#white horse toy company

[monstersonscreen]

The creature effects for the surreal scifi/horror flick Xtro (1982) were handled by Francis Coates and Richard Gregory. Thei work included the crab-walking creature (Tim Dry - one half of the mime musician duo Tik & Tok - in a rubber suit), the skeletal final creature (a puppet) and several prosthetic makeups for the transformations. Coates had been to this point a sculptor for both the BBC and the White Horse Toy Company - his earlier monster-making duties had been helping make monsters for Doctor Who, and the R2-D2 suits for The Empire Strikes Back. Richard Gregory ran the freelance firm Imagineering - that also worked plenty on Doctor Who - and later provided animatronic masks for Gerry Anderson's Space Precinct. Coates confided to me in an interview that his monster work on Xtro - partly based on sketches by production designer Christopher Hobb - was his 'rebellion against constant Doctor Who monsters that were just men in silly hats'!

You can actually read the interview here (providing Tumblr doesnt shadowban me for it) where Coates work on several films - ranging from The Neverending Story to The Mission - is highlighted! https://monstersonscreen.blogspot.com/2024/09/francis-coates-interview.html

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

TOUGH- P.B PARKER

Pairing- Dilf! Cowboy! Peter Parker x Innocent! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Summary: Your school girl crush on your employer, Mr. Parker grows as you spend more time with him helping out around his farm, and soon he wants you to meet his friends for a night out at the local dive bar (to simply show you off :) )

Warnings: SMUT, consentual bondage, daddy kink, mentions of sexual activities, sexual implications, flirting, use of drugs, drinks and guns, slight dumbification kink, praise kink, breeding kink, peter just grabbing ur body/ feeling you up, teasing, swearing, age gap ofc (reader mid 20s, peter 40s) peter really just takes pride and care of his girl, making sure she is safe and satsified :)

" life's gonna do what it does, sure as the good lord's up above, i'm cut like a diamond shinin' in the rough.. tough"- tough, lana del rey & quavo

part two to save a horse, ride a cowboy - but no need to read to understand this fic <3

It wasn't the caw of the rooster that woke you this morning.

It was the feeling of a large, solid bicep that curled, caging your body in against another. His skin was warm to the touch, faint red farmers tan poking out at you as you snuggled deeper into the crisp,cool white linen sheets.

You felt Peters bare chest against your backside, the steady rise and fall of his chest soothing as you fought back sleep. The hands on his beside clock ticked, the minutes seeming to spin by faster then your eyes could follow as they fluttered open and shut.

Mornings like these were the best mornings you could've asked for.

They were rare, but they were precious.

The odd night you had managed to sneak out to visit Peter, which ended up with him taking care of you, from the beginning of the night to the ends of the morning.

It wasn't the cool morning breeze that slithered through the opened window that made you shiver, but the thought of Peter.

He had been teaching you how to ride, not horses- but him.

“Fuck darlin’ youre taking me so good. I know, I know-” he would coo as you whimpered, his cock stretching you out as he guided your hips to sink down onto him- to take him all.

“You’re doing such a good job honey, such a good job. You’re daddy's lil cowgirl aren't you? Learning how to ride me like a good girl.”

It made you squirm. Especially when after a while, he’d grow tired of your slower, gentler movements, gripping your hips and pounding up into you so hard you nearly fell off the couch if he hadn't been holding you.

You felt something poking out at your ass between the sheets, and you wiggled your body slightly, getting a low murmur from the sleepy older man beside you.

It was still early, and you knew your father wouldn't be awake any time soon, especially if he had been drinking. But you had cattle to tend to, and pigs to feed.

“Mr Parker…” you whispered, his arm still caging you in tightly.

“Mmm” he mumbled, eyes opening lazily, blinking slowly against the rising sun. “You’re not trying to escape from me, are ya?” he teased, pulling you in even closer, his morning wood flush against your ass, prodding at your lower back.

“I really don't want to leave sir I swear-”

“I’m joking sweet girl, I know. You have some calving happening don't you?”

You nodded.

I’ve been staying by them for most of the time when I’m not here. I like to think sometimes they like the company.” you smiled softly as he planted a kiss on the top of your head, then another.

“They most definitely enjoy it sweetheart. Especially yours. You're just such a sweet girl.” he hummed, large, calloused hands sliding under the sheets, down, down past your arms, slipping to give your ass a little squeeze before slipping up your little tank top to cup your breasts.

“Am I?” you asked, squirming in his grasp as his fingers toyed with you- a cat with its dinner, circling your hardened nipples.

“The sweetest. I just wanna keep you here baby, all the time, in this little bed so I can fill you up.”

You giggled, mind slipping from your duties for the day. His presence alone had your brain turning foggy, it was a miracle you could even think for yourself before he woke up.

But now? You were a goner.

“And why can’t you?”

He sighed, pinching the hardened bud between a thumb and finger. “Responsibilities honey. We both got them, and you're an independent girl.”

“I want you to take care of me though.” you pouted, giving him puppy dog eyes that drove him wild.

His tousled hair was soft between your fingers, his stubble harsher across his cheekbones. “Soon I will be sweetheart. I’ll make you my sweet lil cowgirl.”

You laughed as he kissed you all over, smothering you deeper into the pillows, his musky cologne engulfing you, lingering long after he had made his way to the bathroom, the sink handles cranking.

Cold water spewed out, captured in the same tender hands that had just cradled you as he rinsed his face. You called out for him, already missing his warmth, leaving him to stop dead in his tracks. You were fanned out on the bed- his bed, your body unfolding from under the sheets like an origami swan.

You lounged, eyes shut, your little shirt sliding further and further up your torso, tempting him. Before he could help himself, he grabbed his film camera that permanently was stationed on his old wooden dresser, the one his mother’s mother had before her, and so on.

Soon it would be covered in photos of you. His secret collection, a guilty pleasure of his favourite enigma that struck him down to his bones. You were a diamond in the rough in his life. You had consumed him, night and day. The way your voice sounded so sweet calling his name drove him to insanity.

The gentleness, the tenderness..

He needed to capture it.

“Mr. Parke- hey!” you protested as the shutter flickered a flash darting out between your heavy eyelids.

“You better not do anything with that, I look a mess.”

He snorted. “Was that a threat honey?” he asked, coy.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe hm?”

You shrieked as he set the camera down, taking a long stride before he was on top of you, caging you in as his hands pinned your wrists beside your head.

“You’re so beautiful my sweet… my beautiful, beautiful girl.” he murmured, eliciting a sigh as his forehead brushed yours, scruff grazing your neck as he inched closer to breath in the sweet scent of your perfume- always lingering on your skin.

You wiggled under him, attempting to free yourself from his grasp, and failing. It turned him on more then he cared to admit, to see you under him, almost helpless.

“Mr. Parker…”

“You know to call me Peter, sweetheart. You know what that name does to me.” He kissed your neck, once, twice and a third time.

“I should go… as much as I don’t want to…” you sighed, eyes darting over towards the ticking clock, hands seeming to move quicker and quicker as the minutes passed.

Your father would be awake soon, if not now, and that frightened you. If he woke up and found your bed empty…

“Come with me to the bar tonight. Please doll, I wanna show you off to all my friends, just to show them you’re mine.” he pleaded, seeming to make time stop completely, as you fell under his spell.

The way he was looking at you, yearning. Begging. You couldn't refuse. You didn't want to refuse.

“What time?” you asked softly, as he dipped his head back down to meet yours, a smile forming on his lips.

"Ten. I’ll pick you up at the house.”

You bit your lip. “You- you can’t. Father won’t-”

He nodded slowly, remembering how difficult your father could be.He would never allow it. Especially not with your employer. Though he was much… much more than that.

“I’ll sneak out again. Father will never find out, I’ve done it so many times, I can run out past the gate through the field…”

“Wait. Sweetheart, you need to be careful. I know you’ve done it so many times, and I hate making you do that, and putting you in danger-”

“You’re not making me do anything Mr. P- Peter.” you whispered as his lips brushed against yours. They tasted minty, the two cushions softly caressing yours, gente enough to feel as if they were a whisper.

“You don't know what's out there. So promise me you’ll be careful, I’ll be there at ten on the dot. Leave when you have to, no earlier and please, please bring a sweater darlin, it’s gonna be oh so chilly…” he trailed off and you smiled brightly with anticipation, cheeks hurting from the repetitive movement.

His forehead met yours again, a silent promise of reassurance.

It was sweet he cared for you this deeply. It made butterflies churn in your stomach like twisters, made your toes curl in excitement so tightly you feared they'd all stick together.

A drug you could never get enough of. A hope you were chasing, that this could work past the summer months that you meant more to him then you realised.

He was introducing you to his friends, that was a start. A huge start.

“I will. Promise.”

-----------------------------------------------------

Mr. Parker was many things. One of those things was timely.

And truthful.

Not a minute past ten and his pickup was parked on the side of the road, nothing but red brake lights under the stars as guidance as you descended the old wooden fence on the other side of the field.

You had been pacing in anticipation all day, hardly able to stomach anything but crackers and cherries from the trees in the back. Braiding your hair just to unbraid it, to braid it again.

Peter had let you off for the day, he never really worked you- but of course your father didn't know that. So you were alone with your thoughts as you did your daily chores around the farm, tending to the sheep and cattle as the dogs nipped at your heels before darting after one another.

You didn't know where your father was when you got home. Asleep, you assumed. Or in town, to flirt with the general store owner. It didn't matter to you, what mattered was he was gone until he wasn't.

Dinner was quiet, not that you minded, just the sound of forks and knives scrapping fine china as the lanterns flickered in the dining room.

You were too focused on the night ahead, and what to expect. Or if you should be expecting anything.

No more than a quiet goodnight was said as you each tucked bodies behind wooden doors, and you wasted no time tugging on a little white lace dress, doing your hair the way you knew Peter liked the most.

You pumped the squeeze ball of your perfume, the little tassels brushing your skin and making you shiver as the scent hit your neck. The cool breeze slithered through your opened window, the curtains lashing out like branches in a storm that threatened to topple over the house.

Peter was right, it was cold. Colder than it should be for a summer night.

Normally it was stifling hot, the night time only allowing the temperature to drop just slightly. It had plummeted tonight.

You shrugged on a little cardigan over your shoulders, before slipping out the window, crawling down the large oak tree that lingered beside your house, threatening to topple over.

Now you found yourself here, whipping open the passenger door, laughing as the wind storm picked up, seeming to nearly topple you off balance.

The tires revved against the loose dirt road, gravel flying with the dust in the distance as you sped past your house. You felt like a teenager again, the way you were sneaking out, spending your night driving in cars with boys. Though they never treated you well- until Peter came along.

But he was a man you reminded yourself as you leaned your head back against the headrest, his large, veiny hand sliding over to rest on your thigh, thumb tracing little circles.

“You made it out okay?” he asked reassuringly, fawning over you as his eyes flickered from the road over to your body. Checking for scratches and gashes.

“Easy peasy.”

The radio hummed softly as his headlights flickered, and you listened to the sound of the turning signal as you gazed over at him. He was so beautiful in this light, it made your heart get stuck in your throat.

His soft locks blowing in the wind, the faded yellow beams in front of him illuminating his chiselled jaw, teeth tugging down on his bottom lip in concentration.

He was so soft in the night light, so gentle. Yet he remained possessive in such a comforting way, his hand tightening on your thigh as he turned a corner, or hit a bump.

“Are you warm enough darlin?” he asked, drinking in your little dress, and the shawl that did next to nothing to hide your shivers. You looked down, noticing your nipples had hardened on their own accord through the flimsy lace, from the chill wind or Peter's hands feeling you up- you couldn't tell.

“You’re gonna need a better jacket honey. You're a silly girl for thinking that would cover ya.”

You dipped your head and felt your cheeks heat as his teasing. You liked when he teased you. “Yes Mr. Parker.” you nodded, slipping your hand down to intertwine with his at your upper thigh.

He pulled a joint from his pocket, using his knees to steer the wheel as you endlessly grabbed the lighter from the dash and lit it for him. Smoke puffed out, trailing out the cracked opened window as he exhaled, like so many nights before.

It was routine at this point, lighting his smokes. He always shared with you, whether it was letting you have a hit, or by puffing the smoke into your mouth as he kissed you, simply intoxicating you.

“I’m nervous.” you stated bluntly as the truck rolled closer into the outskirts of town, where the local bar was. “Honey, you have no reason to be nervous, promise. They already love you.”

“They know me?” you asked.

“ ‘Course they do. Some of em might even try to snag you from me. You’re such a pretty lil thing they’ll want you all to themselves.”

You giggled at his claims, redeeming them false. Your nerves seem to grow as you pull into the parking lot, hands twisting at his fingers as if they were fidget toys. It was busy, though you didn't expect anything else for a Friday night.

The night was still young, and the party showed no sign of stopping anytime soon, people trickling in and out of the swinging wooden doors. Neon lights illuminated outside were bright, candy coloured-inticing you inside.

Before you could unlatch your seatbelt, Peter slid his hand to roughly hold your chin, huffing smoke between your lips as he kissed you harshly, teeth clashing against yours.

You barely had time to catch a breath as he gripped you tightly, holding you captive with his lips. They were swollen by the time he was done with you.

“Don't even think about reaching for that door handle sweets.” he whispered, winking as he slipped outside, cheeks tinged with pink as he took one last puff, before tossing the burnt end and crushed it with his boot.

The door was opened on your side, his hand holding yours as he guided you down from the high truck bed, steading you as you lept and swayed against him.

“My darlin’…” he murmured to himself as he took you in again, the heat of his stare sending shivers down your spine. The puff of weed made your head feel fuzzy, and you felt the heat between your thighs grow warmer as he lapped you up- like a dog begging for water.

A gentle tug broke you from your pink, doe eyed trance, and you mindlessly followed him inside, pushing past the little wooden doors.

Soft lights illuminated the room in a way that still felt dark and grungy, people in cowboy boots perched up on bar stools, or bent over with a pool cue. Some old country song trickled out of the speakers perched around the room, and your nose was overwhelmed with the scent of whisky and smoke.

You followed Peter towards the back of the bar, a group full of older looking men drinking beer over a hand of cards tossed on the table. Each of their eyes darted over towards the pair of you, one of them in the front smirking in satisfaction.

“So this is the pretty lady, is it Parker?” the man in the front asked, sliding out of the booth to tower over you, just as Peter always did.

“Bucky Barnes.” he smiled, hand sticking out to firmly grasp yours. You drank in his ocean blue eyes, the little tufts of grey in his beard, scattered like salt and pepper.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Barnes.” you nodded.

“Please hun, call me Bucky. No need for that formal silliness.”

“That's what I’ve told her. She’s just too polite I guess.” Peter laughed, his hand slipping down to your lower back, guiding you into the booth, atop his lap as you were introduced to his other buddies.

They were all extremely friendly, all having mini conversations amongst themselves while they sipped on their drinks, or smoked their cigarettes. Each of their hands were warm when you shook them, firm grapes from across the cluttered table.

Your attention was soon directed back to Peter, and a waitress who had so graciously appeared. “Darlin? What did ya want to drink?”

“Just a rum and coke for me please.” you smiled.

“One bill please.” Peter said before she disappeared back off into the bustling crowd.

“I can pay for my own Mr. Parker.” you frowned, annoyed with yourself for not thinking of saying that sooner. “I’m sure you can sweetheart. But I don't really care. Let me take care of you, okay?” he murmured in your ear, hitching his knee up so you had no choice but to slide back on his denim jeans, back against him fully to keep your balance.

“But-”

”No, no buts. You just enjoy this night okay? Are you doing okay, it’s not too loud in here?” he asked softly, whispering quiet enough not even Bucky, who sat next to you could hear what he said.

“I’m good. Do your friends like me, d’ya think?” you asked timidly, wanting his approval. “Oh darlin they love you. They wouldn't shut up about meeting you, they just wanted to see how pretty and smart you were in person. My words aren't enough I suppose.” he smiled, brushing a kiss just behind your ear as the server returned, two drinks in hand.

You thanked her, taking a sip from your staw, twirling around the ice cubes in the glass as they clinked against the side. Before you knew it, you were down three drinks, laughing so hard at jokes spewed from the other end of the table your sides started to ache.

A hand tugged you up to the dance floor, Bucky twirled you around in circles before dipping you down towards the floor. A smile never left your face, the room starting to slightly spin on its own accord, and you saw Peter eyeing the pair of you across the bar like a hawk, his cool stare never leaving the back of Bucky's head.

He had offered to show you around up towards the north, a place you hadn’t visited much but wished you had. “I’ll show you around.” he smiled when you asked about it, dipping you low again.

”When?”

“Whenever you're ready, call on me.” he winked in response.

By the time you had to call it quits to save your wobbly legs, you heard Bucky snicker at Peter, slapping his chest before heading back towards the group.

Oh relax Parker I wasn't trying to steal your girl, just woo her a lil.

He didn't seem to like that one very much.

“Can- can we step outside for a sec?” you asked, stumbling towards his strong, lean arms that encased you once more- a warm hug you very much needed.

“You need some fresh air darlin? It gets so loud, I know…” he trailed off, quite literally sweeping you off your feet into his arms. You curled in against his chest, feeling the sway of each long stride across the wooden floors, the crowd parting like the red sea as he passed them by, all of them gawking.

You didn't blame them. He was beautiful.

“Shh, shh” he murmured as you started to claw at his t-shirt, twisting it in circles to keep yourself steady. “I wanna shoot bottles.” you stated as the cool air hit your skin, and you instinctively curled into his warmth.

“You wanna shoot bottles now, do ya? Do you even know how to shoot a gun?” he asked, laughing. You slid down to your feet, looking up at the night sky, the stars twinkling dimly from under the rolling clouds.

“Course I don't. But you teach me.”

You heard some guys around the corner of the building laughing with their friends, the sound of cans clinking as they fell from bullet wounds. You had never shot a gun before- not really ever needing to, but you saw some of Peter's collection tucked away in one of his older storage buildings on the property.

They were vintage, slightly rusted but still in decent working condition you assumed. Peter had never shot a gun in front of you before, but you knew that he knew how. Your father had mentioned hunting trips with him back when they were kids.

Surely he couldn’t be that rusty.

“I’d teach ya eh? How do you know that I can shoot, pretty?”

You shrugged, trotting over to where the men had been previously, their guns leaned against the building.

“I’ve seen your guns.”

“Those are old. Real old, from my granddad. Brass ‘38s.” he said. “I still trust you to show me how.” you stated, toying with the barrel of a bb gun, swinging it back and forth.

“This isn’t smart while you’re drunk.”

“Not drunk.”

“So drunk.”

You huffed, picking up the gun anyways. “That’s why you show me so we don’t do anything stupid.”

“With you I always want to be stupid.” You smiled softly, pretending to aim the gun at him, mocking the sound of bullets flying through the air.

“Now you’re being stupid darlin. Don’t aim that at anyone, that’s the first rule. Though I don’t expect you to know that right now, in your condition.”

“You should show me Mr. Parker, so I can defend myself.” your voice was high, extra girly as you toyed with the weapon, feeling flirty to high hell. He chuckled, running a hand through his hair as he slid up behind you, hands wrapped around your waist as he leaned down.

“Stay around me forever and you’ll never have to defend yourself baby. You’ll never have to do anything again.”

You giggled, cheeks warming from the alcohol rushing through your blood at his remarks. He was so silly. You thought, but you wished life could be that simple.

You wanted to wake up next to him every morning, to the feeling of him deep inside, pumping his seed into you- breeding you. You wanted to fuck like rabbits, for him to stuff you full over and over again until you were dripping.

You wanted him to kiss you all over before serving you breakfast in bed, tending to your every need while you lay in his bed, legs spread.

Jesus Christ your thoughts were dangerous when you were intoxicated.

What did they say again, drunk words were sober thoughts?

“You gotta turn off the safety first sweetheart.” Peter murmured in your ear, his warm breath tickling your ear. You heard a soft click, and he guided your arms into position, hands closing over yours.

“Now look through that little eyepiece and aim towards that can there.”

You squinted, trying your very best to focus on the only can standing up on the nearby fence. It took you a few seconds, but finally you had steadied yourself with his guidance. Your finger hovered.

“And.. shoot.” he whispered, finger tightening around yours, the gun going off with a loud bang! The can crumpled in on itself quickly, the aluminium falling from its place. You squealed with delight.

“That's my girl!” he smirked, clicking the safety back on as you drunkenly wobbled into him, wanting to take the toy away before you hurt yourself.

“Did I do good?” you asked, knowing he did most of the work- but still wanting his praise anyways. “So good darlin, you’re such a good girl, y’know that?” he asked, slowly backing you up against the cold siding, caging you in his arms.

The gun was long forgotten, tossed somewhere on the ground. The way his eyes sparkled drove you wild, a hint of mischief but still a maturity- a gentleness eying you down, soaking you in.

Your breath seemed to get caught in your chest as you tilted your head up against the wall to meet his gaze fully. He was so tall, so big… and he smelt amazing.

God, you wanted to blurt all of this out loud. You couldn't keep your composure anymore… it was next to impossible around him. You melted like ice cream on a hot summer's day whenever you were in his mere prescience.

“I want you to fuck me.” you stated plainly, his eyes widening- a coy smirk forming on his face. “Is that so?”

“Yes, Mr. Parker, I really want you to fuck me. Please.”

Well he damn near fell to his knees at your sweet tone, and your puppy dog eyes as you begged. He could never say no to his baby, but he also knew the two of you couldn't do anything out in public like that.

At least not all the things he wanted to do to you.

But it didn't mean he couldn't edge you on a little more until you squirmed for him with want.

“Was that what you were so distracted with earlier? You thinkin about stuff?”

You nodded. “I was thinking about you breeding me, and filling me all up until I’mall sticky, and so tingly I can barely feel anything. And I was thinking about you pumping into me and hurting me in such a good way.” you confessed.

If he was only slightly hard before, he was rock solid now.

Fuck.

“Sweetheart fuck-.. I- I’m so much older then you-"

"Not by that much.” you insisted, hand slipping down to rub in between his legs, cupping his bulge between your smaller fingers as he suppressed a moan.

“You’re so naughty baby. D’you think about this all the time?”

“All the time. I wish you could fuck me now.”

He clucked his tongue, shaking his head. Your nipples were so hard they strained the fabric, begging to be touched by him.

“Such a dirty mouth my lil cowgirl. You gonna let daddy fuck you hard tonight?” he breathed, hand slipping down to cup your breast. Yesss. You wanted to hiss, pleasure seeping over your body.

“Mhmm. Whenever.. Whenever you w-want.” you giggled, his hands slipping down to your thighs, hosting you up to his height- your legs wrapped around his solid middle.

He kissed your neck, teeth nipping the skin as he sucked, leaving little marks that scattered across your skin. Before he could go much further, a presence lingered from the parking lot, a man leaning against a wooden post- watching you.

He whistled sharply, causing you to whip your head in shock. “Lovebirds! If you’re gonna fuck- at least invite the rest of us!” Bucky called from the sidelines.

“You couldn’t even get it up old man!” you shouted, Peter bursting out laughing against your collarbone. Steve appeared, whistling at your remark.

“Oh she got you good Buck. Low blow cowgirl.” he laughed, clapping Bucky's back, a feline grin on your face as you walked towards the pair, adjusting your shoulder strap that had slipped down in your little rendezvous.

They definitely knew you were not wearing a bra, if they didn’t know before. Oh well, not your problem.

“If you want a ride, I’d watch your tongue sweetheart.”

You laughed, stumbling over to Peter’s truck. “We’re gonna leave that here and get it tomorrow darlin. Mr. Barnes is gonna give us a ride home.” Peter whistled at you, smacking Bucky upside the head at his remarks.

“Mkay…”

“There’s not enough seats, so the pretty lady is on Parker’s lap. Unless she wants to be on mine-“ he looked over at you, winking. “I’ll make sure to hit all the bumps.”

“You pervert.” Peter snarled- walking him again. “I’m joking, I’m joking!” Bucky laughed.

“Don’t listen to him doll, he’s being stupid. He doesn’t mean any of it.” Peter murmured to you, as he guided you from his truck down to Buckys, Steve already claiming shotgun, while Sam and Tony were in the back, leaving one spot open for you and Peter.

Great. For your sake, he hoped Bucky did hit all the bumps.

It was stuffed in the vehicle, arms touching as if you were sardines in a can. But you didn’t mind being on Peter's lap. He rolled the window down, allowing the cool air to slither into the back, cooling your skin.

The other men talked about whatever while Bucky's headlights flickered on as he slowly backed out of the parking lot- but all you could focus on was Peter. He was still hard under you, you could feel his bulge through his jeans, straining against his zipper.

Your dress fanned out, leaving nothing but your underwear to rub against the denim, which was now damp. You clenched your fists, fighting back moans as Bucky sped down the road, hitting massive potholes that nearly sent your head through the roof.

You caught a glint in his eye as he looked back at you from the rear view, knowing damn well he was doing it on purpose.

“Hold on tight.” was all he said as he continued on- and you squirmed against Peter's groin.

“You keep doing that, you’re gonna regret it.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

Peter grumbled to himself, hands tightening their grip on your thighs as Bucky hit more bumps. He clenched his teeth, hissing as he rubbed against your panties, feeling the wetness drip down your thighs.

The weed had heightened everything tremendously; he seriously thought he would cum in his pants.

That’s some shit the guys her age would do- those immature pieces of shit. The thought alone made him hold you a little tighter, savouring the smell of your perfume and shampoo.

You felt delicious on him. He wanted you on his lap constantly. He just wished no one else was in the truck.

You laughed at something Steve said, as Bucky put his turn signal on, gravel rumbling under the tires as he turned down Peter's driveway.

Oh thank god.

“Thank you so, so much for the ride Mr. Barnes. It was so lovely to meet all of you.” you smiled, waving timidly as Peter opened the door, allowing you to slip off his lap and jump down to the ground, holding his hand for balance.

Peter grimly nodded, cursing your sweetness towards Bucky, that motherfucker. Bucky winked as Peter tried to subtly hide his boner as he stood- and failed.

“No problem sweetheart, just glad you’re home safe. Don’t forget my offer okay- you come around anytime and I’ll show ya around with Steve.” he nodded, and you said the rest of your goodbyes, waving to everyone before Peter slammed the door shut.

The tires squealed as Bucky put the gas to the floor, leaving nothing but dust in his wake. “They were really nice Mr. Parker. I think they liked me.” you smiled, skipping over to the front porch steps.

“Yeah, a little too much.” he muttered under his breath, catching up to you in quick, long strides. You squealed as he picked you up with ease from behind, draping you over his shoulder and carried you up the steps, unlocking the front door.

“Put me down!” you whined, letting out a yelp as he smacked your ass.

“Shh. And stop your squirming, you’re not going anywhere sweetheart.” he huffed, kicking the door shut behind you, tossing his keys on the counter.

The lights were soft and dim as he carried you up the stairs, past the closed doors to the one left open.

His bedroom.

You continued to squirm- defying his orders and you felt that sting again, the loud smack! echoing through the room as you whimpered.

You bounced down on the bed, wide eyed as you scooted back towards the headboard, legs splayed open. Watching as his hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking your cheek mindlessly.

“You still want me t’fuck you honey?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “Use your words baby. Tell me what you want.”

“I’d like you to fuck me Mr. Parker. Please.” you added quickly. His thumb brushed over your parted lips and you opened them quickly, allowing him access- your tongue swirling around his digit as his hand forced you to look up at him.

“You’re sure?”

You nodded quickly.

“I wanna be so gentle with you darlin. You’re so sweet and soft… I just wanna be so delicate.” he sighed softly. “Fuck….”

He didn’t say he was still a little pissed at Bucky for his aimless flirting- not that it was your fault of course. Didn’t mean he didn’t want to be possessive though. He was mature enough he knew you belonged to him- he didn’t need that reassurance.

But he had to make sure you knew.

“That's okay.” you whispered, drool trickling off his thumb as he pulled it away, smearing it across your cheek. He chuckled lowly.

“You’re so good to me baby. Do you think we could try something a bit different tonight?” he asked, and you nodded.

Anxiety and excitement quelled in your chest as he started to unbuckle his belt, and unzip his jeans. You pulled off your little scrap of fabric you called a dress, instinctively covering yourself. It was a habit you tried to break- but you couldn't help it.

“No no, baby, show me.” Peter insisted, hands removing yours to reveal yourself to him. The heat in his gaze sent shivers down your spine, leaving you firmly planted in the sheets.

“You’re so beautiful. The gods write poems about your beauty, my sweet girl.” he cooed, grabbing your wrists, holding them out in front of you, planting a kiss on your forehead.

Grabbing the belt, he started to wrap them around your wrists. “Is this okay?” he looked at your face for reassurance, finding it in your gentle eyes as you smiled.

“Will it hurt?” you asked meekly.

“No, no honey I would never hurt you. You know that right?” he sat down on the bed next to you, stroking your skin in soft, calming circles.

“I know Mr. Parker.”

You knew he was your savouir. He would never- could never harm you. You trusted him with your life.

He kissed you again, the belt jangling as it was bound around your wrists. You wiggled your fingers, though unable to move your hands- helplessly bound before him.

And you had never felt so safe.

“That too tight for ya darlin?”

You shook your head.

“No Mr. Parker.”

He smirked, fingers finding there way down to brush your inner thighs, tugging at the fabric that covered where he wanted you the most. You wiggled, moaning as he teased you, his touches soft yet electric.

“Shh baby, thats it. Daddys gonna take such good care of you. I’ve got ya.” he whispered, tugging off your thong, throwing it somewhere to the floor, watching your back arch and bow off the mattress from his quick brush of his finger along your slit.

“Awh baby she’s so wet f’me. I’ve barely even touched ya, sweet thing.” he cooed, and you whined softly as he toyed with you.

“Please-“

“Please what? Hmm? Use your big girl words.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Please fuck me, please. Please.” you begged, squirming.

“Such naughty language. Tsk tsk” he clucked his tongue, prying your legs wide open as you fought to keep your knees together.

“You want me to do what you said earlier? You want to be full?”

You nodded.

“You can’t waste any baby. No leaking, okay? Need my baby stuffed.” he smirked, lifting your legs up, draping them over his buff shoulders.

“Do you want gentle?”

You shook your head.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded.

“Whatever my sweet girl wants.” he smiled, brushing his cock through your soaked folds, tapping your clit with the head lightly. You didn’t know how much more teasing you could take.

“Mr. Park- OH!” you cried out as he slid home, his happy trail brushing your clit. He wasted no time, lifting your thighs up so half your body was off the bed, getting the deepest angle he could as his hips began to snap into yours.

You couldn’t help but cry out, words becoming mindless babbles as he pistoned into you, hitting a certain spot that had you seeing stars. “Yeah that’s it baby. Taking me so good, you’re such a good girl.” he cooed, admiring as your arms lifted, hands over your head in the restraints as you attempted to claw onto the headboard, failing miserably.

“Aww poor thing. You got nowhere to go, do you? Stuck here just taking daddy’s cock. You’re so fucking tight jesus christ…” he trailed off, lost in his head as you squeezed him tighter, nothing but the sounds of the slapping of his balls on your skin, the sounds of your strangled noises and moans.

He couldn’t get enough of them, he never wanted them to end. Your legs began to slip from their position, turning to jello and he wasted no time quickly flipping you around with ease slipping right back in.

You moaned at the new position, as he hit a different spot- slapping your ass gently. “Atta girl. Cmon baby, make yourself feel good. Or d’ya need me to do it for ya since you’re so fuzzy?”

You mumbled something unintelligible into the pillow that sounded like “Please”, and he didn’t bother trying to make sense of it as he gripped your hips harder.

“M’so closeeee…” you hissed, clenching him tighter.

“You gonna cream on my cock? Yeah? Cream on my cock baby, atta girl darlin.” he growled possessively as you came with a sharp cry, soaking his cock.

He always let you cum first. Always. He wouldn’t be a gentleman if he didn’t. You were his princess, he wanted you to feel so good you wouldn’t even be able to remember your name.

Peter showered you in praise, rubbing your back soothingly as your legs shook from your orgasm, toes curling against the sheets.

“You’re okay sweetheart. Shhh that’s it. Good girl baby.” He flipped you back over, wanting nothing more than to see your pretty face. It was one of the things that got him off the most, seeing your eyes roll back in your head, your mouth let out those pretty noises while it rounded to an o shape.

Your chest rose quickly, up and down as you managed to catch your breath, head fuzzy.

“You okay honey?” he asked gently, forehead creasing in concern as he soothed you.

He always took such good care of you. Somehow that turned you on even more.

“M’so good.” you mumbled, meeting his soft smile.

“Well good. Cause I’m not done with ya yet darlin. Spread those legs again baby.”

[lethalchiralium]

Happiness Masterlist

A collection of Simon “Ghost” Riley and his daughter, Winnie, and his wife, you.

SERIES PLAYLIST | Simon’s Playlist | Your Playlist

AO3 Link!

Raindrops

It’s the first night home with his little one, and he’s trying to remember every moment.

Angel

“Can you please explain to my Captain why I am an hour late?”

Little

Ghost has somewhere to be.

Tattooed Heart

The 141 meets the mysterious Lieutenant's daughter.

You Belong With Me

It’s your 21st birthday, yet you sit in a nice restaurant in a beautiful dress and tears in your eyes - until someone comes to your rescue, like a knight on a white horse.

Dear Winter

Simon had to find a toy for Winnie, but discovers what finally pushes him over the edge to confess his love for you.

Diamond Ring

“Wear it on your hand, tell the whole world that I’m your only man.” Simon dodged death so closely that it finally snapped him from his stupor - he needed you to be in his life for the rest of time.

Wife content below!

Tonight, Tonight, Tonight

It was a long deployment, Ghost wanted nothing more than to come home and be Simon again.

A Little More

It’s Simon’s first late night and morning with his new daughter, Mellie. And you and him have an important conversation.

A Little More [2]

A simple day of mundane domesticity, life isn’t always jammed packed full of events + Simon still has a lifetime of making it up to you.

That Happy Feeling

“say hello, winnie.” “say hello, mellie.” + a text conversation with the 141 + los vaqueros!

Dramatic

Simon’s been sick for three days and has refused any medication, claiming the cold medicine you brought from your home in America is poison and he’d rather die. You are convinced that the British medicine does nothing. Only one will win.

Lover

Christmas Eve is over. With enough paper cuts to last a lifetime, you just want Simon to know how much you love him with a song.

Twice A Question, Once An Answer

Two times you asked your husband a question, and the one time he had the answer you needed.

Imagine It

It was just a nice afternoon, your husband’s brothers in arms trying to name your imaginary baby for you.

Almost

Just a doctor’s appointment to find out baby three’s gender.

Will Never Be Enough

"Simon, I need you." The Lieutenant dropped the papers he was holding, they flew across the office floor. "I'm on my way." OR, Simon comes home to find you in a puddle of blood.

Bigger Than The Whole Sky

It’s hard to get over something like this, it’s hard to feel like this. Loss is difficult. OR, your husband tries his best to comfort you, but he’s finding this new challenge difficult.

Ducks

It’s hot in England, so it’s time to pull out the plastic kiddie pool and dip toes in the frighteningly cold water. Winnie finds a new friend.

More Than I Could Ask For

Losing a baby is difficult, Simon knows that. But as he takes care of you, all he wishes for is for you to not feel the pain anymore.

All I Ask

Simon tells you why he feels ashamed, plus Mellie decides to be a comforting little baby.

A Late Night Last Minute Request

Laswell catches Simon at the supermarket, to which he brings bad news home. There's only one thing he wants - a late night last minute request.

Four

It’s cuddle time for your girls.

White Carnations

Simon spends time with Winnie before he goes, he reminisces on the time he’s had with her.

The Love You Want (NOT POSTED)

It’s late at night, it’s his last night home before he leaves and he needs you like he needs oxygen.

Fearless

With Simon's new deployment comes a surprise guest, Kate Laswell, and some very unwanted company knocks at the door.

Window to the Abbey

Winnie and Mellie are cautious of the two new operators in their house, Simon’s calling, and Mellie’s sick. To say you’re handling it with grace would be an understatement.

Dial Tone

It’s the afternoon, rain thundered against your home so you couldn’t hear the footsteps that backed you into a corner.

Drag Me Under

One moment, you’re home - the next? You’re somewhere you don’t recognize with people you don’t recognize either, holding one of your most precious valuables.

High Water

Price has to make a tough decision.

The Death of Peace of Mind

This time, you need to not pretend. Don't be scared. You know to protect everything you have, since no one is coming to save you.

Waiting Room

The ICU is the quietest area of the hospital, but Simon's as silent as a tomb.

I Will Think Of You As I Surely Drown

…

The Drabbles:

Burps

Little Letters

Christmas Closet

Melody

Mummy

Don’t Jump

Mum and Baby

Dinner Plans

Just Five Minutes With You | Interrupted

Bye Bye Beard

Be Home Soon

Halloween

Sleep Patterns

Chef Riley

The What Ifs:

Home or Hospital | Porcelain | Piece of You In The Morning

Drifting

Careful What You Wish For | 22 Years

If Simon was with you when you went into the OR.

The promise that John Price keeps. | The Locket

Comfortable (18+)

[imiya]

Tilly & Finley Wild Manes Review

since i got a hold of these girlies lets investimigate- apologies for overexposure

first, individual pics of each of them. here's finley:

who is themed after a pool party, of course. when i bought her at target, the self checkout display called her Isla, which makes sense as a working name for her... island.

she is white with grey hooves and a muzzle. she has blue eyeshadow with green eyes and blonde eyebrows, matching her blonde hair with a purple streak.

i will color correct these photos for the wiki, but for now, here's the raw photo of her clothes

all of the clothes are unhemmed and simply printed-on fabric with two velcro connections. my finley also had a plastic tab keeping the front attatched (which i snipped so i could remove it). you can see her mermaid tail and flamingoes on her clothes. the clothing is very thin, i don't think it might fray any time soon, but it does seem lazy for a fashion horse toy. thankfully, the hair makes up for it, we'll get there later.

each of these horses came with a brush and a non-brush accessory. finley's is wearable! she has a visor made with this magenta translucent plastic. i didn't take any pictures of it on her, but it does indeed fit on her head.

she comes with this purple brush, which you can tell is hers because of the flamingo printed on it.

and now a quick tilly rundown...

she's a brown horse with a brown muzzle and hooves, red eyeshadow, yellow eyes, and blonde eyebrows. her hair is more of a dirty blonde than finley, and her color streak is described as "periwinkle". the self checkout register called her Serena, which... yeah, i can see why they may have changed that. a little on the nose.

as you can see by her brush's symbol, she's very clearly tennis-themed. her accessory is unfortunately not wearable, instead it's a water bottle with a tennis racket printed on

horse gotta hydrate

if that all wasn't clear enough, her outfit has a tennis racket on it, too! there is no hemming, the "collar" is printed on. her outfit looks like a blue polo and a teal skirt.

okay, now the part people actually wanted to see. what the heck the figures look like

it's gettin' hot in here, so take off all your clothes...

both finley and tilly have the same exact model! i assume the horses (ponies? horses. fillies?) all have the same bodies. i think i can feel a few spots where the plastic feels slightly more rubbery/pliable than the others, so i do fear we may see discoloration as time goes on.

all of the legs are articulated at the shoulder or "hip" (sorry horse fans, it's a knee or something?), but only the front left leg is articulated in multiple places.

thank you girls, finley has her leg fairly straightened out whereas tilly has it bent. i haven't noticed the joints being unusually difficult to maneuver or maintain position, which bodes well for pictures. i did have a little bit of trouble getting them to balance in my photobox (likely because the bottom bows inwards a bit), but the little extra range of motion is nice. you can also twist the joints a little bit, but not super extremely.

but can she sit?

sort of? i know horses don't really naturally "sit" very well, but she still looks goofy. her neck doesn't move forwards so it's not a very great-looking pose for her to hold, but she can balance like this on her own.

hey, look at me when i'm talkin to you

thanks. side view of her in that same pose.

her head can turn, it's on a ball join, i believe it's similar to the g4.5/g5 mlp joints but a little more restrictive. i intend to dismantle a finley for research, so ill be able to share that when the time comes. it can rotate and move up and down slightly.

more motion... one of the back legs is in a mid-walk position which made her a little awkward to balance. you can see the company name and "made in china" stamp on the inside of this leg.

it's not very clear in this image, but there's a stamp with numbers and letters on her stomach. i don't know what this means, as finley had the same code! you can also see the hooves have horseshoes with "WM" (wild manes) on them.

before we get into the manes of the wild manes, a quick little look at their eyes.

the paint looks great! it's not stippled like i've seen on a few other dolls recently. the eyes are also sculpted in, so we hopefully won't have wild misplacement like we do on the newer MLPs. they both have stars and two eye shines, and the eyelashes are the same. the only differences here are the colors.

okay. mane time.

the hair is SUPER soft. i agree with the replier who said it's Kiwi Nylon. i am very happy that the hair is so nice and hope that the others in this set are the same way! the way it's packaged in the box makes it so there are three or four rubber bands holding it in place, and it leaves the hair with the "memory" of that. i did wash and condition the hair in these photos, which also seemed to help with the small qualms i had with the hair right out of the box. it seemed a little oily and tilly had a doubled-over plug. finley didn't seem to have any rooting troubles!

all of the hair is a few rows up the back of the head with a section for bangs. you can see that they wove tilly's bangs with the longer hair that's part of her mane to hide the parting in her head, which is likely expected for a doll but a cool detail. her bangs are NOT gelled down!

here you can see five to six rows of hair on the back of the head. it's not a lot of surface area, but the hair seems thickly rooted for what it is!

here i've parted the mane on Finley so you can see the hair a little more clearly. it looks like the streaks of hair are only on the outside of the rooting.

i've been a little afraid to peel back finley's bangs lest they become unsalvagable, but here's finley's bangs peeled back.

there's still a few rows here. when i dismantle her, hopefully i can showcase her rooting pattern more clearly.

i think that's all the pictures i've taken of them so far... i got these girls at Target, and you can order them as well as Bailey and Cocoa off their site right now! i'll be updating the fandom wiki with pictures of the accessories and hopefully the rest of the girls are as high quality as these ones!

[elizabethwritesmen]

The Devil Wears Lace

chapter 4 : March 3, 2023

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader

summary: you go on a date to try and get ghost off your mind, but still, somehow, you end the night with him instead.

warnings: 18+ for eventual smut, reader goes on a date with someone who’s not simon, reader kisses someone who’s not simon, i think that’s all but let me know if i missed anything!

series masterlist

March 3, 2023

Not even a month had passed and I could still see it all in my mind. I hadn’t spent a second not thinking about him, kicking myself and cursing his stupid codename or whatever. I felt so unlike myself, giggly and stupid, begging God for one more chance to see him, swearing I’ll take advantage of it like he doesn’t turn me to mush. I’m confident enough to flirt with him, to toy with him the way I do them all. But I don’t have it in me to actually make a move, or even insinuate that I want him.

And what would happen if I had him? He’d probably get up and leave right after wrecking me, his self intact and mine done for. He’d walk out, and I’d go back to barely ever seeing him. If ever again. Who knows when he’d stop being sent to my town? Why did I want that so badly? Something I couldn’t even have, not really? Something that I knew would ruin me and my life to a point I couldn’t come back from? Something that would turn me into a worse person than I already was?

I craved it, though. I told myself I could handle having him once then never again. I could handle not knowing where he was after, and not having any contact. I could handle the fact that I was falling over the edge and there was no way it would end well.

I decided I needed to take my mind off of it, and what better way than with someone else? This particular guy had been begging me for a date for months, and he was cute. What harm could come from saying yes? I didn’t want to be with him or anything, but maybe a little flirting, a little attention, a little more could clear my mind of that mask.

So there I was, sitting at the table across from… oh, what was his name again? Dave? Don? Danny? Oh! Drake. It was definitely Drake. I think.

He was going on and on about his plans to get out of the military and open his own sporting goods company. Great dreams. I couldn’t see him actually achieving them.

My phone buzzed on the table, and I held a hand up to stop his rambling, “That’s all great, give me just a second, though.” He seemed a little dumbstruck that I’d had the audacity to shut him up, but stayed silent as I walked away to answer Sabrina’s call.

“Dude, where are you?” she spoke from the other line, “I’ve texted you like ten times.”

“I’m on that date, remember?”

“Date? You didn’t tell me about a date,” I could hear the smirk in her voice, “How’s that?”

“Oh, perfect. I was just about to ride off into the sunset on his white horse when you called,” I groaned, and she giggled.

“Well come to the bar, save yourself from that misery.”

“The bar? Why?”

“Just come to the damn bar!”

I jumped slightly at her tone, she could be assertive when she wanted to. “You got something sketchy up your sleeve?” I asked, eyebrows raised though she couldn’t see me.

“Just come! Please!” This time she was pleading, and I sighed.

“Anything is better than being here with Mr. Future Entrepreneurs of America. I’ll be there in a sec.”

I briefly wondered how I was going to get out of the date, then realized, what would he do if I just told him I had somewhere to be and left? Probably nothing, just stare at me dumbly.

I sauntered to the table, pulling 30 dollars out of my bag.

“This should cover my part. I’ve gotta go,” I hummed, beginning to turn on my heel, but he stopped me with a hand on my arm. God, I hated being touched.

I swung around, already annoyed, and he crumbled a bit under my stare but plowed onward, “I thought we were having a good time.”

“Yeah, sure, it was great,” I shrugged, “Just gotta go. I have somewhere to be. You can keep my food when it comes, take it home or something.”

“Do I at least get a goodnight kiss?”

“Do you think you deserve one?” I raised a brow and his expression was comical, in disbelief I would say such a thing.

“Yes,” he nodded frantically, “You’re leaving early, skipping out on a date you agreed to! It’s the least you could do!”

“Fine, if it means no hard feelings,” I shrugged, leaning down and slotting my lips against his before I could talk myself out of it. It was just a kiss. It didn’t matter at all. Kisses never really did.

It was okay, except it wasn’t really okay at all. I pulled away, giving his cheek a tap before walking off to my getaway car.

The drive to the bar was quick, I was already downtown so it only took minutes to pull into the small parking lot. The only spot open was in the alley, naturally, so I went for it. I could hear Ghost’s voice in my head, telling me not to do it, and I hadn’t been! But desperate times, you know what I mean?

I got out of the car, bag in hand, and smoothed out my dress. It was a purple slip with floral black mesh over top of it, and I thought it looked great on me, highlighting the right curves and smoothing over the wrong ones. I was also wearing heels, black stilettos, they were very femme fatale. Fully satisfied with my appearance, right down to my big curls and my deep red lips, I walked inside.

Sabrina noticed me immediately, sprinting for me.

“Fuck, you look hot!” she squealed, and I was too preoccupied with her to see who was sitting at the bar. “Someone is here to see you!”

I turned to where she was gesturing, and there was Ghost, sitting at a turned around barstool facing us, hands folded in his perfect lap.

“What is he doing here so soon?” I gasped, throat going dry and heart pumping extra hard.

“I’m not sure, but he came here asking about you and I told him you weren’t working. He was gonna leave but I said I’d get you here, and, well, he waited,” her voice sounded extra sweet on the last word, as if she almost couldn’t believe he’d done it. As if it was the most precious thing in the world, and maybe it was.

“You couldn’t have warned me he was here?” My anxiety flared up, and I was suddenly feeling self conscious, worried my dress wasn’t covering me enough, worrying I couldn’t walk well enough in my heels. I wanted his approval, I wanted him to like what he saw, and fear that he wouldn’t ripped through me like a current.

“I told you, you look hot, stop stressing. Now go talk to him!”

I nodded, steeling my resolve and walking his way. He was waiting there, expectant, and I stopped right in between his open legs.

“I heard you were asking about me?” I smirked coolly, more confidence than I actually had dripping from me like syrup.

“Words gets around fast here, huh?”

“What’re you doing back so soon? Not that I’m complaining, I’m just used to having to wait until I’m absolutely desperate to see you and then somehow you pop up.”

“You aren’t desperate to see me now?”

“Maybe a little,” I shrugged dismissively, “You were kind of an ass last time, so.”

“I wasn’t an ass, I was trying to help you.”

“By yelling at me?”

“There you go again, lying. I didn’t yell, I was stern with you. I have a feeling you like when a man is stern with you, so why are you whining?” My cheeks went red, burning with embarrassment.

“You’ve got all kinds of things to say tonight, huh?” I gasped, “But really, what are you doing here? You’ve been sent back already?”

“No…” he started, hesitant to continue, “I had a few days of leave and wanted to come here and check on you.”

The words rolled over and over in my head. He had leave, personal time, and he used it to see me. I couldn’t help but get all starry eyed and cursed myself for being such an idiot.

“Checking on me, soldier? If I didn’t know better I’d think you cared.”

He groaned, eyes rolling and they looked so pretty that way. “What happened in the alley was a lot, I wanted to make sure you were okay, especially after being kidnapped there.”

“It would’ve been a lot if you hadn’t been there, but you were.”

“I was.”

It was silent for a moment, just eyes locked on each other, and I cleared my throat, “I’ve been parking in the lot and not the alley, and I haven’t walked alone once. Just like you said.”

His eyes crinkled like he was smiling, “Good girl.”

My mouth fell agape, and I couldn’t help my reaction to that, squirming just a little, breath hitching. He noticed, eyes widening for a second before falling to their normal spot. He placed his hands on my hips, looking me up and down.

“Who’re you wearing this for, love?” he asked, and I blushed hard. Telling him I had a date would ruin the mood for sure, right? Oh well, it didn’t matter. He didn’t own me, I could do what I wanted to do.

“I had a date.”

“Yeah, Sabrina told me. Was it nice?”

“What do you think?” I huffed out a laugh and he just stared, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“So what was it then? He wasn’t interesting enough for a girl like you?”

“Not nearly,” I pondered for a moment, “And he was a bad kisser.”

I hoped my words would make him jealous but his face was unreadable. “Bad kisser, huh? How?”

“How?” my brows furrowed. Did he really expect me to explain it to him? In detail? That was mortifying but he just stared like he always did and clicked his tongue.

“How.”

“Well…” I tried so hard not to stumble over my words, and he noticed it, I knew he did. “It was… it was too fast, but too slow somehow too. Like he wanted to rush it but even then he couldn’t keep up.”

“Keep going,” he encouraged when I paused, and I sighed, plowing on.

“His mouth was cold. Kisses aren’t supposed to be cold, you know? And it was so wet…”

“Isn’t it supposed to be wet?”

“Not the way his was.”

He grunted, scanning me over again, stopping on my rosy cheeks. “You nervous?”

“N-no,” I stuttered out, feeling scrutinized under his gaze.

“You are.” He sounded… amused? “Guess Miss Heartbreaker finally met her match, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I agreed before I could help myself.

“You gonna sit beside me or you gonna keep standing there? Not that I mind…” His hands squeezed my hips, holding me tight right in front of him.

“I’ll sit,” I nodded once and he let me go, turning away from me, leaving me cold. I inhaled deeply before slipping onto the stool next to him, and Sabrina smirked at me from the other side.

“Here you go, hot stuff,” she handed me what I usually got, a Malinu pineapple, and Ghost snorted.

“I’d think a girl like you would drink the hard stuff.”

I rolled my eyes, “A girl like me drinks whatever the hell she wants. I happen to like it sweet.”

“Yeah?” he mumbled, and the timbre in his voice turned my cheeks red. God, I had to stop letting that happen, I was embarrassing myself. I was not the kind of girl to turn into soup! I needed to remember who I was and… and…

His hand landed on my thigh and my train of thought got lost there. Something about remembering something?!

“You two look cozy,” Sabrina mused, small smile playing about her lips as she winked at us. I just laughed, small and meek, focusing in on the small circles his gloved thumb was rubbing into my skin. Jesus, act cool, I kept reminding myself but to no avail. I was like a girl who’d never been touched or something, desperate and whiny. I wanted him bad and I could tell it was written all over my face by the way Sabrina smirked at me. “You want another one, Ghost?” she gestured to his empty glass. He gave her a small nod and she got to making it.

It was then I realized something. She’d been texting me for about half an hour before I finally responded. Did that mean… did he wait that long, not even knowing if I would show up at all? Not even knowing if I would answer her? My breath hitched once again.

He lifted his mask to his nose so he could take a small sip from his new glass, and I tried so hard not to stare but I couldn’t manage. I wanted any glimpse of the mystery I could get.

“You’re staring.”

“I’m curious.”

“You’re nosy.”

I rolled my eyes, leaning a little closer to him, “You ever gonna show me what you look like under there, Ghosty?”

“No,” his word was flat, with a sense of finality, and I pouted. “Nobody has seen what’s under here, love.”

“Sounds like a lonely existence.”

“Loneliness is part of the job,” he shrugged, taking another sip before putting the mask down. I couldn’t help but notice how much nicer his words sounded when I could see the his lips forming around them.

“Is that why you keep coming back to see me? I make it better?”

“You’re being cocky again.”

“Answer me anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s why,” he grunted, and he was telling the truth. I smirked for a second, feeling like I got part of my power back. “You distract me.”

“So I’m just a distraction, then, huh?”

“No, you’re also a pain.”

I laughed, and we fell into easy conversation. Well, as easy as it can get with him. Sabrina joined in at times, making her little comments about us as always.

“The bar is closing soon,” I sighed as I noticed the clock on the wall.

“Yeah.”

“Guess that means this is it, huh? You’ll go back and I won’t see you again for a while?”

“Guess so.” I tried to mask my disappointment with a smile but he saw right through it. “Unless you want to go somewhere else?”

“Like where?”

“Well… we could go sit on the beach for a while. I’ve done that a few times when I’ve been here.”

I smiled, feeling like I was getting a peek inside the hard exterior. “Let’s do it!”

And we did. We walked the few blocks it took to get there, my heels eventually killing my feet so I took them off. He grabbed them from my hand and carried them for me, leaving no room for debate, and in minutes we were on the sand. He found a bench for us to sit on, brushing the sand off of it for me.

“Thanks,” I hummed as I settled in, and he plopped down as gracefully as a man his size could beside me. He grunted in response, as usual.

“Nice night,” he commented after a moment of silence.

“A little cool,” I shrugged, rubbing my arms swiftly to warm myself up.

“I bet it is, in that dress.”

I rolled my eyes, “What’s wrong with my dress?”

“It’s just clear what your intentions for that date were before you realized he was a loser.”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing. I know you’ve been thinking about me. I know that wouldn’t have stopped you.”

My breath caught in my throat. What an absolute asshole.

“Who’s cocky now?” I huffed, “I have not been thinking about you.”

“Liar.”

My eyes shot up, “You’re the one who keeps coming back for more. I live here. I work here. I’m not choosing this, you are.”

“I never said I don’t think about you,” his voice was low. “I just said you think about me, and you’re trying real hard to deny it.”

I rolled my eyes, “Whatever.”

“Gotta keep that man eating reputation up, huh? You hate that I see right through you.”

“I didn’t come here to be criticized.”

“I’m not criticizing you.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Talking.”

I turned away from him, pulling my knees to my chest, exposing my ass to the world but I didn’t have a care to give. He slipped his jacket off, though, draping it over me, protecting my modesty and warming me up. It was the same one from the very first time I saw him. “Thank you.”

“Do you ever worry that all that teasing you do is gonna piss the wrong person off? Seems like it already has a time or two.”

“I’ve told you before, I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can, darlin’. Just wondering why you do it is all.”

“I don’t wanna be psychoanalyzed.”

“I’m not psychoanalyzing, I’m asking.”

I thought for a moment, “You know? I don’t have an answer for you.” He just stared. “You’ve got your secrets, and I’ve got mine.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

“When you open up some, though, I’ll be happy to spill my guts about what daddy and mommy did to make me this way.”

He let out a light chuckle, and I loved the sound of it. The way it sounded like a secret because he so seldom let it out.

“One day a long time from now, we’ll make it a date.”

As his words settled in, I realized I couldn’t wait for that day to come.

[randomly--accessed--memories]

Went through the RAM playlist and picked out all my favorite lines

I still don’t know who you are / I only know that I’m still lonely / That morbid sort where even company can’t cure me / And the more you reassure, the less I trust - Against the Kitchen Floor

All the king's horses and all the king's men / Couldn't put me back together again - All the King’s Horses

Make me pay for fucking up the rest of your life - AND I’M GONE

Take my identity / All the best parts of me / And mould them into what you want! - Another Tuesday Night

And it’s my problem if I have no friends and feel I want to die - Are You Satisfied?

A prison’s not always a dark place / With grey closed in walls and big loud chains / They can hide in the skin of a home - As Above So Below

Someday I will go back outside and see her, okay - Baby Hotline

Reborn / Reform / Twist my legs to one / And mind to none : Don’t leave me be / I’m a bathtub mermaid / I cannot swim but only sing - Bathtub Mermaid

I feel like / I never knew you / And I never wanna know you again - Better Off Gone

In this case, just won’t you go and please let it be / Because I still won’t be able to say sorry - Breaking Things Into Pieces

Tell me when to drink, tell me when to eat, tell me when to smile, tell me when to breathe / Tell me when I overreact / No, tell me again, please / I love being told what to do, but only when I'm told by you / At least, that's what I used to think, but nowadays, I'm on the brink - Cannibal

Take this pill, you'll feel much better / When you wake up numb and your brain's been severed - Careful What You Wish For

Take a good look this is me / This is what I’ve come to be - The Chattering Lack of Common Sense

They say they wanna help, but they always fucking leave - CODE MISTAKE

When did I become a man / Trapped inside a ghost? / If you could only see me now / I know I'd disappoint somehow - The Comfort of a Laugh Track

You'll be fine you honeycomb / Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so cold? - Community Gardens

I’ve become what you like / I am what you wanted, right? - Copycat

Stay asleep / And blame / Everyone for giving up - Cross

Oh, circumcise my love for you / It's far too vapid and aimless - Cupid

Under my skin, you're unwrapping / All that I am, I swear / I wanted to keep, I wanted to stay / Deep in your head forever / I wanna show you something / Melting through my brain / Every time you're around / You're assaulting me - D D D N N N A A A

Carved right into my head / Quick lobotomy / Then left me for dead - Dangerous

I don't think I know myself, without your help - A Dangerous Thing

Buried in the basement, cold cement / Dead comes talking, can’t put them to rest - The Dead Come Talking

So I’m taking your narrative, and I’m making it mine - The Dismemberment Song

I’m gonna be in love forever cause I’m gonna die tonight : Transformation complete, transformation complete / You are now, as you once were: beautiful - DOGMATICA

Well, who should I be then, if I'll never be the same? - Dr. Sunshine Is Dead

I’m black, then I’m white / No! Something isn’t right! / My enemy’s invisible, I don’t know how to fight - Echo

And so long to the person you begged me to be / He's down, he's dead / Now take a good long look at what you've done to me - Farewell Wanderlust

You hurt me / You hurt me / But it's all okay / Because I love you anyway : I have no clue what you’re saying / I’m gonna lose my mind! - Folie a Deux

I was shown my place, but I didn’t care for it - Gambler

I get to be dumb, you get to exercise control - GIRL HELL 1999

I’m not her / And I’ll never be / I’m just debris - Going Insane

You told me something along like / The lines of “It’s all my fault that you are the way you are” / That is right, it is all your fault / But I hope you just remember that it's not all there is to it - Heavenly You

A vivisection of me / Done by God for all to see - Honey I’m Home

Am I a toy to you, my love? / Just a thing to play and / Then throw away - A Human’s Touch

My love must be a kind of blind love / I can't see anyone but you - I Only Have Eyes For You

Me and the TV are enemies / Sickening static surrounds my mind - I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead

I've got you under my skin / I've got you deep in the heart of me / So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me - I've Got You Under My Skin

You say that I’m better / Why don’t I feel better? - Karma

Do I know who I pretend to be / Of whom am I a copy? - Language of the Lost

I only turned out to be just one more girl you slew - Let the Record Show

There’s an old voice in my head that’s holding me back / Well, tell her that I miss our little talks - Little Talks

You’re just a clown, just a pet / Whispering love yet again - Loveit?

Some moments last forever, but some flare out with love, love, love - Love Love Love

And now, even though you're mad, and these memories won't stay / That's okay / Cause now I get to meet you for the first time every single day - Marbles

Die once every three minutes - Marijuana’s a Working Woman

Doctor, I can’t tell if I’m not me - The Mind Electric

You want a taste of my brain / Okay, it’s yours anyway - Misery Meat

You were never my god - My Creator

The girl is like an architect / And I am just the new invention - New Invention

Please spare me indignity / And won't you please give me some decency? / And won't you please call it if our time is through? / Cause I know that we fall apart when nothing's new - Nothing’s New

I know exactly what’s best for you / I’ve don’t exactly what’s best for you - Novocaine

You're not a coward 'cause you cower / You're brave because they broke you / Yet broken still you breathe : Cause I'm not trapped, oh with you, you see / You're the one who's trapped with me / Cause you are in the earth of me / You are in the earth of me / My head's not yours, it's mine / And I'll take my fucking time / 'Cause I know, I know, I know - The Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace

Novocaine, lobotomize me, teach me how to think - P3T

Safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils - Pet

What’s a pound of flesh between / Friends like me and you - Pound of Flesh

Folded puppets in a chest / Satin, static, lost in manic - Puppeteer

Close your mouth / And your eyes / And your heart / Your new eternity lies with us - Return to the Motherland

I get high to leave all these problems on the ground / Then to my surprise, they're right there when I come back down - Riptide

Look at me, look me in the eyes / Forget yourself, surrender your mind / Right now, you're mine / All mine / Give in, you're mine / All mine - Rule #34

Must be lonely loving someone / Try’na find their way out of a maze - Should’ve Been Me

There's something quite enjoyable when someone is destroyable - Sink or Swim

You hung me on your wall / Stabbed me with your push pins / In public, showed me off - The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

Now it sounds so good to me and it used to sound so good to me! / It doesn't sound so good to me, it never sounded good to me! - There’s Something Happening

This, this, this is not love / I don’t know what it is / But I know this / This is not love - This Is Not Love

You’d say that things have improved, right? - Those Who Carried On

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky / Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life - tolerate it

I know / You belong to somebody new / But tonight you belong to me - Tonight You Belong to Me

So she dressed me up as the man she loved / Then threw me in a box when she had had enough / Now the light of day I no longer see / She stuck her voodoo pins where my eyes used to be / Accidentally tragic / Victim of her black magic / Had a boy once who loved me / Now he's so afraid of me - Toy Boy

The things I see are a dread I must withstand / On my own - Uncanny

I don’t think there’s anyone under your skin - Under My Skin

I wanted someone tall and firm to reassure that I'm doing this right / But it's starting to hurt when you hold me tight - Unreliable

When I'm too far gone / Dead in the eyes of my friends / Will you take me out of here - Watercolor

Stranger things than death can happen / To lab rat girls and pretty white rabbits - …well, better than the alternative

And when you scream, "I'm not alright" / And throw my picture at the wall / You were supposed to be my light / And keep me safe against them all / "How could you leave me here?" you'll scream / And louder, I'll scream back to you from that unknown / And say, "I know you're strong enough, I know you're strong enough / I know you're strong enough to do this on your own” - Welly Boots

Transformation / You've changed within / Some selfish mutation / A stranger I once called a friend - What Have You Become?

My head is spinning, I am beaten in the end - White Happy

Just take me as I am / A memory so vivid / And savor all the parts you can / Cause no one mourns the wicked - Wicked

You don't have to say you love me / Just be close at hand / You don't have to stay forever / I will understand - You Don't Have to Say You Love Me

[spicykaraage]

Tenipuri Complete Character Profile - Masaharu Niou

[PROFILE]

Birthday: December 4th (Sagittarius)

Blood Type: AB

Relatives: Father, Mother, Older Sister, Younger Brother

Father’s Occupation: Company Employee (construction company)

Elementary School: Unknown (supposedly some school in southern Japan)

Middle School: Rikkai University Junior High School

Grade & Class: Third Year | Class 3-B | Seat 14

Club: Tennis Club (Regular)

Committee: None

Strong Subjects: Math, Tube Language [TP]

Weak Subjects: Music

Frequently Visited Spot at School: Rooftop

World Cup Team: U-17 World Cup Japanese Representatives

Favorite Motto: “Riding a black and white horse, I backed up going forward.”

Daily Routines: Preparations and reviewing?

Hobbies: Darts, blackjack [23.5]

Favorite Color: Blue

Favorite Music: Jazz

Favorite Movie: 8½

Favorite Book: The Trickster’s Paradise ➜ To Have an Honest Heart [23.5]

Favorite Food: Yakiniku (beef tail soup [23.5])

Favorite Anniversary: The night of a New Moon

Preferred Type: A person who’s good at bargaining ➜ A person who shows their true face [23.5]

Ideal Date Spot: A beach ➜ Las Vegas [23.5]

His Gift for a Special Person: Puri-lliant moments filled with surprise and delight

Where He Wants to Travel: Casa Batlló

Thing He Wants Most Right Now: Screws and a screwdriver (it’s unknown what he wants them for) ➜ Glow-in-the-dark paint and balloons (it’s unknown what he wants them for) [23.5]

Dislikes: Heat, vegetables [23.5]

Skills Outside of Tennis: Hitting targets, gun-shooting games [removed], katanuki [23.5], coin toss prediction [23.5]

Spends Allowance On: Secret

Routine During the World Cup: Keeping his pockets filled with chocolate and candy

[DATA]

Height: 175cm ➜ 176cm [23.5]

Weight: 62kg ➜ 60kg [23.5]

Shoe Size: 27cm

Dominant Arm: Left

Vision: 2.0 Left & Right

Play Style: All-Rounder

Signature Moves: Trick Play, Illusion

Time He Wakes Up: 6:45am

Time He Goes to Sleep: 1:00am

Average Calorie Intake in a Day: 2000 calories

Favorite Brands:

Racquet: Prince MORE POWER 1150 S

Shoes: YONEX Power Cushion Wide 271 (SHT-271W)

Overall Rating: Speed: 3 / Power: 2 / Stamina: 3 / Mental: 5 / Technique: 5 / Total: 18

Kurobe Memo: “Rather than techinique or play style, he focuses on copying others. When he completely transforms into his opponent, he can make use of his target’s charisma. What a dangerous person he is.” [RB]

[POSSESSIONS]

What’s in His Bag:

Snapping prank gum // Most of his classmates have fell for it

Toy pistol // It’s unknown what he has it for

Bubble blower // People claim to have seen him blowing them on the rooftop

A bouncy ball

A box with something inside // No one knows what’s in it

Sanada’s calligraphy: “Be open-minded.”

What’s in His Locker at the U-17 Training Camp:

Snapping prank gum // He’s challenging himself to consecutively trick people with it

Screws

Bread // To feed stray cats with

Screwdriver

What’s in His Locker [C&S]:

A cube puzzle // Yanagi often plays with it

A snow globe

Oranges he received from an old lady // Given to him for helping an old lady find her lost item. He’d been asked where he got them multiple times, and he finally answered

[1016anon]

Title: Can You Feel the Love Tonight Author: 1016anon Fandom: Bridgerton Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sharma Summary: In which Anthony buys a menagerie (and has to relive the same day).

A/N: No animals were harmed in the making of this fic. :D No research or proofreading was done either. Enjoy!

It is only after ten iterations of repeating the same day that Anthony realizes he's been given what some might consider a gift.  How many times has he gone to bed wishing that he could have done something differently, gone back in time to erase his mistakes, had another opportunity to do it right this time?

Now, he's been given that chance to do it over again.

For example: Miss Edwina said she preferred animals that could curl up in her lap.

Well, the solution to this was simple.  He forewent fencing with his brothers and instead scoured London until he found the perfect gift: a dog.  A lapdog, in fact.  A white puppy thing with... hair.  It had already tried-- twice-- to eat the red ribbon he'd tied in a bow (structurally robust the first time, sad and floppy the second time) and cried pitifully whenever Anthony set it down.

"How much clearer must I be?"

"I brought a gift for Miss Edwina."

There was no way to hold the dog with any kind of dignity.  The creature would not stop squirming and growling at Anthony's hat; it seemed to hold a personal grudge.  He'd hoped to deliver it directly to Miss Edwina's arms so as to witness her delight (and watch Miss Sharma seethe).

(In fact, the sight of Miss Sharma's expression softening-- for just a moment-- into something resembling affection gave him chest pains which could only be attributed to acute indigestion.)

"Take your dog and stop hounding us at every turn."

"I liked your Trojan Horse insult better-- it had more layers, no puns."

"Truly, this is all a game to you."

"I'm not here to play games."

Anthony considered it nothing short of an act of god that the script had not deviated; he was intelligent but she was clever, always ready with another attack.  It was no wonder he'd tried to use Nectar to ward off her barrage.  But now he had the advantage of knowing what she would say next and so headed off her counterstrike.

"And before you accuse me of using Mr. Dorset in a deceitful prank, I apologize for my unbecoming conduct at the races, Miss Sharma.  It was poorly done."

Hah!  He'd caught her off guard, for once.

"For what it's worth, he was interested in you and had planned on calling on you this afternoon.  You should not hold my actions against him."

"I will use my own judgment to consider his behavior."

The dog yipped as though it knew it was no longer the center of attention and licked Anthony's face.  He grimaced when it succeeded once or twice (or thrice); it wiggled and wagged as he tried to adjust his hold.  This only shifted the puppy's focus from his face to his gloves-- his fingers were not chew toys.  A brief struggle; discouraging sounds of distressed leather; a very attentive audience; and-- damn it, he'd just broken the gloves in.  Normally the leather would have held, but the puppy's needle-sharp teeth left at least one small tear and a few impressions.

The struggle was made all the worse by Miss Sharma's efforts to remain stern and hide her smile.  He did not prolong his own suffering just to see if he could make her laugh.  And he most certainly did not find her eyes, sparkling with amusement, mesmerizing in any way.  It was a trick of the light.

"Is Miss Edwina available?"

That wiped the smile off her face.

"She is not.  And we already have a dog."

"Excellent-- the two can keep each other company."

"No, we cannot accept your gift.  Lady Danbury barely tolerates Newton and he's extremely well behaved-- I will not test the limits of her hospitality with a puppy that will chew all her furniture."

"The dog is not for you, Miss Sharma, it is for your sister and therefore her decision.  She is fond of animals, is she not?"

"Do you know anything about raising a puppy, my Lord?"

"I'm afraid I haven't had a chance to partake of the joys such an experience must undoubtedly afford.  Perhaps Miss Edwina can tell me later."

"My sister does not need to tell you later-- I can tell you now," she stepped forward, on the attack again.  "The puppy needs to be watched constantly.  It needs to be housetrained.  You do not even know if it will get along with Newton!"

The puppy in question barked right in Anthony's ear.  It appeared there was only so much time they could spend in each other's presence before it devolved into an argument.

Let the record show that he'd tried.  She was the one who refused to accept the ceasefire.

"Miss Sharma, you act as though I'm a villain for bringing a puppy for Miss Edwina, when it is a gift-- any other woman in London would be happy to accept it!"

"I have never met a man as brazenly presumptuous--"

"Why are you determined to make this so difficult?!  You do not even know me!"

"I am making this difficult?!  You are the one who refuses to listen!"

"Is this about what you heard on the terrace again?"

It always seemed to circle back to that damn terrace.  Why couldn't he redo that day instead?

Her only response was stony silence and The Glare.

Anthony had Complicated Feelings about The Glare.  Many of those feelings seemed to surface at night while he--

No, he was not going to follow where those thoughts led, not when the woman in question was standing in front of him like a pillar of fire wrapped in lilac silk.

Usually by this time Miss Edwina emerged from the house to tell him she preferred animals that could curl up in her lap.  For whatever reason, she did not make an appearance.  Instead, the puppy-- which either had an impeccable sense of comedic timing or a horrible sense of inconvenient timing-- seized the momentary standoff to catch the brim of his hat, unbalancing it enough to topple off his head.  He tried to catch it before it hit the ground--

"Viscount Bridgerton."

Lady Danbury's voice threw him completely off balance; he lost his tenuous hold on the puppy and it lept out of his arms, running straight for his hat, which was now covered in dust.  The tiny creature promptly sank its teeth in and dragged an object twice its size to Lady Danbury's feet.

It seemed very proud of its accomplishment, panting and wagging its tail, barking as it looked up at Lady Danbury, then the hat; at Lady Danbury, then the hat; at Lady Danbury, then dragging the hat again until it was nearly on top of her toes.

Lady Danbury simply gave it the eyebrow of skepticism.

"Lord Bridgerton, I'm sure that Miss Sharma has now informed you that I have no affection for creatures of the canine persuasion," the puppy whined to plead its case; Lady Danbury was unmoved.  "It is certainly a... generous gesture, but I'm afraid that, as the beast would be staying in my house, I will have to refuse."

Miss Sharma easily scooped the puppy up in her arms; the smug look on her face made him want to roll his eyes but he dared not do so in front of Lady Danbury.

"However, I believe Miss Sharma has an invitation to issue?"

Anthony immediately brightened.  Miss Sharma's eyes widened; frowned; protested Lady Danbury silently; was met with The Eyebrow; deflated; became annoyed-- all of this in the span of less than two seconds.

She plastered a smile on her face while saying, "Lady Danbury is hosting a soiree this evening for my sister's suitors" (emphasis on the plural).  "We would be most honored if you would join us."

"I would be happy to attend," he smiled, genuinely delighted to have received an invitation-- however grudgingly given-- directly from Miss Sharma.

"There will be a poetry reading, Lord Bridgerton," Lady Danbury smirked.  "To showcase her suitor's tastes and talents.  Miss Edwina is fond of literature."

With that parting piece of advice, she made a dramatic exit back to the house.

Miss Sharma, unable to allow anyone to have the last word, picked up his hat.  She gave it to Anthony; he was about to thank her and take the puppy back when she promptly put the dog in his hat.  She, too, went back to the house without even bidding him a good afternoon.  To say he was dumbfounded (no, he would not admit to being slightly aroused) was an understatement.

He stood there-- hat in hand and puppy whining-- watching her sharp shoulder blades and the ever-so-slight sway of her hips retreating back, an acute feeling of deja vu descending.

The puppy gnawed on his gloves.

Anthony couldn't quite bring himself to regret it.

--

Even if she hadn't issued an invitation (under duress, i.e. at the behest of Lady Danbury-- Anthony thought they were essentially the same thing), it was a moot point as Anthony had gotten quite good at charming his way past the door.  Regardless of whether he'd been invited or not, Miss Sharma's pinched look of disapproval was the same.  It made him simultaneously gleeful at securing a (petty) victory and disappointed; he'd thought they'd established some kind of puppy-related rapport that afternoon.

No matter.  He was there to court Miss Edwina.  He came armed with Benedict's soliloquy, "What Is It To Love A Woman."

Anthony attributed the sheer awkwardness of the speech to the fact that it wasn't in blank verse, nor did it rhyme.  It had absolutely nothing to do with his complete inability to recite past "to honor her"-- every single time-- without stumbling.

Every. single. time.

He got to those damn lines and reflexively looked up at Miss Sharma to see what she thought, whether she believed anything he said.  Anthony turned to her without conscious thought.  No permission from his higher brain functions.  Despite reminding himself not to look up, don't look up, concentrate on the 'poem,' don't search for her eyes in the crowd, don't do it, focus on his duty, the reason he was courting, only a few words, to honor her--

What made it even worse was that he couldn't remember what he said the first time, after he'd thrown the paper in the fire and declared vague things about Duty and Action.  He hadn't known he'd have to repeat the same day over and over-- it had been embarrassing enough to come clean the first time.  Trying to recreate that success came with widely varying results.  Anthony didn't know why one set of words resonated with his intended audience but another didn't; the sentiments driving them were exactly the same.

Moreover, it was annoying.  He'd made a fool of himself ten times over already and there were only so many times he could give a heartfelt speech before it became a mockery of its origins.  What did the words matter when his underlying motivation began to feel stale-- perhaps even contrived?  The one thing which did not change was the sting of humiliation he felt whenever he looked at Miss Sharma; the ringing silence that filled the room turned into a roar of disapproval-- to know that she'd heard him and still did not believe him.

Given his present difficulties with recitation and the utter futility of his utterances, the remedy was clear: read something else.  An actual poem, probably.

Easier said than done.  Byron was out of the question.  He didn't much care for Wordsworth, Coleridge; he shuddered at the thought of Milton.  Maybe Miss Edwina would like a dramatic reading from a play, something from the Oresteia trilogy.

(Was reading an excerpt from a play where the wife kills the husband after he comes home from war an appropriate selection for a soiree?  For courtship in general?

At least Miss Sharma would appreciate the irony.)

--

"Lady Mary is allergic to cats."

"Noted.  I will try again."

"No, you will not."

"You cannot reject every animal I offer, Miss Sharma.  Sooner or later, I will find something you will accept."

"Good day, Lord Bridgerton."

--

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?  Thou art more lovely and more temperate."

(Absolutely not.  This was the wrong poem for her-- Miss Sharma was the furthest thing from temperate, he would find another poem.

That is.

By which he meant.

For the purposes of courting Miss Edwina, he needed a poem that both Miss Sharma and Miss Edwina enjoyed.  He had to gain Miss Sharma's approval.

That was all.  Really.)

"Lord Bridgerton, I did not know you enjoyed poetry."

"I don't."

"You don't enjoy poetry, yet you recited a poem for my sister."

"This is a poetry reading, is it not?"

--

Miss Sharma immediately freed the songbirds and scoffed when he recited an excerpt from The Iliad.

Miss Edwina was attentive and polite at the soiree, but she was attentive and polite to everyone.

Anthony, who'd unwittingly believed the old saying, "third time's a charm," was discouraged when he woke to the same day the next morning.  It marked the two-week anniversary of what was increasingly beginning to feel like a prison of time.

--

She became furious-- even moreso than when he'd gone to Danbury House with Nectar-- when he brought two rose-ringed parakeets.

He did not know what angered her more: the fact that their wings were clipped; that fact that they probably could not survive in the wild; or the fact that they had been uprooted from India.  Miss Sharma stormed back into the house, after which Miss Edwina emerged.  She accepted the gift with grace, but her soft, subdued voice made clear that she took the birds out of pity for them, not as any sign of favor for his suit.

Anthony skipped the soiree that night.  He wasn't much in the mood for poetry.

--

"Lord Bridgerton, that is not a mere snake-- that is a python.  While they may be non-venomous, they can grow up to 10 feet in length and they kill by wrapping their coils around the animal and constricting it," she raised an eyebrow at his expression of shock.

"You did know this, did you not?  They've killed humans before."

"I--" he looked down at the slim, 3-foot long coiled reptile. "How do you-- Are you sure?"

"I recognize the species.  We have them in India."

Anthony regarded the coiled reptile again, feeling increasingly hysterical; there was a lump in the middle.  A mouse, Lord Conrad-- an eccentric, enthusiastic, apparently amateur herpetologist-- had cheerfully reassured him.

Absolutely nothing you need to do except feed it the occasional mouse and keep it warm.  Personally, I consider them to be fascinating creatures and wonderful to keep as pets-- they practically take care of themselves.  A pity that there is such stigma surrounding them because of all that religious dogma.

In truth, he'd been hesitant to purchase a snake precisely because of that stigma-- in Anthony's experience, people were either unafraid of snakes (Francesca, who'd tried to revive an adder she'd found half dead in winter), or they were terrified (Colin, who'd tried to get rid of the adder Francesca had brought in from the cold).  That they seemed to require very little in terms of care and maintenance had been the main selling point.  This particular species was not poisonous; snakes could be stored on a shelf, off the floor and away from dogs; as far as Anthony was aware they did not cause any itchy eyes or stuffed noses.  Lady Danbury was not afraid of snakes and the thing he'd purchased was rather small; it could stay out of sight and out of mind.

Other points in its favor: it was rare, it was expensive, and it had been advertised as harmless.  Anthony had thought the markings on this snake to be beautiful, in a deadly sort of way.  But not literally deadly.  There had been no mention of growing to 10 feet and killing by constriction when he'd purchased it from Lord Conrad.

Whether Miss Edwina would accept the gift was almost an afterthought now-- the two main hurdles were Miss Sharma and Lady Danbury.  He'd been banking on Miss Sharma to be too proud to admit any kind of fear (if indeed she was afraid) to raise any kind of strenuous objections to his gift.  (It would also hopefully keep her from lobbing all her accusations at him, which in turn would allow him to avoid apologizing.  He knew he owed her an apology but much like his now-abandoned speech, he was tired of repeating it every day.  Offering an insincere apology would put him further out of her graces than he already was.)

Miss Sharma watched his growing horror with increasing amusement.

"You really did not know?"

"I did not.  I would never have--" he swallowed and firmly closed the hamper lid.  "Forgive me, I will trouble you no further."

Anthony seriously considered laying into Lord Conrad, then decided it was best not to offend a man who had several convenient murder weapons at hand.  Instead, he relayed the information Miss Sharma gave and managed to deliver it as though he was doing Conrad a favor.

--

Miss Sharma sidled up to him that night, a sly smile on her face.

"You did not bring the snake, my Lord?" she asked far too innocently.

"Ah, no," he replied.  "Why, did you think I would demonstrate my skill as a snake charmer?"

"It would be quite fitting.  I think you're well qualified-- you snaked your way past the door despite not having been invited."

"I believe it had more to do with charm."

"You think much too highly of yourself."

"So I've been told," he grinned.  "And you, Miss Sharma?  You will not grace the audience with a show of your undoubtedly many talents-- you play the pianoforte, I believe."

She was taken aback.

"How did you know that?"

"You taught your sister everything she knows, did you not?  Given her accomplishments, I can only imagine the breadth and depth of your skill."

"Trying to practice your charm on me, Lord Bridgerton?"

"No," he frowned.  "It was a compliment."

She simply raised her eyebrow at him.

Of all the-- apparently he could not even give a compliment without being accused of ulterior motives.

"Miss Sharma, if I decided to turn my charms on you, you would know."

"So you admit your charms are insincere."

"I did not say that!"

"But it's what you meant."

"You make it sound like charm is inherently immoral when it carries no such quality."

"It is when you use it to make lies more palatable."

"I concede, lies can be made charming, but not all lies are charming.  There is a distinction."

"I did not take you for a philosopher."

"This is not philosophy."

"Then what is it?"

"A defense of my character."

Miss Sharma fell silent and looked at him with those piercing eyes.  It was his turn to raise an eyebrow in challenge.

"Why do you want to marry my sister?" she asked outright.

"I--" don't.

Was on the tip of his tongue and that revelation was shocking because it should have felt more shocking.  Yet it made sense-- these past two weeks, his most substantive conversations had all been with Miss Sharma.  He could not say that his frothy conversations with Miss Edwina during the soiree had any staying power; he could not remember most of them.  He knew what she would say so he found his mind wandering as he made all the right noises in the right places, smiling and nodding while excruciatingly aware of Miss Sharma's gaze aimed between his shoulder blades.

Anthony never thought his interactions with Miss Sharma dry or stale.  They kept him grounded.  Repeating the same day again and again allowed him to make all kinds of mistakes before her, each of which elicited a different response.  There was a kind of freedom to it, a natural honesty.  She was the only vibrant thing in an increasingly dismal timescape.

On the heels of that thought was the depressing realization that the freedom came with a price: she did not remember.  She would never remember.  Not until tomorrow came, and who knew when tomorrow would come?

He decided that was a problem for future Anthony.  Present Anthony had the radical, revolutionary idea that maybe he could just... tell her the truth.  Which was:

"I don't know," he choked on the words.

Truth apparently needed a fortifying glass of lemonade (he would have preferred something stronger) to wash it down.

"Then why are you courting her?"

"Duty," he shrugged.  "I need to marry.  That is what firstborn sons do-- sire the heir and spare."

"You--"

"Miss Sharma," he cut her off.  "I know my words are distasteful, but why do you object so strenuously when that is the reality of marriage among the ton?  I will take care of your sister and your family."

"My sister desires a love match and what you're offering is not love!" she hissed.

"No, you told me she desires a love match-- Miss Edwina has never once expressed that herself."

"So you claim to know my sister better than I do?"

"I claim to know what it's like to want what one thinks is best for a sibling-- one who is my junior by ten years-- and assume they are of the same mind."

They were whispering to each other fiercely in the back of the room while a gentleman danced a jig.

"You cannot attribute nefarious motives to me when I have been exceptionally clear to both you and Miss Edwina as to my intentions.  I have never once promised love and Miss Edwina has never once required it!"

"That is because you act as though you are a man in love!"

"That is not what I am doing."

"You may have declared with words that you eschew a love match, but you have taken great pains to find ways to meet my sister, despite my best efforts and expressly against my wishes.  Your schemes to spend time with her, your deceptions, your gifts-- what else can Edwina conclude than that you are in love?"

"How else am I supposed to speak to her?  She knows I want to marry her-- I declared my intention at the Queen's ball."

"What?"

"I asked her questions regarding her thoughts on marriage, after which I asked to meet your father-- you cannot tell me that she is so naive as to not know what that meant."

"No-- you assumed she understood you were making an offer for her hand because you asked to speak to our father, when Edwina told me after the ball that she thought you simply wanted to introduce yourself.  You never made a proposal, you never asked for her hand.  You make promises without a word, and now you've made her believe you are that much more enamored of her than you truly are!"

"Very well.  There is an easy way to settle this once and for all."

Sending up an uncharacteristic prayer, Anthony marked to the front of the room and usurped some other gentleman's place in the queue.

"Miss Edwina, do you desire a love match?"

"Yes, my Lord," she responded immediately, a frown marring her gentle features.  "I seek a love match."

"I see," he paused.  "Then I'm afraid I will fall short of your expectations."

Miss Edwina's express turned to one of dismay.

"I'm not a man of poetry," he began, addressing her.  "I cannot give pretty words and romantic gestures."

He couldn't help but search for Miss Sharma's intense eyes.  And when he found them-- his breath caught ever so slightly as the bottom of his world fell out.

"Truth be told, I find them to be empty, not unless those words and gestures are confirmed through one's actions.  And I could stand here to tell you differently, I could pretend to be someone I am not-- I could pretend to want the same things as you, but I'd be lying."

Anthony should have stopped there; he should have at least stopped looking at Miss Sharma and instead turned to Miss Edwina, sitting in front of him, not standing at the far side of the room.  Yet he couldn't.

"I may not be able to offer the displays of passion society demands.  But I assure you that when it comes to action and duty, I shall never be found lacking.  And I hope it is those actions which will serve as proof of my intentions, rather than the words of flattery I cannot express."

When he finally looked at Miss Edwina, she looked--

His heart fell.

Because she appeared as Miss Sharma described: in love, with hope-- the kind of hope which was actually a naive form of expectation-- that his words demonstrated more love than he actually had.  The first time it had happened-- that very first time, before he'd been condemned to this cycle-- he'd felt triumphant in victory.  Now, all he felt was a pit in his stomach swallowing him in defeat.

Anthony did the only thing he could think to do in such circumstances.

He left.

--

The next few days were spent in a bedridden existential crisis.

He had been working under the assumption that the day was something to get right, as though there was a correct answer which would unlock the door to the future, grant him the key to unfreeze time.  But that in turn implied some sort of grand design, where life could be divided into right decisions and wrong decisions leading down right paths and wrong paths, instead of what Anthony had learned from bitter experience:

It was chaos.

Since his father died and the weight of the family fell on his shoulders, his life had been divided into decisions which endangered lives and decisions which safeguarded them.

That was all.

No one could predict what events would cascade down in the roulette of terrible consequences and caprices of unforeseen fortune.  If something broke, for the most part it could be repaired down the road-- the repairs might not be easy and they often weren't.  It might not return everything back to its original condition, but nothing ever did.  Repairs did not renew, only restored.  Even so, that didn't mean what was broken could not be repaired in some way, shape, or form.

The sole exception was death; that was the only absolute measure of right or wrong, success or failure.  Anthony still considered Daphne's season as an unforgivable failure not because of Berbrooke, but because it had nearly ended in death-- and the death of the wrong person.

Was there anything really at stake here?  Did lives hang in the balance?

A week ago, he would have answered with a resounding 'yes.'  Lives were at stake-- the theoretical life of his theoretical firstborn son, forced to take on the theoretical viscountcy at a theoretical young age due to Anthony's theoretical death which would take place in the theoretical-- and increasingly unreachable-- future.

For all he knew, his life might be continuing in the normal flow of time and he was trapped reliving the same day because he'd had a psychotic break.  Or he could be trapped in an abnormally long, horrific dream from which he could not wake.  It had happened a few times, when Anthony thought he'd woken but had, in fact, dreamed that he'd woken and gone about his day-- the only indication that he had still been in the dreamworld was that, upon waking (for real), he remembered everyone had ridden unicorns instead of horses and the carriages had giant wings (but not the horses...).

If there was anything this experience had put in stark relief, it was: 1) outside of meeting Miss Sharma and going to the soiree, the time in between was indistinguishable from any other day of his life; 2) the only thing he looked forward to was meeting Miss Sharma because she was the only person who reacted to him as a person, not as part of the house furniture.

Following logically from (1): if the time between was indistinguishable from all the days which preceded it and presumably all the days which would follow (if time ever deigned to restart), then living the same day over and over should not make a material difference to his happiness-- and yet it did.  In other words: Anthony had long been living the same day over and over because he literally began living the same day over and over.  He was invisible in his own family, for whom he lived; it followed that he was invisible in his own life.

Following logically from (2): the repetition was becoming increasingly difficult to bear because every day, he learned more about Miss Sharma while she forgot him.  That thrill he'd felt meeting Miss Sharma at dawn in the park was from being seen.  Her gaze transformed him from a something to a someone.

Anthony was an odd person who combined two things which did not seem to go together naturally: he was dramatic and he was pragmatic.

The drama usually came from facing new situations.  The pragmatism came after he'd sufficiently flailed like a duck with a broken wing.

Now that he'd had his little flail, he got up and did the pragmatic thing:  Spend what could very well be the rest of his life with the only person who made his days flare with color.

--

"How much clearer must I--" she stopped in her tracks and stared at the very noticeable head with enormous eyes poking out of the basket.  "What is that?"

"It's a hairless cat."

"It looks like an enormous rat."

"I thought this would be a good alternative."

"A good alternative to what?"

"You told me that Lady Mary is allergic to cats."

"I remember all our conversations quite clearly, Lord Bridgerton, and never once did cats or Lady Mary feature as a topic."

"Yes, well.  Regardless, I was told that cat hair makes Lady Mary's eyes itch and water.  I have found the perfect solution."

"There was never a problem which needed to be solved."

The hairless cat yawned, the skin of its face wrinkling in fascinating places.

While Anthony thought the cat's wrinkles interesting, he found Miss Sharma's curiosity-- free of her outright hostility-- to be much more compelling.  She watched, mesmerized as the cat tried to free a paw from the pile of blankets in the basket.  When it realized they were staring, it stopped for a moment and blinked at them, ears twitching.  Then the cat visibly wrote them off as unimportant bipeds and continued its efforts to untangle itself.

"Would you like to pet him?  He's quite gentle."

She began to nod then stopped herself and looked at him warily, as though remembering to whom she was speaking.  Anthony tried not to scowl.  He viciously tamped down on the burgeoning feeling of hurt, reminding himself that the weeks which had passed for him did not at all exist for her.

Nonetheless, she reached out to touch; the cat immediately butted its head into the palm of her hand.

"He's warm," she marveled.  "His skin is soft."

"They told me to wrap him in a blanket since he has no fur to keep himself warm."

She nodded.

"Wherever did you find such a creature?"

"With great difficulty."

Miss Sharma laughed, still petting the hairless cat.  It had started purring.

"I brought him as a gift."

She stiffened.

"For you!  Not for Miss Edwina."

Miss Sharma looked surprised, then reverted back to her usual angry suspicion; but he could have sworn that for half a second, she'd seemed pleased.

"Why?"

"To apologize.  For my behavior at the races, yesterday."

"Oh," she continued to pet the cat, uncharacteristically silent.

"I... hope you like it?"

"I do," she replied softly.

The cat's purring became louder as she gently rubbed behind its ears.  Miss Sharma's smile was a thing of beauty.

"I like him very much," she slowly withdrew her hand, "but I'm afraid I cannot accept."

"Oh," he deflated.

Awkward silence.  Neither moved, though they came to an unspoken agreement not to look at each other.  Or maybe that was just Anthony, afraid he would see more distrust in her eyes.

At a loss for words, Anthony turned around and gave the cat-in-basket to the footman.  He was about to get in the carriage when he stepped down again and went up to her.

"May I ask why?"

Behind him, the footman closed the door, presumably having placed the cat-in-basket on a seat.

"I--" she bit her lip.  "I already have a dog, named Newton.  I don't think he will take kindly to another animal in the house."

"Ah, of course.  The infamous Newton."

"He's a bit territorial."

"I don't blame him."

Miss Sharma looked up at him sharply; Anthony, however, had immediately transferred his gaze to the sky, wondering if repeating the same day would cure him of his foot-in-mouth disease.

This whole business of being seen might take some time to get used to.  He felt like he was burning up in the sun.

"Why are you here, Lord Bridgerton."

"I saw the cat and I thought of you," he shrugged helplessly.

Apparently this only made things worse.  Truly, he could never win with her.  Which was probably why he looked forward to his visits so much-- every day might start the same way, but he could never predict her reactions.

"If this is a ploy to gain access to Edwina--"

"No, it is not a ploy," he rolled his eyes.  "You're always so eager to think the worst of me."

"You've given me no reason to think well of you."

"Those words were not meant for you."

"Then who were they meant for, my Lord?"

"I know you've met Fife-- can you blame me for acting precisely as he expected?"

"That is no excuse for speaking of women in such a reprehensible manner."

"What exactly did I say which was so reprehensible?  I listed the qualities I desire in a wife and they are not unreasonable things to ask for.  I'm certain you yourself have a similar list-- just because you've kept your rubric private and overheard mine is no reason for you to act as though you have the high ground."

"No, you did not list what you wanted in a wife, you listed what you wanted in the mother of your children.  If it had been your wife, I would have been more forgiving.  Instead, you spoke of her as though she was only worth the children she would bear-- do not pretend you made that list so that you might have a witty partner-- do not rewrite history."

"But she will be the mother of my children-- of our children."

"You--"

"I do not think you understand this distinction.  If I could-- if it were my choice and mine alone-- I would marry a woman regardless of whether she fits those qualities because I have an incurable habit of falling in love with women who are not considered appropriate for my station.  But because I am the firstborn, because I am a viscount and therefore responsible for siring an heir to carry on the Bridgerton name, I am expected to marry a certain kind of lady."

"Then you would carry on with a mistress after you have children?"

He threw up his hands.

"Is that what you took away from what I just said?"

"It's not a large leap in logic--"

"Perhaps it is not, but unfortunately for me and any future wife, I'm an incurable monogamist."

"That is not something you can know unless you've been married."

"Miss Sharma, I know myself."

"You might fall in love."

"Not possible when I'm already in love."

"With Edwina?" she reeled back in horror.

"For god's sake-- with you!  I'm in love with you."

At this point, they were standing toe to toe, chests heaving because of all the yelling.

"I--" she gaped at him like he'd lost his mind.

Entirely possible he had, but when it came to Miss Sharma, all bets were off.  Before she could regroup to accuse him of another kind of deceit, he simply dragged her to a corner of the gardens which he knew from experience hid them from view (the advantages of growing up with Simon) and just... plastered himself as close to her as possible and breathed in that scent.

From the way she was gasping in his ear and decidedly not pushing him away, she felt the same.

The situation had spun out of control so quickly, but in so many ways it felt inevitable.  They were powder kegs primed to explode-- there was absolutely no path they could take which would not lead to this-- this--

Hunger, was the only word he could think of.

Love, underneath it, but at the moment, just an overwhelming hunger.

"Tell me you don't feel this, Kate."

Anthony's chronic inability to keep his mouth shut led to him falling in the grass as Kate tried (and failed, by his estimation, not that she'd asked for his opinion) to regain composure.

He couldn't say he had a very clear recollection of what followed-- he blamed the fact that all the blood which should have been in his brain had mysteriously vacated the premises to find more immediate and pleasurable locales-- but he did remember outrage and attraction writ large on her face, a very harsh and biting kiss she sprang on him to shut him up (a very effective tactic.  See: aforementioned memory loss), returning to the carriage to the knowing smirks of his footman and opening the door to find:

The cat unraveling a tassel, blissfully ignoring the sheer carnage of everything it had shredded.

--

Lady Danbury looked slightly too knowing when he arrived (ahead of his family, no less) and went straight to Miss Sharma.

Anthony ignored her and instead spent the evening monopolizing Miss Sharma's time and acting like a complete boor by glaring at anyone who dared interrupt.  He'd thought she would be displeased by his overbearing and extremely possessive behavior, only to discover that for all her protests, she liked it.

That was the moment his life changed.

Not the moment he met her, not the moment he fell in love, not the moment he declared his love-- not even the moment he married her or welcomed their first child.

The moment he realized he could have all of her, and she would let him.

--

It was inevitable that at some point, he would run out of animals to give her.  Hamsters, guinea pigs, chinchillas, ducklings, rabbits with floppy ears, rabbits with regular ears, rabbits with one floppy and one regular ear, prize roosters (that was a favorite), seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five gold-fleeced sheep, four calling birds, three french hens, two turtledoves...

"Lord Bridgerton."

"Miss Sharma."

"Would you care to inform me why you had a pear tree delivered this morning?"

"That, Miss Sharma, was so you could place," he presented the cage with flourish, "this partridge in it."

"... why do I get the feeling you're not telling me everything."

"Because you are entirely correct: I am not."

--

As it turned out, after having entertained Miss Sharma with limericks, French love songs, nonsensical stories of all the soirees he'd had the pleasure to attend; then having discovered the revolution of Ancient Indian poetry which was delightfully erotic; he found a poem in English which perfectly described her:

Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies, Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain, In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp, Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears And water'd heaven with their tears: Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright, In the forests of the night: What immortal hand or eye, Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

--

Did he ever question why that night, why that day?

Of course he did.

Did he ever get an answer?

Of course not.

Did she believe his fantastical tale?

Surprisingly, yes.  The reason she cited: he didn't have the imagination to make up such an outrageous story and keep it consistent.  All the details sounded like memory, not malady.

Did they get married?

Of course.

Was their courtship easy?

Of course not.  They were themselves-- both of them obstinate, stubborn, and unyielding to good, plain, common sense.

There was The Return of the Sheffields: Ugly & Uglier.  There was Prince Friedrich Comes to Town: The Battle of Bagshot.  There was That Damn Lady Whistledown, fuck her and the quill she wrote with (now with special features!  Called:  Why, Eloise?  Why?).

Most of all there was: The Fucking Wedding Cannot Come Soon Enough, We Should Have Applied For A Special License, Part 2.

Anthony and Kate couldn't keep their hands off each other.  It required Anthony to exercise his non-existent discipline, i.e. Kate refused allow him to fuck her standing-- they'd done it once and she didn't like the feeling of come trailing down her thighs while dancing a quadrille with his brother; he might have stared at her that night like a concussed squirrel hoarding all its acorns, but Kate found the aftermath sticky and unpleasant.

(Of course, in a move presaging the rest of their lives, they arrived at a compromise: fucking while standing was allowed so long as he ate her out when he was finished.)

Did he ever wake up shaking in fear that he would have to relive the same day-- again?

All the time.  It came to the point where Kate sucked a new bruise into his skin every night, or left a collection of new scratches on his back, or had him suck a new bruise into her skin every night, so that when he woke up the next morning, he would always know whether the day had repeated: he could look at the marks they'd left on each other's bodies.

(Did he try to buy her a tiger?

No.  He was not stupid.  It would have enraged her, to see a tiger chained.)

One night, when he woke up shaking from a nightmare, she asked him-- if he had to, would he do it again?

He didn't hesitate.

"Absolutely."

[bunbeeplays]

The Lemon Legacy: Generation 1, Chapter 93 - Bumps and Biscuits

Ophelia's well into her second trimester, and she's feeling a bit drained.

Ophelia: You are wearing me out, baby girl… But hey, I think I rock this baby bump, don't you?

Xander and Ophelia cuddle before bed when something dawns on them.

Ophelia: We haven't even talked about a name.

Xander: Oh yeah. I keep calling her Muffin in my head, but I don't think she'd love putting that as her legal name on job applications.

Ophelia: We could name her after your mom.

Xander: That's really sweet, babe, but there's a good chance this kid is going to come out with your complexion and I think naming a little white blonde girl Lakshmi is going to look more insulting than honoring.

Ophelia: Fair.

Ophelia: I did have another name in mind, in the back of my head…

Ophelia tells Xander the name and explains the reasoning behind it. Xander seems on board.

Xander: That's a beautiful name.

Ophelia: We can think up a few more options.

Xander: No no, I love that one.

Well, that's one less thing to cross off their list. Tomorrow is the start of Ophelia's third trimester, so they're going to add the finishing touches to the nursery. Pretty soon, their lives will change forever, but right now, they're enjoying this experience together.

The nursery is finished. They maybe went a little overboard with toys for someone that won't be able to play with them for a while, but you only have your first baby once.

Ophelia can't help but sit in the rocking chair and wonder what their little one is going to be like when she gets here. Is she going to be cautious, wiggly, sunny, calm? And what's she going to be like when she's not an infant? Guess that's the fun part, isn't it?

One thing Ophelia does know about her daughter is that she's got one hell of a leg. Pregnancy isn't all lollipops and rainbows.

Ophelia: I love you so much already, kid, but I'm not going to be sad to not have you treating my organs like a soccer ball anymore.

Travis and Becca gifted the future parents a few baby books, so Ophelia decides to read to the baby.

Ophelia: The boy wanted to play with the horsies, but the mean business man wouldn't let him if the boy didn't pay $40. "That's a bit steep for just horses," said the boy.

Ophelia: Do you think our baby will be smart?

Xander: Sure. I did okay in school. And weren't you valedictorian?

Ophelia: I didn't go to graduation after getting kicked out, I think the salutatorian took my place. To be honest, this is the first book I've read since then.

Xander: If our girl grows up anything like her mommy, then she's going to be great all around.

Ophelia: Let's hope the klepto trait isn't genetic.

Xander: If it is, we know how to help her.

Xander kisses the side of his wife's head as she continues to read. Not much longer!

During lunch, Ophelia hits her third trimester. The baby kicks her once again, but this time it just feels kind of funny.

Ophelia: Hey, settle down in there! Do you want Mommy to have a bladder failure?

Marshmallow needs some attention. Not that she'd ever admit it or anything.

Ophelia: Poor baby, Mommy and Daddy have been so busy, haven't they? Maybe you need a little kitty playmate to keep you company.

Marshmallow: an underling? excellent idea, mother.

Ophelia: Sheesh, look at how big I am, Marshie. I'm about to pop!

Marshmallow: are you making yourself appear larger to scare off prey, mother?

Ophelia uses her time before the baby arrives to work on completing her first original song. When she can't sleep because of how much she's aching, she uses the time to slam out some more lyrics. Ophelia's never been one to just sit around and wait for something to happen.

Ophelia didn't get the best sleep last night, but it was enough. She has a craving for sausage gravy and biscuits, so she gets out all the ingredients, only for something to interrupt her.

Ophelia: Uh, Xander? I think my water just broke.

Xander instantly goes into pre-parental panic mode.

Xander: Oh Watcher, okay, we've got this. I'll go get changed, grab the bag-

Ophelia: Aww man, I really wanted biscuits.

Xander: You're in labor and you're thinking about biscuits?!

Ophelia: I can multitask!

As Xander runs upstairs to grab some stuff to take to the hospital, Ophelia pulls some leftover fruit out of the fridge so she doesn't starve to death. It's no biscuit, but it'll do.

Eat up, Feefs! It's go time!

[thoughtportal]

In the final episode of our mini-series Class of '84, we look at two iconic franchises that launched in 1984: Transformers and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. They came from opposite ends of the business spectrum. Transformers was a top-down marketing synergy between American and Japanese toy companies along with Marvel Comics to compete against He-Man -- another TV toy behemoth. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle would eventually rival them in cultural dominance, but it began with two indie comic book creators making a black and white comic as a lark. But Turtles and Transformers both ended up wrestling with similar questions around what happens when you put the cart before the horse in creating content to sell products. Documentary filmmaker Isaac Elliot-Fisher and Cartoon Art Museum curator Andrew Farago talk about the incredible rags to riches story of the Turtles creators, and how success changed them. And I talk with Bob Budiansky, who created many of the original Transformers characters for Hasbro and Marvel Comics.

[airasilver]

This Iconic Indie Comic Is Perfect for a TV Adaptation

BY

TIMOTHY DONOHOO

PUBLISHED 20 HOURS AGO

With comic book and fantasy novel adaptations prevalent on streaming services, a similar TV series for a fantasy comic can finally make it mainstream.

SUMMARY

* Elfquest is a beloved fantasy comic book that has yet to receive a major adaptation.

* The fantasy series is perfect for a streaming TV show that can properly adapt all the source material.

* Conversely, an Elfquest show can expand comic book adaptations beyond superhero properties.

Comic book adaptations are still all the rage, especially when it comes to superhero properties. Beyond capes and cowls, however, several other comics have been translated to the big and small screen in the past few decades. With the success of streaming services as a platform for prestige adaptations, now is the best opportunity for one beloved independent comic book to finally jump beyond the printed page.

Elfquest is one of the most notable and beloved indie comic book franchises, with the series being a major success of the "underground" comic book scene in decades past. Sadly, this hasn't translated into similar victories in outside media, namely TV shows or movies. Though it's yet to be truly used in this capacity, Elfquest can easily succeed in the same way as other fantasy shows.

Elfquest Is One of the Most Beloved Fantasy Comics

Beginning back in 1978, Elfquest (also spelled as ElfQuest) was created by Wendy and Richard Pini. As the name might suggest, the characters are also elves, with the main elves hailing from the Wolfrider tribe. They're actually the descendants of aliens who came to the "World of Two Moons" long ago, with this seemingly science fiction backstory belying a medieval fantasy setting. The main elf at the beginning of the series is Cutter, with several other tribes and creatures seen throughout the stories. Wendy and Richard Pini's comic has had many publication homes, including their company WaRP Graphics. It's currently being released through indie company Dark Horse Comics, though the series' material from before 2014 is available online (in black and white) for free.

Elfquest was revolutionary in many ways, with one of them being the fact that a female creator was the main driving force behind the title. Likewise, it saw major success as a very independent comic book at a time when such popularity was only achieved by the publications of Marvel and DC Comics. The series also utilized themes such as sexuality, race, religion and other concepts in ways that mainstream comics were only grasping at during that time period. Sadly, this has only truly manifested in the realm of comic books, with nary an adaptation of Elfquest ever truly doing the material justice.

There's Yet to Be a Major Elfquest Adaptation

Back in 1982, there were plans for an Elfquest animated movie that was tentatively aimed for a 1984 release date. Of course, this didn't come to pass, and the same happened with the scheduled 1994 movie a decade later. In 2008, it was revealed that Warner Bros. was going to finally make an adaptation of the comic book, though it wasn't known if the project was going to be in live-action or utilize some form of animation. So far, this hasn't manifested either, and it's unknown if WB Discovery still has the rights to do the project.

A potential Elfquest animated TV series wasn't made either, with this project last being explored in 1992. There has been success in the form of tabletop games/RPGs, however, with the medium being perfect for such a fantasy world. Sadly, fans haven't been able to sink their thumbs into an Elfquest video game, with even official toys eluding the series. The biggest outside adaptation was the crowdfunded ElfQuest: The Audio Movie. Between this and the several "filk music" songs geared toward the series, it's proof of how big a fanbase the franchise still has. Thus, it would definitely have a built-in audience if an Elfquest TV series was ever produced.

Elfquest Is Perfect for a Streaming TV Series

In the past few years, epic fantasy has found a new home through various streaming services. These and specialty channels have become the homes of prestige television, which features the kind of storytelling budget and quality largely confined to major movies or classic miniseries'. The first major example of this is inarguably HBO's Game of Thrones, which was based on author George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire book series. Now, it's been followed up with the prequel series House of the Dragon, which is only one of several similar shows that have become varying degrees of successful on modern streaming services.

The Witcher, The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power and The Wheel of Time are other examples of how this genre has found new life on Max, Netflix, Amazon Prime Video and other streaming venues. The main reason is that, unlike movies, this medium can actually do justice to long-form storytelling. Instead of having to cut material from the book to make space in the movie adaptation, these shows can adapt as much of the book as the showrunners choose. When added alongside the higher budgets and increased popularity of these sorts of works, it's easy to make a fantasy show that both looks good and garners a sizable audience. Likewise, utilizing comic books as source material is seen as fairly trendy, though there might need to be a change of pace with these adaptations.

Elfquest Can Expand Comic Book Adaptations Beyond Superheroes and Horror

For the most part, Western and American comic books are largely associated with superheroes. This has especially become the case due to the popularity of superhero movies, namely those in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Those films have turned once obscure superheroes and villains into household names. Amid this success, however, there's been a growing distaste for the genre, including a sentiment of "superhero fatigue." Ironically, darker, more mature superhero shows such as adaptations of the comic books The Boys and Invincible (both seen on Amazon Prime Video) have become all the rage, showing that there's a taste for more adult material.

Long before those shows did so, this sentiment was somewhat proven with the success of The Walking Dead. Adapting Robert Kirman's zombie comic book, the series has been turned into a major television hit for AMC. Needless to say, there's an audience for darker comic book stories that don't involve superheroes, especially if it's a genre that otherwise hadn't had much spotlight as a TV show. This is where Elfquest can thrive, as it's a concept that most don't automatically associate with comic books. By touting this comic book source material, the series can be more easily positioned for success than if it's promoted as simply a generic fantasy series.

As mentioned, the last known home for the Elfquest adaptation rights was at Warner Bros. Now known as Warner Bros. Discovery, this studio has the Max/HBO Max streaming service app. It already has success in the form of House of the Dragon, but another fantasy series (perhaps one that's animated) can use that show's popularity to catapult itself into a sort of "sister" brand for the company. Likewise, adult animation has also become a major draw, especially as anime has reached new heights of international popularity. Elfquest has the potential to become a killer app or at least a beloved series in the same vein as Invincible or Netflix's recent Blue Eye Samurai.

Decades ago, when Elfquest was at the height of its popularity, the idea of more mature audience-oriented animation was borderline unheard of. With anime and other shows breaking these walls down, an animated fantasy series about elves finally has a potential audience. It can finally be the breakthrough adaptation that brings the property into the mainstream, with 45 years being too long for it to remain in relative obscurity. Superheroes may be somewhat old hat, but comic book adaptations are clearly here to stay. Thus, it's time for the Wolfrider elves to finally journey into their own TV show and give audiences a look at what made the series so beloved in the 1970s.

As long as they don't ruin it...

I love the audio movie voice actors. Get them to play the characters and it be perfect.

[let-the-living-beware]

Diabolik Lovers multidimensional Dinosaur AU - Part 5

“Have a good eye on your cousin ok Christa?” the woman spoke. She had a purse in her hand and had a stern expression on her face.

“Sure mom!” the girl answered. The woman smiled and turned towards the door.

“I am very proud of you and Karl. I will be back in just a few hours.” And with that she closed the door.

Christa turned towards the little girl. She was playing a few of her Schleich horses and a small smile came over her. She was so happy that her mom would give her so much responsibility and she didn’t wanna disappoint her. If anything would go wrong, which it wouldn’t she was sure of that, Christa always had her big brother to help her.  She was interrupted by her sister coming downstairs. Her long violet hair was tied up in a curly ponytail revealing the kiss marks her boyfriend, or Ex-boyfriend Christa couldn’t count anymore, left in her neck. She wore a black crop top and a black jean. In other words, she was about to go out.

“Mom didn’t allow you to go out.”

Her sister only let out a small laugh and fiddled a cigarette out of her pocket. “As if I give a shit besides-” She walked towards the door, the now lit cigarette in her mouth. “-if you should tell on me school is gonna be hell on earth for you.”

Christa didn’t say anything after that and just turned around to join her brother and cousin in the living room. She loved watching her play, it was way to cute. Coras birth was the reason she decided to have children herself. She was just the cutest being on the planet.

“Chrisa” the little girl held one of the toys towards her, a white unicorn with a pink mane. Christa let out a little laugh and took it.

“You want to play? How about we play outside. Look its sunny.”

“Outside!” Cora replied and stood up. She still was somehow wonky on her legs as she walked towards the garden. Christa took the other toys and followed her.

Karl sat outside when they sat down in their patio. Cora immediately was busy with her toys again but now with Christa together.

✦≃≂≃☾-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------☽≃≂≃✦

After you returned to base you were immediately brought to Yui. She patched everything and gladly you didn’t have any further injuries like a concussion or something alike. Yuma patiently waited outside and almost scared you to death when you stepped outside.

“Ya good?” he asked after the initial scare.

“Oh yes besides the few scratches I’m all good.”

Yuma wanted to answer you but was interrupted by a little girl.

“Papa!” she shouted happily and ran up to you too. Yumas expression changed from a kind of stoic one to a soft one. The little girl jumped in his arm and was promptly thrown into the air by her father. Her black hair fell before her eyes when she landed in his arms again. You were surprised that they would allow such a young child here. She can’t be older than 6 years, you thought to yourself.

“If it isn’t my little angel. How’s your day been?” he asked and put her hair aside so they could look each other in the eyes.

“It was super cool! I was playing with Laiko in uncle Reijis lab! She showed me something that turned red when you shake it.” She excitedly told him.

“I didn’t know children were allowed here.” You tuned in and smiled at them. Yuma just shrugged and began talking after putting her down to really fix her hair.

“Turn around.” he said and took a hair tie out of his jacked. “Children aren’t allowed but Shus mother is a really high employee at the company that funds all of this and that we are apart of. So, she arranged that for us.”

You smiled and nodded but couldn’t shake that feeling of uncertainty of. You weren’t sure how good it was to have a six year old with you. You couldn’t think about it for long as you were interrupted yet again, this time by one of the soldiers.

“Miss your presence is needed at the main portal.”

“Of course, I am coming.” You turned to Yuma and the girl. “Until later!” you waved and followed the man towards the portal. Before it stood a young man, about your age, with blueish-black hair and piercing red eyes. Reiji, you thought annoyed.

“Hello.” You greeted him and only now did you notice Ruki standing beside him. You gave him a small smile and then looked at Reiji again.

“It is nice to see you again.”

“Yeah, yeah nice to meet you too. So, who are we waiting for?” you could feel how your halfhearted comment made Reiji boil inside. He always was a control freak and manner freak and God how you hated it. Alone by being in his presence you could feel yourself wanting to commit a suicide and he probably wanted to kill you. In short, you couldn’t stand each other.

“Beatrix Sakamaki.” Ruki answered, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air. If only you knew that he knew everything and that he would use it against Reiji or maybe you if necessary.

“So, it’s a control visit?” you asked but didn’t get an answer as a woman stepped out of the portal. She wore a black striped suit with a black blouse under it. You immediately recognized her as Shu and Reijis mother. Even though you had never seen her personally you saw some photos in their house.

She looked around, her heels slightly sinking in the dirt, and you could have sworn you saw a look of disgust on her face. After a short sigh left her mouth, she turned to you and a small smile build as she walked up to you three.

“Hello Ruki, it has been quite some time since our last meet up.”

“You can say that.” Ruki shook her hand and then looked at you wich in return focused her gaze on you.

“And you are? Wait. You’re Socrates child, it’s a pleasure meeting you.” She spoke and held out her hand to you. You quickly shook it, a bit nervous that she recognized you.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

“Well shall we go?”

✦≃≂≃☾-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------☽≃≂≃✦

A slow tune wandered through Reijis lab when Yui opened the door. Mei told her to get something before she could end her shift and accidentally bump into Ayato like every day. If only she knew what but maybe Laiko could help her, she thought to herself and looked around the room. The music was a food indicator that she was in here somewhere and it wasn’t that hard to find her. After all Laiko was strapped to a steel chain so she wouldn’t try to escape. Yui took another look around, this time following the chain and it ended...above her? She looked up and indeed Laiko laid on a shelf that was littered with different flowers. Her eyes were closed and her breathing rhythmic.

“I couldn’t have come to a worse time huh?” she whispered to herself. Since Reiji was showing his mother around the area, she only had Laiko to help her, and she was sleeping. Yui looked at the woman a bit longer. She never realized the dark read feathers growing on her forearms and cheeks, it looked cute Yui had to admit.

“What do you want?” Yui moved a step backwards at the sudden noise. Was she awake after all? She must have been, either way she could now ask her for the medicine.

“Ehm I am supposed to get this, but I don’t know where it is, could you help me?” Yui held the note Mei gave her in Laikos direction. She looked at it and jumped down before snatching it out of her hand.

“Sure,” Laiko stretched with her arms upwards what caused her shirt to move up and reveal her black bra. “, but what do I get for helping you.”

Yui was dumbfounded. It was a simple act of service to help her, she shouldn’t have to give Laiko anything in return. It wasn’t the first time such behavior crossed her, Kou once shouted at her during their first weeks. He had given her a bunch of roses and destroyed them when she couldn’t return the favor. Still she couldn’t understand that line of thinking and she couldn’t really think more about as she realized how Laiko was slowly creeping closer. With every step she took towards Yui, she took one backwards.

“I really don’t know how I could help you.” Yui said.

“Really? Well, I see something.” A smirk formed on Laikos lips, and she grabbed Yuis waist. Whatever she wanted to do Yui didn’t like it and thankfully she was saved by the door opening.

Laikos head turned around. In the door was Reiji together with Ruki and a woman in her thirties or fourties, Yui couldn’t tell.

“May I ask what is going on here?” Reijis eyes narrowed and Laiko let go of Yui, throwing her hands in the air.

“Calm down I was just getting my payment, see?” she presented a small bar of chocolate in her right hand, Yuis bar of chocolate. Ruki shook his head and walked inside. Laiko was now completely focused on the new faces in the room.

“Nice to finally see you Beatrix, not only hear and smell you.” She laughed and took a bite of the snack. Beatrix didn’t even recognize her existence beside a small nod, and it clearly got on Laikos nerves. If you had found out something about her, during the weeks she was kept here, than that Laiko hated being ignored. She was a narcissist, at least that’s what Subaru always called her when he was around. They didn’t stay for long and eventually, together with Yui who got the things she needed, left.

Laiko looked at the door for a while longer, her eyes narrowed. Something seemed of this time, something about Beatrix wasn’t right. She recognized this with everyone, it wasn’t like before.

[pawsitivevibe]

Tom needed room on the shelf for his LEGO advent calendar, so he moved her to the stairwell. And then we ended up buying a nicer frame for her.

She looks nice there. But being so much more visible is also a little bit of a kick in the gut every time. I miss her. Sometimes the grief just hits me really suddenly.

My mom had bought this photo print from a fundraiser at the barn several years ago. I'm glad I remembered I had it, and I put it up after she passed. It's nice to have a printed picture. I should get more photos of her printed.

I finally bought the white stuffed horse I've been hmming and hawing over. No plush toy companies seem to have any really nice horses available at the moment, at least not white ones. I bought one off eBay that I think kinda looks like Mercedes. I would like to hug it sometimes.

I still really want the Breyer model Percheron that's available right now ... But I can't justify the shipping on top of that price, and I can't find it anywhere in Canada with cheaper shipping. Maybe eventually I'll ship it to my American friend's house, assuming it isn't discontinued soon.

I spend a lot of time at work going through the hay sometimes ... No more horses are allowed to get contaminated hay.

[circusgoth-dotcom]

Dolls in Boxes

Ship: None/pre-relationship Karl Heisenberg x Galeus "Gal" Gospium

Word Count: 663

Summary: Gale's origin story! Or, at least, part of it. Subject 199, aka Galeus Gospium, is one of Mother Miranda's semi-failed experiments. Rather than kill it herself, she gifts it to Heisenberg for whatever use he sees fit. While he doesn't think much of Gale at first, little does he know how much he'll grow to care for it. CWs for implied unethical experimentation.

Tag List: @canongf @knightfallships @futurewife

"Birthdays” were not traditionally celebrated by the Village’s four lords. None of them, of course, could even remember past a certain point. Under Mother Miranda’s thumb, keeping an eye on the present and future was far more advantageous. This lack of typical celebration didn’t stop Miranda from surprising one of her "children” with a gift, however. A very special gift.

Karl Heisenberg reluctantly found himself called to his Mother’s stead. What could she possibly want now, was what he thought. Instead, he greeted her formally. "You wished to see me, Mother?”

Mother Miranda, though average in height and face, was nonetheless an intimidating figure. Even more so when one knew what she was capable of. She regarded her "son” from behind a gilded mask.

"Yes. I’ve brought you a gift.” She referred to an innocuous wooden box in the middle of the room, like a coffin without its angles. Karl looked between it and Miranda, rubbing his gloved hands together before spreading his arms wide in an overly grateful display.

"Well, thank you, Mother! That’s very kind of you... might I ask what I did to deserve such a treat?”

She gestured for him to open it and he did so, prying away the solid top to reveal... a figure. At first, he thought they were merely a toy, an innocuous thing made from pale corduroy and thick, cord-like stitching. But a twitch in their eyelids and breast told him this was something far more... unique.

"I know the envy you hold for Alcina’s company, so I made you a companion.”

Envy? Over those bitches? Something’s really fuckin’ snapped, now. Still leaning over the box, Karl responded, "I hate to, as one might say, look a gift horse in the mouth, but don’t you think I have enough, heh, 'pets?’”

"It doesn’t have to be. Subject 199 can be whatever you desire. I know how you love to tinker... so tinker away, Heisenberg. I’m sure you’ll make good use of it.”

He placed the cover back into its groove, his grin steely. "Right. Of course. Thanks again, Mother. I’ll just take it back to the factory, then.” Just what I needed, a goddamn teddy bear. What am I, a fucking five-year-old?

A group of Lycans prowled out from the shadows to lift the box onto their shoulders and backs. Miranda watched as Heisenberg led them from her home, out into the frozen spring. The only time it didn’t seem to snow in the Village was at the height of summer.

The box was opened again in Heisenberg’s factory. Subject 199 still barely stirred, prompting Karl to slap them around the face. "Wakey, wakey, sunshine!”

Finally, their eyes- uncannily human in their fuzzy face -opened and they slowly sat up, gripping the sides of the box with clawed hands as they looked anxiously up at Karl. He had to admit, even if they appeared weak and damn near useless, they were kind of cute... especially the fluffy, bear-like ears that barely stuck up through their nest of umber hair. They wore nothing more than a thin, white tank top and matching underwear.

"Are you... Heisenberg?” They asked once they seemed semi-adjusted to their new surroundings. Karl tipped his hat with flare.

"The one and only.”

"What do you wish of me?” Their nostrils flared and their eyes darted around the room, never settling on Karl for too long. He was already keen on their immediate interest in obedience.

"Well, we’re gonna find that out together, sunshine,” he grabbed one of their hands, hauling them out of the box and onto their feet. Though he didn’t want to hold onto them, he knew they’d stumble if he let go. He pointed toward a side door which opened without prompting. "Go in there and find yourself some clothes... then we’ll find some use for you.”

He shoved them forward and it took four steps for them to catch themself before they stumbled out of the room.

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning!  I hope you slept well and feel rested?  Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. 

Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday.

Russia’s second most popular flavour of crisps is crab.

About a third of British adults still sleep with a cuddly toy.

In 2006, a robot taste-taster confirmed humans taste like bacon.

In 1992, there was a bank robbery every 45 minutes in Los Angeles.

Studies have found that being a ‘bad boy’ is no longer perceived as ‘cool’.

The nickname for Crystal Palace and QPR footballer Fitz Hall was ‘One Size’.

Three-quarters of the murders in Chicago are caused by arguments gone too far.

There is a plan to heat 1600 Dutch homes with the heat emanating from sewers.

“Science gathers knowledge faster than society gathers wisdom.”  (Isaac Asimov)

MTV's show ‘16 And Pregnant’ caused a 4.3% reduction in teen births in the US.

There is a library in San Diego, California where you can borrow taxidermied animals.

J. R. R. Tolkien started writing ‘The Hobbit’ on a student’s exam paper he was marking.

The area of the Pacific where great white sharks hang out is known as the White Shark Cafe.

A city council candidate in Washington lost his election by one vote.  He didn’t vote for himself.

There are 93 penises on The Bayeux Tapestry.  Five of those belong to men and the other 88 to horses.

People think about you more than you think they do but they also like you more than you think they do.

New research shows that placebos are effective in reducing feelings of guilt, but they work less well on shame.

Some corrupt Mexican police are now using card terminals to make collecting bribes at traffic stops more convenient.

The Pogues were originally called ‘Pogue Mahone’, which was from the Gaelic phrase ‘póg mo thóin’ meaning ‘kiss my arse’.

Scientists in Singapore have developed a tiny flexible battery, powered by the salt in human tears, designed for smart contact lenses.

The British royal family has an estimated net worth of $88 billion.  Saudi Arabia's royal family has an estimated net worth of $1.4 trillion.

In 1991, Swedish firm locum sent out Christmas cards to customers but substituted the ‘o’ in their name with a heart symbol.  (Think about it.)

Earlier this month in Halifax, Canada, a 220-tonne house built in 1826 was moved over 9 metres from its site using a steel frame and 700 bars of soap.

In 1921, Wisconsin became the first state in the USA to officially give women equal rights with men, including the right ‘to wear trousers and chew tobacco’.

Apple have been granted a new patent for a smart ring that can be worn on a user's "wrist, arm, leg, ankle, neck, head, and/or other body parts."

The Great Male Renunciation is the term historians use to refer to the period at the end of the 18th century when men stopped wearing bright colours.

In the latest Ridley Scott film, Napoleon is played by Joaquin Phoenix who is a vegan.  Because of that, all the Napoleon’s hats shown in the film are plant-based, made from tree bark.

The record for the most Big Macs consumed in a lifetime is held by Donald A. Gorske, who ate his 27,000th Big Mac in 2019.  He has been documenting his Big Mac consumption since 1972.

There’s a village in Montenegro that holds both the World Championships Of Laziness (lying on a mattress for the longest time) and a slow bicycle race where the winner is the last to finish.

In the 1980s, the transit agency in the San Francisco Bay Area awarded a contract to repair vandalised seats to one company.  That company then started paying people to vandalise more seats.

40% of people shown a photoshopped image of themselves riding in a Viking ship as a child claimed to remember the (fictional) incident.  This replicates a similar experiment from 2002 involving a fictional balloon ride.

In a 1960 Danish football game, the ref was about to blow the whistle when his teeth fell out.  While looking for them, the trailing team equalised.  Once he found his teeth, he cancelled the goal and blew for full time.

When Lawrence Sperry crashed his plane in 1916, he was found naked by duck hunters alongside an also nude Mrs. Polk.  They claimed that the force of the crash had stripped them of their clothes.  (Really, mate?)

The UK government recently changed the law to ban company names containing computer code, after Michael Tandy of Hatfield registered a company called “; DROP TABLE “COMPANIES”; — LTD,” which could theoretically erase the Companies House database.

Okay, that’s enough information for one day.  Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday!  I love you all.

[flimsy-roost]

the Barbie movie has a lot of people sharing barbie doll stories from their childhoods, and honestly they're all hilarious, please keep them coming forever.

I had a couple of barbies as a kid because they were gifted to me by relatives that didn't know me well, and I think I made a few attempts to play with them because that's what was expected of little girls™ at the time, but my heart wasn't really in it. the funniest memory I have was at one point giving them all gnarly haircuts to see if I would like them more (I didn't). I had a little kid's set of drawers with the days of the week on them that sat on the bathroom counter, and I believe to this day "Sunday" is full of doll hair.

instead, I went down a mini rabbit hole of tracking down the source of my barbie equivalents, with whom I would reenact sordid high school/family dramas.

in several smaller toy stores in the San Francisco Bay Area, there used to be multi-shelved white racks standing alone at aisle caps, filled with little plastic figurines of animals, dinosaurs, fantasy/fiction tropes and creatures, and what I later (ie today) learned were historical figures. getting one or two of these figures was my childhood bribe for being a Very Good Kid whenever I ran a full afternoon of errands with either of my parents. I believe that there were multiple companies that stocked their figurines in this display, but I could only track down two that I recognized: Plastoy, a French toy company which has since been acquired and is now barely operational as a separate entity, and Papo, also French, who appear to still be shipping to resellers.

no locations in California show up on their distribution list, so I assume they have either stopped supplying there (boo of true), or they had always been (and may continue to be) be supplied by middlemen importers. let's take a trip down memory lane to revisit some of my old "barbie" equivalents:

Caesar+horse: often the dad character in any scenario because he kind of looked like my own dad

Templar Knight: secondary boyfriend character, paired off with secondary girl/bff character, who I can't find but can best describe as a bikini barbarian

Two headed dragon: two-headed dragon!!!!!! sometimes wise mentor, sometimes cool big Dogge, but most often literal threat of Big Ol Two-Headed Dragon!!!!!! (I also was into dnd as a kid so I valued the ttrpg roles of a lot of the fantasy creatures)

Red Catapult: this ruled!!! bad boys and girls get shot down the stairs as punishment!!!

Princess Sophie: popular girl trope. sometimes "mained" by a friend who came over to play sometimes because she was also blonde.

Red dragon with flame: big dangerous doggy, somewhat akin to Dino in the Flinstones

Merlin the Magician: Merlin the magician, I knew who Merlin was thank you very much, I had Sword in the Stone on VHS!

Red Barbarossa: I forget, possibly a teacher?

I had a fuckton of these (and probably still do somewhere in my childhood bedroom/my parents' garage), but without being right in front of them, there were a few more significant ones that don't appear to be papo-produced and that I can't track down:

girl with a sword in battle stance, dark green pants (and possibly top, making it a medieval jumpsuit??), and a long flowing white wimple. she may have been marketed as Maid Marian. she was the one that I "mained"

aforementioned bikini barbarian, in wide-leg battle stance, brown hair, bikini-like leather-looking top, either leather or chainmail booty shorts, calf-length leather-looking boots, may have been holding a spear, sword, or flail. she was my best friend character.

hunched-over ogre, looked more annoyed/disappointed than angry/coming to Get You, may have had a long staff/walking stick. alternate dad/teacher character.

please lmk if you might know where the three mystery figures above came from, or if you also used to play with these and have tales to tell. also if anyone has an explanation for why there were at least two French toy manufacturers that made kids fantasy figurines that absolutely slapped.