could pass for an exceptionally pretty daylighter, if not for his eyes. Whiteless, and bright turquoise in color. They suited him.

And yeah, I know. If only I wasn’t his  boss. Jayden had something of a ‘mystery man’ air about him that only added to his status as local lust-object. Among other things, the way he dressed like a wastelander (only cleaner) but acted like a gentleman fueled speculation. He kept his past and his private life just that, though—past, and private. It was like the world was in love with Jayden, but Jayden wasn’t sure how he felt about the world and didn’t want to lead it on.

When I got back from confirming that the router was indeed fried, those exotic eyes of his were fixed on the big screen in the main dining area. I came up behind him and stopped, gaping. “What the . . . ?”

Just north of us, people were fighting in the streets and looting, while Rushville—Jayden’s neighborhood—burned.

“Short version?” Jayden said without turning around, “They busted the wrong guy for the Taylor murders, so they released him. He lasted a whole three hours.”

“They didn’t give him police protection?”

“He was under police protection when it happened. Now everybody has a conspiracy theory, and apparently with every conspiracy theory this week, you get a free Molotov cocktail kit. Speaking of which . . . ” He rewound a few seconds and paused on a burning apartment building that I recognized as his. “Great firebomb, huh?”

“Wow. I’m sorry.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He shrugged, his back still to me. “I carry everything really important with me.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Want me to leave you alone?”

He paused, as if considering. “No.”

“Okay. But know what? Fuck cleaning. Help me get the trash out, then haul your duffel bag upstairs. You’re staying at my place tonight.”

Jayden turned and looked at me as though I were speaking Swahili. “Your place?”

“You just lost your apartment to a xenophobic asshole with a fire fetish, and you need crash space. Friends do that kind of stuff for each other.”

That earned me a confused look. “No, I just . . . Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.” He seemed utterly bewildered. So much for his famed stoicism and unflappability. Ah, Jayden. Such a strange, strange boy. I ran up to get my coat and pull on a pair of jeans under my dress, and Jayden and I dragged the first can out into the alley.

I remember the air tasted of cold grease and wet pavement. I remember the electric buzz of the street lamp, and the way its dirty light turned the drizzle into sparse gray streaks like anime rain. I remember the exact cadence of the trash can’s scraping and banging as we dragged it toward the dumpster. How screwed up do things have to get before taking out the trash is a fond memory worth replaying in your head?

We didn’t hear the patrol team until they entered the mouth of the alley, running hard toward us, shouting at us to get inside. The woman’s name was Lawson. She’d lost her helmet, and a sheen of blood covered the left side of her face. Her partner, Hall, had a crack running down the side of his faceplate, and his body armor was shredded in places. They both carried their weapons at the ready, scanning the roofline as they ran.

Before they’d even finished their warning, a clot of shadow and sickening angles detached from the rest of the dark. The Kasu-Hurun slaughter-spider—How did I know that?—dropped from the roof and—The Kasu-Hurun and the bad people are making us walk a long way again. I don’t say how tired I am because I am almost eight years old, and that means I’m a big girl, and because it would make Mommy feel bad that she can’t carry me that far. Mommy and me are in our nightgowns because we were asleep when they—Where were these images coming from?—landed in the alley behind them. It was an impossible thing, eight or nine feet tall, all mottled ochre-and-black chitin, with eight spiked and bladed spiderlike legs from which it took its name, serrated mandibles beneath great protruding compound eyes, and short, thick, writhing tentacles suspended from the underside of a bulbous, misshapen central body.

I shouted my own warning, but Hall was already emptying his magazine at the thing as he backed toward us. Lawson either tripped or dove in our direction, twisting in mid-air to land on her back. She raised her shotgun, and—grabbed us, and it was really late because both moons were out, but they let us put on our boots before they made us start walking. Mommy tried to fight them and she shot one of them but they beat her up and cut her cheek really bad. But she is still the prettiest lady in the whole wide world. It was real people, not Kasu-Hurun, but they don’t act like real people. Mommy says they have bad things inside them called Qlippoth. I think they are telling the Kasu-Hurun what—made it roar as she hit the pavement.

The monster’s cry was like a foghorn made of cats and feedback, a spike that shoved through both eardrums. Lawson had hurt it, taken out one leg, in fact, but it wasn’t enough, and Hall’s automatic gunfire cut off with a sickening, meat cleaver sound as the spider sliced through his neck. Hall’s head flew from his shoulders and bounced against the alley wall while the spider eviscerated his body before it could hit the ground, as if he weren’t–to do. A man tried to run away today, but they caught him, and instead of shooting him a Kasu-Hurun stuck one of its sharp arm/leg things in him and cut him open and played with his insides until he stopped screaming, and I cried, but I won’t cry anymore, because I’m a big girl, and—dead enough already. Even as far back as Jayden and I stood, hot, sticky wetness splattered our faces.

The monster tried to leap toward us, but its missing leg threw it off balance. Lawson’s shotgun was out of ammo, so she fumbled out her .45 and taunted the slaughter-spider while edging toward the side of the alley opposite the door. Sacrificing herself—big girls don’t cry. The demons usually kill everybody, but now they only kill people who try to run away or stop walking before they tell us to stop or people who fall down and can’t walk anymore, but sometimes when somebody falls down they let somebody else make a travois, which is a kind of sled thing that you drag—to give us a chance to get away. My gun was in my purse inside, but even if I’d had it on me, I couldn’t loosen my grip on the trash can, let alone force myself to move.

I caught Jayden’s eye. I’d never before realized–when I feel like crying I think about Daddy. Daddy is a general, which is a kind of soldier who tells other soldiers what to do. He is a long way away fighting other Kasu-Hurun, but when he comes to save us, the Kasu-Hurun and the bad people are going to be sorry. I am going to be a soldier like Daddy when I grow up and—how much he and I communicated without speaking, but with that look, I knew we’d done the same math. One of us might—just might—make it to the door. If we left the other one to die along with Lawson.

Fuck that.

Once I’d made the decision, the tension drained from my body—I am nine years old, and I have been in the prison camp for a over a year. They tell me it is time for the laboratory again, but if I pick someone else to go, they will leave me alone today. If I choose my mother to go they will leave me alone for a month. They seem surprised when my answer is to hold out my wrists for the cuffs. I am the daughter of a general and a hero. I do not run, or let others take my pain. And no matter what they do to me, I won’t let them see how scared I am—the way the fear had, sublimating into the night and leaving me perfectly relaxed. Jayden gave me that ‘our little secret’ smile, and I knew he got it. He understood. Not just what I was about to do, but why.

When anything you do will end in death, make your final act one of defiance.

And so it was that we, about to die, in the most futile and ridiculous gesture in the history of futile and ridiculous gestures, screamed our defiance in the face of death, and charged the monster that would surely kill us.

With a fucking trash can.

We slammed into the slaughter-spider and fell hard, with the trash can bouncing between those giant legs and spilling its slippery contents out onto the already-slick blacktop. The slaughter-spider screamed at the impact, even louder than when Lawson had shot it, and nearly toppled. A serrated leg missed me by inches, and I rolled away, but I’d only be able to dodge for so long. My only regrets were that since I hadn’t properly prepared this body, I would die along with it—again, where the hell did that thought come from?—and that so many things would go unsaid between me and those I cared about. Including Jayden, if I was being honest.

Something hard in my coat pocket bit into my side as I rolled. I’d forgotten about the taser I almost always took with me when I left the restaurant. Even if it was still charged, it wasn’t salvation, but at this point salvation wasn’t an option. Victory was what mattered, and victory was nothing more nor less than continuing to fight until the inevitable happened. I pulled out the taser, flipped off the safety, and sent 50,000 volts into the center of that mass of tentacles, along with all the fury I could muster. The slaughter-spider jerked momentarily, and Lawson took advantage to pick up a piece of steel rebar from the junk pile in the alley and plunge it glove-deep into one of the slaughter-spider’s faceted eyes. Jayden followed with a sharp piece of broken two-by-four into the other.

And as though someone had flipped a switch marked ‘alive/dead,’ the slaughter-spider fell . . . in slow motion, like those television broadcasts of building demolitions. After one final spasm, it was still, and the alley was silent for several seconds except for the buzz of the streetlight. After barely long enough to begin to accept that we weren’t dead, answering cries to the spider’s death scream split the night.

We staggered inside the restaurant as the first new creature hit the pavement, and got the bars across the door just before another slammed against it. I slapped my palm against the ward sigil and spoke the syllables to activate it, then ran to the front and did the same there. After grabbing my gun and other weapons from upstairs and activating still more wards, I hit the ‘dim all’ switch and met up with the others in the kitchen. Lawson used a cabinet as cover, her shotgun aimed at the door, and Jayden . . .

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

I’d been gone perhaps two minutes, but when I returned, Jayden stood transformed, a grim-faced cross between a modern wastelander and a wild warrior from legend, in a combination of armored biker leathers and Fay armor. The hilts of two matching blades extended over his shoulders, and his jacket sleeves were pushed up to reveal Sidhe archery gauntlets—the real kind, not the department store knockoffs. Other weapons clung to various parts of his body, strategically placed so as not to impede movement—blades, throwing disks, bolas, and quivers and bandoliers of bolts and arrows for the quick-load mini-crossbow in his hand and the compound bow housed in a slender case across his back. He shrugged bashfully—Jayden? Bashful?—when he caught me staring. So this was what he meant when he said he carried everything important with him.

The booming of another hit on the door jerked my attention away from Jayden. After a few more tries, though, the spiders seemed to realize that it was futile, and ceased their efforts.

Now that we had stopped racing time, time slowed to let us catch up. Whether from the endorphin rush or something else, I felt disconnected, an observer watching from inside myself. In the dimness, Lawson and Jayden were pale, oh so pale, and heartbreakingly beautiful against the gray and charcoal shadows. I stood with chest heaving alongside them, seeing and feeling and hearing everything as though for the first time, in love with it all. Because we, who moments before had been dead, were alive and more than alive, were filled with life until we could burst from the pressure as it strained against the insignificant scraps of skin and flesh that could barely contain it.

A single glossy drop of blood formed at the tip of Lawson’s finger, creating itself until it was real enough to float downward and finally join its comrades who had already emigrated to the floor to form a puddle, and Lawson was falling, falling, falling behind it as if to join the puddle herself.

I shook out of my trance barely in time to help Jayden take Lawson’s weight. She was conscious, but weak. “It’s okay,” I told her, “We’re going to get you taken care of. Did you call for backup?” Lawson shook her head weakly, closed her eyes, and made a sound between a chuckle and a sob. “Nobody left to call. Even if the radio worked, nobody left to . . . ” she trailed off and seemed to fold in on herself. I’d seen what that thing did to Hall. I didn’t need her to tell me what had happened to the rest of her squad.

[shesgottawatchit]

Tangerine (2015) dir. Sean Baker

A Trans Woman of Color Responds to the Trauma of “Tangerine”

Why is it that trans women of color have to experience so much violence to remember that they have each other’s back?

That’s what I got from the movie Tangerine. I enjoyed it. Mya Taylor (who plays Alexandra, one of the two trans leads) and Kitana Kiki Rodriguez (who plays Sin-dee, the other) were fucking brilliant. They were not respectable, they were surviving in the best way they knew how and they were supporting each other even though it was difficult. I loved that they didn’t apologize for their lives or their existence.

Despite this, the audience still laughed at really inappropriate parts, showcasing the way that the film itself fails the story it’s trying to portray. And don’t get me wrong, the story is real. But the way it’s set up, how it’s shot, the progression of the plot — it’s clear that it is offering up the story to a mostly white, bougie audience. It was voyeuristic in the worst possible way. And while the two stars did have a lot of input into the making of the script, white men are still the ones who get the credit. The names of white men are on the script and white men directed the movie. The story was only made real by the beautiful performance of the actors.

One of the things that frustrated me was the way Razmik (an Armenian taxi driver who is a frequent customer of Alexandra and Sin-dee, played by Karren Karagulian) is juxtaposed to that terrible john. Razmik is no better then the dude that tried to rip off Alexandra. But the narrative manipulates you into feeling sorry for him. He is just a poor misunderstood dude who lies to his wife and keeps his desire secret. But he was just as awful as all the other non trans women in the film. He reduces trans women to what we can do for him sexually, fetishizes our bodies and refuses to publicly acknowledge that he desires trans women. He is still exploits them — he just pays well. Whats more, I don’t care at all about men and how they’re impacted by transmisogyny. Because the only reason Razmik and men like him get any kind of grief is because of transmisogyny. But it is not men who bear the brunt of that violence, it is us. Trans women are murdered for the same reasons that men are shamed. So for this film to focus almost half of the narrative on this man and how hard he has it, is very frustrating. Because even in films that are ostensibly about us, we still have to deal with men and their feelings. We still try to center male experiences.

The complicated relationship that these two trans women had with the men/love in their life was hard to watch. These were people who really and truly hated Sin-dee and Alexandra but said that they love them. They manipulate, take advantage of and abuse them. Chester was an awful abusive liar, but what choice does Sin-dee have? When validation and love come, even if it’s twisted and fucked up, you take it because otherwise you are just alone and sometimes the illusion of someone supporting you is better than nothing at all. I saw my experiences with men reflected in theirs and it fucking hurt. Trans women of color aren’t valued — again, we exist only to serve and perform for men. What does it mean that the people that are supposed to value us the most end up abusing us? What does it mean that trans women of color are often the victims of domestic violence but there is no narrative about it. We cannot be victims because we cannot be loved.

The final moment of the film comes after Sin-dee realizes that Alexandra slept with her boyfriend. Sin-dee is upset with Alexandra and tries to go off by herself but Sin-dee is assaulted, called a tranny faggot and gets urine splashed all over her. An intimate moment ensues where Alexandra takes care of Sin-dee and Sin-dee forgives Alexandra. That moment of sisterhood is so real. Nobody is going to look out for trans women of color except other trans women of color. We only matter to others when we are performing for them. But why does the film find it necessary to emphasize this sisterhood by subjecting them both to violence? What does it say about the director and the audience that this was the only way to bring them back together, because they have no other choice because the world is trying to kill them. This scene also shows them taking off their wigs which is just another instance of that trope saying that trans women’s femininity is not real. It’s a fabrication that comes off during intimate moments, cause what’s “real” is what’s on the “inside”. What does it mean that all the character development that occurred in that film was through trauma and violence? What does it mean that we can only see their vulnerability, their strength, their resilience through this moment of degendering?

I’m glad I went to see it. Seeing some of my experiences reflected in that film were really important and some of the ways they handle sex work and relationships is real. I appreciated the nuance in the way that they displayed men and their relationships to trans women. Trans women of color are almost always seen as objects to be controlled, held and exploited. The movie was clear about this. Clear that the ways men relate to trans women is toxic and fraught with dynamics of power that are abusive. Chester (Sin-dee’s boyfriend and pimp, played by James Ransone) was terrible to Sin-dee and he manipulated his way back into her good graces. Razmik was only interested in how these women could serve his pleasure. Both models — both through intimate relationship and client — capture the way that men are terrible to trans women time and again.

I also liked the way that Sin-dee was in control of her interaction with Dinah (the white, cis woman and sex worker who Chester cheats on Sin-dee with, played by Mickey O’Hagan). So often, cis white women will invalidate our womanhood. They will exclude us from women’s spaces and be generally awful to us. Transmisogyny is pervasive and cis white women are not exempt from perpetuating that. It was satisfying to see another trans woman of color in control of her interaction with someone who was actively denying her womanhood, who mocks Sin-dee’s desire to be valued and seen by her partner. It was satisfying to see her take what she needed from her when so often trans women of color are denied. White feminists might be inclined to read what Sin-dee does as violence against women but Sin-dee is not in a position of power over Dinah. And it was satisfying to watch. And while I do not trust the intentions of the white male director who shot that scene (because he would be perpetrating that violence), I do appreciate the moment for the satisfaction it gave me.

Even with these positive experiences, the voyeurism and almost lurid lens that the film was shot in makes it so that it only serves the consumption of cis white people. I cannot separate or ignore the fact that this was a film made by white men. And how these white men’s careers are going to profit from this film while the actress’s careers will most likely languish.

And why is it that so few TWOC (aside from Laverne Cox and Janet Mock) get any kind of airtime when it doesn’t involve trauma? Why are cis folks only interested in seeing us hurt, traumatized and alone? Those select few trans women who do get the spotlight, not just when they are murdered, are the exception and often tokenized by the spaces that they are in. You only ever hear about TWOC after we have been murdered. And in many ways this film is no different. It relies on the difficulty of our lives, it’s fetishizes the way our existence is marked by this world in order to titillate, to entice. The exotic other enchanting the “normal” cis white audience. And they leave the theater thinking that they know something, that they are more familiar with the lives of trans women. But our lives are not like in the movies.

After the last shot and the credits started rolling, I just broke down and cried. All that trauma and pain laid out like that so that people who don’t give a fuck about us, who just want to eat us alive — it was too much. It was so much to be in that audience, hearing their laughter and knowing we are just some fucking joke to them. That the things we face are a fantasy playground they can hang out in and then leave. That our lives only have meaning through the trauma experience. And don’t get me wrong, our trauma is real. But trauma isn’t the only thing about my existence that is real. But it’s the only thing cis folks care to see. Because a trans woman happy and loved is just so fucking weird to be real. Because seeing the full breadth of our lives is too much for people to handle. And because white people cannot help but exploit our lives.

In many ways, this film is similar to Paris is Burning. Brilliant and important and life saving while at the same time exploitative to the actors/subjects. The reviews of this film go on and on about Sean Baker and how he shot this film on a iPhone but where are the interviews asking how Mya Taylor felt shooting this film? Where are all the accolades for Kitana Kiki Rodriguez and her beautiful nuanced performance? Jennie Livingston made out like a bandit from that film and so will Sean Baker from this one. And the system is set up that only a white person could even get the funding for this project. TWOC doing this for ourselves doesn’t get the same level of attention or money. When will we get our coins? When will the work we do, the art we make, the lives we lead be for us, by us? When will white cis people stop exploiting our bodies for their profit?

https://www.autostraddle.com/a-trans-woman-of-color-responds-to-the-trauma-of-tangerine-301607/

[wbwest]

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New Post has been published on http://www.williambrucewest.com/2017/04/21/west-week-ever-pop-culture-review-42117/

West Week Ever: Pop Culture In Review - 4/21/17

Star Wars Celebration (I can’t say that without thinking of Dave Chappelle’s Rick James yelling “It’s a celebration, bitches!”) happened in Florida last weekend, and we got our first teaser trailer for Star Wars: The Last Jedi. Folks seemed to like it alright. I’ve never claimed to be the biggest Star Wars fan, but nothing about this really gave me a Force Boner or anything. That’s probably because Rogue One left such a bad taste in my mouth. Anyway, I’m sure I’ll see it, but it’s not really on my radar.

In other movie “news”, we got the track listing for Awesome Mix Vol 2 from Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2., which comes out today. Is it just me, or is it weird that Mama Quill gave Peter mixtapes of all the songs that played while she was banging dudes in Camaros? Come on – she was totally that chick! Anyway, there are no real surprises here, as it seems to be in-line thematically with the first volume. Personally, I’m ecstatic that “Come A Little Bit Closer” will be introduced to a new generation, as I’m a huge fan of Jay and the Americans (check out “Cara Mia” if you’ve never heard it).

This rumor came out a few weeks ago, but it kinda floated under my radar: apparently Warner Bros wants to release 4 Batman-centered films in 2019 to commemorate the 80th anniversary of Detective Comics. This slate would include Nightwing, Gotham City Sirens, the Joss Whedon Batgirl, and the oft-delayed The Batman. Nice idea, but there’s no way this happens. DC just doesn’t have its shit together enough to pull this off. Marvel could do it, but they would’ve been planning it since 2012. It’s already 2017 and they expect to crank out 4 movies in 2 years? Shit ain’t happening.

Bring on the teen angst train, as we’ve got two more comic-based series just dripping with it! First up is Cloak and Dagger on Freeform, which looks like the Freeformiest show that ever Freeformed. It’ll be right at home between the show about the deaf girl and the show about the foster kids. I’ve never been a huge Cloak and Dagger fan, but the series follows teen runaways Tandy Bowen and Tyrone Johnson, who were kidnapped and injected with an experimental drug. The drug left Tandy (Dagger) with “light daggers”, while Tyrone (Cloak) has a mystical cloak that transports people and things to a dark dimension. Oh, and there’s that sweet, sweet interracial love/Jungle Fever aspect to things. Based on the trailer, it’s gonna focus more on the love thing than the power thing, which is understandable since powers are expensive on a weekly TV budget. I haven’t heard if this is actually considered part of the MCU, but it’s nice to see the Roxxon sign at the end, so there are clear ties to the universe itself.

The angst doesn’t end there, though, kids! We also got a trailer for Syfy’s Krypton series (which has since been yanked down) – ya know, the one that nobody asked for. It’s hard for me to get excited about Krypton when very little about that planet has ever seemed appealing. It’s most recently been painted as a cold, stoic, science-based society. And since they don’t have our sun, it means they’re powerless. Here’s what I don’t get about the trailer: the show takes place approximately 200 years prior to Man of Steel (I guess making it the first series to be an official part of the DCEU), but the monologue is of Kal El’s grandfather leaving a message for him. Um, how does he KNOW his grandson’s name is Kal El if he hasn’t been born yet? Anyway, it’s about Grandpa El, who happens to be a sexy, CW-ish twenty something, trying to restore honor to the disgraced House of El. The effects look nice (AKA expensive), but nothing about this show makes me want to see it.

There’s some laughter coming from a different comic-based series, however, in the form of Freeform’s New Warriors. I mentioned it a few weeks ago, but it’s been confirmed that Kevin Biegel of Enlisted/Cougar Town will be the showrunner, and we got a confirmation of the roster. Led by Squirrel Girl (who has never been a New Warrior in the comics, but I won’t harp on that), the team is comprised of Speedball, Night Thrasher, Microbe, Mister Immortal, and Debrii. I’m familiar with career Warriors Speedball and Night Thrasher, but I don’t know anything about the others. Considering Mr. Immortal and Squirrel Girl are Great Lakes Avengers characters, this is something of a hybrid team.

I’m the furthest thing from a foodie, but I love a good dairy-based gimmick drink, and this week featured TWO of them! First up, I’d read online that Burger King had been testing a Froot Loops Shake at certain East Coast locations, with plans to roll it out nationally today. Well, I traveled around until I found one that had it early (well, I didn’t travel too far – it was down the street from my apartment), as I had to see what the fuss was all about. I had heard it described as made from vanilla soft serve, with Froot Loops pieces, topped off with a sweet, syrupy drizzle. Sounds exotic, right? WRONG. Whoever thought of this probably got a bonus for the idea, but it lacks in the execution. It’s basically a vanilla shake with edible confetti in it. From Loops don’t really have a strong fruity flavor to them, so it’s not like it’s rubbing off into the soft serve. And when you do get some Froot Loop chunks through the straw, they just taste like flavorless corn cereal. I didn’t taste any kind of drizzle, and I kept waiting for the WOW to kick in. It never did. I drank this so that you don’t have to and, trust me, you really don’t have to.

Next up was the Starbucks Unicorn Frappuccino. I hadn’t even heard of the thing until Wednesday morning, when everyone and their mom was talking about it. Looking at it, I was reminded of the Birthday Cake Frappuccino that comes out in March (I remember this because it was out at the time Evie was born). I LIVED on those things for the two weeks or so that they were in stores, so I was expecting this to be more of the same. I wasn’t sure what flavor this one was supposed to be, but there were certainly visual similarities. Anyway, after dinner Wednesday night, I snuck off to the corner Starbucks to try it out. You’ve heard of a Butterface, right? Well, this is a Buttertaste. It looks cool and everything, but the taste…THE TASTE! Its marketing emphasizes that it magically changes flavors while you drink it, but I could never really nail down what those flavors were supposed to be. There was a pervasive muskiness to it, making me feel like I’d basically sucked off a real unicorn. Of course, that would be silly – everyone knows you’ve got to buy a unicorn dinner before it lets you do that! Then, near the end, the muskiness gives way to a hyper berry taste, reminiscent of the Blue Raspberry that candy scientists seemed to have discovered in 1992. At no point in the drink was it what I would call “enjoyable”, and even the whipped cream on top was disappointing. As far as I’m concerned, this drink can fuck off back to Narnia where it came from.

Things You Might Have Missed This Week

Bill O’Reilly was fired from Fox News following sexual harassment allegations. See, if he’d told Billy Bush he only grabbed ‘em by the pussy, he’d be President by now!

Nintendo officially ended production on the NES Classic, followed by rumors that an SNES Classic is coming later this year

Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck were announced as the directors for Captain Marvel. I’ve never seen anything they’ve done (Half Nelson, episodes of Billions, and The Affair), so I’ve got no real opinion right now

Speaking of Marvel films, Black Panther wrapped production this week, as Hollywood braces for the return of every living Black actor

Will Smith is in talks to take on the classic Robin Williams role of The Genie in Guy Ritchie’s live action Aladdin adaptation. Obviously, Jaden Smith will probably get the role of Aladdin.

Stranger Things co-star Shannon Purser came out as bisexual on Twitter. Well, she’s bisexual in real life. She just used Twitter to announce it.

Director James Gunn announced that Guardians of the Galaxy 3 would be the final iteration of this lineup of the team

Black-ish was sold into off-network syndication, launching in Fall 2018

Jane The Virgin’s Gina Rodriguez will voice Carmen Sandiego in a new animated series coming to Netflix

Steve Harvey will host a revival of Showtime At the Apollo for Fox

Fate of the Furious debuted to $532 million internationally, beating the record-setting $529 million earned by Star Wars: The Force Awakens

With its original pilot rejected by Fox a few years ago, Joe Hill’s comic Locke & Key will have a new pilot filmed for Hulu

The X-Files has been renewed for a 10-episode 11th season. I couldn’t even make it through the last 6-episode batch they gave us, so I think this is a pass for me.

For the past 6 seasons, I have pretty much hate-watched HBO’s Girls. I hated Lena Dunham’s dumpy, Play-Doh body which was constantly on nude display. I hated all of her character Hannah’s “problems”. I hated her boyfriend Adam. I had convinced myself that I was really just watching, hoping that the characters would eventually be hit by a truck or something. Then, this season came along. Even through all my hate, I had to admit that this was a pretty strong season. From Hannah’s odd interaction with a bestselling author to Marnie finally realizing she sucks at life, there were some great episodes of television to be found in this season of the show. I was also forced to admit things about myself.

First off, I always knew I liked Shoshana because she had enough sense to know that she deserved better than the friends with which she’d found herself. And I definitely missed her once she decided to finally distance herself from them.  I also realized there was much more to the Ray character and, while they didn’t exactly put a bow on it, I’m glad they led us to believe that he had found a happy ending. Even a character as originally unlikable as Elijah had some strong development this season, and he was truly missed in the finale, even though this chapter of his story had come to a close. As I already admitted in my Get Out review, I had to come to terms with my crush on Allison Williams and, by extension, Marnie Michaels. Yeah, she sucked at life, but she seemed like the one out of the four who had Tony Starked her way into that situation; she was the cause of her own problems. Once she began to realize that, the character held more promise. And I realized I hated Jessa because she reminded me too much of girls I’d hooked up with in college: damaged, tattooed, pseudo-junkies who are lucky to still be alive. And I guess Hannah reminded me of girls I’d hooked up with post college. Yeah, I hated a lot about Girls because, I guess, I hated a lot about myself.

This Sunday saw the series finale of the show, and I wasn’t quite sure I was ready for it. After a season that had given us a pregnant Hannah, but also showcased the dissolution of the group’s friendship, I didn’t really know how they could “end” the story. I was further distraught when I read an article last week saying that Jessa and Shosh’s final appearances had been in the penultimate episode that had just aired. While I would miss them in the final half hour, I had to admit that their chapters had also come to a close.

When we get to the finale, there’s a five-month time jump, where Marnie and Hannah are living in a remote house upstate, raising Hannah’s baby, Grover. Yes, that’s what she named him. Anyway, it was 30 minutes about what it means to be happy, but also what it means to be an adult and a parent. I like to think that Hannah finally grew up once she realized that Grover wasn’t another problem that she could simply run away from. The entire episode, she’s freaking out because Grover won’t breastfeed, but in the final seconds he finally takes to her breast. The look on her face is a mix of relief and maturity. It was then that I realized the show had to end at that point, as Hannah was no longer a girl. The entire series had been about millennial drama, as they skirted adulthood, but those times were over. The title Girls no longer applied to Hannah because she was now a Woman, with all the responsibilities that entailed. I used to worry about Hannah, and I sure as Hell worried about Grover when we learned she was pregnant. After Sunday’s finale, though, I think they’re gonna be OK. It was a finale that I had to give some thought to, but it didn’t leave me unfulfilled like Don Draper creating a Coke jingle only to end up hocking tax prep software six months later. For this reason, Girls had the West Week Ever.

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In Touch, May 3

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Prince William and Prince Harry's reunion ruined

Page 1: Contents

Page 2: Zen Zone -- Got Stress? Find coping mechanisms that work for you -- Camila Cabello meditating

Page 5: Usher definitely made it rain during a recent visit to a Las Vegas strip club but one exotic dancer accused him of using fake money with his face on it but the nightclub Sapphire was quick to come to Usher's defense revealing that he actually dropped thousands in real cash as wells as generous tips for the entire staff, Number of the Week -- 1 million estimated dollar value of a pair of Nike Air Yeezy sneakers Kanye West wore on the Grammys stage in 2008, Makeover of the Week -- Lucy Hale went blonde, Shock of the Week -- Shonda Rhimes surprised by fans' outrage that Rege-Jean Page is not returning for Season 2 of Bridgerton, Ex of the Week -- Justin Theroux says ex Jennifer Aniston make him laugh

Page 6: Crib of the Week -- Bethenny Frankel's Greenwich estate, Winners of the Week -- ER fans as the show's cast including George Clooney participates in a virtual reunion to benefit charity, Losers of the Week -- Kristin Cavallari and Jay Cutler are sued for $500,000 by a cable installer who claims their dog bit him

Page 8: Up Close -- in a never-before-seen photo taken by Kate Middleton at Balmoral Castle in 2018 Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip pose with seven of their great-grandchildren: Prince George, Princess Charlotte, Prince Louis, Isla Phillips, Lena Tindall, Mia Tindall, Savannah Phillips; Prince William and Duchess Kate also shared a photo of them with Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip and Prince George and Princess Charlotte from 2015

Page 9: Jason Momoa wearing a Dirty Pink Nakoa Tee and a dog, Tom Cruise chills between shots with Simon Pegg and Rebecca Ferguson on the set of Mission: Impossible 7

Page 10: Moms and Their Sidekicks -- Kim Kardashian and her son Saint both wearing neon yellow, Eva Longoria and her son Santiago have some fun in the sun, Serena Williams and daughter Olympia don matching swimsuits

Page 12: Lenny Kravitz on a beach with a guitar, Derek Hough does girlfriend Hayley Erbert's makeup

Page 13: Shailene Woodley and Aaron Rodgers at Walt Disney World in Lake Buena Vista in Florida, Kylie Jenner on her private jet

Page 16: Bachelor Nation stars Jason Tartick and Matt James are no match for Nikki Bella and Brie Bella at Wrestlemania 37 in Tampa where the twins were inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame

Page 17: Megan Thee Stallion getting a lift from beau Pardison Fontaine, Chris Hemsworth and Thor: Love and Thunder co-star Matt Damon watch Rob Whittaker win a UFC bout in Byron Bay, Australia

Page 18: Smooth Operators -- it's 62-year-old Madonna looking like she's 22, Lisa Rinna getting her second vaccination shot, Teresa Giudice

Page 20: ACM Awards -- After arriving in a pink convertible Miranda Lambert and Elle King kicked off the 56th Annual Academy of Country Music Awards, Carrie Underwood

Page 21: Little Big Town performing in front of Broadway's famed honky-tonks, Blake Shelton performing, Maren Morris performed with husband Ryan Hurd, Luke Bryan accepted his Entertainer of the Year trophy from home

Page 22: Could the Kardashians' next big reality TV special feature one of the sisters walking down the aisle? Try two -- Khloe Kardashian and Tristan Thompson and Kourtney Kardashian and Travis Barker are both getting hitched, and naturally momager Kris Jenner is hoping to turn their wedding joy into ratings gold and it would be Kris' dream to throw a double wedding and film the entire bash -- Khloe and Tristan are on board and even famously marriage-shy Kourtney is seriously considering it now that she's fallen head-over-heels with the rocker even though she was always against a big, showy ceremony, but something about being with Travis has changed her mind -- Kris is already scouting venues in Malibu and it'll be at a private estate and the cost of the whole production could be upward of $10 million and it will be amazing with all the adorable Kardashian kids in the bridal party -- the only drama will be Khloe and Kourtney fighting, because they both like to be in charge and they both have their eye on the same gorgeous gown

Page 23: Colton Underwood, the former Bachelor who came out as gay on Good Morning America, is filming a new reality series following his emotional journey -- he says he emotional, but emotional in such a good, happy, positive way and he's the happiest and healthiest he's even been in his life and that means the world to him and he thinks overall the reason why now is because he got to a place where he didn't think he was going to share; he would have rather died than say he was gay -- the new series will be very cathartic for him because Colton had so much shame surrounding his sexuality, but now he's proud of who he is

* Macaulay Culkin and girlfriend Brenda Song surprised fans by announcing they welcomed a son named Dakota -- Macaulay, who recently admitted people assume he's crazy or damaged because of his troubled early rise to fame, is happy to be settled down and he's finally overcome the demons of his childhood

Page 24: Cover Story -- Prince William and Prince Harry reunited in grief, torn apart by Meghan Markle -- the brothers' attempt to heal their rift is cut short when Harry is ordered back home because Meghan was in a panic -- it was obvious from William and Harry's body language that they had let go of some of their animosity

Page 26: Prince Philip's unforgettable funeral

Page 28: Jennifer Lopez and Alex Rodriguez -- why it finally ended -- A-Rod dumps J.Lo after the fight to end all fights -- Jennifer became overbearing and demanding after the latest cheating scandal

Page 30: Simon Cowell and Paula Abdul: The truth about their friendship -- after nearly 20 years, how do Paula and Simon really feel about each other? They miss the heyday of American Idol

Page 36: Mother's Day Gift Guide -- picture of Chrissy Teigen and her kids Miles and Luna

Page 40: Animal Overload -- Julianne Hough and a chickadee, Kerry Washington honoring her dog Josephine Baker with some athletic wear with the dog's face on it, Kelly Osbourne snoozes with her dog Oat, Nicole Richie with her dog and lizard

Page 46: Horoscope -- Taurus Channing Tatum turned 41 on April 26

Page 48: Last Laughs