#unrelated but ryan looks SO GOOD here

[theghoulboysblog]

i am making this puppet history - mystery files crossover my entire personality by the way. shane madej and the professor both ganging up on ryan?? they’ve made a personal living hell for ryan on his own show and i fucking love it.

[neonfretra]

i love everyone whos taking an interest to the sharks no matter what forces compelled yall <3 but also can i interest you in some of our guys that are older than 19 because i think the sharks truly excels at being the funniest collection of . guys, i guess

head coachs emotional support 2nd liner

last year (with david quinn) we had luke kunin as a second line center (hes a depth winger in teams that have more than five forwards and a dream). this year (with ryan warsofsky) we have jan rutta in second dpair . problem: they arent. good . theuy are CLOTH MOTHER!!!

we already have barclay goodrow at home

this is a quote from a tweet comparing kunin and goodrow but i CANT FIND IT...

i dont think we shoulda got barclay goodrow ill be real gang. i dont know what mike was doing here. anyways luke kunin is also our barclay goodrow at home (a bit of a goon, a bit of a leg weight) & we have barclay goodrow & warso loves sticking them together. & naturally theres some center with these two guys. (its currently will smith hockey)

the two old guys so to speak hook up

quoting this call from drew remenda regularly (~0:42 seconds in)

o captain my captain logan couture who has not touched ice since last season (but he played 6 beautiful games in our flop 23-24 season) && marc edouard vlasic (cousin of alex vlasic if you saw everyone getting pavlovian dog reactions every time they mentioned smaller pickle) who we last saw on ice last season...! theyre both out on injuries from the wear and tear of hockey and i honestly doubt we will see them again but i am incredibly fond of them.

heres some important things to know about marc edouard vlasic (pickles)! ^_^

divorced

yeah thats all i got for you

genuine question i have had for a while: how many of yall have never seen these guys on ice LOL

HOTEL CALIFORNIA!!!

oh my god we have SO many retired sharks that just. came back to work for the sharks. just off the top of my head:

mike grier (gm)

ryane clowe (assistant gm)

known landlords joe thornton (who is here for. vibes??? DOES HE GET PAID???) and patrick marleau (player dev coach)

tommy wingels (player dev coach)

mike ricci (player dev coach)

evgeni nabokov (goaltending dev coach) (not to be confused with goaltending dev coach thomas speer, known goalie whisperer)

mark smith (casting)

scott hannan (casting)

alex stalock (casting)

jason demers (casting)

david quinn has connections in the furry community (national hockey league) that could end your career in minutes

ex head coach dq (hes an assistant coach for the pens!) was really good at collecting guys from his prior teams, he used to be a coach for team usa in the olympics and for boston university . he knew gmmg (general manager mike grier) from bu! he also i know a guy'd his way to the pens!

funniest to me is henry thrun . dq WAMTED this guy . back in the college days ! see the thing is henry thrun we call him mr harvard. the one that got away NO LONGER...

swear to god theres another guy who dq ? i think ? loved SO much from his time with the rangers that he just kinda. snatched them with him to the sharks. BUT MY MEMORY IS BAD. I SWEAR IT HAPPENED. <- spent god knows how long paging through the shrimer

the san jose-new jersey highway

we keep collecting notable guys from new jersey... they arent even necessarily super notable IN jersey. mackenzie blackwood and vitek vanecek dont LOOK super good. i think both of them had insane injury records too?? and then we put them behind the sharks defense LMAOOOO

this post is written AFTER vitek vaneceks career record 49 save game BTW

ty equillibrium

did you know we traded away one ty (ty emberson) and also traded for one ty (ty dellandrea) . this is completely unrelated to anything .

the swedish mafia power struggle

we currently have five swedes: fabian zetterlnd, william eklund, alexander wennberg, carl grundstrom, and timothy liljegren ^_^

last season, it was a capital t thing that willyek was self appointing as head of the mafia with getting swedish meatballs at the rink (see previous link) and fabian zetterlund getting him coffee for his exit interview

alex wennberg as his senior IS challenging willyeks seating

riveting stuff. shout out to san jose shark media!

[dem0nguy]

Ive been infected by the AU bug (Ive got like 5 different AUs for MB now help—)

HOWEVER, this does give me an excuse to ramble about said AUs >:3

So how bout I ramble about the one I ever-so-conveniently drew art for?

MUTANT BUSTERS STEAMPUNK AU :DDDDD

Ima be honest, I originally created this just so I could put the sillies in fancy outfits. But then I added lore…

(The outfits in question:)

(Before I start ima just say that none of the characters go by their aliases, bc it just wouldn’t make sense here (and like, their names are cool and get no use in the show, they need use >:/ ))

So Jim(Sheriff) and Ryan live in a poor rural town in the middle of nowhere. Ryan works as a blacksmith, and Jim is an aspiring inventor (he’s not very good at the inventing part… just the ideas.)

Ryan wants Jim to learn how to be a blacksmith like he is, because it’s a reliable job and he doesn’t see Jim going very far in his inventing career.

Obviously, Jim doesn’t listen to him.

On one particularly boring day, an aspiring entrepreneur/inventor rolls into town. He introduces himself as Max(Shooter) Kojima, and says he’s looking for someone to help jumpstart his business with him. Jim quickly volunteers, but Ryan stops him, and forces him to come home.

Jim, however, is a persistent little bitch. So he sneaks out at night and joins up with Max; who gives him a prototype bionic arm as a gift.

Somewhere along their journey, Max reveals that he stole a powerful source of energy contained in a gem (*cough* MORPHONITE *cough*) from the lead entrepreneurs, Wart and Verruca, and plans to use it for his own inventions.

Jim is honestly so awed by the gem that he doesn’t care if it was stolen or not.

(At this point, Ryan has realized Jim is missing. So he sets out on a mission to find him)

Unfortunately, Max and Jim were not the only ones after the gem. Vegan-Su and BP steal it from them, so the two set off on a mission to get it back.

When they finally confront Vegan and BP, they explain that the gem was created by their father (Dr. White) and was stolen from him. So they were trying to get it back. But Max and Jim don’t care, and just as they’re about to walk off with the gem; Alexander(Brutux) steals it from them. All four then decide to work together to get the gem back.

Alexander works for Wart and Verruca, and was sent to go find the gem. But he doesn’t actually know what it is, nor the importance of it. When Jim, Max, Vegan, and BP catch up to him, they explain that the gem was created by Dr. White. Alexander then proceeds to fanboy about Dr. White and join the group.

(Jim and Max were gonna steal the gem back, but now they’re in too deep to get out so yk….)

(Also unrelated but Jim and Max are gay for each other bc you don’t just run off with a man in the middle of the night and NOT fall in love with him.)

The five start on their way to Dr. White’s place, just before they reach it, Jim gets a letter. The letter states that Ryan has been kidnapped by Wart and Verruca, and if the gem isn’t returned to them, he will be killed.

So they change course, and head for Wart and Verruca’s business place: Panic Mechanics (I’m so good at naming things/j) They make the trade for Ryan (who thoroughly scolds Jim, but is thankful for being saved.) Then unsure of what to do next, they head to Dr. White’s place.

(Dr. White is kinda like an inventor with questionable ethics and a weird way of doing things. He’s relatively well known, but his unpredictably doesn’t make him “famous” per se. His books are what most people (including Alexander) know him for.)

When they arrive, Dr. White explains that Wart and Verruca will try to drain all the energy in the world using that gem, so everyone has to come to them for power/inventions. (Capitalism, yay)

So they head right on back to Panic Mechanics, just in time to stop Wart and Verruca’s plan, saving the world. (AND THE GAYS GET TO KISS >:D)

That’s pretty much all, thanks for listening to me ramble! :3

[storiesofsvu]

Happy Thursday!

The preview for mothership looked super good so here’s hoping!!

Unrelated, but ugh I overcooked my chicken tonight. One day I’ll get it right LOL

Was that mike doyle?!

IT ISSSS!!!

Im taking this as confirmation that ryan o’halloren is still alive and well!!

Ohhhhh god here we go. dad really believes this shit? Ugh.

See… accusations like this are why no doors closed when you’re alone with a student exist. No doubt the conversation with the door closed was the kid coming out/asking about being gay, so privacy but STILL. Especially if the teacher is publicly out at the school, he honestly wouldn’t let that happen.

Ngl, high key crushing on Riley too… *sigh* we’ll just add another man to the old man crush list of the week, shall we? (the other one’s Bobby from 911. I dunno what it is about him but its making me weak)

Jfc right after I say that he fucking parkour’s over a goddamn fence… SIR! I’m trying to focus

Oh go this confrontation scene is gut wrenching. The swat/whatever guys were literally about to just go right for the kill, the kid doesn’t really get whats happening. Thank god for shaw.. jfc

Okay is the little convo with lieu about the foster mom the explanation of how they’re legally talking to the kid (who is a minor) without an adult or attorney present?? Cause they can’t get the foster mom? So that counts?? Cause he’s a foster kid??

I mean.. this kid is showing major remorse. (though with his rap sheet who fucking knows lol) he does look hella scared. Props to the actor.

Is Shaw feeling something here? Is he gonna be straddling the line on this one?

OH MY GOD SAM IN THAT FUCKING PLUM SUIT?!!? PLEASE

Ah yes, shaw is on that side. PLEASE! FIGHT NOLAN! He deserves it. Notice how sam didn’t say anything? Notice how she lingered for a second and gave shaw a look? YES MA’AM STANDING UP for shit.

NOT L&O USING BARBA’S OFFICE FOR A JUDGE’S CHAMBERS. Jfc. That office has been used as so many different things it makes about as much sense as olivia’s apartment.

THIRTEEN!!?? Jesus. Yeah this is messy. All kinds of messy. I hate it all.

I REALLY want an episode where Sam gets to go absolutely feral. Like… we just get a quick close up of her face and have to read the subtext when she doesn’t agree with what the men are saying. Casey, Alex, Barba, they’d all get to snap but Sam hasn’t gotten there yet and I need to see it. I need her working a case on her OWN. Or even just away from Nolan, do a semi-crossover ep where it’s a sex crime that twists into a murder so her and carisi are working together on the case…

OH DAMN now the principal’s in on it?!?

Yeah the principal needs to be held responsible for *something*

This is so one of the tricky cases cause it really doesn’t feel like proper justice for the husband, the kid still killed someone. Who knows if he *actually* knew it was loaded or not? Both parties are responsible for something but figuring out punishment is where it gets super tricky….

$10 says the husband kills the kid before this is all over

Ah. Okay. Well yeah this kid deserves to go to prison for sure. He be lyyyyying

Wait… shaw just walked back into the courtroom and sat back down? Is he waiting to tell the ada on purpose??

There’s so much subtext going on in this episode and I hope we’re gonna get explanations about it lol

Okay… how come when shaw withholds evidence its totally fine and no one’s like, yelling at him, but when casey does it she gets suspended??

I fucking missed what Shaw said about why he’s seeing this case with blinders, like, I heard the bit about him and his brother being split up into foster care but I missed the next bit and now im confused

Okay, dick wolf jump scare. Happy Halloween.

Wasn’t ready for the scene to cut to black like that…

SVU

Okay.. that was an interesting open…

Is ‘sexstorted’ an actual word?

God Mariska looks good. Whoever’s been doing her wardrobe and hair and makeup this season is killing it

Well..bronx svu.. we’ve seen how they run things, that’s really not a surprise they fucked up her case… lol

How old is Ruby supposed to be? Cause this girl could literally be like 16 or 28 I have no idea lol

I really like Silva. Actress is good, she popped up on 911 the other ay I was watching it, I hope she sticks around a decent amount of time

UC VELASCO? WERE GETTING SEXY UC VELASCO!???

Also the look on Fin’s face when he was all “Mexico city huh?” LOL

Okay, in love with the little banter between Velasco and silva

LOL what is with Terry and his expensive watch obsession?

Christ he’s so fucking sexy this is NOT fair

As if this bitch doesn’t have a lock on her phone

Okay I get wanting to get this guy, but shouldn’t Velasco have stayed in the van? This very well could have been yet another middle man and he should be keeping his cover…

I definitely understand Kelsey wanting to spin it in order to keep her job/reputation and shit but something doesn’t sit right about lying about being a victim while being the reporter covering the story.

Yeah that money’s gonna take a long time to get back girlie… but at least there’s some kind of a happy ending coming for her

okay, overall liked mothership better tonight but happy to see the full squad back on svu

[welcometoparis]

LOCATION: Outside Wicked's Rest TIMING: Recent PARTIES: Paris SUMMARY: Paris has been a lab experiment for three years... until today. CONTENT WARNINGS: Memory loss (brief mention)

“I’m nothing if not merciful,” Ryan decided, circling the lamia like a shark. “So I think I’ll let you go, hm? Let you live among humans for a little. See if you can’t integrate.”

It was another day of rigorous testing, poking and prodding, and unrelenting torture. Paris was tired, and the fight for survival, that urge to keep fighting, that light was going out. Every day, they forced him to shift into his reptilian form, and it felt like there was no chance of escape. For the last three years, this was all he knew. It was miserable, it was unending, and more than anything, it was all his fault. He’d trusted that man, that Ryan, he’d believed there was good in humans. He was wrong, so so wrong.

The anger in Paris had been building, bubbling until it pushed him over the edge. One moment he was in a cage, trapped under the gaze of multiple scientists, the next his vision was red, he’d torn his way free, chest heaving as he stood in the middle of a room full of scientists that hadn’t stood a chance. His hands were coated in the blood of others, the anger thrumming through his system. “My, my what have you done here, little lizard?” A familiar voice called out from the doorway, and the lamia whipped his head around to meet Ryan’s disappointed gaze. Paris swallowed. “I…” he trailed off, what had he done? He didn’t remember any of it, nor was he sure he wanted to. “Well, you certainly can run,” Ryan spoke, taking a slow step forward toward Paris, who snarled in response, lowering his head as his tail swished back and forth. “But I could also take you down here and now.” The hunter decided, leveling a crossbow right at Paris’s chest. 

“Shift, lamia.” The hunter commanded, and Paris did as was instructed, pain radiating through his body as he shifted into a human form. “I’m nothing if not merciful,” Ryan decided, circling the lamia like a shark. “So I think I’ll let you go, hm? Let you live among humans for a little. See if you can’t integrate.” Paris blinked owlishly, not trusting his voice to speak anything other than an angry scream. 

“I do not wish to…” Paris found himself saying, accented and hoarse from years of not speaking. “They will hunt me, as you do.” Paris decided, eyes narrowing as his eyes were trained on the crossbow the hunter wielded. “True,” Ryan responded with a shrug of his shoulders. “But isn’t that the fun?” Ryan lowered the weapon at last, then motioned to the doorway, to freedom. “Well then, little lizard. This is your chance.” 

Paris looked from the doorway to the hunter, having half a mind to tear the hunter down where he stood, but too fearful to do so. Ryan was the one wielding a weapon, not him. Well, then again, Paris was a weapon, now wasn’t he? 

The lamia stared down the hunter for a long moment. Why was he letting him run? Paris stepped toward the hunter, and Ryan raised his weapon once again. “Ah, ah!” He tutted, waving a finger with his free hand. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’m giving you a head start.” The hunter once again motioned to the doorway. “Know that wherever you go, I will follow. One small slip-up and I’ll take you out. You’re on a short leash, little lizard. And close your mouth, you’ll swallow a fly.” 

Paris closed his gaping mouth. He had a decision to make. He looked to the doorway, then back to the hunter. No matter where he went, this man would be watching him one way or another. But freedom, no matter what it tasted like, was far better than the lab he’d been subjected to for all these years. So he nodded his head. “I will take this offer,” Paris spoke slowly, taking a slow step toward the door, toward freedom. “I will stick to these rules.” Another step. 

“Down the hall, there’s a pair of scrubs. Put them on, no one wants to fucking see that.” Ryan motioned to Paris’s nude form. Yes, humans wore clothes, didn’t they? Silly rule, that. Still, he did what the hunter said, finding his feet carrying him down the hall and throwing the scrubs on, then barrelling out the front door into the shining sun that made him reel backward.  He recalled other prisoners talking of a town called Wicked’s Rest, of a place where people like them were able to blend in and live. This, he could find. He would find. Another step forward, another step to freedom. Still, there was a voice in the back of his head that told him that this wasn’t his doing, that Ryan had a hand in what had happened. He didn’t remember. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to remember. But he did know this: He was free. And that was more than enough for now.

[lakesparkles]

helloooo lakesparkles! im here, with more lis + animal content (+ fun facts!) also donttt feel pressured or lik you have to draw any of this! i literally just enjoy talking abt lis and animals

chloe has hyena vibes (they yell, they're very sociable, also, they like to sit in mud)

steph has african wild dog vibes (somehow they're even louder than hyenas yet equally sociable. also the have MASSIVE EARS)

alex is just generally any sort of mustelid (including minks, tayras, ferrets, badgers, skunks, and stoats) because they're really tiny but are mean as fuck and will take down animals many times their size

(unrelated, hope your day has been going well!!)

Ohhhhh hi!! I'm so happy with this because I also love talking about animals and LiS, so thank you!!

Reading it gave me so much inspiration. I don't know how I didn't think about hyena Chloe before, it fits her PERFECTLY and she would look very cool, I'm imagining her with blue spots/stripes. It also gave me a random idea of an aarwolf Chloe, but maybe it's just because I like aardwolves.

I used to LOVE african wild dogs when I was a kid and Steph would be amazing as one!! I really want to draw it now because I have such a clear image of her in my mind.

About Alex, YES !! I especially like skunk Alex! Omg these all are exactly the type of animal she would be. Even as a tiger I draw her small because I can't see her any other way. She's the hardest one to choose an animal for, I already made three versions (tiger, kodkod and bird) and I plan of doing even more because it's fun. I also want to draw her, Steph and Ryan as cats and dogs someday, but I didn't decide their breeds yet (just a Great Pyrenees for Ryan).

(thank you!! I have terrible cramps, but other than that I'm in a good mood. I hope your day is good too!! :D)

[taiblogcomics]

Muddying the Waters

Hey there, unrelenting accrual of clowns. Let's do some Countdown this fine summer's day, huh?

Here's the cover:

…Oh. Well. Pretty sure I've seen art like this on DeviantArt. Like, a lot of art like this. But regardless! Maybe it'll at least sell this issue to folks with that fetish. I dunno! I've occasionally bought a comic coz I have the hots for whatever superheroine's on the cover (usually Rogue). Maybe it works for other fetishes too! Anyways, of course it's clay because it mentions Clayface in the blurb down there (which is not included in the trade I'm reading from, by the way), but personally I think it looks more like chocolate pudding. Again, not my fetish, but if it's yours, does chocolate pudding increase the appeal more or less than clay~?

Okay, new recap rule: If a character appears on the cover, I should mention them first. Unless otherwise for theming purposes. So Mary Marvel is stuck with Black Adam's powers and also in Clayface. Jason Todd and Donna Troy have been stuck with locating Ray Palmer. Pied Piper and Trickster are stuck together after killing the Flash. Karate Kid is stuck in the past in the JLA's custody. Jimmy Olsen is stuck on how to use his powers for good. And Holly Robinson is stuck in a women's shelter after going on the run. And we're stuck reading this for another 42 weeks~

Okay, so you remember how last time, I ended by being all "I'm counting Bart's death as this series' fault even though technically it didn't happen in this comic"? Yeah, so this issue opens with a graphic recreation of the Rogues' murder of Bart Allen. That's a lovely way to open a comic. I bet all the quicksand fetishists who picked up this issue for the cover really regret it now, and so do I! And it doesn't matter that this is quickly revealed to be a nightmare that Trickster's having, that doesn't absolve it of depicting it!

Pied Piper and Trickster are in the custody of the Suicide Squad at present, under arrest for the Flash's murder. I wasn't aware this is what the Suicide Squad did, but I didn't know Multiplex was a member, so fair enough. Anyway, Deadshot explains that the pair are chained together with a high-tech handcuff. If it's pulled too violently, the pair of them will get an electric shock. And if too far or damaged/removed… The shock will be lethal. It might not be brain bombs, but it's still the Suicide Squad's go-to solution to all problems!

We cut over to Gotham City, where we get some crazy upskirt shots of Mary Marvel. I'm not quite sure how old Mary is in these, but she was discharged from a hospital on her own, so she must be at least over 18. Still, the introduction to her in this comic is the entirety of her thighs. Anyway, she's checking out the site of a recent explosion, and who should be at the scene but the Riddler? She immediately assumes the worst and flies off with him, but at this point in DC history, the Riddler has gone straight, and he spends the entirety of the next page explaining this to Mary until she finally puts him down. Physically, I mean, though I suppose she continues putting him down emotionally as well.

Over in Metropolis, at the women's shelter, the artist is clearly not done drawing women's thighs, as we watch Harley Quinn exercise on the balance beam while she and Holly Robinson talk. So this is actually a start of an arc for Harley Quinn to go straight (much like the Riddler a page previous). This would more firmly take hold in about 7 years, post New 52. But they were already laying the groundwork here! Anyways, long story short, Athena sought out Harley to make her assistant director of this women's shelter and lend guidance to these women. But Holly is still suspicious, because Athena is a literal god, what's she getting out of this?

Now then, in a new location for once, Jason Todd and Donna Troy decide to start their search for Ray Palmer by checking in with the man who took over his identity: Ryan Choi, the All-New Atom. I haven't read Ryan's run, but i should change that some time. Personal reminder! So it does mean I don't know these supporting characters. But they postulate that since Ray went sub-atomic following Jean Loring's incarceration to Arkham Asylum, he must be in the Palmerverse. Ah, man, I don't think Into the Palmer-Verse is the animated blockbuster you think it'll be, DC. Nah, actually it's what they call the sub-atomic universe in DC, like Marvel's Microverse. Hey, he discovered it, he can name it after himself if he wants. That's a scientist's privilege. So Ryan Choi joins the party!

Back on the ground, Riddler and Mary Marvel follow a mysterious trail of dirt leading from the crime scene. They discover a back alley where the trail stops. Riddler deduces that this isn't dirt at all. Instead, it's clay. And Clayface attacks them from behind, giving us our cover shot. Except Mary doesn't even get sludged, she dodges it while Riddler is the one mucked. Mary does the Flash tornado move and sends Clayface into space. She thinks it's fine, he was just dirt. As Riddler uncovers the stolen goods, he recommends that Mary should seek out a mentor in things magic, if she doesn't know her strength so strongly. Or anger management

Speaking of Gotham, no one goes around Gotham without Batman's notice, and you see him up above, eavesdropping on Mary and Riddler. Karate Kid approaches him from behind, and without looking up, Batman says "People who sneak up on me usually regret it." He's letting Batman know that the Legion is about to depart to the 31st century, and Batman's like "Don't let me keep you."

Karate Kid starts a bit where he wants to let Batman know what an honour it was to fight a skilled martial artist like him, and Batman retorts that "I lost once, it wouldn't happen again in a rematch." Karate Kid leaves in a huff, because he wasn't trying to rub Batman's nose in it. Batman smugly watches him fly off, mumbling something about "Did you expect a sidekick offer?" And I don't know why he's smiling other than that Batman is kind of a dick sometimes.

Speaking of being a dick sometimes, we cut over to the Daily Planet offices in Metropolis. Jimmy Olsen's musing to himself about his powers, wondering why he can't get them to activate at will instead of just under stress. He's also doodling some costume ideas, but when Lois comes by, she wonders what all the art is for. Jimmy hastily provides a cover-up of a comic strip idea he's pitching to the paper. Here's where the dickishness comes in: Lois then offers her opinion on his art, then says Jimmy should stick with photography. All Jimmy can manage is a weak "Good one, Lois."

Back over with Piper and Trickster, Trickster requests if there's any way they can be cuffed separately, and Piper takes this as a homophobic insult. Deadshot isn't stupid, and knows Trickster would try something the moment he was uncuffed. Trickster's all like, "What? No!" in the least convincing way possible, even when he points out they confiscated all his tricks. When they don't reply further, he uses his tongue to remove a false tooth implanted with a bomb. But, like, you look at this thing and it has a huge screw-like spike and clearly went down into his gums like a real tooth. That seems painful as hell to remove, especially without using your hands.

Trickster spits his nasty tooth-bomb straight up, where it explodes, knocking the whole transport around. And despite that one of the guys guarding them is Multiplex, a man whose powers are being able to make copies of himself, the two of them manage to push past him. Note also that Trickster hasn't communicated this plan at all to Piper, and he's just following Trickster's lead. The pair pushes past them and slams their way through the door and exit the transport. And the comic ends with revealing why this was a dumb plan: the pair of them fall out of an airborne plane and are plummeting to the ground miles below.

So, hey, remember when I began this review questioning why the Suicide Squad were arresting and detaining individuals? That's because I forgot Salvation Run was a thing, which was another tie-in miniseries to Countdown. Seriously, this whole maxi-series is just setup for other tie-ins. Not a lot else happens in this one aside from that, it feels very incidental. Clearly they had to do the fetish cover because there was nothing else interesting in the comic. Though I think this is the first issue with all six plotlines getting a scene, so that's something novel, at least~

[absolutesort]

day 26 — frankie & max. 

setting :   smoking area   /   cowboys and aliens party.

featuring :     max    /    @dobits​

frankie.

frankie's pretty sure the main reason she took up smoking was for the pockets of time where she gets to be on her own. that and the fact that smokers get more breaks at work, and she's not about to be short-changed by employers for having healthy lungs. patting down her assless chaps, she's hunting for the cigs she's sure she stashed somewhere (not that there's many places to hide them) before finding a selection of rollies stuffed in her dimante bra, kind of warm and bent, but they'll do. fiddling in her bra for a lighter, she's striding into the smoking area expecting to find it empty, only to walk almost directly into max. "oh crap," she starts immediately, looking him over. "sorry. i didn't think there'd be anyone here." there hasn't been the last few times she's come. "can't find my lighter. do me the honours?" frankie asks, slipping her bra cig into her mouth and leaning in towards max.

max.

s'all good, cowgirl," max greets, his eyes a mirror of her's, inspecting her up and down, decidedly more salacious. "think this town's big enough for the both of us." just barely. his lit cigarette is already tucked into the corner of his mouth, he hums his begrudging affirmation. "you don't know how hard it is to get anything outta these fuckin' pants." all black leather slung low on his hips, shirtless, with a brown bandana tied around his neck and a black hat to top it off. actually, not totally unlike some of the shit he's worn onstage. "well," max reconsiders, "some things are easier than others." he manages to procure the light and cups his hand around the end of her smoke, cherries it to light. "didn't know you smoked."

frankie.

she hasn't really hung out with maxwell since the weirdly charged encounter where he'd shaved her pits and she'd shaved his jaw, trusting her enough to hold a blade against his throat and not slip. bit intense for a first real chat but that was what living with strangers would do to you. his stare has a weight to it when he gives her the once-over, the kind of thing that girls in new york probably foam at the mouth for, but it just leaves frankie with a sour taste in hers. "put your tongue back in your mouth, max," she starts, looking down at her ensemble. admittedly, her lingerie, chaps, and tasselled jacket get up isn't what she'd wear to the genuine western bars back home, far more likely to be sporting dungarees with her cowboy boots, but this is love island ; sometimes, you have to play along, and she looks hot, so fuck it.  "wow. poor baby. is this the part in the porno where i offer to help you out of them?" rolling her eyes, frankie takes a step closer so he can light her cigarette, her own hand lifting to tug at his neckerchief, a mumbled "cute" muttered through teeth clamped around her cigarette. "yeah, well there's a lot you don't know about me," she states, taking a drag of her cigarette and exhaling it against his face. it's such a girl-in-a-film thing to say that she finds herself mentally rifling for who she's robbed it from. meg ryan in when harry met sally is a popular one, for when she's trying to fashion herself into someone more fun and palateable. "i actually love dying and being dead, so..." (edited)

max.

"don't look sexy, frankie," max mimics tone, showing he, too, can demand against inevitabilities. what reaction did she expect? and just for that little sentiment, he leers down a little longer, head tilting. pleased she's playing along with the fantasy he'd implicated, even (or especially) with her thick, unrelenting sarcasm, max smiles with some amusement. "i'll be too drunk in about an hour and a half so, yeah, if i could lock you in now." he wonders vaguely if he'd be able to get his unedited sex tape from production. ashing off his own cigarette, max deadpans, eyes closed, against the cloud. "florida tomboy who slings champs for the yacht owners," he reads off invisible notes. "yeah, i think that's everything." nothing could be more of a laugh than max braddy claiming somebody one dimensional. "what, you got a curveball for me? you were married before? oh -- virgin? no, i bet you were secretly prom queen." like that's the worst one of all. jaw drops a bit, hammed up surprise at their similarities. "what the fuck, me too," max drawls, manufacturing scandal. "cheers, honey." but his cigarette's out now, dropped to pavement and ground up under his cowboy boot. "you got anything else in there for me?" he asks, leaning forward to peer down between her tits.

frankie.

he's such a dick. she wants to strangle this guy, thumb to his jugular when the last breath leaves his throat. if only she'd known he was this much of an ass when she had a sharp blade against his neck. still, it wouldn't have changed anything. despite what might have been said in the hallway, there's not a murderous bone in her body. "my eyes are up here, asshole," frankie notes, finger sliding beneath his chin to lift his gaze up to look at her and not her cleavage. fucking typical man. one glimpse of bazookas and they're fucking googly-eyed. she takes a drag from her cigarette, eyes rolling at his fairly tame assessment of her. is that all he's got?  "wow, you totally got me. i feel seen," she adds, adopting a valley girl accent and twirling her hair around her finger.  "you're, like, so astute!  nope. not married, not a virgin, not even a back door virgin. why, does that shit excite you? pervert." she'd never been married, but it wouldn't be unlike her to try that shit, a vegas wedding chapel with a near-stranger and a pretty swift annulment following suit. when he peers at her chest again frankie lunges, cornering him against the wall, her hand having grabbed at his chin. for a second, she holds it there, knowing that he could probably retaliate, and she'd still beat his ass. max is tall, but he's skinny. he's probably not that strong. if you drove along the freeway with the window open, max would probably fly right out of it. "i think you've made it pretty obvious you wanna suck on my titties, max, so you can stop fucking staring." somehow, despite how overtly misogynistic this dude is, there's a part of her that likes him. it's the boisterous bordering on gross behaviour that she's used to, growing up with brothers, once again proving to her that not all men, but yeah, most men. fishing in her bra, she plucks out another rollie, and slides it into his mouth, leaning in to light it with hers. "it's got boob sweat, but... you're welcome."

max.

mouth opens and closes, struggles to get a word in edgewise. frankie, he's learned, requires little to no audience participation, and so he watches her with an annoying, pursed smile set on his lips. "well, i'd hope there wouldn't be any shit involved. that another kink of yours? i actually can believe you --," the words are robbed from him by the surprising nimbleness of frankie's little assault, which he doesn't remotely fight against. guess she's picked up a bit of muscle around those boat decks or, what he thinks is more likely, she's fueled by sheer conviction. nothin' like a woman scorned, she probably has the strength right now to lift a car -- and immediately crush max flat with it. he's loving it. "you," he implicates with some wonder, even toned as he finally pushes his chest forward against her grip, keening into their proximity, "are real easy to wind up, aren't you?" couple good looks at her tits and here she is, white knuckled and full of swears. he's a little shocked to realize it, little indulged, thought she'd be more resilient to his provocations than that. tinkling, low laugh drips from around the cig she sticks in his mouth. "mm, thanks a million," smacks his lips at the taste, exhaling smoke. "-- you roll this?"

frankie.

"stop trying to figure out my kinks?" she snaps back, exasperated. "it's not shaving, it's not blood, it's not scatplay or whatever the fuck, and you're not going to find out what i like because you're never gonna fuck me." after getting that out of her system, her posture seems to relax a little, allowing the smoke to curl around her as she tries to figure this fucker out. who hurt you, max braddy? what did they do to make you the way you are? he puffs his chest out, acting the big man, and her grip on his jaw only tightens, leaning back to compensate for the space he's closed between them, even now. "and you are fucking shameless," comes her only response. maybe he's right — she is easy to rile, and he's done it time and time again, the two of them seeming to go through this cycle of him saying something pervy, frankie losing her cool, and the two of them gradually easing back into something fun and simple, a sparring match of words. before, of course, max fucks it again. "yeah, i rolled it. why you gonna say something shady about that too? fuck off." she drops back against the opposite wall, back to the bricks, staring him down as she sucks in a drag of bitterness.

max.

max is starting to get the impression that... frankie's a little bit put off? he can't imagine why. perhaps the unrelenting glib humor and unabashed salacious comments are a bit hard to relate to... nah, she must just be on the rag. maxwell laughs a little lightly, trying to relieve the ultra-taut tension snapping against the moment. "a man can't dream a little?" a pause, a huff, and he raises his palm in lieu of a little white flag. "all right, no sex talk." can he even make that promise? here's hoping. teeth show at her estimation and -- yeah, that rings true. when he's released from frankie's grip, he can take a good, proper drag before inspecting the handiwork. "nah, it's actually pretty good," he compliments, tongue absently pressed against his front teeth and splitting the smoke cloud. he tries not to smile. "for a girl." head tilts like, c'mon, i can't say anything misogynistic? "you worked in a weed shop or something?

frankie.

"it's not talking about sex that's the problem," frankie notes, inhaling another drag of her cigarette, her nose scrunching as she tries to put her finger on what exactly it is about this guy that makes her feel like slab of meat in a chest freezer. "it's just... the way you talk about sex, i guess. or the way you talk about women. i'm not a prude—" with the way she manhandles people without a care for unfortunate onlookers, it would be hard to accuse her of that, "—like i love sex, and i love talking about sex. but i don't know, i kinda feel like... just chill out maybe?" bold of her to say that, when she was the one who brought up porn. then again, he'd laid out the chips in the first place. "because if it's like, all you can talk about then it comes across as like, super one-note, and then it's not really sexy any more." it wouldn't be hard to figure out what she's into — frankie's not exactly a closed book — but straight up asking it seems to take all the fun away from it, all the foreplay of flirting gone ; asking her straight up feels like the conversational equivalent of just shoving it in raw with no lube. when he compliments her rolling ( it's not so much a compliment, but from max she'll take anything she can get and run ) frankie waits for the thorn hidden beneath the rose petals, smirking, self-satisfied, when it comes. "right, there it is..." she laughs. her cig's gone out, and she wedges it between her teeth as she searches once again for her lighter — in her chaps, in her bra, fuck sake, why didn't she wear something with pockets — before eventually leaning in to cup her palms around max's mouth, lighting her cigarette from his. "nope, just smoked a lotta weed. what are you here for, anyway?" frankie asks, when she leans back, inhaling from the cherried end. "just sex? sex and a relationship? lifelong pals? an increase in ticket sales? because i can't figure out your motive." 

max.

"frankie, it's, like --," max shakes his head, shrugging, "a joke." not a super solid defense, admittedly. he taps his fingers to his chest. "i'm a feminist." it's kinda that thing where if you have to say you're cool, you're probably not that cool, but maxwell isn't sure how else to express to frankie how thoroughly unserious he is. then again, he can imagine the schtick losing it's novelty pretty quickly, most people either laughing along or matching him with irritation. he's a little tickled by her earnest. "you said kink first," max points an accusatory couple of fingers at her, cigarette slotted between them. "scales and panty-sniffing, wasn't it?" he laughs lightly, hangs his head in a nod. "all right, i hear ya, frank. i do wanna wind you up, but it's not as fun when you're actually pissed at me." he'll have to keep an eye on that boundary she's set. hand helps block the other side of their cigarettes, tips touching, and he shifts his weight at the question, scoffs another laugh. "what are you in for?" like it's jail. "just sex? really? it woulda been easier to get laid in new york... wouldn't suck though." wide smile, he shrugs again, leaning back against the wall. "all of the above, why not? no distractions in here, y'know. nowhere to be, nobody else around. connection could happen, if the right person walks in." that's the bitch of it -- the likelihood of that seems increasingly small. "don't take this the wrong way, you don't really seem like a relationship kinda girl." all quick quirk and aloof. plus he can't imagine her job lends itself to commitment. "what was your last one?"

frankie.

as soon as her cig's lit she's pulling out of his personal space with a knowing look, not wanting to give max any kind of excuse to claim to callie that she was totally gagging for it.  "you're a feminist," she repeats, one eyebrow quirked, clearly unconvinced. "sure. okay, whatever." eyes roll as she kicks the end of her cowboy boot against his shin, wondering if he'll join the bit or make a holy show of how much she'd injured him like a footballer milking a foul. frankie drags the toe of her boot down his leather pants, a trail of dirt and trodden ash in it's wake. "right. scales and panty-sniffing, that was me, but you were the one who like, started asking about my fucking butt-crack floss and asking to see my mermaid tail and shit so..." so they were both playing the same game, which ultimately couldn't continue ( or could, but now the stakes were raised ) because now frankie was coupled up with someone she actually wanted to pursue. "i get it, i'm fun to wind up because i react just..." she presses a hand against his shoulder, shoving him back with a smirk. "don't push it." it feels like they've reached a truce, not that it'll last. not that she wants it to either.  "you think this sucks?" sometimes, she's inclined to agree, but there's also tender moments within the drama that make it seem worth it, moments within the drama itself that have her running on adrenaline and hungry for the chaos, so long as it isn't her in the firing line. "yeah. no distractions. s'why i'm here." she's taking another drag of her cigarette when he adds that last statement, inhaling too much smoke at once that sends her into a coughing fit. she could deny it, claim that he's barking up the wrong tree, that she's actually had a five year engagement before, but she reckons he'll be able to see through it. "i can be a relationship girl," frankie defends, rapping her knuckles against her chest, determined, offended. “hey, i’ve been in relationships. i’m a fucking great girlfriend. i’m good with moms, i’m good at thoughtful gifts and surprises,” she begins listing off qualities on her fingers, “i just… haven’t found the right person yet.” she eyes him with suspicion, neglecting to answer his rather pointed question about her relationship history.  “i could literally say exactly the same about you.” and there’d probably be more merit around it. “what was your longest relationship, max?”

max.

"so we're even," he insists, gaze locked on her as his own boot ticks up to knock at the sole of her's. the last thing max needs is frankie framing him as some woman-hating sex-crazed pervert for the audience. only half of it is true. it is fun volleying glib one liners and empty come-ons with frankie, mostly because she always toes the line between indulging him and calling him on it. he can tell she navigates him like he's game-playing, the problem is that maxwell's simply void of forethought or strategy. maybe that's why her fuse for him is so short. to be fair, he has some trouble sussing out her true feelings, trouble knowing the line. at least when she shoves him she subtitles it with something like a begrudged smirk, which he mirrors. "i'll do my best." which is about as much as he can sincerely promise. "sucks? jail ain't that bad. there aren't dimpled little silver spoons like josh in jail." playing into the beef a little maybe, to max it isn't that deep, and he laughs it off, shrugging. "nah, it's been cool. maybe a little low key for me, didn't see that comin'." brows lift at frankie's reaction, snorting at her little fit. head shakes at her insistence, she sounds like him claiming he's a feminist. "yeah? how are you with sisters?" max wonders, biting into his provoking smile. "or girl best friends?" which is to say frankie is obviously not a girl's girl. grin widens because, yeah, fair play. "longest?" he pretends to think it over, sucking his cigarette to the filter and letting it fall to the ground, crushes it under the toe of his boot. "better part of two years, maybe. three if you count all those obligatory ex sneaky links. but that was awhile ago."

frankie.

frankie fixes him with a look, somewhere between amused and astounded. "okay. even stevens, whatever, maxie."  at his comment about spoons, she snorts, imagining josh's cheesy little head spray-painted silver and dancing around like a novelty character on a commercial. or worse, that fucking spoon numberjack. "sure there are. tax evasion? insurance fraud? only rich, white people commit those crimes." it's a drastic generalisation, but if her true crime podcasts are anything to go by, rich people are just as likely to commit heinous crimes. they're just also more likely to pay to cover it up. "i feel like i'm tough enough to last in prison, but that doesn't mean i wanna go." despite the to-ing and fro-ing of every conversation she has with max, there's a fondness for him she harbours, hidden beneath six layers of cynicism and contempt. "low-key because you're not being mounted five times a day? yeah. i guess." maybe max would've had a better shot if he got to pick his dates like she did, pursued one of them with cartoon heart-eyes until they couldn't help but give in, though she could just as easily say that it was callie who did the pursuing. "if you got to pick your dates, rather than the public, who would you have chosen?" she prompts, with mild curiosity. she expects he'll say naomi and jenny, because it seems like that's who every fucker in this place wants to bang. and the fact that she doesn't get on with either of them? totally unrelated, of course. "i'm good with sisters..." frankie hesitates, chewing on her lower lip. "girl best friends, not so much. whenever i'm the girl best friend and a dude i'm pals with has a girlfriend, she always gets petty and jealous assuming he wants to fuck me and stops us from hanging out, usually because it's true." snorting, she brings her cig back to her lips. "shit. that's like, serious. my longest was like, eight months." there's baggage that comes with the castros, and her job certainly doesn't help.

max.

he tips his head back against the brick wall to laugh, only vaguely mocking of her claim. "prison, fuck that. i'd be chillin' in jail, but prison? yeah, no, even i'm too pretty." luckily his family has acquired enough wealth and goodwill now that he's never gotten more than a slap on the wrist. "yeah, you'd be all right. runnin' the dice games and shit, on your orange is the new black wave." eyes roll nearly clean out of his head with frankie's assumption, though she's not entirely wrong. "well, that wouldn't suck," max concedes. "no, i haven't even kissed anybody in here." so much for the sex fiend allegations. though it probably has as much to do with the fact that everybody's pretty married already as it does with max's reluctance to risk anything by making any first moves. hands free of the cigarette, he crosses arms over his mini cowboy vest. "jenny," he answers automatically, really could've spat both choices out at once, but his smirking reluctance probably spoils the mystery. "and callie, probably." maybe a wildcard. naomi had seemed like too much of a risk. "i dunno, i think she's cute. not my usual type." eyes train to the mostly smoked cigarette at her lips and he outstretches his hand, motioning to bum a drag. "well, yeah, 'girl best friend' is bullshit. might as well just call her a girl you haven't fucked yet." at least as far as a guy's concerned. head bobs, then shrugs. "like, serious. and ancient history. been, like, over five years ago now." eight months, he's a little surprised by that. "nice little stretch. just shy of serious." smile unfurls over his lips like he's got her all figured out now.

[unlimitedhorsepower]

Omg I made a post about Italian-American Ryan proof entirely out of my ass, all source: dude trust me and how his old workplace looks like venice but that lion of venice thing is making me lose my mind. That's so funny. Katsura does mention apollon medias "griffon" as why Ryan should be let to have wings despite not being able to fly but I choose to believe in this lion of venice truth since it doesn't exactly detail how he ended up coming up with the idea in the 1st place

I know some of katsuras thoughts because I got to leaf through the rising katsura art book a while ago and it mentions inspirations for Ryan's suit (I machine translated the text so I can't get the exact wording but the general gist so this isn't 100% factual), including "he kind of has poofy pants with white stockings and gloves like a prince" and that it fit better for him to be gold and navy instead of gold and black due to the navy fitting better with white stockings and gloves, and that with facial design of the mask he added the blue border to make the white stand out and that its kind of like a "masquerade mask" when seen from the front and its true, it kinda covers the upper part of his face.

Which all was kind of funny to me yet unrelated to everything but now I'm like wow. He's just dressed for the venetian carneval obviously... you can take the man out of Italy but not the Italy out of the man<3

My solution for his anglophone name is that he's italian-american since he always struck me as a bit of a funny anime american stereotype in the first place (egotistical, loud, blonde, etc). To me he is Mr. Worlwide...

Anyhow, the art book also mentions that the wings activating/glowing are his good luck mode (the translation was awfully unclear but this is how I understood it), and it shows a timeline of sketches of him making the shoulder pauldrons bigger and bigger until he just decided to go fuck it and straight up add wings for him instead

Here's some images out of the book

I think that because mattia is an Italian name he should just be Italian and speak Italian fluently. Ryan should be hanging out with barnaby and mattia and be like Italian pride<3 randomly and mattia gets excited and speaks to him in Italian while Ryan is like oi oi, now barnaby doesn't understand us... and Barnaby (a genius) is like oh mattia taught me plenty when we were children! It's alright:)

Now Ryan has to face his demons (can understand perfectly but can't reply fluently bc his parents didn't speak with him in Italian enough bc god damn their son is kinda insufferable sometimes). Ryan is getting an identity crisis because why can Barnaby speak Italian better than he does. He has to excuse himself expeditiously. He left his stove on yknow and his iguana misses him, and he's so damn busy

Kotetsu offhandedly mentions that he knows an Italian guy and Ryan is like omg...it's Me. And kotetsu goes like mattia:) he's bunny's friend. And Ryan is crying and throwing up mentally like he's literally right here.... fuck this gay anti-italian earth etc

Some Italians can't speak Italian fluently and they're valid (daily affirmations)

So me and the T&B discord have deduced that Ryan is Italian

Keep reading

[izzyspussy]

How To Build Character Quickly

It can be hard to make a well-rounded, dynamic character when you don't have a lot of narrative space to do it in. Maybe you're writing a short story, or maybe your background characters need some development. So here's how I do it.

Character Through Implication

A great way to add some depth to a character efficiently is to include small, seemingly insignificant background details that can illustrate a lot about their background or personality through implication.

In a real battle one does what one must, and the enemy will do the same. Tyr may be retired from war but he remembers that.

These two short lines share a lot of information with the reader about Tyr’s past. From this, the audience can assume that Tyr used to be a soldier and that he likely has experience fighting for his life. They can infer that Tyr probably has taken life. From these lines it’s also possible to guess that Tyr is probably an older man, past his prime. Condensing all of that into just two sentences for a Point-of-View character helps keep the pace of the story quick and allows the reader to get to know Tyr without distracting from the current events.

Thando blinks. They take off their glasses (purely cosmetic) to look harder.

Here, pointing out that Thando’s glasses are cosmetic implies that they are committed to their sense of style. It also provides a way for the reader to assume some aspects of what that style is. This gives Thando some depth of character unrelated to the scenario they’re in, making them feel more like a real person with a life beyond the story.

Ackermann could probably toss Arnold Schwarzenegger over his left shoulder for good luck, but he’s in [juvie] for stealing the dogs off of owners who put them in fights.

Telling the reader Ackermann’s crime illustrates who he is as a person and makes him endearing and relatable even though he doesn’t move the plot. The audience can tell from these lines that Ackermann is kind and has a strong, if possibly alternative, morality. It also shows that he is likely not a threat to the Point-of-View character, and leaves room for the reader to have curiosity about him.

Use Relevant References

This is best when writing for an established IP, sequel, or for a piece that takes place in the real world, so that the reference makes sense to the readers.

The particular reference you use tells the reader about what kinds of things a character is knowledgeable about, what they think is important or that everyone knows, and their sense of humor.

"Meg Ryan called. She wants her wig back." [dialogue from IT Chapter 2]

This line of dialogue tells the reader (or in this case, viewer) that the character speaking is into movies, specifically probably 80s romances, that he has opinions on how other people look, and that he uses humor during confrontation.

I can't find the quote, but in Shameless (US) season 4, Mickey calls someone the name of a famous tennis player. I don't remember it, and it's not in any compilation videos, because the player referenced was no longer playing. So that tells us about Mickey that he's a little out-of-date, and that even though he's making a sports reference he's probably not actually a sports fan.

I find these methods to be really effective for adding depth and realism to my characters, and they're also fun and memorable both as a writer and a reader!

Feel free to hit me up if you have any questions!

❥ Jack

[plaidbooks]

Love Comes to Those Who Wait - Chapter 3

A/N: This chapter finishes the set-up, and moves into the plot. Hope you all enjoy!

Masterlist / Last Chapter

Tags: general SVU talk, stalking, break-ins

Words: 1888

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart  @beccabarba  @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy  @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl  @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @caracalwithchips @beardsanddetectives

Somehow, you managed to make excuses all throughout the weekend as to why you couldn’t meet up with Ryan. But you noticed in all your extensive texting that you had no idea how long he was staying in the city. Anytime you asked, he’d brush it off, giving vague amounts of time like “oh, just a little while” or “maybe a few more weeks.”

By the time Monday came around, however, your mind was once again focused on work. You spent most of Monday at the courthouse, prepping with the ADA, Rafael. Trial was nothing new to you, but this case was a huge scandal—a high-profile case that Rafael wanted air-tight. Hence his extra preparations as a precaution.

“And you’re positive there’s nothing in your past that the defense can bring up? This lawyer—Noonan—I’ve never faced him before, but I heard he’s a shark—”

“Relax, Rafael. You’ve known me for over four years now; there’s nothing ‘in my past’ for the defense to use against us,” you explained calmly. You were used to the counselor’s nervous habits; he rarely showed his anxieties on the surface, but he normally became more agitated and snappier the closer it got to a big trial date.

He gave you a look. “Are you sure? You never dabbled in women’s protests, or anti-capitalism movements?”

It was hard not to laugh at his paranoia, but you knew he was being serious, and he’d only get mad if you joked. “I’m positive. The only thing they can ‘use’ against me is the fact that I’ve been in SVU for five years. If I have some sort of ‘bias’ for women victims against multi-millionaire scumbags who think they can assault anyone they want—”

“Please don’t say that on the stand…or outside of this conversation right here, right now,” he said, cutting you off. You gave him a look of disbelief, but he added on, “both you and I know that that’s ridiculous. But if someone heard you say it and took those words out of context, the defense can and will use it. You know that this place leaks like a sieve.”

You held your hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, fine. I have nothing in my past the defense can use to say I have a bias one way or another.”

“Good, good…. Do you mind coming with me to my office? I wanted to make some notes, then try a new angle with the questioning; shouldn’t take more than a few hours.”

You groaned. “A few hours?” When Rafael held your gaze, you sighed. “Fine, but you’re breaking out that expensive bottle of scotch I know you hide in your desk, and we’re getting food—I’ll buy.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “You drive a hard bargain, detective, you but have yourself a deal.”

It wasn’t a far walk from the courthouse to Rafael’s office, but even so, it was the middle of January, and you shivered, even with your coat on.

“Cold?” he asked. Before you could brush it off, he shrugged out of his jacket and placed it on your shoulders.

Grateful, you wrapped the jacket closer around you, using Rafael’s body heat to ward off the cold. “Thank you,” you muttered, teeth chattering as you both hurried to One Hogan Place. Once inside the warmth of the building, you passed the jacket back, thanking him again before pulling out your phone to order food.

***********************

Tuesday morning, you were in court, testifying. Sonny was in the gallery for emotional support—plus the fact that you were going to go interview a victim on an unrelated case after your testimony. You were happy with all the extra prep Rafael had you go through, since the defense did use the angle of your years in SVU as being a bias.

You refuted that, explaining the evidence as you had found it in a calm, cool voice. You were secretly proud of yourself for holding it together; like Rafael had said, Noonan was a shark. But you refused to fold to the pressure of his accusations.

Once free from the stand, you and Sonny left the courtroom. You walked a little away from the courtroom, staying professional until you were out of earshot of anyone who may be listening.

“You did great up there,” Sonny commented once deemed far enough away.

You smiled over at him. “Thanks—Rafael and I prepped late last night. Guess it was worth it with the questions Noonan asked.”

You both exited the courthouse, and you took a deep breath of the chilly, winter air. Sonny took the lead as you followed him to his squad car. As you walked, though, your phone chimed with a text. It was a number you didn’t recognize, and the message seemed weird.

Four men? Not getting enough? it read.

“Everything okay?” Sonny asked, dragging your attention back to him.

You pocketed your phone. “Hm? Oh, yeah, just one of those stupid spam messages.”

“Ah, I hate those,” he replied, scrunching his nose in displeasure. Once at his car, he said, “how about we get some lunch on the way? My treat.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” you answered. But the text message was still in the back of your mind.

**************************

On Thursday, you awoke to a barrage of texts from the unknown number. They were all still worded oddly, but it was starting to feel more personal than a simple spam number.

A whole four men, yet no wedding ring?

Four men, but you sleep alone….

How many men are you going to ensnare in your web before you settle down?

Do they know you’re so ‘friendly’ with the others?

Stop flirting with them all.

You weren’t sure what the hell they were referring to, and you vaguely wondered if you should get TARU to track down the phone’s owner. But if someone was indeed watching you, then it was probably a burner phone, anyways.

Instead, you decided to block the number and move on. You weren’t sure who the “four men” referenced were, so there was no need to cause alarm at the precinct. Besides, you knew Olivia would put a tail on you, and probably ship you home to remain until they found this guy, which was unacceptable; you had work to do.

The rest of the day seemed quiet, normal, and Friday was the same. In fact, you forgot completely about the weird texts by Friday evening, as you came home from work. That is, until you unlocked your door and pushed into your apartment.

It was like a tornado had hit; paper and debris were scattered across every surface. Some of your wall hangings were on the floor, glass broken, and the couch cushions had been tossed away from the furniture.

You unholstered your gun before you entered carefully, aiming as you scoped out your home. The kitchen was a disaster, as was your office, the bathroom, and your bedroom. Nothing was left in its place as you cleared room after room. But there was no sign of an intruder still left.

With shaky hands, you pulled out your cell phone and called Sonny. You tapped your foot as it rang, filled with a nervous energy.

“Hey, what’s up—”

“Someone broke in, Sonny. I need you here, now,” you said in a rush.

“What?! Are you okay—”

“Fine, well, no, I’m not. I’m…I’m shaken up and I really need you here, please,” your voice broke on the last word.

You could here shuffling on the other side of the call, and a door close. “I’m on my way—five minutes, tops,” he replied. The sound of a car door showed that he was already in his car, and you heard him start it.

“Thank you.”

“Want me to stay on the line with ya until I get there?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Just hurry, please.”

“Will do. And hey, stay safe. I’m on my way.”

The call ended, and you shook yourself, trying to shake off your fear. You made your way to your windows, but they were still locked. How the hell did someone break in? The door had still been locked, and the only people with a copy of your key was your parents, Olivia, and Sonny, and none of them would break in. Maybe someone stole your parent’s key? But then how’d they know it was to your apartment unless….

You had a stalker. Those text messages made more sense now; you were being watched. You tried to think of who the “four men” could be…who did you spend the most time with? Sonny was the obvious, along with Mike. You met up with Rafael every now and again for dinner and drinks—usually to work—but the fourth? Fin? One of the other attorneys? You hardly saw any men outside of work—they were normally either coworkers, victims, or suspects.

You wandered through your destroyed apartment as you thought but came up with nothing for the fourth man. Sighing, you stooped to pick up some papers. It was impossible to tell if anything had been taken yet. You noticed in your initial search that your gun safe was thankfully unharmed, and your important documents were still safely inside.

There was a knock at your door, and you jumped. “It’s me,” Sonny’s voice came through the wood, but even so, you checked the peephole. Once confirmed, you let him in. His eyes went wide as he took in the damage to your place—he had been over often enough when he cooked you dinner to know what it normally looked like.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, before looking at you. A silent conversation passed between you before you threw yourself into his waiting arms. You were determined not to cry as he held you protectively, but you did melt against his familiar form. You felt safe in his arms, surrounded by his cologne and a scent that was entirely him.

He held you for a moment longer before leaning you back, hands on your shoulders. “Pack a bag—you’re staying with me until we can talk ta Liv about this.” There was concern deep in his bright blue eyes, and the lines on his forehead, as he looked at you.

You nodded; you didn’t feel safe anyways. Sonny followed you to your room, where you packed a bag with clothes. His eyes trailed over the devastation, and he walked over to check your locks, too.

“They must’ve unlocked my door. Though, how they relocked it, I don’t know…. You still have the key I gave you, right?” you asked.

Sonny took his car keys out of his pocket. “Yep, right here,” he replied, holding the key up—it was an Islanders key that you got specifically for him.

You nodded, then continued packing, and planning to text your parents. It was silent as you worked, but you could tell Sonny was thinking about something. When you glanced up at him for an explanation, he just shook his head.

“They even dumped out your dirty clothes hamper…what the hell were they lookin’ for?” he asked softly.

The thought had gone through your head, and what scared you was that you had no idea. “Dunno,” was your one-word reply.

Next Chapter

[trulyinspiringmovies]

Firestarter (2022)

“Firestarter” is a hot dumpster fire.

Charlie is a girl with pyrokinesis. She gets her powers from her parents who also have powers. She learns to control her emotions because they trigger her powers, but lately her coping techniques haven’t been as effective. One day, she blows up a bathroom door and makes her existence known. Now she must run away with her family from the government agents that her parents were avoiding all her life.

The trailer for this movie looked garbage, but it could never have prepared me for what I saw tonight. I think the heart of the problem for this movie is how lifeless it is. This movie was made by people that are devoid of any form of identity. This is the movie equivalent of serving your guests raw tofu for dinner. It sucks too since I really feel like this could’ve been molded into something actually worth watching. The puzzle pieces were all there, but instead of connecting them, the filmmakers never bothered to take the pieces out of the box. Ryan Kiera Armstrong as Charlie is good for a child actor, but is given the impossible task of carrying an entire movie. She can never fully sell scenes that require powerful performances to invest the audience. Zac Efron truly feels like he’s just here to earn a paycheck. Everyone else is just miscast. Let’s start with John Rainbird. He’s supposed to be this unstoppable mercenary, but the moment he opens his mouth, he loses any intimidation points he might’ve had. His super-average guy voice paired with the bland script makes for a performance that almost put me to sleep. It’s so evident that the movie wants you to think Dr. Joseph Wanless is this pseudo-crazy and eccentric old genius, but the way they go about it is just sad. He’s playing with colored sand while in a wheelchair, but Kurtwood Smith puts almost nothing into his performance. When he talks, there’s this weird dissonance because he’s doing weirdo acts, but talking like a regular guy. Gloria Reuben as Captain Jane Hollister also phones in her performance. Her character is meant to come off as confident but ruthless, but ends up coming off as someone who just thinks that they’re more confident than they actually are. This movie is littered with generic characters played by unenthusiastic actors. I mean, kids just bully Charlie for no reason. There’s a scene where a group of boys on bikes roll up to Charlie randomly and start harassing her. Were they so bored that they came up to a little girl a couple of years younger than them and start picking on her? It’s just so thoughtless that it’s frustrating. What’s also frustrating is that the bullies, in the beginning, are unrealistically mean to Charlie. I mean, they throw balls at her head in front of the teachers and Charlie never provokes them or even talks back. Real-world bullies would feel bad or get bored and stop, but these bullies are unrelenting. Also, the teacher that’s meant to be the nice one to Charlie doesn’t say jack shit to the bullies for throwing a ball at her head. Instead, that teacher turns on Charlie as soon as the explosion happens. I’m nitpicking at this point, but it’s only because this movie is just inept with every single frame. The visual effects look bad. The characters are generic and written like fake humans. The story feels like it's sleepwalking like the living dead. Things like security for the secret government facility being nonexistent or Rainbird saving Charlie for no reason make this movie exhausting to talk about. Mark my words. This is a bad omen for Peacock the streaming service. There’s a reason why no one has a Peacock subscription.

★

Watched on May 19th, 2022

[leandra-kinard]

Yeah, definitely agree to disagree because, in the end, this is interpretation of fiction and of fictional characters, and multiple readings can be equally valid. 

I do agree with you that takes that read this as proof for BUCK being gay are way off though. And there’s very good canonical proof for that; Buck has always been very into women, which Eddie (with the more complex exception of Shannon hasn’t). So Buck is very clearly attracted to women, and I do not appreciate people sort of erasing or forgetting that fact either. 

I can just speak for my immediate circle of fandom friends, though, and they were all arguing in the vein I was: Eddie’s discomfort here surpassed a mere “ok I want to not be disrespectful and act professional and not look” reaction. I mean, it’s half joked when we read it like that, but we all said he’s like “eww boobs”. And I’ve luckily not seen many takes that were either arguing Buck was also gay, or presenting the looking away in itself as proof for being gay. 

And re what you said about it reflecting on how we view an entire gender, I get where you’re coming from, but speaking from my own POV as a bisexual: if anybody that was remotely pleasant to look at and roughly in my age group stood before me, naked under similar circumstances, I would, of course, not stare either. But I also wouldn’t cover my eyes in a “ugh yikes I don’t want to see this, even by accident” kind of way. I would act like Chim and Bobby did, keeping my eyes up on the person’s face and acting as normally around them as possible. And if it was a person that physically checks more boxes for me (say it was Ryan or Oliver, lol), then I would act like Buck, shielding my eyes so I don’t accidentally stare because I wouldn’t want to be disrespectful, but also tempted to stare just by ‘instinct’ if I got the chance.  That’s just me, though, and other people are going to feel differently about it/would still react differently, so, again, multiple readings and interpretations here that all have their validity. 

What I am going to point out, however, is that you cannot 100% say what the writers intended to do with this or not. None of us know for sure. It could be a hint at Eddie being gay (if the way I read him is what was intended here, for example), or it could be simply him being more awkward with the situation for reasons unrelated to his sexuality (as you are saying). We don’t know, and the writers or directors certainly won’t tell us, lol. 

A take no one asked for:

Buck and Eddie not looking at a naked (sleeping!!!!) Woman does not mean they’re gay. It means they’re decent human beings who don’t want to take advantage of this extremely uncomfortable situation.

When did ogling a naked stranger without their consent become normal behavior if you are attracted to them. Looking away is the least 2 people can do in that situation. No one there was looking. Bobby and Chim were trying to assess the situation they were only looking at her head as well.

Yes, I do think Buck and Edddie are attracted to men to different extents but THIS is not the reason. THIS is a normal reaction to an uncomfortable situation.

Please dont look at strangers who can’t give their consent even if you’re attracted to them (actually especially if youre attracted to them)

[heejinnien]

i.jaebum & p.jinyoung | crimson roses part one

word count: 3k

pairing: jaebum x reader x jinyoung

synopsis: when y/n’s sister is murdered, she’s forced to evaluate everything that she thought she knew.

genre: mystery, witsec au

warnings: the reader is in a club (they’re old enough to legally be there), murder, gore, imagery used to describe the reader tripping over and finding a dead body, probably incorrect portrayal of the witsec program, there’s a mildly disturbing nightmare

rating: pg-17

author’s note: this is part one of the walking on sunshine event! it focuses on summer beginnings. i was partnered with @dreamystuffers​, and credits to them for the amazing moodboard! thank you @birbdae​ and ryan for being my beta readers. seriously, thank you for filling in all the spaces where i wrote blah blah 

“I freaking hate Tzuyu.”

You groan, dropping your head in your hands. Sympathetically, the bartender slides a glass of water towards you, accepting the grunt that you emit afterwards as a sort of thank you. You pause in your wallowing to take a long sip of the icy liquid, feeling the pressure in your head lift slightly.

“Rough night?”

The bartender’s smooth, baritone voice carries over the loud sounds of the club’s music, and you wince at his words.

“Something like that.”

The bartender looks as though he’ll say more, but he’s cut off by the sound of a high, feminine voice ordering another drink. You’re grateful for the distraction, sliding a wad of bills over the counter and slipping off of the metal stool. You appreciate the kindness he has shown you, but you really need to start looking for your sister.

Slowly, you begin to weave through the throng of clubgoers, searching for anyone who moderately resembles your sister. You wince as an elbow connects with your stomach and bite back a curse when a heel stabs your toe. Still, there is no sign of your sister.

Pushing your way to the far side of the club, you lean against a wall, panting slightly, and pull out your phone. The LED at the top signals that nobody tried to call or text you while you were struggling to navigate a mob of drunk clubgoers, and a knot of worry tightens itself in your stomach. It’s been over an hour since you last saw your sister. She left you at a booth with a few of your mutual acquaintances to go dance, and you haven’t seen her since. Giving them an awkward smile, you had slid out of the booth to go sit at the bar. You were more polite to them because they were your sister’s friends than anything, and you know you hadn’t been imagining the awkwardness that had settled into the air once your sister had left.

You quickly swipe through your phone, silently praying that Tzuyu will answer and tell you she took a cab back to your shared apartment and she forgot to tell you, or that she’s actually been in the bathroom constipated this entire time.

“Hi, this is Tzuyu, I’m busy right now, which is why I didn’t pick up…”

With a groan, you turn your phone off. Pushing yourself off the wall, you weave your way to the bathrooms, opting to begin your second search there. Unsurprisingly, the small metal stalls are empty. You cringe as your shoe sticks to an unknown substance, exiting the bathroom and mind racing about where Tzuyu’s whereabouts could be.

A cool breeze winds itself around you, tousling your hair gently and you freeze.

A breeze?

You turn away from the rest of the clubbers, following the hallway deeper into the building. The further you go, the darker it gets, and a second chill sets upon you, one unrelated to the cool breeze.

Heart pounding, you turn the corner and see a cracked doorway. The soft light of the night greets you, and you feel a spark of relief. Maybe her phone died and your sister went out this door to leave. You quickly hurry out the door, pushing it open and turning down the alleyway.

You’ve only gone a few paces, pulling out your phone to dial your sister again when your foot collides with something hard. Your arms flail as you attempt to right yourself, but you go down, your elbow colliding with something soft and your chin colliding with the hardness of the asphalt.

Letting out a groan, you try to push yourself up by pressing your hands against the ground on either side of you, but they slip. Something wet and sticky coats your hands, and confusion fills you as you blindly reach around you for your phone. Your fingers connect with the cold metal, and you’ve scarcely turned on the device and activated the flashlight before you’re greeted with the mutilated body of your sister.

It takes you a second to register that the loud noise you hear is your own screaming.

You stare blankly ahead of you in shock.

Vaguely, you hear someone talking to you, but it’s like you’re underwater, all the sounds around you muffled. The image of your sister is frozen in your mind, your fingers trembling as you grip the blanket that someone wrapped around you tightly.

You think back to the last time you saw her, only a few hours ago, smiling and joyous and alive.

If she were here with you right now, she would have something comforting to say. She’d always been the more level of you too, somehow able to keep calm even in situations when you’ve felt panicked. But she’s not.

It should have been me, you think bitterly, rocking back and forth.

“Miss L/N.”

A hand settling on your arm causes you to jump and pull yourself out of your trance. Dumbly, you look at the hand, using it to trace your way up the unknown person’s wrist and arm until you can see their face. Concerned eyes stare back at you, and you force yourself to listen to what the unknown man is saying.

“I’m sorry to say this, but your clothes need to be bagged for evidence.”

You blink, unable to process the man’s words. 

“Miss L/N, please. I know you want us to catch whoever did this to your sister, and we’re trying our best, but we need to bag your clothing as evidence.”

The mention of your sister clears the fog that has settled over you, and you nod. Weakly, you stand, following the man as he guides you to a restroom. He hands you a bag and a stack of clothes, instructing for you to change into the new set and bag the old clothes.

Robotically, you do as he tells you to until you’re changed into a sweater several sizes too big and a pair of jeans that cling to your legs tightly. You splash water on your face, staring at yourself hollowly in the mirror. You hardly recognize yourself, a foreign, hollow look in your eyes. Get it together, Y/N, you chide yourself. You can cry about this later. For Tzuyu.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you turn, exiting the bathroom with the bag of your old clothes in your hands. As soon as you exit, several furtive glances are sent your way. You furrow your brows in confusion, and a new, unknown man hurries over to you. 

“Please follow me quickly, Miss L/N.”

“I don’t understand.”

The man doesn’t respond, hurrying you through the station and down a hallway until you’re stopped in front of a closed door. A plaque centered on the door  reads “Sergeant Park.” Not wasting the time to knock, the man pushes open the door, taking the bag from your hands and ushering you in.

“Miss L/N, I’m so sorry about your loss.”

Hearing those words makes your throat tighten again, and you force your feelings down. You look around you, noting the awards adorning the walls around you. Two men stand inside the office, both wearing grim expressions. The one who spoke is seated behind the desk, and he stands, gesturing for you to take the free seat opposite him.

“There’s something we need to talk to you about.”

“My sister was a good person, she wasn’t mixed up in anything — ” You protest.

“That’s not what this is about.” The man opposite you, Sergeant Park, you assume, holds up his hand. “Time is crucial here, so please just listen to what I have to tell you.”

You nod, throat clogging from fearful anticipation.

“The Black Rose is the name of a powerful crime syndicate who’ve been running for the past few decades. We’ve tried our best to stop them, but they have connections everywhere.”

“My sister — ” You spring to your feet.

“Miss L/N. Please.”

You sink back into the chair, cheeks burning and thoroughly chastised. Once you’re seated, Sergeant Park continues.

“We’re not sure who all is involved with them, but what we do know is that they mark every kill, and they never kill without reason.”

Your thoughts race as you hear the unspoken words. “And my sister was marked,” you deadpan.

Sergeant Park nods grimly, and a hysterical laugh bubbles up within you. It dies instantly at the serious expression on Sergeant Park’s face.

“That’s ridiculous.”

Sergeant Park purses his lips, speaking slowly. “Until we know for sure, we need you to go into witness protection. We promise that we wouldn’t make you do this if we weren’t sure that your life is at serious risk. Mr. Im?”

Sergeant Park gestures to the other person in the room, who you assume is Mr. Im. Until now, he’s been silent, and you almost forgot that he’s here. He gives you a gentle smile.

“Please, call me Jaebum.” His tone is soothing, and you want to trust him. Still, you bite your lip, hesitant.

Sergeant Park speaks again. “Mr. Im will protect you the entire duration of the program. I promise that you’re in good hands. You guys will leave tonight.”

Alarm bells ring in your head. “Wait, tonight? I don’t understand. I still have finals, and what about my life here — ”

“Miss L/N.” Sergeant Park fixes you with a stern look. “I understand that things may seem intimidating right now, but I need you to do your best to do what we say. You could be a key role in this investigation, and Mr. Im is here to ensure that no harm comes to you. I know that this isn’t ideal, but please just let us protect you.”

You look from Sergeant Park to Jaebum. The latter gives you a reassuring smile, and your head still reels from all of the events of the night, but you find yourself nodding.

“Okay,” you breathe. “Okay, what do I have to do?”

“You keep twisting your bracelet.”

Jaebum’s voice pierces through your mindless thoughts and the dull monotony of the journey. You have been driving for the better part of the night, your thoughts still racing as you try to process everything. You look down at the bracelet Jaebum is talking about, and even though it’s dark you know what he’s talking about.

“My sister gave it to me,” you say simply.

“It must be pretty important to you, then,” he observes, eyes never straying once from the road.

“Something like that,” you say, assuming that’s the end of the conversation. Seconds later, Jaebum speaks again.

“Look, Y/N, I know that a lot has happened in one night — ”

“Please don’t,” you whisper, voice cracking. You clear your throat, staring out the window at the dark shadows of the landscape. “Don’t try to act like you understand how I feel. Twenty-four hours ago I was just a college student, and now…”

You swallow thickly, a lump forming itself in your throat.

“You are still just a college student, Y/N.”

“You know, aren’t you supposed to be using my new name?” You force yourself to change the topic, looking at Jaebum out of the side of your eyes.

Jaebum coughs awkwardly. “We aren’t there yet, and I thought that using your real name would make you more…comfortable with me.”

You scoff, but don’t speak. Awkward silence fills the car, interrupted only by the occasional sound of the night from outside your car window.

You remain like that for the rest of the ride. Everytime you think about saying something, you bury it, not wanting to show interest.

After a while, the road turns to dirt. The car bounces along the new road, and you can’t help but feel even further isolated from your old life. Jaebum pulls down a narrow driveway, and then the car stops, bathing a small cottage in the car’s light. Jaebum turns off the car’s ignition, and as you open the car’s door, you can hear the soft sound of waves crashing. Sand crunches beneath your shoes as you take in the sights around you.

You hear the sound of the trunk close, and seconds later Jaebum rounds the car, duffel bags gripped in his hands.

“This is it,” Jaebum says.

“I guess so,” you agree, exhaling nervously. You follow Jaebum up the cottage’s steps, hovering uncertaintly as he unlocks the front door. Following him inside, you squint against the bright  yellow lights of the cottage.

You’re standing in a small living room. To your left is the kitchen and what you assume is the dining room, and to the right is a hallway. Jaebum leads you down the hallway, setting one of the duffle bags in front of a plain, unassuming white door.

“This is your room. Mine is right next to you.” Jaebum knocks goofily on the door in front of him, and you let out a short laugh.

“Okay.”

You grab your bag, pushing open the door to the room. You pause in the doorway, unsure. “Good night, Jaebum.”

A moment passes, and then you can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Good night, Y/N.”

“Tzuyu! Where are you?”

You’re in a meadow, tall stalks of wheat reaching your shoulders. You frown, trying to remember how you got here, but you can’t. Alarm bells ring in your head, and you push through the stalks, searching for your sister.

“Tzuyu! Tzuyu! Where — are — you?”

Your voice is reflected back at you, distorted and garbled. Panic rises in you, bubbling hot like lava, and you begin to push through the stalks around you faster.

Finally, you stumble upon a clearing. A flock of birds takes flight, and your eyes scan the clearing, frantic. A body lies on the ground unmoving, and you run towards it.  Deep in your gut you know who it is, but that doesn’t stop the gasp that leaves you as you clearly identify the girl lying there.

It’s Tzuyu.

The sight of her body makes you freeze, and before you can stop it you trip. When you regain your bearings, you’re back in the alley again. You blink, trying to orient yourself, and as you do Tzuyu’s hand shoots out, wrapping itself around your wrist. A scream gets choked in your throat as your sister sits up,  smile stretching too wide for her face.

“Why didn’t you save me?”

“Tzuyu, you’re hurting me,” you cry, trying to pry your sister’s grasp from your wrist. She only holds on tighter, other hand shooting out and wrapping itself around your throat.

“Why didn’t you save me? Why didn’t you SAVE ME?”

A scream tears its way out of your throat, and you shoot into a sitting position, clutching the comforter you had admired just hours earlier against you. Your breathing is ragged, and dimly you hear heavy footsteps. Seconds later, harsh light floods your room and you throw your hand against your forehead, shielding your eyes from the intrusion.

Jaebum’s eyes are wild as he takes in your room, the way you’re sitting up, clutching the comforter against you. His muscles relax as he ascertains that you are physically safe, eyes softening at the sight of you.

“Are you okay?”

You nod, embarrassment beginning to seep through your previous horror.

“I’m sorry, had a nightmare.” You force yourself to laugh, the sound an octave too high to be believable. “You can just go back to your room, everything is fine.”

You swallow forcefully, staring down at the comforter and picking at a thread that has unwound itself from the careful stitching. Silently, you yell at Jaebum to leave. You’re not sure how much longer you can stand being mortified, discomfort seeping into the air around you.

After a long pause, you hear the gentle click of your door close. You don’t bother to look up, instead electing to close your eyes, sure that by the count of ten, he’ll be gone.

You’ve just reached eight when you feel your bed dip, and strong arms wrapping themselves around you. You stiffen, eyes snapping open to glare at the offender.

“You don’t have to treat me like a baby, I told you that I’m fine.”

“It’s okay to be weak you know.”

To your immense horror, you feel your eyes begin to well. You blink rapidly, trying to untangle yourself from Jaebum’s presence, but he holds on tightly. Before you can stop it, all of the emotions of the past twenty-four hours hit you, crashing against the gate that you had shoved them behind. The emotions you felt at your sister’s death, the emotional burden of having to suddenly end your old life and going into hiding suddenly become too much, and before you can help it tears stream down your cheeks. You gasp as you struggle to breathe, everything suddenly just becoming too much.

Time goes by without either of you realizing it, and neither of you know how long you remain in that position, Jaebum patting your back lightly as your grief pours out of you. After a few sniffles and swipes across your eyes you let out a groan, pulling away and digging the heels of your palms into your eyes.

“God, I can’t believe I just did that.”

“It’s okay, everyone has to let go of emotions at some point.” Jaebum gives you a gentle smile. “You should try to get some rest.”

“Will you stay with me?” Jaebum’s eyes widen, and you quickly scramble to backtrack. “I mean, you don’t have to — I don’t know what I was thinking — ”

“Of course I will.” Jaebum cuts off your ramble, smiling brightly. “I’ll just bring in a blanket from my room and sleep on the floor — ”

“You can share with me if you want. I don't mind; we both need a good night sleep, right?” You blurt quickly, panting slightly as you finish your question. Jaebum simply laughs, running a hand through his hair. He climbs onto the bed and lays on his side, patting the bed next to him. Shyly, you crawl next to him, laying down and trying not to think about the position you’re in too deeply.

Wrapped in the comfort of Jaebum’s warmth, you close your eyes, focusing on the gentle sounds of your breathing. A sense of tranquility washes over you, and you finally fall asleep.

send an ask or dm to be added to the taglist!

[altr5312916195]

The Ghoul Boys' Pizza Party

“I can’t believe I let you dupe me into coming to a children's pizza place, Ryan. You really got me on this one.”

Shane told his partner as they stood outside of the abandoned building.

“Okay, yes it’s an odd place to be, but you know there’s been some stories since the opening of Freddy’s.”

“Oh, do tell.”

Shane said, feigning interest as they approached the doors.

“There’s legends of child murders, shady business and family affairs. A few of the restaurants went up in flames.”

Ryan explained. The pair walked up to the doors with the owner, and their crew behind them. The man unlocked the doors.

“Not this one though?”

“Not this one.”

Ryan confirmed as the man pushed the doors open.

“Have fun dudes, I’ll see you at six.” He chuckled.

He handed them pale blue button ups, a golden security badge sitting on top of the folded shirt.

“Great!

Let’s try not to die in a fire.”

Shane said, as he pulled on his shirt, fastening the badge to it.

“No promises.”

Ryan told him, being the first to step inside, buttoning his shirt.

“Oh look at the confidence!

The swagger ole’ Bergara has tonight.”

Shane chuckled as he walked behind.

The door clicked behind the crew as the owner locked them in for the night.

“I got a good feeling about this one.”

Ryan looked back at Shane with a smile.

“As in we’ll find some ghosts, or we’ll be ghoul free and you’ll go home and sleep well?”

“I’m not so sure yet.”

He noted, while dragging his hand across the damp wall. He found some light switches along the way and flicked them on. The overheads failed to power up, but the stage lights flickered on.

“Oh I truly hate that.”

Shane noted as the stage lit up, getting a good look at some tattered animatronics.

“Yeah that’s.. Not what you want to see.”

The Boys stepped to the edge of the stage, while the big three loomed over them.

“So tell me about the lore here. What are we looking at, I seem to recall child murder.”

Shane broke the silence.

“Yes! Lore..”

Ryan broke out of his trance and looked to Shane.

“Fredbear’s Family Diner opened in the early 70’s.”

“Oh they beat Chuck E?”

“Sure did.”

“The old cheese miser, they beat em to it.”

‘No one said they did a good job though.”

“Oh of course not..

Child murder isn’t good for the business,

Ryan c’mon! You should know that.”

“Hey, don’t jump ahead now hold on. So the little restaurant does well on it’s own for a time. It’s owned by one guy, guy decides it’s time to branch out.”

*chuckles* “Does guy have a name?”

“He does.”

*Gasp* “He does!”

“It’s Henry.”

“Henry, no last name?”

*laughs*

That is correct.”

“Oh that’s- *laughs* Wonderful.”

“Right so he teams up with this man.”

“Oh a partnership!

Does he have a name?”

“William Afton.”

“A last name too! What a lucky guy!”

*chuckles* “His full name is in the police report”

“But not Henry’s? He builds this business

From ground up and they don’t even give him

A proper name. What horse shit.”

“The disrespect is real.”

“It is!”

“It gets more real when you find out Afton’s

Pinned for henry’s daughter’s murder.”

*Laughs* “What? No you’re

Fucking with me.”

“Shane, I'm so serious.”

“Stop.”

“Honest to god.”

“That douche, that british douche!”

“Wha- *wheeze*

Why’s he a brit?”

“I just get the vibes.”

Ryan laughed it off, but continued on as they walked the table filled room.

“Freddy Fazbear’s opens about late 70’s right?”

“Things are going steady? No dead kids?”

“No dead kids, then!”

*chuckles* “Oh no..”

“See this is when Henry’s daughter goes missing.

Charlie.”

“That’s her name?”

“Charlette, yeah.”

“Oh okay, that douche Afton kills her.”

“Exactly, and hides her body

In one of the suits.”

“No!”

*nods* “Henry builds these things

And ole Afton thinks it’s a burial ground.”

“What a dick. That’s a new level

Of disrespect Ryan.”

“But wait! *laugs*

He kills five more kids.”

*laughs* “Ryan, that's not funny.”

“Shane, you're laughing too.”

“Well of course! Your delivery

Was so nonchalant.”

*laughs* “So five more kids.”

“Into the suits?”

“Yep.”

“Unrelated to Charlie?”

“Exactly.”

“But why?”

“He never told.”

“So he was taken in for this?”

“Then released because

They never found the bodies.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No, and then after Henry..

Well he kills himself.”

“Henry did? Oh god..”

“Right, Afton takes the rights.

Opens a new Freddy’s.”

“That douche bag..

He’s evil Ryan.”

“Truly, it’s scary.

But he opens this place,

Circus Baby’s.

His own daughter dies by

His animatronic, Baby.”

“That’s Karma.”

“You’d think.

You know his son dies too.”

“Who let this man have kids?”

“His dead wife..”

“OH MY GOD” *laugs*

“How’d she die?”

*laugh* “I’ll give you two guesses.”

“Sweet Satan.

Man’s got the worst luck.”

“Well, yknow

Maybe don’t murder children for funsies.”

“Fair point.”

There was a metallic creek behind them as they walked the restaurant.

*soft chuckle*

“Oh no..”

“I-

I’m not turning around.”

*laughs* “Please do,

We’ll turn around together.”

*Deep breath*

“Okay.”

“One.”

“Two..”

“Three.” The boys turned to face the stage once again.

“Ryan the bear moved.”

“Freddy.”

“Oh, Mr Fazbear himself.”

“The big man..”

Freddy’s eyes glinted as they shifted to gaze at Shane and Ryan.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Shane.. There’s a child in there.”

“A real one?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Can’t be.”

“What?”

“I said what I said.”

“I- wha-

Alright, okay.”

“Can we sit, and finish the story?”

“You’re not scared?”

“No.”

Shane simply told him, and pulled out a dusty chair. Ryan sat next to him, and sighed. Though his eyes often darted between Shane, and Freddy.

“Fine..

So Afton has a few restaurants running.”

“Despite Henry killing himself.

Got it. Douche.”

“Well the first Freddy’s shuts down.

Not because of missing kids, but faulty walk around suits.”

“Faulty walk around suits,

What did a worker almost die

While handing out cake?”

Ryan starred at his partner silently. Shane laughed.

“They did?”

“That’s when they finally bring Afton in.”

“And then let him go?

Five kids, dead.

Business partner, dead

Worker, dead.

They let him go.”

“It’s insane, but yes.

So they shut the first Freddy’s down.”

“This one, right?

They rebuilt it in the 90s right?”

“Yeah, some things happened in between.

Five kids, spring lock accident, bite of 87’.”

“A kid bit someone?”

“An animatronic bit a security guard.”

“Oh.. Oh well that’s us tonight.”

Shane gestured to the pale blue shirt, gold badge shining in the dim light of their flashlights.

“That’s.. Foreboding.”

“Unfortunately, yeah.

You know they’ve gone through

Team of animatronics

After team of animatronics.

They finally decide to put it all to rest.”

“Everything closes down?”

“All of it.

Years later, Afton’s off the grid.”

“He’s dead?”

“That’s a theory.”

“A game theory, got it.

Now we’re here.”

“Right.”

“Let’s get hunting then.”

Shane stands up, and Ryan follows. He looks down at his watch.

“One thirty A.M.”

“Five more hours.”

Ryan sighs nervously. They move from the main dining hall into a hallway. The dim lights of the stage stay behind them. They turn into a new room, a small stage in the middle.

“Who’s that?”

Shane pointed to the red fur, and yellow eye that peaked at them behind a purple curtain.

“That would be Foxy.”

“The pirate.

Chica, Bonnie.”

“And a puppet.”

“Where is that one?”

“Storage.

Lot of people think Charlie is in that one.”

“Oh fun, gotta love living in a box forever.”

Shane walked to the tiny stage and reached out for the curtain.

“Dude! Stop what’s wrong with you?”

*chuckles* “C’mon it’s fine.”

He pulled back the curtain. A sharp creak rang out as the silver hook fell on Shane’s arm. He hissed in pain and pulled back.

“I fucking told you!”

“So the gears are loose, Ryan.

Shut up, I’m not dead.

Just give me a bandaid and an alcohol wipe.”

“We’re gonna need shots after this..”

“Oh please.”

Shane scoffed as one of the crew walked over and wiped at the cut with a small wipe, and slapped a bandaid over it.

“Good as new!”

Shane smiled, and thanked the crew member.

“Now, how bout a good ole spirit box?”

Ryan sighed, and pulled out the spirit box, setting it on one of the tables next to them.

“Alright Foxy, it’s gonna get a little loud in here.

Bet you’re used to it from all the screaming kids though.”

“Well he hasn’t been around em in a while.”

“It has been a bit.”

Ryan clicked the spirit box on. The loud shuffle of noise began as everyone listened in anticipation. Seconds passed and Ryan sighed again, disappointed.

“Nothing! C’mon Foxy boy, you got nothing to say?”

The room was quiet save for the radio channels shuffling.

Then something broke through.

“Save them.”

Ryan’s eyes widened as goosebumps hit his arms.

“No.”

*chuckles* “That.. that was the clearest thing

We’ve heard..”

Ryan looked at the tattered red fox and stepped back.

“Shane what the hell was that?”

The words “Save them” struck the cold air again.

Shane laughed, albeit nervously.

“The kids need help Ryan.”

“Shane stop.”

“Ryan they need you.”

“Shane it’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

Ryan picked up the spirit box, and turned it off. He quickly ducked back into the hallway.

“Oh come- Ryan come on.”

Shane followed him out. They continued down the corridor.

“Shane it’s not funny,

There’s kids in there.”

“You can’t believe that.”

“You don’t?”

Shane hesitated.

“No, I don’t.”

A dim light at the end of the hall led them to an office.

Computer screens lined the wall.

“I’m sorry I can’t find it

Easy to joke about these kids.”

“Ryan stop.. It’s fine. It’s what we do.”

They looked to the screens as they argued and Ryan stopped mid sentence.

“Chica’s gone.”

“What? No she’s no-”

On the main screen, the stage, there was only two animals up there. Freddy, and Bonnie.

A crash came from the kitchen.

“Is the whole team in the office?”

Ryan asked, and counted the members in the room. They were all there.

“Shut the doors.”

Shane fumbled for a door, there was none. Just a hole in the wall. He muttered in confusion as he hit the red button labeled door. A metal door came slamming shut.

“I don’t think that’s very safe.”

“But the animatronics outside are?”

“Pick your poison Ryan.”

“We are going to die here..”

“Oh stop! *laughs* We’re fine.”

“Shane I don’t think you understand!

So many people died here.

Kids, nightguards, shift managers. Families, Shane.”

“Ryan, it’s not true.”

Ryan shook his head, and turned to look back at the screens on the wall. Shane put a hand on Ryan’s shoulder.

“Come on, Ryan..”

He laughed awkwardly, while Ryan shrugged his hand away.

One of the monitors glitched, coming back to show Foxy in a new position.

“It moved.”

“I see that..”

“What do we do?”

“Nothing, we watch them.

What time is it?”

“Three.”

Ryan sighed, and sunk into one of the roller chairs by the desk.

“Ryan what are we doing?”

“I don’t know! Okay?

We’re stuck here until dawn. Let’s just ride it out.”

Shane sat down next to him, and watched the computer screens. The main screen glitched as Bonnie moved off stage, leaving Freddy alone.

“Shane, why do you think they’re moving?”

“They’re programmed that way aren’t they?”

“You think they do that at Chuck E Cheese?”

“Well, yknow..

I don’t know. I’ve never been in this position.”

Ryan shuffled around again for the spirit box and clicked it on.

Shane groaned and flinched as the sound screeched through the small room.

“Oh you love to hate it..”

Shane joked as Ryan shushed him. Shane pouted and sighed, leaning back in the chair. More banging came from the kitchen.

“Let’s eat.”

“Ryan.. *laughs*

Ryan the chicken is gonna eat us.”

“Shane..”

“I’m sorry I can’t help it.”

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and Ryan turned off the box to hear them better. Things went quiet until something slammed against the door. Ryan jumped back with a shout, and Shane pointed his flashlight towards the window.

In the window a purple shadow stood smiling.

“It’s Bonnie.”

“I see him, Shane.”

“What do we do?”

“Everyone stay still, maybe it’ll go away.”

They both spoke barely above a whisper. Minutes passed as the bunny stood unmoving. Humming echoed through the halls.

“Ryan..”

“I know.. I-i know.

What time-”

“Four.”

“This is our purgatory, Shane.

We’re done for.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic.”

After what felt like hours the hulking form finally turned to leave.

Ryan sighed in relief.

“See?”

“Don’t jinx it Shane.”

“I’m sorry.”

He went quiet, eyes falling back on the screens as they watched Bonnie roam the halls. Chica had found her way back to the stage, Foxy was unmoving.

“Why are they moving? What do they want with us?”

“Stop asking questions I don’t have answers to!”

Ryan huffed out. He looked down at his feet, the golden badge glinting in his eyes as a thought hit him.

“William always came in dressed as a guard.

That was his MO.”

“And we’re the guards. What if they’re

scared of us?”

Ryan looked at Shane, dumbfounded.

“What if they are scared of us?”

“One hour left.” Someone from the crew informed.

“We have to get back to the front doors.”

A soft beeping began to ring out. Shane looked around for the source. In the corner of on of the screens a small red battery flashed in time with the beeping.

“We’re losing power.”

“To what?”

Shane shrugged.

“We’re not going to make it.”

“We’re going to make it.”

Something slammed against the door, a dent being pressed into it.

“We don’t get paid enough for this!”

“It’s Foxy, that bitch!

“Shane, you'll make him angier!”

“Yeah? Well he can suck it!

That’s right!”

“They’re kids!”

“Oh please..”

Another slam rang out, as the beeping grew louder, more urgent.

“Five thirty.”

“Shane what do we do?”

“We’re going to get to that door.

He’ll go away soon.”

The banging grew louder, and Ryan moved to cover his ears. He shrank back in his chair, eyes shut.

Despite all this he heard something in the back of his mind as images flash in his head.

It’s me

“Shane!”

Shane stood up, standing between Ryan and the door. The banging stopped. The fox walked away. Ryan relaxed a bit. Until the power went out, and the door opened again.

“We’re going to run for it.”

“We cannot do that!”

“We can.”

Shane grabbed Ryan’s arm and booked it down the halls, dragging Ryan behind him. Foxy wasn’t far off on their steps in the hall.

“Ryan run faster!”

“I ca- I can’t!”

He choked out. His eyes were on the small crew behind them, worried of who may be left behind. Chica met them at the end of the hall as she stepped out from the kitchen. Shane narrowly avoided hitting her dead on and led them into the main room.

“Look there’s the door!”

Ryan laughed in pitiful fear, and small relief. Until Bonnie stopped them in their tracks.

“Oh god, oh fuck.”

Chica, and Foxy had the crew trapped, the doors barely out of reach. All of the voices grew louder around them. Ryan clutched his hands over his ears, his eyes shut tight. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest, and Shane’s tight grip on him released.

“Shane?”

Ryan asked, refusing to open his eyes.

Shane looked at the animatronics as they circled the team. They were so close he couldn’t let it end like this. But he also couldn’t reveal himself. He panicked, his eyes began to turn a deep red as he looked around for another way out. But those kids, they wouldn’t get out of his head. They were so loud.

“OH JUST STOP IT”

He screamed, and they listened. The voices were silent, and Ryan opened his eyes. Shane grabbed his arm again and yanked him to the doors.

The owner opened them up just as Ryan and Shane made it back outside. Though Shane was prepared to barrel through the glass if necessary.

Ryan fell to his knees as they finally made it to the end, and laughed in morbid relief.

“Hey! You guys made it! Did ya have fun?” The owner smiled at them.

Shane helped Ryan up, and glared at the owner. He ripped the badge off his shirt, and slammed it against the man’s chest.

“We’re suing.”

[astonishinglegends]

Ep 209: The Phantom Horse of Greensboro

And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.

– Revelation, Chapter 6, Verse 8, King James Version

Description:

Many of us have taken an adventurous expedition to check out some local, notorious spot to see if we could witness or sense some evidence of a past famous or infamous incident.  Most of the time, one only returns with a minor anecdote or pictures of an ordinary location bereft of anything noteworthy.  The more realistic purpose is not so much to find a ghoulish memento but to imagine what it must've been like to have been there when it happened.  But what if such an outing starts with strange coincidences and ends with the adventurers enduring a paranormal event seemingly unrelated to the original incident?  This is the sort of tale we'll hear from our good friend, graphic designer, and illustrator Tommy Beaver about the time some friends went to check out the scene of a horrific crime that happened in Summerfield, North Carolina, almost 13 miles northwest of Greensboro.  On June 3, 1985, the incident in question occurred when at the end of a murder spree and police pursuit, Fritz Klenner and his first cousin, lover, and accomplice, Susie Newsome Lynch, ended their standoff detonating a bomb in their Chevrolet Blazer.  Klenner and Lynch had blown themselves up along with Lynch's already deceased two sons who were in the vehicle rather than face arrest.  The site of this shocking finale was what the friends were hoping to explore, but their souvenir was an unsettling experience they'll never forget.  Strangely, a mysterious white horse suddenly appeared to encounter the group, except that this creature may not have been a horse at all.  Many people have claimed to see a spectral white horse, and the ancient Britons believed a sacred white horse was one's ride to the afterlife.  Yet these friends may forever wonder, as will we, what was the connection of this beast to the tragedy if there is one?  And if this wasn't a horse as we know it, what sort of monster haunts the location of one of North Carolina's most ghastly crimes?

Location:

The intersection of Strader Road & North Carolina State Road 150 in Summerfield, near where Fritz Klenner and Susie Newsom Lynch blew themselves up in their Chevy Blazer after a crime spree and police pursuit on June 3, 1985, and where Tommy’s friends saw the mysterious “horse.”

Location Video:

Reference Links:

Illustrator and Graphic Designer Tommy Beaver’s website, tommybeaverdesign.com

“Summerfield slaughter 30 years ago ended in deaths of couple, two sons” from the Greensboro News & Record

Bitter Blood: A True Story of Southern Family Pride, Madness, and Multiple Murder, a novel by Jerry Bledsoe, 1988

The púca, pooka, phouka of Irish/Celtic folklore

The kelpie of Scottish folklore

“Horses in Celtic Mythology” from Transceltic.com

“Have ghost HORSES been captured on video? Teenagers believe they spotted ethereal equine scene at one of Britain's most haunted sites” from DailyMail.co.uk

“Phantom Horses” on real-british-ghosts.com

Related Books:

Please help out our good friend Stan Gordon, by purchasing his books on Amazon and Barnes & Noble – you’re gonna love ‘em!

At Barnes & Noble:

Silent Invasion: The Pennsylvania UFO-Bigfoot Casebook

Astonishing Encounters: Pennsylvania’s Unknown Creatures, Casebook 3

Really Mysterious Pennsylvania: UFOs, Bigfoot, and Other Weird Encounters, Casebook 1

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Credits:

Episode 209: The Phantom Horse of Greensboro. Produced by Scott Philbrook & Forrest Burgess; Audio Editing by Sarah Vorhees Wendel. Sound Design by Ryan McCullough; Tess Pfeifle, Producer, and Lead Researcher; Research Support from the astonishing League of Astonishing Researchers, a.k.a. The Astonishing Research Corps, or "A.R.C." for short. Copyright 2021 Astonishing Legends Productions, LLC. All Rights Reserved.