#yeah sometimes spirits and even patrons just pop in sometimes

[iolitemoth]

Moth’s FanClan Rehaul Part 3

This one I had a bit of trouble with, and it might not make complete sense... but you know what? I can always redo it

Under a readmore again to keep from taking up the whole screen

Part Four: Connection with Ancestors and Sacred Things

Moon Pool Equivalent

Each clan seeks to connect with their ancestors slightly differently, but an important location to all of them is something they call the Star Pool, a small body of water that seems to shimmer with the light of the stars. Hidden in a hard-to-find cave between OrchardClan and StreamClan, cats travel here to speak with their Ancestors and sometimes even Spirits or Patrons. A small opening above the pool allows light in and provides a way for spirits to enter and exit.

Sacred to Each Clan

I. StreamClan

To StreamClan, water has been an important part of their lives form the beginning. With their camp next to a clear-running stream and the ocean always in sight, StreamClan cats are surrounded by this element from birth.

Its not exactly explicitly sacred, as plenty of other things + creatures use water for a variety of purposes, but this clan holds it a bit higher In regard than most. Water is used for a number of rituals + practices. Bathing is done in a shallow, slow-moving part of the stream, and often as a community. Healers use water for communing with spirits and cleansing wounds, bodies, and ingredients. Water features heavily in many of their stories and songs, and they look up to the Patron of Water and similar spirits.

Many StreamClan cats collect things related to water: shells, seaweed, fish scales, waterweed, etc. These objects are used to decorate nests, dens, and sometimes the cats themselves. They are also often used in ceremonies.

II. OrchardClan

To this clan, nature is to be respected and revered. Trees, flowers, anything that blooms is especially loved. They watch over the trees in the orchard where they live, with old trees cared for meticulously. Very old trees, like those surrounding the camp, are given thanks for their long protection and giving to the environment. When trees die, there is a special ceremony/ritual to give thanks and make sure its’ leaving is peaceful. This varies depending on what caused it- fire, lightning, rot, etc.

Fruit is saved for special occasions, with rotten fruit set aside/left for the bugs and other decomposers. Some fruit can be and is eaten when rotting, as the effects can be considered desirable or entertaining. Such activities are restricted to specific celebrations, only for older members of the clan, and strictly monitored. (No matter how funny it might be to watch the cats around you get rip roaring drunk or high as a kite, there’s still a chance things could go seriously wrong, so medics are always somewhere close by.)

Pollinators are considered especially important, as they help to ensure new growth and the continued spread of important plants. When pollinator season rolls around, the clan is careful not to disturb them. Even so, cats are often found watching the insects go about their work, sometimes for hours.

III. EarthClan

EarthClan is similar to OrchardClan, though they tend to focus more on the earth itself. Most of the tending they do is on the hedges and other plants surrounding their camp. Instead, they tend to collect stones (& sometimes cool sticks). These are often arranged in patterns or stacked around the camp and territory. Some cats like to put them around their nests. The large standing stone towards the back of the camp, where announcements are made, is decorated with leaves, berries/berry paint, other rocks and basically anything a cat thinks will look cool or is spiritually significant. There are generations of decorations and designs; anything that gets worn or washed away is replaced by something new. It’s common to see a cat (or a few) by the stone, reading the stories and history upon it or adding something of their own.

Stone markings and formations decorate the forest where EarthClan makes their home. Some of them are graves, others places where spirits like to hang out. ...Some are there because somebody had an idea and decided to fulfill it wherever they happened to be at the time. This makes for a lot of interesting pieces. Old formations, those that have grown over or fallen apart, are left alone, never touched unless specifically told to.

IV. WildClan

Above all, WildClan appreciates freedom. To them, animals like birds, flying insects, or anything that can jump/fly/climb/run/swim out of reach is the epitome of free. Having space to run, climb, or swim is where they feel the most at home.

Feathers, bits of fur, sometimes antlers or bone- basically, anything that was lost or left behind naturally is free to take and use. These are often arranged in simple patterns around the camp or territory. Some, made of more sturdy materials, can be found on the walls of their dens- though not in the nursery or apprentices’ den, so as to minimize the risk of things falling or coming apart.

WildClan cats love the open sky, and paired with the expansive grassland that makes up a good portion of their home, it gives them the feeling of total freedom- no boundaries or obstacles (though some are fun and make a good challenge) to keep them in one place.

[nctsworld]

spin me right ‘round

✩‌ johnny ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ record store owner!johnny | fluff | smut | 4k‌ ‌

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ buying from the local records shop leads you to eventually bed the hot owner on the night of your first date.   WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌smut (in the second half), oral s*x (f and m receiving), f*ngering, johnny has a big d*ck and f*cks you hard???, office s*x in the epilogue (kind of) RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen​ @sehunniepot​ (thought you might be interested in this nikki 👀) 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit! 

Opening the store’s door, the ringing of the bell above you signals your entrance. 

You moved into the neighbourhood recently and since someone gifted you a record player for your last birthday, you thought it’d be a quaint idea to drop by the local records shop that you always pass by on your way home.  

Rows and rows of vinyl records, organized both alphabetically and by genre, welcome you with open arms, along with a faint musty smell, likely due to the faded, vintage records hanging between the posters on the cream walls. 

The outside of the store is misleading to its size; there’s enough space here for at least thirty people easily. However, besides you, it looks like there’s only one other customer in the shop.  

Although your surroundings captivate your senses, the striking blond man bent over the rock section in the middle of the shop is the true cynosure of your eyes. 

His long fingers flutter seamlessly over the records, seeming to be on a dedicated search to find one in particular. He towers high over the low stacks and oozes coolness with a thumb stuffed in his front pocket and donning a stylish green beanie atop his medium cut locks. 

Not to mention that his jeans tug perfectly over the curvature of his prominent ass, but you merely steal a glance or two at his backside as you stroll towards the pop section. 

Okay, maybe three glances.

With your back facing the man, several minutes pass as you rummage through the sea of mainstream music, ranging from recent to old, but all the while pleasing to your tastes.  

“See anything you like?” 

Your eyes meet the figure standing nearby with a hand on the edge of one of the stack dividers. His smooth voice matches his strong aura and his gorgeous face, which you’re now blessed to be viewing up-close. 

Your gaze pursues downward, soaking up his sturdy frame hidden behind his flattering clothes. Darting your eyes up his lengthy body back to his face, you lick your lips and swallow, in hopes to dampen the sudden dryness in your throat, and naturally raise the corners of your mouth.        

“Yeah—” You, you think in the back of your head and execute a nod, “—there are a few things.” 

He smiles endearingly towards the floor before glancing back up to you. You wonder if he can read your thoughts, or maybe it’s simply written all over your face.

Releasing his grip, he says, “Take all the time you need. If you need any assistance, let me know." 

Your eyebrows perk up in realization. “Do you work here?”

“Yeah.” Bobbing his head, he runs a hand over his beanie. “I’m the owner of the store.”

“Oh, wow,” you exclaim, jaw hanging slightly. “You’re so young, I wouldn’t think someone in their 20s would have their own store, especially one like this." 

A frown falls over his face, and in that moment, you knew you fucked up any chance you had with him.  

“Yeah, 26 to be exact,” he shrugs, tight-lipped, prior to the folding of his arms. His eyes become slits of bitterness. “Thanks for the ageism."

Immediately shaking your head at the misunderstanding, you stammer, “I didn't mean it like that—"

The owner’s expression melts in an instant and a warmness emanates from him once more. The knot in your chest loosens at the sight and relief waves over.  

“I'm just playing with you, don’t worry." 

He opens his mouth, about to continue, but his attention is interrupted by the ringing at the door, and you turn to see another customer over your shoulder. The attractive individual begins to stroll over, but still faces your direction, beaming. 

“Well, if you decide to get anything, you know where to find me, and I'll ring it up for you." 

With puffed cheeks, you nod and watch him greet the incoming patron. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind you, you shift toward the records again and browse for a little longer. 

Finally deciding on a few choices, you walk toward the front register and peer over at the beanied blond. In the classical section, he’s listening intently to the bumbling customer. Not wanting to disturb them, you lay the vinyls on the counter and thankfully find a pen and a stack of sticky notes upon it. 

After sticking the following note on the top vinyl cover, you head out of the store:

“Put these on hold for me?  I'll be back for them.  Thanks!  -Miss Ageist” 

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Judgmental."

A couple of days later, you drop by the store again and find the spirited owner at the front counter. Today, he’s channeling his inner grunge style, adorning a half-up, half-down ponytail and a loose white t-shirt over a tight, long black sleeve shirt. Is it possible for him to look even cuter than he did last time? 

“Sorry again for that,” you scrunch your nose at the memory. He grabs your records from beneath the counter and rings them through. “You just look so young to own a store.”

The blond airily laughs, “I'm gonna take that as a compliment." 

He spots you twisting your mouth to one side and nodding shyly. “It is." 

As you pay for the items, he gestures to your vinyls on the counter. “Good choices, by the way.”

“Are there bad ones?” From the pay pad, you glance up at him and he’s feigning a hurt look. 

“Oh, most definitely.” 

You banter with a tilt of your head, “Isn't music subjective though?” 

“Not to me. I am the king of music taste." 

Both parties exchange laughter while you wait for the transaction to process. Once it finishes, he rips the receipt and places it into the bag with the records. 

“I mean, I do own a records store, so I think I should know." 

Flashing you his pearly whites, he hands the filled bag over to you. 

“Here you go, Miss Judgy Pants.” 

“Actually, you can call me—” You properly introduce yourself.

He leans back a little, straightening himself and tucking his thumbs into his pockets. 

“I'm John, but you can call me Johnny." 

With a glimmer in your eye, you question, “Is Johnny exclusive to me, or does everyone else also call you Johnny?”

His eyebrows raise, impressed by your straightforwardness. “I only let the pretty girls call me Johnny, if that’s what you’re asking.”  

The wink he gives is short-lived, but it’s enough to cause heat to blossom over your cheeks. You brush some hair behind your ear. 

“So, Johnny,” you enunciate, indulging in his name. “When does the store close?” 

You lift up your bag and cheekily add, “Gotta know when to break in to steal more vinyls." 

Johnny chuckles, and your heart bursts knowing you’re the reason behind it. Looking aside, his hand rubs the counter casually and you can’t help but stare at his large palm dominating the surface, along with his elongated fingers. Eyes blinking rapidly, you attempt to break the fantasy assembling in your brain—his hands are the guest stars alongside (and within) your body in the leading role. 

“I can close whenever I want to, but thanks for the heads up; I'll make sure to keep you away from the store,” he jokes.  

Catching your gaze, one of the sides of his mouth lifts. “Why do you ask?” 

Shrugging nonchalantly as you play with the handles of your dangling plastic bag, you reply, “Just wanted to know when the cute worker got off so I can potentially go on a date with him.” 

You scan around as if someone else is there in the empty store besides the two of you and point your thumb to one side, whispering teasingly, “Not you, but the other guy.” 

His tongue grazes against his bottom teeth, nodding understandingly with a deeper smirk. “The store closes at nine usually, but I can make an exception for him to get off earlier." 

Satisfied with Johnny’s answer, you bounce your head and make your way backwards toward the door.

“Sounds good, I'll be here at eight for him tomorrow night. Maybe I'll see you around then, too.” 

Granting him a wink of your own, you turn on your heels and leave. Intrigued, Johnny watches you disappear down the street through the store window. 

At 7:58 the next evening, you show up to the store. 

A customer is at the front counter finishing a purchase. As they pay for the products, the worker takes notice of you, smiling in recognition. You return the same, beaming back at him, and casually stride over to a random section to wait until they’re done. They make some small talk, so you delve in the opportunity to admire Johnny’s outfit for tonight—a tight black t-shirt that showcases his blatant pecs and a loose red plaid shirt overtop of it. 

When the customer exits, you make your way over to him as he puts on a light jacket. You lean your elbows onto the counter. 

“Surprised to see you here.” 

“Likewise," he jests back, snaking out of the counter to be in front of you. You glance at him, consuming the tall drink of water.   

Nodding to the door, you ask, “Ready to blow this popsicle stand?” 

Johnny hums affirmatively and you follow behind him outside as he flips the open sign and locks up the store.

“So, where we heading off to?” 

Informing him of what you had in mind, the two of you decide to take his car to the downtown pier. Once there, both of you grab take-out and eat together at a bench table under the clear sky and dazzling stars. Conversation comes easy, making the night fly by fast. 

While talking with him, since his hair flows freely today, he sometimes shyly brushes some of it behind his ear. Although you’re listening intently, you also ponder how it’d be if you ran your fingers through his soft, silky locks. 

Dinner eases into dessert, with the two of you having ice cream side by side on the pier railing, looking out towards the twinkling water. By the time you’re halfway finished with your cone, you hint at not wanting to end the night just yet. Agreeing with your sentiments, Johnny makes the suggestion of going back to the store. 

After finishing the ice cream, you head together back to his car. The back of your hand brushes up against his. Taking a chance, you curl the tips of your fingers around his, half-holding his hand.  

Pressing up against his arm, you whisper, “Thought you said you gotta keep me away from the store."  

He peers down at the partial hand holding and the grin he gives you reaches his eyes. He gives your hand a small squeeze, ensuring the burgeoning attraction is mutual. 

He whispers in reply, “At least this way I can keep an eye on you." 

At the shop, Johnny locks the door from inside, in case of any wandering bodies, and blasts some upbeat, electronic music onto the store speakers. Intercepting your hand, he guides you to the back corner of the store and starts to dance with you. 

At first, your bodies are separate vessels, grooving to the beat of the music, but as the songs play on, you gradually gravitate towards each other. Soon enough, one hand settles comfortably upon your waist, the other on your hip, while yours are hooked around the nape of his neck. Before you know it, you merge together as one with parted lips, finally satisfying the tension in the air and within your bodies.       

The kissing is intense, electrically charged and sending currents to the tips of your fingers. Although you’re barely acquainted, you two kiss like you’ve been deprived of each other your whole life—every kiss and every touch quenching your thirst for one another.  

Wanting to change it up, you step over to an empty counter and hop onto it. Johnny steps in the space between your legs and his lips meet yours again. You cup his face, clutching onto his strong features, and occasionally run a hand through his hair to caress his head. 

You answer inwardly to your previous thoughts, confirming the silky texture of his hair, and your touch relishes in his golden locks.  

Suddenly, his mouth channels hunger onto your neck and the electric currents divert directly to your rising arousal. At the sensation, you rashly grind your hips into Johnny’s body, and he groans heavily in the crook of your neck.  

He mumbles into your skin, “Do you wanna take this further? My place is nearby." 

Sighing further into his embrace, you half-jokingly reply, “You know, I was really looking forward to getting fucked in a records store." 

He easily breathes, “We can do that next time, I promise." 

You snicker. “Aren’t you a little presumptuous?” 

Tugging his shirt by the neckline, you force him to leave your neck and to greet your mouth instead. Pressing the top of your forehead against his, you match his gaze.   

“And what if I don't like you after tonight?”  

Something in you already knows that won’t be true, but you mischievously ask regardless. 

The simper Johnny flickers is enough to send another wave of bolts downward to your core. 

He peels his head away to bring it beside your ear. His thumb on your thigh may be gently rubbing you, but his following assurance is hoarse, absolutely drenched in pure lust.  

“Oh, you're definitely going to like me after all the things I do to you tonight." 

You barely have an opportunity to scan around his bachelor pad because his lips capture yours upon arrival. In his entryway, Johnny entangles with you, pushing you up against the wall. Impatiently, he drags you to his bedroom for the long-awaited spectacle of the night. 

After hurrying to turn on his bedside lamp, Johnny presses his weight against yours on his bed, embracing the full body contact. His lips continue to attack the terrain of your skin as he denudes you. You hum softly as he pursues south to your aching desire. Hoisting your backside and with his assistance, you’re finally completely bare. 

Sitting up at the edge of the bed, Johnny pulls his top layers off, revealing a sculpted physique, the kind that artists muse and obsess over. You knew he was fit from how his clothes constantly hugged his body, but this was just insane. 

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, staring blankly. 

Chuckling, he does the same bashful gesture from dinner—tucking some of his hair behind his ear. The gentleness is a contrast that nicely compliments his Adonis qualities. His soft side is flipped onto its backside in a second as he begins to creep his way over between your legs, his eyes darkening. 

Upon resting on his chest, you didn’t notice it before, but there’s a hair tie on his wrist, which he uses to effortlessly make himself a quick ponytail. 

With anticipation, you sigh into the kisses he leaves on your inner thigh, making his way toward your pulsing sex. When his tongue issues the first swipe, you inhale sharply with fluttering eyes. Johnny isn’t in a rush, taking his sweet time to lazily lap up your slick and learning what incites you.           

Once he has a better understanding of your desire, he dives in and devours you whole. 

Realization sweeps over as to why he has to put his hair up.

In accompaniment to the painting of your folds, Johnny spreads them gently and ensures he dunks his tongue in your wetness. One of your hands drift away from the bed sheets to one of his snaked around your upper thigh, clutching onto his fingertips in reaction to the swift rotational swirls on your raw flesh.   

He draws back, lips lustrous from your nectar, and hastily replaces his mouth with two fingers.

Your half-lidded eyes shoot wide open. His long, thick fingers fill you greatly, scissor you so far in your sex, so much that you fear what his cock is like if this is how his digits feel. 

You’re overcome with bursts of pleasure. Further bursts ensue as Johnny tongues your clit alongside the fingering. Your throaty cries and the squelches of your pussy is melodious to his ears, better than playing his favourite vinyls on the best record player he owns. The lewdness of it all overwhelms his jean-bound arousal, so Johnny retaliates by grinding against the bed.  

After Johnny retreats, he stands by the foot of the bed and starts unbuckling his belt and pants. You crawl your way over, still panting and reeling from the rush of your high. As you reach him, he drags his pants and boxer-briefs towards the floor in one-go, freeing his unsurprising lengthy girth.    

On your knees, hunched over his cock, you chuckle in disbelief. “Now that’s unfair.” 

He watches in amusement as you examine his desire with delight, before taking it into your hand, pumping it languidly. “What is?” 

You peer up, cocking an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re hot, own a record store, really funny, and you’re packing. God really has his favourites.” 

Johnny’s about to respond, but his brain short-circuits momentarily at the pad of your thumb rubbing his precome over the tip of his blunt head. He cranes his neck back, exhaling a groan. 

“Well, what can I say? Guess I’m just-fuck—” 

You suck the words out of him. Literally. 

Your warm embrace encompasses his entirety, possessing a strong hold over him. Since you can’t possibly take him fully into your mouth, your fist solves your problem by stroking him by the base. Aiming to please, especially after his oral act from earlier, you slurp and bob your head mercilessly, disregarding the saliva leaking down the sides of your mouth. 

One of Johnny’s hands arranges your hair in a make-shift ponytail to get a clearer view of the obscene display. His hazy eyes skim over the gorgeous curves of your bent back and ass jutting high up in the air. His breathing turns heavier and he’s about to tug on your hair, motioning for you to slow down, but you thankfully come up for air just in time. 

The stately figure attacks your lips with urgency. The kiss is wet and messy from going down on one another, but it merely adds to the intensity. While lip-locked, he lowers you into his pillow once more, then stretches an arm out to his bedside stand to fish out a condom. 

He nimbly rolls on the cover, but is confused to find you back on your knees instead of laying on the bed. You grasp him by the wrist and press your fingers against his firm pecs, indicating to him to recline backward. In awe, he obediently obliges. 

Hovering over him, you suck in a breath as you line your sex up with his, cognizant that you need to acclimatize to his size. You steadily sit onto his length and when it finally reaches the end, you release a piercing groan at the deep sensation.

For a bit, you don’t move too much to get used to his great desire. In the meantime, your fingers wander over the chiseled flesh in front of you—his defined, veiny arms; his solid chest; and the valleys of his abs. 

Once you think it’s been enough, you transfer more weight onto your knees and slide on his cock with more vigor. You throw your head back in pleasure. 

On the other end, Johnny’s gaze wavers between the main action, your bouncing breasts, and your supple neck. He can’t see your face clearly, but he knows you must be enjoying this as much as him by the breathy moans that follow each thrust.    

When your legs start to tire, Johnny tries to hold you close and roll you over onto your backside. You both giggle at the unsuccessful attempt to keep himself still inside of you, but that’s an easy fix. Despite just having him within you, you gasp again at the penetration. Him being on top hits you at a different angle and you truly feel the length of his inches. 

Johnny reaches down to meet your lips. You brush your fingers over his pulled back hair as he consumes your existence. In addition to each passing drive of his body into yours, you also grip harder onto his hair in ecstasy, which leads to the unraveling of his long locks upon your face. The gold ocean of silkiness drowns your senses, the strands stroking your skin like extra caresses. 

Retreating back onto his knees and raking a hand through his tousled mane, his hands then attach to the flanks of your body and he pounds you breathless, leaving you heaving for air. 

In your dazed state, you desperately grab on to whatever you can—the sheets, his upper frame, his ass, anything. Throughout it all, your core contracts even tighter over the way his clavicle, tendons, and muscles protrude and flex like they’re about to break through his skin.  

At this point, you’re beyond delirious and definitely beyond gratified. You assume he’s about to finish when he decreases his pace and bends closer to you, but instead, he continues to still move inside of you.  

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ,” you gasp and grunt between his rough, buried thrusts. “How are you not close?” 

“I’m not ready to be done with you yet, beautiful,” Johnny rasps into your ear. You catch a glimpse of his cocked eyebrow and smirk. “Unless you can’t handle me?” 

Denying his accusation, you haul his cheeks to yours and kiss him fiercely.  

And with that, Johnny’s weight is on his knees again and he fucks you like there’s no tomorrow. 

However, Johnny might’ve been right because it doesn’t take long for you to beg repeatedly for him to come.  

“So, what’s the verdict? Still like me after that?” 

Both individuals are still nude on the bed, but now covered by a blanket. Resting on his chest, you drum your fingers over his skin in thought (as if you need to even think about an answer besides the obvious). 

Pouting up at Johnny, you say, “I’ll only like you if you keep your promise on fucking me in the store next time.” 

“Of course.” He palms your cheek and inches forward, preparing to kiss you tenderly. 

“A gentleman never breaks his promise.”  

EPILOGUE 

One month later, the record store’s business has been growing, so Johnny decides to hire one of his friends, Mark, to be a part-time worker.

Which means that Johnny has more spare time to do other things... like taking you from behind in the back office over his desk. 

“Shit, fuck,” you grip harshly onto the edges of the worn-out wooden desk as he thrusts endlessly. Even after a month of dating, your pussy still isn’t fully accustomed to the size of his girth. You’re unsure if it ever will be. 

No matter, it always feels amazing. 

“Johnny, Johnny—” 

“Johnny!” Mark’s voice suddenly cuts in and calls from outside of the office door. You immediately bite down on your lower lip to shut yourself up. “Someone’s asking me about a limited edition vinyl and I don’t know how to answer.” 

“Uhhh,” Johnny drones absentmindedly, yet jabs into you with more rigor. You bite down harder, but you can’t control the rising volume of your stifled moans. “Give me five minutes.” 

A silent beat passes. 

“Dude, are you fucking in the office again?!” the part-timer exclaims. You can practically see him shaking his head in disgust. “Ugh, I’ll give them the store’s card. Hurry up, though.”

As he walks away, you hear him faintly say, “Sometimes I think this is why you hired me...” 

Simultaneously, you both giggle heartily. Your lover pecks you lovingly on your shoulder prior to diving again into the wanton moment. 

In the end, Johnny actually spends ten more minutes with you. But he can afford the extra minutes—he is the owner of the shop, after all. 

[cuddlesslut]

Live my Life Ch.1

Kuroo x fem reader

Summary: sometimes life is full of making the wrong choices and not knowing till it’s to late.

A/N: this is chapter one of my new story. I’m still writing the Home series I must really wanted to start this story as well. I hope you guys like this one.

Warning: Angst, Smut, Drunk Sex, Underage drinking, toxic behavior

You found yourself sitting in this dingy bar nursing a drink you weren’t supposed to have. This had become part of your routine. It all started about three weeks ago. Your friend Kana, or well you suppose she could be called a friend she was more of a friend of a friend. She seemed nice enough kind of the free spirit type of girl always into the new big trend, not really what you would describe yourself as, more of what you wanted to be. You weren’t exactly some shy shut in but still your anxieties held you back from charging head first into in life and taking the bull by the horns. That’s why you surprised even yourself when you offered to be Kana’s bar buddy.

Kana is bartender at this whole in the wall bar with dim lighting. It got fairly good business but not enough to warrant more than one bartender at a time. That being the case Kana would often be there by herself well late into the night, the neighborhood wasn’t horrible but it still was unsettling sometimes. So as her bar buddy you would come at some point in her shift and find a free seat at the bar hopefully far enough distance from any other patrons. You’d order some fries or whatever greasy snack food you craved and waited there with her while she worked until she was ready to lock up. It was pretty easy you’d just sit there offering her someone to talk when she was bored or when she need to escape some overbearing customers. She’d make her way over too you and pretend to make you a drink. Although she offered you a drink you usually turn her down for the clear fact that you were underage when it came to drinking. It was perfectly fine for you to sit in the establishment since it also served food but at the age of 18 drinking was still prohibited. Being the laid back girl and bartender she was Kana didn’t care about bending that rule for a friend.

Most nights you’d pull out some school work on your tablet that your carried with you or just read some stories on your phone. Usually trying your best to avoid conversation with the regulars. That didn’t work as well as you hoped and soon enough you were quickly learning all of the local gossip and being included in the group known as the regulars. Which is what you were since you found yourself here four nights out of you week. You didn’t mind spending so much of your time here with Kana it was kind of nice to stray from your comfort zone plus you and Kana were steadily getting closer as friends too. Everything was smooth sailing until you met him.

It was a usual Thursday night you got dressed in your causal but sleek outfit. Wearing a comfortable pair of Jeans that hugged your body nicely not too tight but still showed your curves. You paired it with a black blouse and black ankle boots. You freshened up your make up of the day not needing to try to hard seeing as you weren’t going there to impress anyone. In fact you preferred to not draw any attention. Your brushed through your hair finally heading out of your home and too the dingy bar. Things seemed a little off tonight some felt different but still you took your usual seat as you scanned the bar. It was fairly empty only two other customers sitting all the way at the other end of the counter. Kana wasn’t anywhere to be found, she’s probably just grabbing something back you reasoned. And sure enough you could hear a clang in the back of the establishment that was hidden from the public eye. Although it wasn’t Kana that popped around the corner. Instead stood a tall and extremely handsome guy. He was wild black hair that was strewn in a chaotic fashion but it suited him. You could tell by his physique that he was fit , not too overly muscular but when he reached up to put the box he was carrying on the top shelf you could see a peak of a very well defined v line on his tanned skin. This man was the definition of tall, dark ,and handsome. And that wasn’t even mentioning his intense honey eyes that felt like they pierced your soul with just one look. He wore a black pair of fitted jeans and a red button up with strange print on it. You could inspect the odd design more intensely as he approached you with a smirk plastered on his face. Ah they were little black cats that littered his print. The style screamed I’m stylish but quirky.

“Well hello there sweetheart how can I help you?” You could tell he was using his customer service persona. Ah he goes for the smooth talkng flirt, he probably does very well with middle aged woman, you think.

“Um yeah,” you state giving the room one more look “ do you know where Kana is?” You questioned.

His perked at the mention of your friend. You could see him relax a little as he released some tension rolling his shoulders back. “Ahh you must be YN,” he smiled placing his hands on the bar leaning forward. His voice was a notch higher no longer Using his deep Casanova tone, this one was more natural. You eyes widened at the sound of your name leaving his lips.

“Yeah,” you replied hesitant.

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou,” he presented his hand offering a firm shake to which you awkwardly accepted. “I’m guessing Kana forgot to inform you that id becoming back to work my usual Thursday shift today did she?” He let out a small chuckle.

Damn it Kana you cursed inside your mind. You could have been cozy in bed right now. “Ha nope she did not,” you let out a sigh. “I didn’t realize she was just covering these last few weeks” you respond.

“She just had my Thursday shift Mondays and Wednesdays are still her regular days.” He grinned “she was nice enough to take my shift while I was out with some family stuff.”

“Ahh I see, well I’ll should probably get out of your hair,” you stated starting to slide off the stool.

“Hey wait you came all the way out here let me get you a drink,” he offered.

You froze in your seat for a moment kind of embarrassed. You felt heat creep to your face as you respond “ oh umm I’m not actually old enough I’m only 18,” your eye locked on the surface in front of you.

He let out a chuckle “let me see your ID.”

Your face scrunched in confusion “but-” you start but he cuts you off.

“Shh just hand it over,” he smiles. You raise your eyebrow as you reach into your handbag fishing out your ID and handing it over. He backs upmholding it as though it was valid. “Well look at that! Sure enough you’re 20,” he gives a cheeky smile “so what can I get you to drink?”

You take back your card placing it back safely in your bag a look of shock present on your youthful features. You lean forward whispering “won’t you get in trouble!” Not wanting to have someone risk their job. He lets out a haughty laugh. “My dads the owner so I’m not too worried.” He stated cockily. “So again what are you drinking sweetheart?” Again he flashed that stupid smirk that sent your stomach doing flips.

After two drinks and some idle chit chat in his free time you decided it probably be best if you headed out. He was quick to stop you. “Ahh come on dont leave so soon I was hoping you’d be my bar buddy too,” he pouted. You rolled your eyes at his teasing. It was enough to keep you there though ordering another drink to nurse. It felt nice chatting and casually flirting with this attractive stranger.

This too became part of your routine. You still went to the bar during Kana’s shift to keep her company but you kept going on Thursday and spending you night talking to Kuroo. The both of you spending most of the night getting to know each other. It was just surface things like school, you found out he was two years older than you going to a university near by studying chemical engineering,and your taste in music which was something you had a lot in common. The conversation focused mainly on you. He always directed the flow of the conversation he was so out going and smooth, always asking questions about your day liked hearing about your day as if being a 3rd year in high school was the most exciting thing. You’d sit there for hours with him trying new drinks sometimes finding yourself leaving the bar at three am as if you didn’t have class in four hours. But you didn’t care it was exhilarating this was the most rebellious thing you had ever done. The flirting was harmless never going to far. And although you wouldn’t admit you were getting a crush on the raven haired bartender.

It was just another Wednesday night but today something inside of you told you to dress up more than you’d usually go for. Tonight you wore a simple black dress with a deep neckline that really showed your figure without being to flashy. Your period had recently finished so knowing you were securely dried up you decided to go for a pair of your fancy red lace panties and a matching bra that always boosted your confidence. Not that anyone would be seeing them. You checked yourself one last time before heading out to the bar and damn did you look hot.

When you entered the bar you were surprised to it was rather busy with customers all over the place, luckily you find a seat at the bar. You noticed that Kenma was also behind the bar. Kenma was the other bartender that worked the shifts opposite of Kana and Kuroo. He was also Kuroo’s best friend. You’ve only met him a couple times when he’d come to the bar to see Kuroo while he was on shift. It must be really busy if they called him in to work the bar with Kana.

Kana gave a sigh of relief and smiled as she saw you sitting at the bar. “Oh my god girl hey,” smiled “do you see how hectic it is?” She laughed. She took a moment to fully look you over her eyes wide.

“Damn girl you look fucking hot!” You felt some pride grow in you hearing your friend complement you. She always looked amazing so hearing that she thought you looked great felt like high praise.

“You want a drink babe?” She asked although it was more a of statement as she was already whipping together a drink before you were finished nodding. She handed you a strong yet sweet drink before she was whisked away by some needy patrons.

You sipped on your drink watching Kana handle the crowd. You and Kenmas eyes would lock every now and then but it’s very short and awkward. You don’t know him very well. Part of your anxieties had you convinced he didn’t like you. But you tried not to read into it to much. Kuroo had told you once that it was just that he wasn’t much of a people person only working at the bar as a favor to Kuroo and his father. You sit there silently observing the world around you not noticing someone taking the seat next to you.

“Boo,” a husky voiced whispered into your ear sending shivers down your spine. Kuroo cackled as you jumped turning around clutching your chest.

“What the hell Kuroo!” You gasped trying to steady your breathing. “They call you in too?” You ask referring to the booming business you sat in.

“Nah it’s my day off and I wanted to come have a drink and bug Kenma,” he rose his hand singling said man for a drink. “But looks like I lucked out now I get to bother you all night,” he smirked.

“Oh really and who said I want to have you around I deal with you enough on Thursdays,” you smiled back with a sly look.

He feigned a look of hurt. “Ouch YN you wound me, I thought we were friends,” giving you look that definitely didn’t come off as just friendly. You just roll your eyes trying to hide your intrigue. “Well it seems I need to prove my friendship to you let me by you a drink.” He rested his hand on yours as he signaled for a refill on your drink.

You should have seen it coming but you acted surprised when after several drinks and a couple rounds of shots you found yourself in the back seat of his car. Your red panties tossed to the side somewhere in the vehicle. You were laying back as he dove under the hem your dress. Kuroo looked up to your face his lips barley an inch away from your heat. He had a devious look on his face as he watched your face flush with need. Your lips were swollen from the heated make out sessions you had outside the bar. He quirked his eyebrow teasingly his heavy breath tickling you. He was waiting. It was almost tortuous but you knew what he wanted.

You pouted your chest rising and falling from your hard breathing. “Please!” You begged. He smiled content with hearing your pleas before diving into you his tongue lapping at your wet folds. Your head fell back in pleasure as he ate you out like a man starved. Your moans filled the car as he worked his skilled tongue in and out of you. He could feel how close you were as he felt you clench around his fingers as he worked you loose. Relief flooded your body as you came on his face. Lust still flooding you as you watched him lick up all your juices. He moved up your body sealing your lips into a searing kiss you could taste your essence on his lips.

Your hands reached down his body grabbing at his bulge. He let out a groan in your ear before picking you up and placing you on his lap. He attacked you neck nippping and sucking harsh purple marks into your skin. He pulled the collar of your dress down pulling your breast out . Moving your bra down he latched his lips around your swollen nipple rolling it between his teeth. You let out a pained moan as you rolled you hips into his lap. He finally hit limit. He lifted you up as he pulled his pants and boxers down before lining his achingly hard length with your wet cunt before pulling you down on it. Both of your groans filled the space as you felt him fill you whole. You hid your face in his neck as you panted while he let you adjust to the intrusion. You could feel his hands roaming your ass pushing the skirt of your dress up. A sudden smack came to your ass. You let out a hiss. He rubbed the mark he left on your soft skin.

“Go ahead sweetheart ride my cock,” he demanded. His dirty words sent shivers over body. You did just as he said starting to move your hips up and down rotating on his dick as it reached deep inside of you. Your body was already on edge from your earlier release so it took no time to have you clenching tightly around him you next orgasm fastly approaching.

“Fuck you’re so god damn tight,” he groaned. Lust took over as he grabbed your hips holding you still as he drilled up into your pliant body. Your moans egged him on as he chased both of your climaxes. He loved the feeling of your pussy clamping down on him. Feeling you milk his cock drained him of his will and of his semen as he came deep into you.

You both sat there for a moment both coming down from your highs. Bodies worn from the intense session you had just had. He groaned throughing his head back, “fuck I didn’t wear a condom,” he cursed.

“I’m on birth control” you breathed moving off his lap. You searched for your panties sliding them on quickly trying to contain the mess between your legs.

“Good, that’s good,” he breathed a sigh of relief he looked around both of you. It seemed no one notice dyour little drunken romp in the parking lot. There was a slight awkward pause neither knowing what to say.

“Well that was great,” he offered, “uhh do you need a ride home?” He questioned.

You shook your head, “no I’ll just grab a quick Uber home,” you respond pulling your phone out to do just that.

He nodded seeming to like that idea not wanting you to walk home. “I’ll probably head back in and sober up a little before heading home. I definitely can’t drive right now. I’m not even sure my legs will get me back inside,” he laughed. You giggled as well. A chime rang from your phone, your ride would be pulling up soon.

“Hey give me your number and message me when you get phone safe.” He said taking the phone to send a message to himself successfully trading numbers. He gave you one more deep kiss before you left to catch your Uber.

That night your body passed out exhausted. You knew you were going to regret drinking so much tomorrow morning when you have to wake up for class.

And damn was your body sore. Your head was ponding from all the alcohol and the rest was sore from the wild sex you had. Still you woke up bright and early making sure to shower off any evidence from your delinquent activities. You made sure to take some Advil before leaving for school opting to skip breakfast since your stomach was still unstable from the liquor. Your morning classes were relatively easy not but extremely boring. You found yourself daydreaming through most of your history class thinking back to your night with Kuroo. Little fantasys of dates, and more long talks at the bar, even some naughty ideas popped into your head. It was almost like you willed him into existence because not two seconds later your phone vibrated. Your heart skipped a beat seeing his name pop up in your notifications. You laughed at the way he saved his number last night. Oh my god he texted me you thought you were so giddy. That was until you read the messages.

Kuroo 🥵: Hey YN.

Kuroo 🥵: Last night was a Mistake. Look I have a girlfriend and I love her so I think it’s best we pretend last night never happened. Sorry.

Ouch. That hurt.

General Taglist: @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @graykageyama

Taglist: @captain-janeway @elianetsantana

[videogamelover99]

The Starless Saint Thing

Okay so basically I think there's a huge difference between the Darkling and all the other villains in the Grishaverse. Van Eck, the Yarl Brum, even Sankta Lizabeta, all of them are people who are held up and respected by the society they live in. Van Eck is a Mercher, and the only way Ketterdam even aknowledged his crimes was by stating them publically at an auction. Yarl Brum is a war hero and well-loved military commander (who, y'know, tortures Grisha as his past time). Lizabeta is a Saint. She is loved by her people. And then we have the Darkling, who, yes, has held political and military power, but whom pretty much everyone hates. The common people see him as some evil spirit. The nobles and royals wanted to use him and the rest of the Grisha for their own ends. The only ones who really respect or admire him are his Grisha, and even then, I think the majority follow him out of fear and duty rather than any real respect ("I needed you bound to me by more than duty or fear"). What does that have to do with the cult, you ask? We're getting there.

In The Lives of Saints, the last entry is about the story of Yuri before he became a priest. We find out that he lived in Novokribirsk, and not only was he constantly abused by his uncle, no one in town bothered to help him: “they had always turned away, pretending not to see his bruises or hear his cries. The old man is harmless, they said. Some boys need more discipline than others.” The thing that saved Yuri is not kindness of the people around him but the Fold. Which the Darkling expanded and which swallowed up his uncle along with everyone else who never bothered to look Yuri’s way. 

There’s this constant question popping up in KOS. “Who would worship someone like the Darkling?” Well, its people like Yuri. People who have been failed by everyone around them. People who have only ever been able to find justice or safety through violence. Yuri says in KOS that yeah, the Darkling’s methods were wrong but his ideas were kinda right, and honestly, I don’t even thing Yuri ever disagreed with the Darkling’s methods. I think his incident with his uncle taught him that yes, actually, violence is the answer, and how much do those casualities matter if those same people would have left him to die?

The Darkling is “the patron saint of those who seek salvation in the dark”, and I think that’s a fucking brilliant title, honestly. His followers are those who can only turn to desperate means to find salvation, violent, ruthless, brutal ways. Unlike all the other villains, whose respect comes from their status in their culture, the idea of the starless saint is that sometimes, all the good things the other saints do isn’t enough. Sometimes you just gotta kill the fucker that abuses you, fatally poison the king who has raped you, fuck over all the people who let your borther die in pointless wars. It’s giving permission to be merciless, because the world has been mericless to you in turn.

[eat0crow]

Stuck

Summary: All Marinette wants is the ability to do something to herself.

For herself.

Notes: Written for @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge, Prompt 4: The wildcard taken from @mlweeklyprompts, "Nervous, Yet Excited."

Beta read by my favorites person @nottesilhouette

____

“And, you’re positive this is the right one, absolutely, one-hundred and ten percent sure?” Luka asks, squinting to try to see where she’s written out the delicate calligraphy in Crayola marker.

The design’s small, barely an inch, and high enough on her hip that it’s covered completely by the band of her underwear.

Marinette huffs, wiggling her butt and trying to get comfortable. The porcelain underneath her is frigid, biting against her bare thighs. Around them, the atmosphere is weird, strangely sterile, and she’s left feeling more like she’s in a doctor’s office than the Liberty’s small bathroom. “I told you, I asked my mom, and double-checked with my uncle, they both said this was the right character.”

She doesn’t bring up how Master Fu had been the one to show her in the first place. Excited to have someone to teach. Eager to share every bit of their culture Marinette had missed out on thanks to the pressure her mom had felt to assimilate. He’s gone now, and Luka never knew him.

There’s no point bringing up a ghost who never left behind any trace.

A person who doesn’t even remember her.

“Hey,” Luka says, putting his hands up in defense, “I just don’t want to be the reason you get stuck with something stupid written on your hip for the next decade.”

You wouldn’t be, Marinette wants to say—this is my choice, it would be my fault, not yours. But, she doesn’t, because she knows that saying as much would do nothing to prevent Luka from feeling guilty. “That’s why I didn’t ask Google, I asked two native mandarin speakers, and they both said this was the right character. You can relax.”

“Well, I can’t argue with verified sources.”

“Nope,” Marinette says, popping the p. “But what you can do is finish getting everything ready.”

“So bossy.” Luka laughs, balancing precariously on the stool he’d somehow managed to jam in front of where she’s seated on the sink, he reaches past her to slide open the mirror behind her head.

She doesn’t bother to dignify that with an answer: she is bossy, it’s part of her charm. Instead, she watches transfixed as Luka places the cotton swabs and alcohol next to where the tape and twine are laid out on the counter.

Anxiously, Marinette twirls the bottle of India ink in her hand. Because it’s one thing to ask your kinda-almost-not-really-boyfriend to give you a tattoo, it’s another to be sitting on the sink in his mother’s bathroom watching him run a sewing needle through a lighter. Her mom will absolutely kill her if she ever finds out.

But, Marinette thinks, if she’s old enough to fight akumas, to die for Paris—and she has died—she’s old enough to do something stupidly rebellious.

Besides, she already checked with Tikki, who confirmed what she already knew damningly overeager. Connections between spirits and their chosen humans form fast. Change is to be expected after two years of being a patron of creation.

Blood poisoning isn’t something she has to worry about. Rejection, either. As long as she’s wearing the miraculous, her body will adapt, will welcome change. One of Tikki’s gifts, something small—other—and definitely more than most fifteen-year-olds have when they decide to give themselves a stick and poke.

(Most, because Chat’s worn his miraculous just as long as her.)

“How do you feel?”

Marinette almost misses Luka’s question, too busy watching him loop thread around the needle. It’s the thump that grabs her attention, the sound of her bag hitting the floor from its place on the other side of the room.

“Nervous.” She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t. “Yet excited.”

“That’s good. I’d be worried if you weren’t.” He holds his hand out for the ink, gently prying it from her fingers when she makes no move to give it to him. She’s too busy trying to tune out Tikki’s excitement, so strong she can feel it through her earrings. “It’s going to hurt, but you’re not going to bleed.”

“I’m not worried about the pain.”

Luka gives her a measured look, the one that always makes Marinette feel like he’s seeing right through her.

For a moment, he just stares, like he’s debating something. He settles on shaking his head. “No, I know you’re not.” Marinette wants to ask what he means by that. How he knows she’s not scared of pain, but the words get stuck in her throat when Luka starts taping everything together. “You know, there’s a chance you’re not going to have this forever.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Luka admits. He pulls the band of her underwear down to rest lower on her hip, hesitating long enough that she knows he’s giving her an out. She appreciates it, more for the gesture than the action; she’d rather not deal with the anticipation that’s steadily building up alongside the strange intimacy between them.

When it’s clear that he’s not going to do anything until Marinette gives the okay, she drenches a cotton ball in alcohol and pushes it into his hand. “Why’s that?”

“Well,” Luka starts, wiping down the area in carefully measured swipes. His finger never strays past the five inch radius around the design. “The ink might not set right, and, even if it does, stick and pokes fade faster than regular tattoos. If you want to keep it, you’re going to have to get it touched up. Besides,” Luka says, throwing away the cotton ball and grabbing his makeshift tattoo needle. “You can always choose to get rid of it.”

Marinette’s breath catches in her throat, Luka doesn’t sound like he’s just talking about her future tattoo. While she’s suspected that Luka’s known who she is for some time. Definitely, since she broke down on him during the utter disaster that was Hearthunter first and Miracle Queen second. But, Luka’s always been careful to never outwardly let on that he knows.

She… definitely has to address that at some point. When she can think rationally, and her thoughts aren’t an anxious mess of, ‘oh my God I’m doing this’, mixed in with the tangle of excited ‘oh my God I’m choosing to do this!’

Because, the thing is, lately—since she became Ladybug, and especially since she became the Guardian—Marinette’s felt like her future’s been chosen for her. She hates feeling like all the decisions in her life have been taken out of her hands. All she wants is just the ability to do something to herself, for herself.

So, she’ll shelve the interrogation for later. Sometime in the near future. Just—not now.

Tapping a finger against the top of Luka’s head, she musters as much confidence as she can into her voice. “I want it, for now, though.”

Luka nods, trusting her ability to know herself and what she wants.

The needle doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the watered-down disinfectant he drags across her skin to clean away the extra ink. It feels more like taking a hot shower with sunburn than it does getting stung by a bee. She feels outrageously lied to by the Internet forums she stalked for weeks after Luka showed her the first stick and poke he did.

It’s easy to zone out as Luka works. To get lost in the dull ache as her skin is pierced, over and over again. He doesn’t say anything, and neither does she for the next hour, maybe longer. Her head’s fuzzy by the time Luka stretches and whispers, “Alright, all done.”

There, written into her skin, in the exact same place where her yo-yo rests, is the character for creation.

[popculturebuffet]

Top 10 Sealab 2021 Episodes (Comission)

Happy 2021 Everyone! After an utterly AWFUL fucking year, it’s nice to be in a brand new year with brand new possiblities, new projects you’ll see soon, finsihing the old.. and all that good stuff. And good friend of the blog and only patron and contributer kev had a great suggestion to comission to kick off the year. Since it’s 2021 it’s only fair ot honor one of the very first adult swim shows, one taking place in the same year and still one of it’s funniest and fucking weirdest, and as we’ve seen that threshold is vast: Sealab 2021 Sealab was created by the wonder twins of Adam Reed and Matt Thomspon, and if those names sound familiar.. that’s because their the guys who created Frisky Dingo, a cult classic i’ll defintely have to write about someday soon, and more famously and in Matt’s case still to this day, Archer. Yup, after adult swim jerking them around lead to the closing of their initial studio, the two moved to FX and here they are. So yeah this is where the roots of a lot of archers workplace shenanigans and petty dickery come from.  But even ignoring what it’d lead to, Sealab on it’s own is pretty damn good and holds up pretty well. Some jokes.. have not aged well, especially the treatment of Debbie as the villiage bicycle, but on the whole most of the humor is just really funny, really weird and really insane and I still love it after this revisit even if some episodes didn’t hold up so good, most of them held up good or even better than I remembered.  The show was THE first abriged series, taking bits of old forgotten and seemingl really damn boring hannah barbara show sealab 2021, and using the footage to tell the tale of a bunch of assholes, weirdos and what have you running an underwater research station.. and being so bad at it or getting into such other insane bollocks it often blew up. Continuity was loose, jokes were the priority, and dialouge was key since the animation was not great in any way shape or form, but the cheapness was enough of a charm and improved enough with time that it didn’t really matter. The show was good and set the bar for adult swim shows for better or worse alongside other greats like Home Movies, Aqua Teen Hunger Force and others. It also had a unique cast of mostly small time actors, and bafflingly one respected news pundit as local asshole idiot head Stormy, and broadway legend Henry Goz as series MVP Captain Murphy. It was good, it was part of my childhood and teen years, and I love it so. I bought the dvds, quoted it decently and will again now Kev’s brought my fire for the series back.  So naturally for a series like this since regular reviews just don’t.. work on something this insane sometimes, i’m instead counting down my top. 10 . episodes. Yes top 10 lists are comissionable, 5 bucks a pop. As long as I know the series well enough i’d be glad to and here I ws more than honored to. I also uped my game this time and rewatched every cantidate and thus I feel this may be one of my best lists yet. So without further adeu... grab your grizzlbees oninon burst , your bebop cola and your pitcher of whale cancer. this is the top 10 episodes of sealab 2021!

10. Tinfins  This one’s a classsic just for it’s uniquness, taking the piss out of glitzy and vapid hollywood insider shows and their annoying hosts, while also being delightfully weird, from mocking the show’s own animation by having detailed cgi used to map the limited animation, to Erik Estrada’s interview where his fictional self is clearly having none of toni and is also clearly getting wasted, to the utter bizzarity of Kid N Play being the films directors.. it’s just a good time. 

But what REALLY makes the episode are two things: The first is a series of increasingly bizzare commericals for Grizzlebees, a fictional restraunt that would become a staple of the show: From a simple commerical showing off their onion bursts, to their kids meals with tonic water, to Henry Goz’s utterly bizzare farm based commerical for it, to finally a commerical about depression being okay because grizzlebee delivers that’s pitch black as it is utterly hilarious, it’s just one hit after the other.  The crown jewel of the episode of course is the trailer ofr tinfins itself, which is insane and includes great bit after great bit, the best being the titular mecha shark cutting the power “How the hell can it cut the power? It’s a shark. “ Holy Crap indeed. 

9. In the Closet A bottle episode, which Sealab really excelled at and not the last on this list by a mile, as the show’s key was it’s dialouge the episode had a simple premise it quickly managed to have make some pretty insane turns. Marco, played by the glorious Eric Estrada and Muprhy, played by the late and very game Harry Goz, have been trapped in the suply closet for a few days, with Muprhy, being muprhy, having already married a bucket who has a history as a “Hookermop” named wendy. Soon other sealabians get caught inside too, and it results in plenty of hilarious gags, From muprhy sucker punching the hell out of everyone, to Sparks panicking under claustrophiba, to the repair guy getting sucker punched and no one caring much about his well being. This one lives off of Muprhy as while the others are good, Goz as he usually did during his time on this earh and on this series before his untimely passing, steals the whole damn show, and the ending, where it turns out Muprhy adopted and starved a bunch of fighting dogs, is a nice twist on everything. And the punchilne to it is utterly fantastic “It could be worse” “How in the hell could it possibly worse?!” “We could be out there.. with Stormy”. 

8. The Legend of Baggy Pants Speaking of Bottle Episodes and Captain Murphy being awesome.... this one narrowly beat out the episode it’s a spirtual sequel too, the classsic all that jazz, but this one is easily better. Like that one it’s a bottle episode that’s almost entirely just Captain Muprhy on some sort of shenanigan, with only abit of other cast, in this case Hesh, Eggers, and an unfortunate phone operator. In this case the premise is simple, kind of nuts, and utterly hilarious and utterly captian murphy: Captain Muprhy is having a round of Golf in Sealab, which is weird but fits the character but what ratchets it up to funny is apparently this underwater research station, for no reason, has a pro shop. So after loosing his last ball in a reactor, and sending poor hesh in to get it leading to the advent of the glorious Monster Hesh, Muprhy spends the entire episode tooling around in his “Muprh Mobile” trying to find the pro shop. As a result it’s basically 11 glorious minutes of Harry Goz going absolutely mental as muprhy, and it is as great as that sounds. From Muprhy’s sudden hatred of pod 6, to his bullying of Eggers, a hapless sealabian he runs into and then tries to run over, his bullying of dolphin boy and then trying to run him over, to his compuance as eggers steals his stuff and then his muprh mobile, it’s just glorious riffing from one of the best in the buisness and Harry is still deeply fucking missed by yours truly. RIP you magificent stalion. 

7. Cavemen One of the series final episodes, and easily one of it’s best. While the later Seasons get some flack. While season 3 is a bit weak,a s Goz’ tragic passing left them stumbling, Season 4/5... it’s complicated, is REALLY damn good and has some of the series finest episodes which many probably never saw. Case in point, Cavemen.  Cavemen is another spirtual sequel this time to lost in time, which also didn’t make the list, but this one is also better. Like LIT, it focuses on one of the series best dynamics: Brainy super scientest and often only sane man Dr. Quinn and all around idiot, moron and bane of everyone’s existance, Stormy, played by Brett Butler and Ellis Henican, both of who nail the two and this episode. The two are trapped in a cave after Stormy’s stupidity blew up sealab, and his trail of dead rabbits lead a shark to him and quinn. The result is a TON of great back and forth as Stormy tries to make Quinn see him as his best friend, Quinn rightfully shouts at Stormy for... everything, and Stormy tries to show off some ancient cave painting she himself made, that quinn quickly figures out because he left his paint around, and shows that off in a very clever gag I can’t convey correctly here. We also get knife fights and Quinn beating stormy over the head with a dead rabbit, an da surprisingly solem ending where the two hold hands as they die before heading up to heaven for a happy and weird ending. Overall an episode that’s really hard to dive into as it’s just relaly damn good and all in the performances, gags and pacing, as it’s done entirely in real time. Easily worth a watch. 

6. Shrabster Another great late season episode and another really experimental one. This one’s told from back to front, then we’re given the ending. It ends up working really well as it not only jacks up interest but the story itself is great. Asj it ends up turning out over the episode Dr. Quinn’s created the solution to world hunger: The shrabster, a hybrid of crab, shrimp and lobster. Grizzlebees, naturally wants it and after finding out Sparks didn’t actually own the rights, have Shanks, muprhy’s replacement, try and steal it, only for him to fall in love with the creature and spirit it away to give it a better life.. before shooting it in the end and eating it himself. We also get some good runners as Sparks starts speaking in slang and gets his neck rightfully snapped for it by Quinn, Stormy keeps eating shellfish despite being allergic, and we get the glory that is dan and don, two grizzlebees reperceives played by reed and thompson who are just an utter delight. I also ALMOST forgot the fucking announcer whose just fucking hilaroius the whole damn time with his various segways. 

5. HappyCake An early classic and damn worthy with a simple, batshit premise, which as should be clear by now was Sealab’s Bread and Butter. Muprhy’s happycake oven has been stolen, so he sends Stormy (who knows about the captain’s bedwetting and thus must be silenced) Quinn and a fishman out to find it in the ocean. Turns out it’s Sparks, in a character defining episode, fault as he’s working on world domination, and thus is working on driving murphy insane and thus stole it. He and marco discuss Marco becoming his henchman and getting metal teeth, Muprhy goes nuts, it’s a damn good time. Also a lot of talk of Michael Cain so that’s always a plus now I know who he is. And of course it has one of the series best lines period “Pudding can’t help the void inside” but it’ll help. Only this low because i’ts a bit structually messy compared to what’s to come and given it beat out two really damn good structurally episodes for this slot, that should say something. 

4. Hail Squishface! No best of list would be complete without this one. Once again the show banks itself on a simple premise: Captain Muprhy buys a white blob, a gloop, from a vendor and gives it liquor and gremlins style his little buddy multiplies and he soon gives them out to the crew. Everyon’es on board except Quinn.. whos naturally proven right ot be suspicious as the gloops methane output will doom them all and only muprhy, whose gone insane and is wearing squishface like a fez as you’d expect, wants them alive leading to what you’d expect: a flamethrower battle between muprhy and the crew with murphy decked out like a transformer.  This one’s just endlessly creative, from the various glooptransformations to the finale to the gags, i’ts just great. The fart gags are also.. actually pretty funny, which given i’m not a fart gag guy most of the ttime, speaks to how well executed they are and use the gags of htem being fart machines. Also we get muprhy in a fez and that alone cements it as top 5 matieral.. but as for the top 3. 

3. Moby Sick

Our last late season entry and the third to last episode of the show ever, this is top 3 for a reason, even above a classic like Hail Squishface. This one just has so many insane jokes packed in I forget quite a few despite them all being pretty damn great.  The premise is dour: A whale named Avalard shows up in Sealab wanting to die, as he has whale cancer. Stormy recognizes him as the star of the show “Gotta Have that Dick”, even saying “I gotta have that dick!”.. which of course they have a loop of ellis saying in the credits he correctly assumes will haunt him for the rest of his days. And if a whale starring in a cheesy 90′s tgif sitcom wasn’t enough we get the best gag of the episode as Marco eats some of avalard’s whale cancer leading to an insnae kool aid style add

And of course Marco later puts on a Mayor F Whale outfit and eats the cancer.. and his way out of avalard. But before that we get fights over wether the whale should die or not, including the guy on the pro whale side stabbing him, Debby’s rambling nosense and Shanks, who first builds a wooden whale to put his brain in .. that promptly sinks “and all my puppies were in there!” and then goes on a far right pundit show and gets into a giant robot phsyical challenge.. which frankly we need more of. Tucker Carlson would be .0001 percent more tolerbale if he were getting his ass kicked in a gundam is what i’m saying. 

2. Feast of Alvis I’ll be brief here, which in an article where i’m already trying to be brief says a lot but since I JUST covered this one a few weeks ago for my best holiday special lists: Feast of Alvis is, like most of sealab, deeply creative, deeply batshit and deply fun as Muprhy pushes his violent frontier version of jesus on everyone, with predicably great results. I watch it every year for damn good reason, it has some of the series best gags, including “Cram a penny o nthere” And great satire about the supposed “War on christmas”. I’m only being so breif as I said pretty much all I had to say last time. Exxcept this: Adam Reed is a DAMN talented voice actor both as virjay (though in hindishgt he REALLY shoudln’t of been playing a hindu man, especially since otherwise the series actually cast poc), and in various rolls and kills it as alvis here. So what could top one of my faviorites? Wellll.

1. Chickmate Another early one and as should be clear the best. It incapsulates the series the best, has the funniest jokes packed into it’s 11 minutes and in general is just an outstanding episode that throughly defined the cast and their rolls and chemistry.  Debbie’s biological clock is ticking and she wants to have a baby, and after mothering a dolphin dosen’t help decides one of the sealab men will be the father and auditions them. It goes as well as you’d expect: Muprhy thought she’d become his mommy, and not in a kinky way, Sparks provides one of the series best gags by giving her a modest proposal by jonathan twist and giving us the utter black comedy joy of him describing “ribs dripping off the bone”, Stormy’s tape gets interrupted by Hesh who clasically screams “Hesh wants some sex”, Marco freaks her out with his muscles and quinn seems sucessful before ultimately botching it and Debbie decides none of htem are worth it. We also get stormy’s untieontally racist and throughly stupid use of the term “Black debbie” to describe the other debbie, which he gets rightfully called out on. We also get this exchange as a result Quinn: What if everyone started calling you white stormy? Stormy: You mean there’s a .. black stormy Quinn: (Beat to take in the stupidity) no. 

It’s funny, it’s clever, and it’s just damn fun. Easily the series best outing and the reason it became what it became. And overall.. the series is just really good. it’s on HBO Max if your curious, and if you haven’t vistied that lab underneath the sea. maybe i’ts time to. Goodbye, Goodbye, goodbye for now, until then.. play us out marco and debbie. 

[supposed2bfunny]

Yoo it’s me & you got me thinking. So 2D,spoiled only child,not real thoughtful(prob didn’t realize his mum did his laundry til he moved out and his laundry wasn’t magically clean anymore) & Murdoc leaves little candies and things in his pockets/around the house for him. Phase 5, Murdoc’s in jail. Suddenly there’s no candy around for him all the time. He’s confused about this until Noodle is like “who do you think did all that stuff for you?” What do you think that realization is like for him?

Uhhhh this may have expanded beyond anything I had in mind when you sent this ask hours ago, nips. Short ficlet under the cut!

It’s the second or third day after Ace moves in and the band moves forward with the new album that 2D finds the last vestige of Murdoc lurking on his things like a smelly miasma. He pulls on a worn sports jacket, a gift from FILA from 2013 or 2014, slips his hands into the pockets, and finds something heavy and metallic lurking in the right-side pocket.

Pulling it out, he beholds a silver ring bearing a skull, the sort of thing Marilyn Manson would have pulled off well in the 90s, that gothic bulkiness in which Murdoc has always aspired to look cool in and has never quite succeeded.

After a moment’s inspection, 2D does the logical thing: he hurls the ring down the staircase of the Spirit House, grinning with satisfaction at the sound of it bouncing off the wooden floors below and rolling away to be forgotten amongst debris and clutter and apathy.

“Tosser,” he mutters to himself.

The weeks wear on. Recording goes well, the band gets on just fine, and 2D does not think about Murdoc. 

However, he does suffer a few completely unrelated hang-ups that put the faintest damper on his otherwise now-near-perfect and tosser-free existence.

Primarily in the loss of surprise candy.

He wonders for the first time where all the sweets have gone.

And this leads him down the rabbit hole of wondering where they came from for the first time. For as long as he can remember, 2D has always been pleasantly surprised by hard candies, lemon sherbets, blue-raspberry lollies, Jelly Babies, even the rare Cadbury Creme Egg in the pockets of his jackets, or in his jeans, sometimes tucked into his beanies or even shoved into his pillowcases. Sort of like a tooth fairy has graced him at random times, leaving behind his preferred snacks. Good omens, if ever there was such a thing. 

It’s always reminded him of the way his mum used to leave Flake bars on his pillow after doing her weekly shopping, even when his dad went through his health kicks and tried to ban sweets from the house. 

He doesn’t exactly notice the loss until he’s standing in line at the market one day, purchasing several boxes of his preferred frozen chana masala dinners, when he impulsively grabs a few chocolate bars on his way to check out.

It’s only then that it occurs to him he hasn’t found any mystery goodies lying around for him in several weeks. Where had they come from in the first place, he muses. Noodle? Maybe Russel?

It doesn’t seem likely that Russel was giving them out, since he prefers to cook whole meals himself to serve the band. That leaves Noodle. And why wouldn’t she be sharing candy with him these days? Are they having a row?

As he makes his way home, he ponders what he could have done wrong to upset Noodle. She’d seemed perfectly fine the other day when they went out for bubble tea. She’d even laughed when he’d sucked the boba through the thick straw by sticking it between the gap between his front teeth. Things had seen positively chilly between them!

Being the brave, no-nonsense man that he is, and the de facto leader of the band now that the tosser is locked up for lord-knew-what, he figures he ought to confront her about it straightaway.

So he gives it a couple of days, in case she needs to blow off steam or cool down. Then a few more days, figuring she can approach him first to apologize, he should really be the bigger man. Then he gives it yet a few more days, just to be sure they are in fact having a row. Because rehearsals seem normal. Noodle’s spirits seem as high as ever, her Instagram posts emoji-saturated, her smiles genuine, her laughter nonstop as she develops a close bond with Ace and the two become inseparable. 

Finally, he bumps into her one night: they’re nothing reaching for their preferred coconutmilk ice cream sometime past two in the morning.

“Great minds think alike,” she smiles. “I’ll grab the bowls.”

“Hey, Noods,” he says, leaning back against the counter casually and popping the carton open. “Can I ask you something?”

“What’s up, Dee?”

“Are you...aw, it’s gonna sound so silly! You ready to laugh? You’re not cross with me, are you?”

She hands him a bowl and spoon and gets scooping. “Cross with you? Not at all--” he nearly drops his bowl in relief--”why do you ask?”

“Nah, forget it. What’s Ace say? Fuggeddaboutit?”

She pulls a face. “That was a really shitty accent.”

“Aint that the point?”

“I guess,” she concedes. “Anyway, I want to know why you thought I was cross with you: just tell me!”

“Well...I guess I kind of miss the candy you always shared with me.”

Noodle pops her spoon into her mouth, sits on the kitchen table and crosses one leg over the other. “Huh? What candy?”

“I mean, you’re the sweet tooth queen, Noods! You always have candies on you, and you used to share ‘em with me. And I guess I miss it a little bit.”

“When did I last share candy with you?” she asks. “It’s been like, a million years since I placed one of those bulk orders of the good stuff from Japan that I like.”

“No, no, not any Japanese candy. I just mean like, Jelly Babies and stuff. You used to leave ‘em in my coat pockets, or sitting out on my keyboards to surprise me. Like, rewind a month or so ago, you’d do it all the time.”

“No I wouldn’t,” she answers, looking thoroughly perplexed. 

“But...” he frowns down at his ice cream. It’s too cold still, hasn’t begun to get all good and melty the way he likes it. Just a lump of chill and ice. “Then who did?”

“You mean the little presents Murdoc always used to leave out for you? 2D, that was all Murdoc.”

There’s a pause as 2D continues to leer down at his bowl, almost forgetting that he’s not alone in the room. He remembers the skull ring he’d found and thrown. He remembers the candies sitting on the bench by his piano in the basement, the comic books rolled up and jammed into the case of his acoustic guitar, the comic books he has no memory of purchasing though they feature his favorite heroes. He remembers the fidget cube he’d found one day in his sock drawer, and the Cadbury Creme Eggs next to his condoms by the bedside.

“Hey,” Noodle’s voice draws him back out. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says quickly. “Everything’s fine, luv.”

She arches a brow at him; she knows he only calls her that when he's unfocused. “It’s okay to miss him, you know,” she says gently. “Sometimes I do too. He was pretty indulgent towards you, when he wanted to be. Can’t blame you for missing that.”

“Yeah right,” he forces a chuckle. “Think we’re all doing better with that sod out of the band for a bit. I’m having a nice time stretching my legs, so to speak. Really, I’m much happier these days, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“Okay,” she responds, and she sounds patronizing, but maybe it’s just his imagination. “I’m gonna go finish the movie I started,” she hops off the counter, leaving him to his thoughts. “G’night.”

“’Kay, night!” He sits down at the table properly, intending to finish his dessert. But while it melts, he figures he has time for a smoke. He pats his pants pockets, realizes he doesn’t have any cigarettes on him. Murdoc always had ciggies with him, no matter where he was, no matter what level of dress or undress he was in. These days, 2D often finds himself with smokes but no lighter, or playing with a lighter but lacking in smokes.

Not in the mood to get up to find some, he instead sits there, fiddles with his spoon. It seems wrong to qualify Murdoc’s behavior as kindness, given that the word is so contradictory to his entire persona. Murdoc is not kind. Never has been. Murdoc is a tosser, a criminal, an impulsive crackhead with a tendency to make decisions that hurt those around him.

A selfish prick...whose arbitrary actions have unwittingly brought him joy for months, years, shit, he can’t remember when he first started noticing these little treats and presents left out for him, like a corvid collecting bottle caps for a preferred human companion. 

He hates Murdoc then, not for his cruelty and nasty behavior, but for his capacity to defy his own constructed persona. 

Sometime deep into these thoughts, he realizes that his ice cream has melted beyond the point of being softened and melty: it’s just a puddle of coconutmilk soup with a caramel swirl. It’s also lukewarm. It’s also approaching four in the morning.

Joints cracking as he stands, 2D brings his bowl to the sink, then approaches the bottom of the staircase. He pulls up the flashlight on his cellphone, casts it around the foyer and the living room, peaks under unpacked boxes of records and ottomans collecting dust and many, many, many pairs of shoes.

He doesn’t find that ring he’d thrown. Eventually, he gives up looking and heads to bed.

For the first time since he’d received a phone call from the local police station, he dreams of Murdoc, wakes up with crusty eyes and tight lungs and stares at the ceiling for a long time. He feels less like the leader of the band then, and more like a wayward child. A runaway. A vagabond. Directionless.

Eventually, he reaches out an arm, fumbles blindly till he finds the notebook he’s been writing lyrics in. With a sigh, he hoists himself up into a sitting position, rolls his shoulders; a joint cracks somewhere in his neck.

His pen scratches dryly a bit against the blank page at first, reluctant to share its ink with him. The hiss of nub against paper, friction. Then, the ink floods out, all at once. 

[jaxsteamblog]

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It was weird having other people pack her things. Granted, Katara had absolutely no free time, but it was still odd to be in the middle of a meeting and know that other people were sorting through her clothes and packing up her books.

For the fall, she was going to stay at the Avatar’s residence in Republic City with Thuy’s instructors. While Thuy was still firmly entrenched in her earthbending training, it had been common practice that all of the instructors would live together to oversee all aspects of the Avatar’s training.

Having spoken directly to Kyoshi, Thuy understood that Kuruk’s companions had been very close, so at first she had enjoyed living with them. Katara was optimistic about the situation, since she was at the very least friendly with everyone that would be there.

She was less excited about Thuy’s animal guide though. A giant catgator was not ideal to keep around.

When everything was packed and ready to go, Katara met with Rohan in the library. They still had their head shaved, but wore normal clothes. It was odd to see the blue tattoo run up the back of their head, but mostly it was due to the climate and less to do with their fashion.

“Are you ready to go?” Katara asked. Rohan turned, holding up a heavy tome.

“Can I take this?” They asked.

“Sure. But what is it?” She replied.

“A philosophy book. I think Meelo would like it.”

“Meelo?”

“Hey, me and my siblings are all complex and nuanced.” Rohan tucked the book under their arm with a smile. “Let’s head out.”

Since riding on Dawa months ago, Katara actually preferred it to normal flight travel if she was the only passenger. There weren’t a lot of flights in or out of the Poles, so the environmental cost was hefty each time. So when she could, Katara often asked Rohan for a ride. It helped since they were going in the same direction and Rohan had been staying in the Northern Air Temple.

As they walked out of the palace, Katara watched them in silence for a moment.

“Rohan?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you ever get to meet Aang?”

Rohan’s eyebrows shot up but they still looked forward.

“Well yeah. I was seven when Pop-Pop died.” They answered.

“Is it weird, being around Thuy?” Katara asked.

Rohan sighed and tilted their head from side to side.

“Sometimes. Like at her birthday party and seeing Pop sad. But he was my grandfather, you know? And he was busy with the war. Well, so was Pop. But anyway, my mom says I’m a lot like Pop-Pop so mostly I’m just glad that Thuy likes me.” They explained.

“Does Thuy talk to him?”

“Yeah, but we don’t ask.” Rohan said with a laugh. “That’s just a little too much.”

They then sighed again and rubbed the back of their head.

“Honestly, I miss my aunt Yangzom. She idolized Avatar Kyoshi and married a Kyoshi Warrior, using the excuse of protecting her spouse as a way to wriggle around her monastic vows. She kicked serious Fire Nation butt.” They said.

“Did she?” Katara asked.

“Yeah, she and aunt Jun died when the Fire Nation was taking a mining town.” Rohan cleared their throat before continuing. “Jun’s fans had been wrapped in orange robes.”

“I’m sorry Rohan.” Katara said softly.

Rohan finally turned to her and smiled. “It’s fine. It’s good to speak of the dead. It lets them know we still love and honor them.”

Katara touched her necklace and smiled back.

“Did I tell you that I think Suki and I are related because of aunt Jun?” Rohan asked excitedly. Katara laughed and shook her head.

Rohan talked about their family for the whole trip, and it was interesting to hear. They definitely had a different perspective on the Air Nomads than Tenzin, and it amused Katara to think of the future council meetings.

When they arrived at Avatar Island, Thuy was there to meet them. She had grown since her party and was as tall as Katara now. As they hugged, Katara could smell the dirt in Thuy’s hair. But as she smiled she heard a threatening hiss from the ground.

“Oh stop that.” Thuy turned and put her hands on her hips, glaring down at the catgator. “You’re old friends by now.”

“Mister Whiskers.” Katara greeted with a flat tone.

“Avatar Roku’s dragon was named Fang.” Rohan remarked playfully. “Very intimidating.”

Thuy rolled her eyes and held out her arms as she faced them.

“I was four, okay? And I didn’t have any fancy Fire Nation pride or fun Air Nomad names.” She stated. “She has whiskers and she’s dignified. Her name is Mister Whiskers.”

“How on earth did a toddler befriend a catgator?” Katara questioned.

“Let’s just say if I wasn’t the Avatar and Mister Whiskers was a regular catgator, then she would’ve gotten me and not just Uncle Farid’s arm.” Thuy replied.

“This is bizarre.” Rohan said. Thuy pouted and knelt on the ground, wrapping her arms around Mister Whiskers’ flat head.

“Hey, Mister Whiskers ate two Fire Nation soldiers for me!” She said. Both Rohan and Katara held up their hands.

“Fair enough.” Rohan said.

“Katara!” Zuko called and Katara lifted her head.

Of course she knew that her priority was in handling Thuy’s affairs, but she had been looking forward to this most of all.

“Zuko!” Rohan yelled and ran to intercept him. Katara and Thuy laughed as Rohan launched themself skyward, only to have Zuko crabwalk to make sure he caught them. Landing lightly, Rohan put their arms around Zuko and said something. Zuko only shook his head and continued walking, still carrying Rohan.

“Pop-Pop would’ve really liked you.” Rohan stated when they were all together.

“The Avatar?” Zuko asked, dipping down to let Rohan free.

“I already do like him.” Thuy said and then stuck out her tongue as Rohan rolled their eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be training?” Katara asked.

“Sifu Toph is still asleep.” Thuy said.

“We all know that’s not a real answer.” Zuko countered. Thuy stood still, trying to maintain her bluff, but finally let out a breath and ran off. Mister Whiskers moved frighteningly fast after her.

“That thing terrifies me.” Katara announced.

“Oh yeah. You do not want to run into Mister Whiskers in the middle of the night.” Zuko said and shuddered.

Their days were spent in a leisurely routine. Toph dominated most of Thuy’s time with rigorous training. Earthbenders usually split their time between strengthening their bodies and controlling their bending. Toph, a stout but slender woman, definitely had Thuy lifting weights, but spent more of her time teaching Thuy how to see with her feet.

That was what made Toph an extraordinary Bender, more so than the metalbending. She was so completely in tune with her element that she didn’t need to be a bulk of muscles to do impressive feats of strength. Thuy excelled very quickly and was excited by the prospect of being able to see in the dark.

Zuko still hovered during a lot of those training sessions as he argued with Toph about chi and specific points in the feet and hands that were important to Firebenders. As Thuy ran around without shoes, Zuko worried that she was blocking off part of her chi circulation. Toph argued that Thuy couldn’t continuously have tenderfeet, as that would lead to more injuries. Katara, always having to step in as a mediator, created a simple compromise; after every training session, Thuy had to go to undergo acupressure.

Oddly enough, the best practitioner Zuko could find was one of Azula’s former friends, and there was a bit of awkwardness when Ty Lee arrived. Luckily, she, Thuy, and Rohan were all kindred spirits and she assimilated quickly.

Ty Lee and Rohan got on remarkably well in fact. When they started to disappear, Katara tried not to ask questions.

Katara’s role hadn’t changed much from the duties she had as a queen. Instead of managing the finances and policies of the three tribes, she instead was taking a break to manage the finances and schedule of the Avatar. Gifts had to be sorted, invitations answered, and documents proofread. In the evenings, she, Zuko, and Thuy would sit together and go over various things.

Every single city-kingdom within the Earth Kingdom was upset by this arrangement. Having two heads of state directly advise the Avatar was a terrible concept on paper. And Katara would admit that there were times that she wished she could always act in the best interests of her people instead of constantly being diplomatic. But that was what always rose to the top, for both Katara and Zuko; they wanted to guide Thuy into being the best Avatar she could be.

In this rare time of peace, it was the best opportunity, and they both felt like they had earned this from their time in the war.

Also, the only thing that made Thuy actually sit and listen for the whole time was their promising to talk about their wedding plans with her.

At night, Zuko and Katara had to go their separate ways. Their unification could be a euphemism but was always a very real, tangible thing. If they were going to sleep together, it had to be approved by their people, as it would - on the stage of global politics - be two kingdoms that went to bed.

It took Katara longer and longer to fall asleep the longer she stayed on the island. When the fall ended, she would be taking Thuy on her political visits while Zuko went back to the Fire Nation. Katara would have to visit the Swamp Tribe and leave Thuy there with Toph while she continued onto the South Pole. Then, before the spring equinox, she would have to return to the North Pole.

Never would it feel like going home.

With Katara’s new position, Sokka felt more comfortable closing the shop. It was actually preferable as his business had exploded; many wealthy patrons were obviously trying to buy access to the Avatar but Sokka was smart. He and Suki had visited a handful of times already and brought piles of gifts for Thuy; all of which had been distributed to various organizations or charities and the presenters had been sent a lovely thank you note from Thuy.

Still, all in all the palace was a lonely place. It made Sokka feel weird and he made a point of avoiding the Spirit Oasis. But at the South Pole, everyone treated her differently. Katara had wanted what Sokka had, a quiet life doing enjoyable work. Instead, she ruled a kingdom split over three continents.

With a heavy sigh, Katara threw off her blanket and got out of bed. The light of the full moon trickled in from her blinds and light enough of a path for her to make it to her door.

The hallway felt the same way her body did; dry, warm, and in need of a tall glass of water. But as she made her way down to the kitchens, she heard someone clattering around.

Expecting to find Rohan rummaging through the pantry, Katara leaped into the doorway with a yell.

Zuko dropped a teapot and swore colorfully.

“Oh no! I’m sorry, I thought you were Rohan.” Katara said and rushed into the kitchen. Zuko knelt down and picked up the pieces of the teapot.

“It’s okay. I know how to repair this.” He said and stood up, holding the large pieces in his hands. He looked at them, tilting his hands slightly to catch the light in the outer glaze.

“What I love about Kintsugi is that the beauty comes from the fixing, not from the damage itself.” Zuko looked up at her and Katara suddenly felt embarrassed.

“So, want some tea?” He asked as he walked over to the counter.

“Sure, but why are you up so late?” Katara replied and followed him.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Katara pushed herself up onto the counter and watched Zuko make tea. There was an electric kettle with settings for different types of tea, but Zuko chose a metal kettle and heated it himself. It was a slow process and Katara flicked her gaze from his face to his hands.

“Why do you bend like that?” She questioned. Zuko looked up at her, confused.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re not a Firebender. You don’t do a lot of, you know,” Katara paused to make quick, jabbing punches in the air. “Firebender stuff.”

“I absolutely still do a lot of that.” Zuko retorted, clearly offended. “I am and will always be a true Firebender.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, you’re very,” Katara struggled to find the right word and strained over it. “Adaptable?”

Zuko looked down at the kettle, staring at it intensely. After a moment, he decided the water was hot enough and set it on the stove to prepare a new teapot.

“I am going to tell you something I have never told anyone.” He said as he opened up a cupboard.

Gripping the edge of the counter, Katara stayed quiet. Zuko rummaged through the cupboard and pulled out a tea tin, examining its label before replacing it.

“I met Avatar Aang.” He said.

Katara still stayed quiet and Zuko pulled out another tea tin, approving of its label and prying open the lid.

“It was just before he died. He came to the palace to speak to my grandfather. I was nine, so obviously I wasn’t allowed to officially meet him since he was trying to persuade my grandfather to stop the war.” Zuko scoffed and scooped tea into the teapot’s strainer. “I was only the son of the second born prince of the Fire Lord. I was a nobody.”

“And now you’re the Fire Lord, making his own tea in the Avatar’s house.” Katara interjected. Zuko chuckled and pointed the tea scoop at her.

“A vast improvement to be sure.” He said. He then continued making the tea and with his story.

“I snuck out that night while they were all at dinner. I remember my main reason for doing so was because we had to eat vegetarian since Aang was and I didn’t know what that meant.” Zuko poured water into the teapot and slid on the lid.

“Well, they had all been arguing and suddenly out comes this really old guy. I mean, he looked better than my grandfather, but ancient was ancient. He looked really angry and I wasn’t supposed to be out of bed, so I was terrified. I thought he was going to drag me into the dining hall or something.” Zuko shook his head and leaned against the counter next to where Katara sat, crossing his arms over his chest. “But instead, when he saw me, he just smiled. He knelt down and introduced himself to me, looking very interested in what a nine-year-old nobody had to say. And then, I’ll never forget this, he put his hand on my shoulder and looked directly at me and said, ‘Zuko, be better than them.’ And then he got up and walked away.”

Zuko paused for a moment, staring off into space, and then turned around to pour the tea. He spoke as he handed Katara her cup.

“He sent me a gift for my tenth birthday a few weeks later. Aang had written on the inside of the wrapping paper, saying he hoped I’d be friends with the next Avatar. He had died while the gift was in transit.” He concluded.

“How did that impact your bending?” Katara asked, rolling the teacup gently between her hands.

“Azula was always a better Firebender than me. But I could be a better Bender. I could be like the Avatar and respect all of the elements and use their teachings to live a more harmonious life.” Zuko brought his teacup to his lips but hesitated, suddenly laughing. “I mean, as a kid it was all because I thought I had some grand destiny and was a self important idiot. But during the war, my uncle really helped me get my head sorted and I was able to put it together.”

They drank their tea and Katara sighed in contentment.

“What are you going to do when you go home?” She asked.

“What do you mean? I am home.” Zuko replied. He set down his teacup and held Katara’s hand as she set hers down before sliding off the counter.

“I’ve put out the fire wall in the throne room, dismantled statues, and closed up other manors. I have the palace, and I have you. One for work, and one for home.” He continued softly, holding onto her chin. He kissed her and Katara’s breath fluttered in her chest.

A door opened nearby and Katara jumped, making them both laugh even as voices approached. Rohan and Ty Lee walked into the kitchen and stared.

“It’s about time you two got back.” Katara snapped. Ty Lee looked mortified while Rohan just laughed.

“What are you old farts doing up so late? It’s way past your bedtime.” They retorted.

“You’re three years younger than me.” Zuko said.

“And yet you act like my Pop.” Rohan clicked their tongue while shaking their head. “What a waste of youth.”

“Did you want any tea?” Katara asked.

“Sure!” Ty Lee chirped. Rohan went around to rummage through the pantry and found a bag of cookies, turning the quiet moment into a midnight tea party. That woke up Thuy and Toph, making the whole thing an event. They laughed and chatted, mostly about a new video game Rohan and Thuy were playing. At one point, Zuko took Katara’s hand and squeezed it. A gentle reminder that they were home.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50

[gwaciechang]

Love Run (5/10?)

“And he holds her close just to keep the world at bay”

We’re officially halfway and they haven’t even technically kissed yet. This was supposed to be soft fucking. What. The. Fuck. Happened. To. My. Life.

At this point I don’t think there are any more spoiler warnings for Stan Lee’s Lucky Man, because we’ve deviated too much from the plot. So, just standard trigger warnings for Bobby Hayes’ general life. And also for a traumatic flashback nightmare.

“Thank you,” you whisper against Bobby's shoulder. You feel him nod, and you wish you could see his expression, but you want to keep your head here. Besides, his face would probably break your heart more, since it usually does.

He pulls away suddenly, and you try not to miss the feeling of his arms around you. “I’m going to clean these up,” you say, taking your empty plates to give yourself something to do. “The saran wrap is on top of the microwave. Cover the leftover noodles with them. But don’t put them in the fridge, I’ll do that.” You don’t want him getting upset with your fridge more than necessary.

You put the used dishes in the dishwasher and the pots in the sink, and Bobby starts to clean them without asking.

“So, how did you like the noodles?” you ask, standing as close as you dare.

“They’re good,” he says without emotion. “They’re your favorite?”

“Yeah,” you laugh at the memory. “It’s the first meal my brother made, and when I was recovering, it was one of the only things I could keep down. Probably because my mom used to make it when I was sick. I don’t know what came first, actually, me liking it or people making it for me when I feel sad.”

“Do people make it for you a lot?”

You shake your head. “It’s hard to tell someone how to make it. There’s no actual measurement in a lot of Chinese cooking. You just do what feels right. No two dishes are the same.”

Bobby grimaces and resumes scrubbing the pieces of burnt meat and garlic. You try not to take his displeasure personally. He’s probably not used to things not being exact and measurable.

“So, I’m going to brush my teeth and go to bed, unless you need anything?” you say when you’re finished with the three pots you used for the noodles.

Bobby shakes his head, on his fifth scrub of his pot. There’s no reason you can think of to stand so close to him now, so you take a paper towel to dry your hands.

“Good night, um, stay awake tight, and don’t let the bad guys in? Never mind, this wasn’t funny,” you head to the bathroom.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he says, suddenly standing up straight. You can’t help but notice that he’s actually quite tall and broad.

“Thank you,” you hope you’re not grinning too widely. “I hope you know the feeling’s mutual.”

“I do,” his voice is insistent. “I saw it.”

And you’re too tired to deal with these feelings, so you go to bed. It still feels too big and empty, and you wish he were here, but before you close your eyes and drift off, you wonder which ‘he’ you’re referring to.

When you wake up the next morning, it’s to the smell of coffee and eggs. David must be home early, and you're so giddy with excitement that you leap out of bed.

“David! I didn’t hear you come-”

Bobby stands frozen next to the stove, a plate of scrambled eggs on each hand.

“Shit, right, I forgot,” you rub your eyes.

“It’s fine," Bobby’s smile is forced, and you would rather stab your eyes out than see it again. “I made breakfast,” he keeps his eyes firmly on his plates as he sets the table.

“Yeah, I could smell it from,” you gesture to your room. He's unhappy.

You stare at the eggs and think about how to word it without wounding his nearly-nonexistent self-loathing further. “I bought this apartment with my ex,” you say. Great, failed step one.

“David?” Bobby rubs at his chest. You wonder if his injuries are bothering him, and you figure you might as well go all in. “Yes. He was my dealer.”

His openmouthed gaze would be funny in any other context.

“I got better, he didn’t, and sometimes I feel like I failed him. I know that’s ridiculous, and I can’t stop anyone from making their choices. I just wish I knew how to mute that voice in the back of my head that says he’s my responsibility and I failed him.”

“Is that why you invited me to stay with you?” Bobby's voice is high. “So you could do it right?”

You shake your head. “I think I recognized the same quality in you,” you’re not sure how to say this in words. “When I'm scared, or I feel helpless, it’s easier to take care of someone else, because I still haven’t figured out how to mute that voice in the back of my head that says I don’t deserve to be taken care of, so taking care of someone else is the only way to give me a sense of accomplishment that I did something worthwhile.”

Bobby stands up and walks to your bedroom. Great, what the fuck did you say this time?

He comes back before you have time to devolve further than that, holding his bag of heroin in his hand before pressing it into yours.

“I know you don’t like how it smells,” he says apologetically, “but I want you to have control over this. I trust you to make the best decision for me.”

“Bobby, can I give you a hug?” your voice is so shaky, it’s a wonder he hears you at all.

And you find yourself pressed to that wonderful chest again.

Pretty soon, it’s time to go to work for the first time in nearly a week, because while your boss is understanding, a whole week is a long time to be suddenly short staffed when you’re not even injured.

But you’re still worried, because Bobby’s going to be all by himself at the apartment all alone, so you make sure he knows exactly how to reach you if something bad goes down, a list of emergency contacts, where the emergency exit is and how to get down into the downstairs balcony through yours if he has to make a fast getaway.

He has to calm you down when you’re about to cry, and it's the fact that he’s singing a pop song while he taps his fingers against your cheek that snaps you out of it.

“Sorry, I just really, really don’t want to leave you alone,” you sniff.

“I’m sorry I can’t go to the bar,” he bows his head.

“Don’t be,” you tell him. “It’s not your fault they’re so crowded and noisy.”

“I’ll come pick you up,” he takes both your hands in one of his. “I-I’ll take the bus, and I’ll walk you to the stop and wait with you so we can take the bus back together.”

It occurs to you that Bobby is just as nervous about letting you out of his sight as you are, if not more.

“I’ll be okay. My coworker’s giving me a ride until the street gets fixed. Besides, you've seen me defend myself. I can be pretty scrappy.” As a child, you got into a lot of fights. Angry violence was your default response to a lot of things back then. Apparently, it still was. You wipe your hands on your pants even though you know there’s no brain matter on them.

“Get a nice rest, okay?” you put one hand over his and squeeze before letting go. “I’ll see you in eight hours. Don’t stand by the window watching me leave.”

But of course, you see him still at the window, watching you, when Cassie comes to pick you up.

“So, you want to tell me why you’re smiling like a total moron despite having killed a man less than a week ago?” Cassie teases.

You turn your smile into a frown as you give her shoulder a fake punch.

You're a little surprised at how smoothly work goes. You don’t have a panic attack thinking about the smell of brain fluid, you don’t even feel stressed when the complaints start coming in that you’re going too slowly thanks to your shoulder. Not that the complaints are taken seriously, Cassie even snaps at some of the patrons when they tell you to hurry up. The shift goes by in a flash, and you’re in good spirits when you get back to your apartment.

As expected, Bobby is asleep. His face is soft and boyish, like every single wall he built to keep out the world that hurts him was torn down. You can’t resist tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, and his head chases your hand for a little while before he settles down. There's a line between his eyes now, so what choice do you have but to put your hand back and lie down?

You notice the smell of laundry detergent. Of course, Bobby would wash your sheets before he slept in them. You’re a little embarrassed at how long it's been since you did. Living with a someone so neat was definitely going to shame you into developing better cleaning habits, if you two didn’t kill each other with control freak tendencies first.

You don’t think about this long. The room is filled with his soft breathing, which soon becomes your soft breathing, which soon becomes silence. Which soon becomes the sound of metal crushing skull, and you wake up screaming.

When you wake up in the morning, it's because the smoke alarm went off and definitely not because you want to throw up. You yank the blankets off, too scared to even shiver in the sudden cold, and run into the hallway just in time to see Bobby cursing and dumping something into the trashcan.

“What the fuck?” you see him flinch, and you know your tone’s too harsh, but the nightmares are far too real, the adrenaline’s ebbing, and you just cannot deal with any more stress right now.

“I’m sorry,” he swallows. “I wanted to make you breakfast again to make up for throwing up on your bed, but you don’t have a toaster, so I tried to make it in the microwave, but all the buttons are in Chinese and you have a different brand of margarine than I use.”

“That’s because I use actual butter, fucking christ!” you stomp over to the microwave, grab a paper towel, and yank out the grill that’s covered in melted bread to toss it in the sink. Except it’s not a paper towel, it’s your only apron, and now it’s got a big burn on it.

“Goddammit!” you toss the apron on the floor, and it lands in a gray smear of brain matter that can’t possibly be there. You move to cover your eyes so you don't see it, but there are suddenly hands clenched tightly around your wrists, forcing them apart.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you demand. Your heart beats faster. This is wrong.

“I-I thought you were going to scratch yourself”" he says, voice plainly terrified.

Your voice is ice cold, “If I scratch myself, Bobby, that is none of your fucking business. You’re not here to take care of me, you;re here because you couldn’t cut it making a living on your own. You’re so-”

You both vomit in unison. At least it stops you from speaking. You recover fairly quickly, but as the physical nausea recedes, a new form takes its place.

“Bobby,” you reach for his shoulder, but he flinches back, so you put your hands in front of him where he can see them. You have to move them again rather fast, because he doesn’t stop, not even when his stomach is empty and all that's coming up is bile.

This close, you can see the sweat stains on his pajamas, and you put one and one together to realize he's still detoxing.

You wipe your mouth and pop in some gum before sliding an arm across Bobby’s trembling body to help him off the floor. “Okay, I can’t pick you up, so you're going to have to walk to the bathroom under your own power, but you can lean on me, and I’ll draw you a bath, okay?”

“Don’t need,” he says between gagging fits. “I need a hit, please. I know you have it somewhere.”

“You trusted me to do what’s best for you, remember? So I'm going to do that.”

“You hate me,” Bobby’s voice and eyes are filled with tears. “Everyone hates me, so why not just let me die?”

“Fuck,” you wonder if you’ve ever hated yourself this much. Maybe when you first woke up and realized you’d made yourself incontinent with your drug use. “I don’t hate you,” is all you can say.

“I make your life harder. I made you keep my drugs while you’re recovering. I ruined your refrigerator-”

“Fuck my refrigerator, okay?” you lower Bobby to the floor and start to fill the tub with hot water. “And nothing I said was meant for you. I just had a nightmare and I took it out on you, that’s unfair of me.”

His face crumples further. “You have nightmares because of me.”

“I have nightmares because a man tried to kill me and didn’t stop until I killed him first!” you snap. Bobby flinches, so you soften your tone.

“I’ve never cooked with anyone before,” you admit. You try to keep your hands in sight, so he knows while he probably can’t control himself that you’re not touching him anymore. “And I don’t think anyone’s ever sang to me before. Bobby, you make my life better. You make me better, and I’ve only known you for three waking days.”

There, the water’s warm enough now. “Come on, you have to get in and cool off.”

He clenches his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut, but he lets you remove his sodden shirt and jeans. You realize he’s soiled himself at some point, so you have to remove the rest of his clothing. You only leave him alone for one second to toss his soiled undergarments in the garbage and wash your hands, but when you come back, there are tears glimmering down his cheeks.

“I’m here, I’m here,” you grab your bodywash and a sponge, then squat next to him. He shivers, even though the water’s hot, when you touch him. The tears don’t fall any less often, and you put your apologies into your work.

He’s half asleep when you’re finally finished, so you simply wipe him down and tuck him in the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and you’re not sure which is worse, that he’s still apologizing to you despite your awful words, or that he apologizes in his dreams.

You don’t think you've ever been so simultaneously relieved and regretful to go to work. It seems everyone can tell you’re distracted, and finally Cassie drives you back home an hour early.

He’s still asleep when you get back, for which you’re both grateful and terrified. The cherries taste like ash in your mouth, but they're a fast source of calories so you can get to bed as soon as possible and lie awkwardly and stiffly so that no part of you is touching him.

You’re just starting to drift off when he wakes up. He notes that you put him in a ratty pair of pajamas, and he turns so red that you can see it in the dim light.

“You have to really love me to do this,” he says in awe, echoing your own words back to you.

“You weren’t screaming about how much you hated me. I was doing that,” there’s so much self-loathing in your voice that you almost expect something to drip off your tongue.

Bobby makes a deeply wounded noise and curls toward you. You wrap your arms around him.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, now that he’s awake enough to hear. You would need to apologize every day for a year to fully express how sorry you are.

“I’m sorry,” he starts to withdraw, and you instinctively hold him tighter. He practically burrows into you at the contact, and you realize that he wasn’t pulling away because he didn’t want to be touched, but because he thinks he doesn’t deserve to be touched. So you touch him everywhere you can reach, running your hand from the top of his head all the way down his back where the ridges of his spine stick out to much, nuzzling the junction between where his collarbone is too prominent, and cupping your palm on his bony cheeks.

This time, when you wake up from the nightmares, he kisses you on the forehead and soothes you back to sleep with his hands in your hair.

[whenimaunicorn]

Nothing Close to What I Need

Fandom: Wynonna Earp Characters: Bobo del Rey x OFC Words: 2875

From the prompt “kiss on a dare” by @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen. Shades of enemies-to-lovers, the OC is a sometime associate of the Earps who finds herself at a bachelorette party held at Shorty’s... while it’s under Bobo’s management. Someone orders body shots and it all goes to hell

Full Text: “I think the new owner is kind of hot.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Really, Delilah?” I was uncomfortable enough that her bachelorette party was still happening at Shorty’s, despite the recent change in management.

“Mm, yeah,” my other friend Joanie replied, sucking down on the straw in her Jack & Coke as she basically eye-fucked Bobo del Rey where he stood behind the bar. “Do we know anything about him?”

The rest of them had moved out of Purgatory after high school; everyone but me. Today they’d flown back in for Delilah’s bachelorette festivities. I still hadn’t understood why they wanted to have the party here. “He looks like bad news to me.” I knew a lot more than that about the revenant that had bought Shorty’s just to spite Wynonna Earp, but I wasn’t going to get into it with these bitches.  I hadn’t even revealed to them that I had started associating with the Earp girls at all. They wouldn’t get it.

Delilah bumped me with her elbow. “I thought you loved a bad boy.”

I twisted my lip, letting my eyes slide off the man with the wild mohawk and crazy smile. “What can I say, I’ve grown a little since high school.”

Delilah’s lips formed an exaggerated pout. “Not tonight, you haven’t. Tonight, we get crazy.”

Joanie made a loud whooping sound that drew more than a few eyes from around the establishment. “Hell yeah! Let’s get this party going. Delilah, I dare you to do a body shot off someone.”

The bachelorette grinned, her eyes already getting that smoldering look that always got the boys wrapped around her little finger. “Fuck yes. Let’s all do them.”

Joanie hopped up from our table and headed to the bar to order the drinks. She came back after only a minute, empty-handed. “He said he’d bring ‘em to us here.”

I hoped like crazy that “him” was the usual bartender, but tonight I had no such luck. Within just a few minutes, Bobo del Rey himself came sauntering over to the table, eyes flashing with mischief over a tray that included saltshakers, lime wedges, and four brimming shots of tequila. “Looks like you ladies are celebrating,” he said with a charming smile for Delilah, eyeing up her hot pink “bachelorette” sash, and crown covered in tiny, almost tasteful phalluses. “I wanted to come over and congratulate you personally. I’m the new owner.”

“So we heard,” Delilah simpered, placing her hand in his palm when he extended his long fingers toward her.

Bobo kissed her knuckles like an old-fashioned gentleman, causing everyone but me to erupt into giggles. I knew the cruelty that lay behind that smile. I knew the only reason he came over here was to fuck with me, personally.

He was standing between Delilah and I, and he passed the shots around so that he got to me last. He caught my eye with a smirk, but said nothing to indicate that he already knew me. There was one tequila shot left on the tray, and he lifted it into the air at the center of the table. “To the wildest night of your lives.”

I didn’t trust his smirk. I suddenly wondered how many of the patrons surrounding us were revenants, too.

Bobo set the glass down in front of himself. “This round is on the house. You ladies don’t mind if I join you for this drink?”

What could I say? Especially when my friends were so dumbly receptive, nodding eagerly at their luck with the free drinks.

Bobo handed a saltshaker to me, and kept the other for himself. I thought I saw him wink before he turned back to the bachelorette. “Now, darling, tell me your name.”

“Delilah.”

Bobo’s eyebrows jumped, but he did not make any of the obvious jokes about her namesake. “Will you be my partner, Delilah?” He wiggled the saltshaker at her, lifting a lime wedge in his other hand.

Delilah held out the bare skin of her arm for him, but he shook his head.

“You can do better than that.”

She bit her lip, playing coy, then tugged the neck of her shirt a little lower, offering him her chest.

Bobo’s eyes lit up, and he popped the rind-side of the lime into her mouth. “Hold that for me.” He leaned over her, but his eyes sought mine, making certain I was watching. He extended his tongue slowly, lasciviously, and licked a line right under her collarbone, looking only at me.

Delilah shivered, and Bobo tucked his arm around her. He tapped salt onto the wet line he had left, and then looked expectantly at the rest of us.

I guess Joanie and I were partners. I was too petrified under Bobo’s devilish stare to take the initiative; I didn’t even look at Joanie when she lifted my arm and licked the inside of my wrist.

I vaguely felt the salt sprinkle on my skin as I watched Bobo smirk. Joanie broke the hypnotism of his eyes when she traced the lime across my bottom lip.

I blinked at her, taken aback by the sensuousness of the gesture. She waggled her brows at me and then I remembered how much she liked to tease the boys with a little girl-on-girl action. Bobo del Rey was about to get way more of a show than I wanted to give him.

I bit my lip, tasting the sour juice.

“How’s that lime?” Joanie asked, her voice dropped seductively low. Before I could answer, she leaned in to taste it herself.

She nipped at my lip softly, and made a show of pulling our bodies closer together. When she drew away I could see she was locking eyes with Bobo, checking to see if that did anything for him.

I decided my best play now was just not to acknowledge him at all.

Joanie pressed the rind of the lime into my mouth so she could go for her grand finale. She licked the salt from my wrist with a sexy little growl, took her shot, and then squeezed juice from the lime between my lips without even removing it.

Delilah emitted a high-pitched little giggle; when I looked over Bobo’s tongue swiping salt off her chest was making her squirm. He knocked back his tequila like a champ and plucked the lime from Delilah’s mouth with a sharp snap of his teeth.

I could hear a nervous edge to my friend’s laughter. She may have said that Bobo was ‘kind of hot,’ but her instincts were kicking in now, weren’t they. Something in her knew that she was in the grasp of a predator. Delilah slid her stool closer to us. “I want some of that hot Joanie action too,” she said with an exaggerated pout. A great excuse to get away from him. I watched her do her body shot off Joanie’s boobs as my stomach quietly sank to the floor. She’d left Bobo del Rey to be my partner now?

“I guess that leaves you and me, sweet thing,” Bobo said. His voice vibrated the air above my ear. I twisted toward him to hide my flinch. Bobo was smirking and lifting the bottom of his black t-shirt.

My swift retort died on my tongue when I caught sight of what he was revealing. His abdomen was chiseled. The smooth, pale skin framed by fur coat and dark fabric was captivating, the bold lines of his hip bones leading my eye straight down to the dusting of hair that showed just above his low-slung belt. Fuck, Bobo del Rey was kind of hot.

He thrust that tempting slice of exposed flesh toward me. “Your move.”

My throat was suddenly dry. Well, the tequila would take care of that. Joanie and Delilah made taunting little “oohs” of encouragement and there was no way out for me but through this experience. At least Bobo was not letting on to them that he already knew me, that we had a history of taking other kinds of shots at each other.

I leaned down toward his offered stomach, holding my breath and the saltshaker at the ready. I saw Bobo’s eyes shift around the bar as I dove in. Fuck, he just wanted to make sure his whole revenant crew was witnessing this: Wynonna Earp’s little buddy bending down over his crotch. My anger threw off my aim; though I had intended to half-ass this, my tongue landed hard against his skin just below his navel, and I licked a rough stripe that seemed much more eager than I had intended.

I salted him like I was warding off an evil spirit, but there was only amusement in Bobo’s hooded eyes as I straightened my back and grabbed my shot glass. Tequila could only make this better, right? I ducked my head back down as Joanie and Delilah whooped, and forgot to hold my breath this time.

The scent of man musk invaded my inhale, rich and enticing. Fuck this motherfucking demonic fucker. I licked as little as I could get away with, the dainty tip of my tongue picking up just a few salty grains, making sure I’d leave him feeling messy and uncomfortable. Then I recoiled and sucked down the sour liquor as gracefully as I could.

I don’t particularly enjoy tequila. It burned worse than I remembered, and my eyes flew open in search of the lime wedge.

Bobo was already holding it for me, perched between two fingers as he wiggled it in front of my face. I lunged for it, and he drew it back at the last minute so my teeth closed in empty air.

My eyes burned at him, as harsh as the liquor in my throat. Bobo teased me with the fruit, acting like he’d let me have it if I would just lean toward him again, but my pride wouldn’t let me. I grabbed my beer off the table instead, chugging the lukewarm remnants of the bottle and glaring.

Bobo grinned cheekily and bit into the lime himself. “You ladies enjoy your night,” he said as he took a step away. “Just holler if you need anything else.”

Delilah and I watched him retreat back behind the bar, flipping his giant coat with a flourish. “He’s cute, but he’s kind of a douche,” Delilah said when he was out of earshot.

Joanie shrugged, and started playing with Delilah’s hair. “He’s just negging us. When guys give you a hard time, it means they think you’re too hot for them. It’s a compliment.”

I rolled my eyes, but Delilah smiled like she agreed, like she liked that idea. “What did he taste like?” She asked me.

I furrowed my brow. When did this night become all about fucking Bobo del Rey? “I don’t know.” She looked skeptical, like I was holding back on the good shit. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Delilah pouted. I was starting to remember why I hadn’t been too broken up when these two moved out of Purgatory. They were fun, but they weren’t the most empathetic sort of friends. “Well then,” she said, a devilish smirk coming into her eye as she bent her head down to look at me through her lashes, “you’ll have to find out. For the next dare, I dare you to go kiss him.”

I blew out a soft exhale. Joanie leaned in against my resistance. “Don’t be a party pooper,” she chided.

“Fine. But not right now. Let me find a good moment.”

The longer I sat there and sipped my next drink, the more it felt like a chat with Bobo was going to be necessary, anyway. I had no idea how many of the bar patrons surrounding us were actually demonic revenants from hell, nor what kind of terrible things they might be thinking about getting up to with me and my attention-grabbing friends here. I could advise that we leave for another bar right now, but who knew if some of them might decide to follow?

I got up when I saw Bobo emerging from a back room, intercepting him on only slightly-shaky legs before he could return behind the bar. He smirked as he saw me coming, and I threw on a winning smile to make the villain curious enough to slow down and talk to me.

The music was loud. I had to put my mouth to his ear if I wanted to be heard; he drew me in close to his body with a hand at the small of my back. “I need you to promise me safe passage. For my friends tonight.” I waited for him to laugh at me, scoff, or something, but when he did not immediately react I kept going. “I know you’ve got a problem with Wynonna, but they’re not connected to any of it. They’re innocents.”

Bobo tipped his head down, getting right up in my face. He let his demon eyes flash. “We love innocents. Especially their screams.”

“Don’t you dare!” I retorted. “My best friend is celebrating her wedding tonight, and nothing is going to ruin that.”

Perhaps it was foolish to speak to our immortal enemy like a mother slapping a child’s hand. But I couldn’t back down on this, and I didn’t have much to bargain with. Bobo cracked a smile, like he enjoyed the unexpected. “I like you.”

“Well that’s good to hear, because… I do need one other thing from you.”

Bobo raised his silver-spotted eyebrow.

I became distinctly aware of the way he was leaning over me, the casual command emanating from his hand at my hip. Two of his fingers were above the line of my jeans, resting on my bare skin. “Don’t worry, it’s not really another favor. I mean you’ll probably like it.”

His face jumped in a bemused expression, and his index finger ran back and forth across my skin. “I'm intrigued.”

I still had to use every bargaining chip I had. “Promise safe passage, first.”

Bobo shook his head, an indulgent smile curving his lips. “Tell me.”

I released a burst of air. Worth a try. “They dared me to kiss you.”

His eyebrows shot up, a smug smile quick to follow as he leaned back and regarded me like a fancy dessert he had just been served. “Did they now.” His hands came to encircle my hips, and he rocked them side to side like he was trying to make me dance as he looked me up and down.

“Yep,” I replied, already feeling defeated as I watched Bobo check to see if Joanie and Delilah were watching.

Bobo’s voice rumbled low. “Then we’d better give them a good show.”

He lifted me up with that same grip on my hips, depositing my ass on the edge of the empty table nearby. He pushed in close, his thighs between my legs, before I could try and keep him at a greater distance.

His hands trapped the sides of my face, rings flashing. And then he paused, staring for a long moment into my eyes like we were lovers. I got a glimpse of depths in that gaze that I never expected Bobo del Rey to have.

“Can we just get this over with?” I blurted into his face. I refused to acknowledge the sudden ache between my thighs. It was only a visceral reaction to a masculine body so close to my own.

I expected him to be rough, or lewd. Instead, Bobo’s hands slid around the base of my skull, cradling my head before he brought it fractionally closer to his own. The contact of his lips was smooth, and his whiskers were softer than they looked.

His gentle fingers coaxed me closer, his lips melting against mine so sweet that I opened my mouth to him without thinking. His tongue teased across the tip of mine.

Tingles ran down my spine before he let me go.

He looked a little dreamy too, pulling back only just far enough to look me in the eye. “You like me too.”

I scrunched up my face, shaking his hands off my face. “No I don’t. It was just a dare.” I turned his head to the girls, who were silently cheering at me.

Bobo recaptured my gaze, looking unimpressed. “Sure you do. Nobody kisses someone they don't like, like that.”

I pushed him away and hopped down off the table, quick as I could. I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of seeing anything else in my eyes.

Bobo extended his arm like a bar as I turned away from him, catching me for one more comment before I could race back to my girls. “I’ll spread the word,” he said above my shoulder, “nobody is hunting tonight. Not at your table. But do us a favor?” I felt him lean in, speaking his next words so close that his beard tickled my ear. “Leave me out of any more of your little dares. Unless you’re ready to finish what you start.” He released his grip across my chest and slapped me hard on the ass, propelling me back toward my table.

[mayadile]

I don't know if I'm bothering you with this ask but has King Dice ever felt inner conflict at having an actual relationship for once in his life? Not that he regrets it, he's just never thought that it was possible? When he first started dating Connie, I mean, the absolute angel.......(I'm a hardcore Snake Eyes shipper but your art and ideas are so amazing......I was actually first introduced to the LGBTQ+ community by looking through your blog and I'm really thankful for it )

I DID WRITE A WHOLE BIG THING ABOUT THIS IN MY GOOGLE DOCS HOW EVERYTHING GOES AND HAPPENS WITH THEIR RELATIONSHIP!!!!! welp this is going to be long so lets pop in A READ MORE!!!

Ok so lemme give you some headcanons of mine HAHA so yes as you can see King Dice! He’s a big shot right? He can smooth talk his way to getting anything, it’s a talent of his! He attracts all sorts of people with his presence and he knows it! Working in the casino for years and years ( And stuff with King Dice’s backstory but that’s later but if you wanna know I can gladly write that for you too later! ) and being partners with the Devil himself, got a reason for it, being the right hand man, man got a rotten soul! Greedy,Egotistic,Nartisstic, etc ( I MEAN LISTEN TO HIS SONG! He basically thinks so highly of himself come on, even when working with the Devil he thinks noone can mess with him! ) Dice likes money and by god does he love making people’s life the worse! mostly playing around with toons he thinks deserve it...like you know he has so much charisma, he can talk anyone into anything, he has that face, smile, dapper look,HE’S GOOD LOOKING AS HELL!! he got an aura that draws you to him. Hard to see right through him but if you do, you’ll see some dark aura around the guy. He’s a nasty nasty man! manipulative and a snake HAHA everyone in inkwell knows him for that, pretty sure everyone in inkwell hates him.He’s very dedicated and devoted to his work, that was the deal, be here in the flames and rot, why not have some fun and pull in some suckers, that’s one thing him and the devil bond over and get along with, they love making deals and ruining lives. He can talk a drunk patron into playing a game and selling their soul, he can flirt his way into your heart and take your soul, he can be so friendly, start something with you and just break your spirit and take that damn soul of yours and act as if he had nothing to do with it and left you there speechless and does it give him pleasure to see the lights leave your eyes when you figure out when you notice you just fucked up your life into giving your soul to the big cheese! Hilarious! what a sucker! you really think you had a chance? you really think everything was going good for you here? Welcome to hell pal! Now that you see the negatives of King Dice, back to your question, yes it was confusing for him to ever have genuine feelings for someone, most of the time he plays around ya know? He can do whatever he’s the manager. I mean I’m pretty sure he had relationships before he got his soul taken from the devil! But guess all things were lose and consumed while working in the Casino, guess he didn’t have the need for it or thought it is necessary??? The only relationship he had all those years stuck in here was his partnership/friendship with the devil, don’t know if you can say it is a good friendship, but they are business partners??? same with his lackeys too! King Dice again thinks he’s a real catch, he knows toons fall for him and he likes the attention! But him attracted to someone he finds alluring as himself?? He can’t keep his eyes off? interested? curious? THAT’S A REAL RECORD SCRATCH, it confuses the absolute hell out of him.Like imagine being someone whos...King Dice and suddenly you start developing feelings? scary isn’t it? Chest starts to get heavy, your nasty nature turns into putty and you have birds singing, you want to see this person and hear their voice, you get tongue tied?? Something you never do? Mr.Big Bad Big Shot, Everyone adores me and hates me and this one person makes you weak to the knees!! an employee of yours? It’s terrifying for him and absolutely crazy, he doesn’t need this, he thinks he is better than that, love? HAHA WHO NEEDS THAT RIGHT? I’M THE GAMEST IN THE LAND WHO NEEDS THAT STUFF WHEN I HAVE ALL OF THIS AND-- Oh look Connie!Does he regret it? Nah, he actually likes it, it’s nice to feel something good! make that dark void in his chest sing and dance. His feelings towards Connie developed deep down since he did try to hide and deny it but coming from a guy who is actually a secret hopeless romantic it’s hard~ uhhh ok Dice’s first impression of Connie wasn’t good and mostly he thought that they were like every other magician, they do a image for themself but they’re actually nasty like why else would Connie come and also accept a job at the casino? He knows Connie isn’t a complete angel ( They were given a job at the casino for a reason and that reason is because the devil sees something in Connie he admires and so he lend them a hand and gave them the job here, Connie isn’t the ANGEL you all think they are, they’re actually awful lol but they repress feelings!  ) but getting to know them further ( if you wanna know how feelings develop Ill give you that too and when connie came to the casino! ) But! Connie has that something, that really attracts King Dice, they’re like light, lighting up the room with their booming voice and enthusiastic personality, makes the casino more alive and tolerable. Another small headcanon, of course I base King Dice very much of Cab Calloway, so he isn’t always a nasty dude ( i mean he is ) but he has that feel of always dancing about and singing~ Back then in his better life Dice had a band and wow does he miss it..( Locks all of his past memories in a box hidden in his office ).. Being around Connie makes him want to dance and sing ( which he does ) sometimes together he will tune his radio and play some songs and sing, Connie would join and dance along side with him, brings back memories and it’s a good thing since Dice hasn’t had a dance partner in YEARS and mostly someone who can catch up with his rhythm and be in sync and have the same energy. So yeah he never ever thought he would make it this far and have an actual loving relationship with someone, I mean Connie and Dice are both broken toons and both aren’t perfect and have some conflict but they do have such good chemistry and love one another to make it whole! ( Wow that was cheesy but these two can be cheesy :\ ) Again apologizes for my rambling and run off sentences .... remind you that this is one of my ever first oc/canon I was ever invested in and seeing people like it really make me happy since Im a nervous lad....There is alot to their story and again I will say, they are a slow burn, feelings slowly develop and mostly fully happen after the casino went to shit, but not saying they don’t mildly flirt before then ;o; just conflicted feelings all around...uh..im not a romantic writer guys but I can say I do love the effort I put in these two so if you want more info just tell me and I’ll do the best I can? THANK YOU!

[suedescripture]

Pinto, Hallmark Christmas movie AU

The Pine family has reigned over the Christmas season at The Grove for as long as most people can remember. Katie and Gwynne come up with new themes for the North Pole Village each year. Robert Pine is—in certain circles and according to ten out of ten children under the age of 12 in the greater metro area—considered the Real Santa Claus. And Chris is the cheeriest, happiest, Most Merry Santa’s Little Helper who has ever held the position (including when he booted Katie at the age of 17). He can charm a smile out of the surliest scrooge.

But listen, Zach works retail, and not even good retail, he works one of those godawful kiosks trying desperately to sign people up for phone service, and the only reason he’s making $15/hr now is because the great state of CA finally forced his boss to pony up a semi-realistic minimum wage (but Zach still lives in his newlywed brother’s basement, because Califuckingfornia). If there is anyone in this mall that hates the time of year when the glitter covered fake-ass cotton snow comes rolling out and That Family™ comes in and takes over the place, it’s this guy.

Oh Zach and Chris very nearly came to blows last year. The have A History. This will be Year Three in the Fallout between Chris the Friendliest Happiest Santa’s Elf and That Swarthy Guy with the Nasty Attitude At Kiosk 18. It made the local 6 o’clock news. Reporters are already staking out territory. Mall security isn’t happy about it.

It starts out similarly to last year. Chris leaves a Christmas candy on Zach’s kiosk when he’s not looking. A candy cane one day. An Andes mint chocolate. Those pillow thingies that squish weird in your teeth. Each time, Zach trashes them, gritting his teeth. So Chris ups the ante. He goes for the whole Terry’s Chocolate Orange, the kind you have to whack and then unwrap and you get perfect little slices of delicious orangey dark chocolate.

A cameraman from Channel 7 catches him squirreling it into his coat pocket, When confronted, with the camera in his face, he says defensively, “My mom loves them, and they’re impossible to find in Pittsburgh,” before running off.

Chris: 1, Zach: 0. Grumpy Zach is publicly outed as a Mama’s boy. The reporters send an affiliate to reach out to his mom in Pittsburgh for comment. She cracks the door and tells them her Zachary really is a sweet soft gentle boy, he’s just had a terrible time since his father passed on Christmas when he was just seven.

The following week, Zach makes two children cry by telling them Santa passes gas in the break room that smells like reindeer roast.

That’s where it comes to head this year, so the media doesn’t quite get wind of it. Chris walks in and confronts Zach at the coffeemaker, saying, “Don’t you dare bring my dad into this.”

“Why not? He’s a gassy Santa. It’s gross, he should see a doctor.”

“Yeah he is, but you don’t have to ruin Christmas for little kids just because you don’t have a dad!” Chris immediately covers his mouth after that pops out. It was out of line, and he knows it. Zach silently goes back to the kiosk with a pained rage on his face.

But it changes everything. Chris confesses what he said to his dad when they’re at home over hot cocoa with full sized marshmallows, and they he feels even worse because all he’s ever wanted was to cheer this poor guy up and let him have a good Christmas for once. Also he’s just kind of hot, and… and Chris knows he’s probably as sweet as his mom says, because who would know better but Zach’s own mom? And Bob, itching at the snowy beard that he’ll shave off as soon as the season is over, tells him, “Then stop making it a hostile takeover, a forceful assault demanding that Zach should be happy right now. Sometimes, Chris, especially with people who have losses and pain to deal with, the Spirit of Christmas is just in quiet moments of joy.”

Chris doesn’t do anything at all in the week leading up to Christmas, to the dismay of all the reporters and the gossipmongers. He and Zach keep their distance, but there is one instance where Chris drops an entire bucket of mini candy canes practically in Zach’s kiosk. He didn’t do it on purpose either, some asshole didn’t place a mat over a wire correctly, and a patron could have gotten hurt. A whole group of piney teenage girls swept right in to help Santa’s Hot Little Helper pick up the mess, which he milked with sweet grins and thanks and presenting each one with a sweet, but it was a camera from Channel 4 that caught Zach watching the whole thing, specifically staring at Chris’ ass before he rolled his eyes and picked up a remaining candy cane by his feet, tucking it in his pocket.

Another happened when the Christmas decorations strung over Zach’s kiosk come loose and covers him in glitter that would never fucking come out of his clothes, but it almost made him look positively festive for the rest of the day. Chris giggled every time he looked in his direction, and Zach caught him several times, scowling. “You did it on purpose,” Zach accuses over the coffeemaker.

“I didn’t,” says Chris, “But now you’re all sparkly. It’s cute.”

“I don’t sparkle.”

“All sparkly and shiny and pretty like a Christmas ornament.”

“I’m not pretty,” Zach frowns, flustered.

“Yeah, you are.”

Zach’s eyes widen in shock.

Oh. Chris turns beet red and leaves it at that. Whoops.

Finally it’s time for the Christmas Eve Finale, the part everyone is here for, because every year—and the reason he stole the position from Katie (though she was happy to give it up)—Chris sings a song and put on a little show. And boy howdy, Santa’s Little Helper can sing like Sinatra. And this year, Zach got scheduled to work til close, so he can’t skip out and leave like he did the last two years.

Chris puts on a snappy suit with a Christmasy paisley double-breasted waistcoat and a red bowtie (he has a friend who works at the Armani shop and did him a solid) and starts the show by walking up to Dad with a grin and steals his Santa hat. The lights go low, and the music starts, and Chris makes sure he can see Zach nonchalantly flipping the pages of a magazine as he starts to sing “Let’s make Christmas Merry, Baby”. It’s risky, but hopefully he can play it right. He casually strolls off the stage and in among the crowd and over towards the kiosk.

Zach tries to fight it, he tries to hide at first when he realizes what Chris is up to, but Chris’s cuts off his escape and as he sings “I’ll come around about midnight, fill your stocking full of toys.” Zach rolls his eyes and crosses his arms as Chris does a little twirl around him, singing “I’ll let you ride my reindeer, you won’t need a hobby horse,” as he pulls a pen from Zach’s breast pocket and writes his phone number on the heel of Zach’s hand with a heart. By the time he sings “I’ll bring you a chartreuse Cadillac and a diamond ring,” he’s got Zach’s full attention, because he’s shimmied his butt up on the the kiosk’s countertop and tugged Zach in between his legs, and parents are covering their little kid’s eyes, because… because…

Because Zach, the Scowling Scrooge of Phone Sales at the Grove, is smiling. Besotted. A little punch drunk looking as Santa’s Little Helper leaves a sweet kiss on his cheek and whispers in his ear, “I hope you’ll come at Christmas with me.”

And he does. Zach feels so awkward going over to the Pines for Christmas, but he puts on a dumb ugly sweater and carefully does his hair and awkwardly shows up with a bottle of wine, but they’re like so nice to him, and Bob Pine takes him aside and asks him about his family and (tongue-in-cheek) if there was anything that Santa could do that would help him feel better around this time of year, and fuck, he might as well be the real Santa Claus for as good as he is at reading people and saying the right thing. And then Chris gestures him out to the dark backyard and it’s kind of awkward, and Chris has glitter in his hair and Chris says he only has one wish for Christmas and it’s for a kiss.

He tastes like peppermint.

[sleepynegress]

Hi! I've seen your posts about Shuri and Bucky and I wanted to ask if you have the time if you could explain why a lot of people are not into it and why you think it's actually okay and would be cute? I haven't really gotten into the "discourse", I had only ever seen posts calling it wrong or disgusting and stuff like that and I would simply like to understand and consider somebody else's point of view, especially because you often post your thoughts about things and (pt1)

Aww, thank you. :) I’ve actually been going back and forth about whether I wanted to put down my full thoughts on it, because I like having an open mailbox.

…But ahh, what the hell.

I’ll say that when I saw that extra scene at the end of Black Panther, my eyebrows went up, I smiled and cleaned my shipper goggles and thought, “Hey, those two might be cute in a few years”. Then, I came home and checked the tag expecting some mad fangirls and foolishness and sure enough…

The thing is, this song and dance is an oldie, but not goodie.

Whenever there is even a hint of shippiness between a black girl and a popularly shipped white dude, concern trolling/virtue signaling nonsense comes up in abundance for why that’s just super-wrong and terrible and better off for the well-being and integrity of these characters for people to not imagine them together romantically and have fun creating fanwork for that.  Because it’ll lead to moral decay or some such hyperbolic nonsense. 

In actuality it’s just super-patronizing, clumsily veiled, bigotry. White fangirls who have the wildest incest and thousand year old supernatural man/teenager ships are squicked and threatened by even imagined relationships that don’t completely center on their all-white status quo.  They are doing their damnedest to convince others and probably even themselves that the vein is throbbing in their foreheads out of genuine concern for the black girl half of the ship.

The top three greatest hits that I’ve seen on that front have been:

she’s being taken advantage of and that’s gross because power dynamic is unequal and therefore it’s “rape(!)” because he’s a teacher and she’s a student (Spock/Uhura) 

she’s become a damsel in distress who the hero saves all the time and has no character traits apart from being his girlfriend (Iris/Flash)

she’d be having an affair with a married man and she would never do that, she’s better than that(!) because that’s immoral and she’s not (Abbie/Ichabod)

Now, for Bucky and Shuri it’s supposedly about protecting a nineteen year old black “child” (as of IW) from pedophilia.  …Yeah, right. These people even went so far as to harass the white actor half because he either ships it himself and/or likes to flirt and joke like quite a few actors do with co-stars they like or are friends with in interviews about having a thing between his character and hers. Make no mistake, the true goal was to shame him, to make him feel bad for doing that for the lowly black girl and not for their ships.I used to be a theater kid. I remember a grown-ass 40+ married man playing against my 18 year old friend as husband and wife in a production.  They flirted all the damn time, even when the wife came for the show she called her the second much younger production wife.  NOBODY thought this was gross or serious because we weren’t being serious. It was bonding among friends; among players and it helped with the chemistry.  If someone had come in talking about this guy was seriously taking advantage of my friend, we would have all backed away slowly from this person.Remember, when you were a kid and you’d claim certain aspects of pop culture stuff you like?  You’d see a cool car on a movie or TV show and say “That’s my car!” or see someone hot or cool and you’d say “That’s my boyfriend!”  That’s the spirit I get.  These people literally get to play pretend for a living, and they get to continue to play that game while actually being a part of production process. So, when folks make a huge deal out of this?  They are ones doing the thing they imagine the actors are doing. Taking it too far and thinking gross thoughts that those they were accusing of doing so, were not.With this, it’s been even more extra because Black Panther is literally the first black world with a massive budget that’s ever been embodied on screen and it’s a success, at that. Therefore there’s also lot of protective black fan helicoptering because of fear of white nonsense, and I get that but yeah… Sometimes it’s veers into stifling fan imaginings using respectability boundaries.  So, the convergence of the bigotry and helicoptering created a sigh-worthy, popcorn-ingesting fanwank clusterfuck over what should have been nothing, IMO.P.S./EDIT  Because I forgot the “why” part of the ship. Okay, so one character is literally a delicate ball of light, -fresh glowing positivity; a benevolent prodigy in wisdom/intelligence, curiousity, joyous humor, and freedom. The other is hardened, tainted and damaged, used (he thought beyond repair) for horrific acts of violence, and has been locked in a physical and mental prison of shadow for decades. The dynamics that are also wrapped up in that, -those ship tropes are doctor and patient, teacher and student, monster who only softens for his lady (similar to the movie canon dynamic for Nat/Bruce, but more interesting IMO), plus all of the forbidden and potential angst wrapped up in the class, age, culture/tradition, and racial gulf.   He’s found paradise and he’s not worthy of it.  She’s the only person who has seen and examined all of the horrific things he’s done in order to properly cure him and she still see’s the man and not the weapon, regardless.  She’s in intimate proximity while also being untouchable and he has good reasons to be bound to her. There are so many angles to this that hit on potential depth of connection while also having barriers up to crossing those lines.  …Which make for the basis of delicious slow-burn secret pining.  It’s all ripe for some amazing shippy fanwork.

[christhatcher]

11 from 2017

Holden – The Animal Spirits

What a time to be alive!

Musically speaking. Great swathes of musical history lie just behind our little Black Mirrors (is there a more perfect summation of our relationship with technology than the phrase ‘Black Mirror’?… thanks Charlie Brooker). Previously, styles were pegged to moments, and evolution and revolution, inspiration and reaction took their turns gathering acolytes and detractors. But the Black Mirrors have done for that nice neat musical timeline and brought disparate styles within touching distance and enabled previously unthinkable musical bedfellows to spoon and make the beast with two backs at their leisure. It’s a freedom from purity that makes musical stews like Animal Spirits as inevitable as those monkeys with typewriters eventually turning in some Bard. Fantastical technology, older technology, rudimentary technology and the absence of technology repeatedly collide on this album, synthesisers sound like they’re genuinely trying to imitate the random patter of chimes and bells, graceful chord patterns churn in endless loops and wind instruments and wordless incantations bubble around the mix. An Esoteric Albion Rave Mixtape. With added Krautrock and Free Jazz and Aphex Twin and Prog and what can only be described as an Earthy quality (Earth as in grit and ooomska, Earth as in one of the Four Elements). It’s an amazing thing that manages to sound like everything and nothing at once, but it does beg the question:

What time are we alive?

Genres don’t explode out of nowhere very often any more, haven’t, for almost the last two decades, given their times a distinct flavour (compare and contrast with… oh, all the usuals). Do we live in an age of eternal musical re-hash or in an age of ever more imaginative re-combinations of existing styles? It’s not a major challenge - to be poured over by the Boffins for the sake of humankind’s future - But I’m guessing that the (probably already made) ‘Sounds of The Naughties’ is destined for a full blown identity crisis when it does emerge (if it hasn’t already). On the flip side, the overall quality and quantity of new music hasn’t dropped. And in answer to the question, What time are we alive? I’d argue that we might as well concede that Space/Time doesn’t like a straight line, musical or otherwise, that we need to get to grips with the cyclical nature of Things and that we should probably accept that we’re at the point where All The Music is getting thoroughly blended up as it spirals ever closer to the Event Horizon of a Great Musical Black Hole… Who knows what will spill out on the flip side? Maybe we’ve already ejected and The Animal Spirits is an emergent howl… something with distinct traces of Human, but augmented, magick and operating in ALL the dimensions, not just our earth bound ones. What A Time To Be Alive!

Space Witch - Arcanum

Speaking of Space/Time. Did I ever tell you about the time that Hawkwind found themselves at a loose end in the Midlands with nothing but a stash of Mandrax for company? Thought not. Well, they downed the lot and were about halfway through rehearsing Doremi Fasol Latido (during Lord of Light according to Wykypedia) when two things happened. 1) The Lemmons kicked in and 2) Brian Blessed, with little else to do and generally on the faff, stopped by and, infuriated by Dave Brock’s laconic delivery, decided to give some impromptu elocution lessons. The laws of Space/Time couldn’t handle the at odds ripples set off by a heavily sedated Hawkwind rubbing up against a Brian Blessed enraged by poor enunciation. During the first third of a critically lysergic rendition of Time We Left This World Today, the fabric of Space/Time ripped open like soggy kitchen towel and flung the results ‘forward’ into the future, emerging first in 1980 - where Brian briefly took the form of Prince Vultan in a film adaption of Flash Gordon – before shuddering to halt like an ectoplasm blancmange hitting a wall, in 2017. At this point the whole temporal merry-go-round-the-bend took the name Space Witch and spat out a child called Arcanum.

The Cosmic Dead – Psyche is Dead

Did I ever tell you about the time that a consignment of Monster Magnet’s Tab EP (it’s basically an LP) got washed up in Glasgow and Customs & Excise officers became embroiled in a game of Cat & Mouse with a bunch of local stoners who half inched a few cases, ostensibly because tradition states that Tab must be played as a first dance song at a local wedding? No? well… along with that definitely happening, I should probably point out that, unlike the plot of Whiskey Galore (which this story has up until now utterly coincidentally borne a passing resemblence to) the Customs and Excisists actually did round up all the copies prior to said nuptials. But. As it transpires. Not before a few of the ushers had had a listen through and decided that it wasn’t really a brutal enough listening experience and could do with a few less notes. So they dropped all but two notes and proceeded to played a game of musical chicken, whereby the first person to progress from the first note to the second would be… phhhhhhhh… I don’t know… just called a lightweight or something. Unfortunately the three pieces of music they’d prepared did not go down well at the wedding, even though one of them was actually quite beautiful, in the way that maybe Boards of Canada* are beautiful. The assembled Aquarian Noodling Muso Soup loving guests might have been mortified, but the experience was a proper Road to Domestos moment for The Cosmic Dead. They’d seen the truth behind the Haight Asbury tinted spectacles. They had given the newly betrothed Psyche. And it had Died. Psyche Is Dead was born.

*Boards of Canada might be a bit of a leap, but it’s genuinely the first thing that popped into my head when I last listened to the title track, and I can’t be arsed to try and avoid a tenuous comparison: we live in such a plural musical world now, the musical evolutionary tree is way passed the point that it can be pruned and indexed back into £50 man-style shape and order, let’s face it, who’d want to? Embrace the chaos (See The Animal Spirits).

Oh Sees - Orc

See that Orc on the cover of Orc (below), he’s the guy who made this album. They’re spikey, Orcs, both personality wise and physically, and it comes across in the music. Those boney fingers and sharp but fraying nails wring gnarly, scuffed riffs out of guitars stored in damp and dank. They also have a problem regarding attention span and the only way to keep Orcs on track, as is widely known by those in the know, is to employ two drummers to keep pace and hope that they tangle together like creepers vying for the same patch of sky. You can’t be a creature from the realms of Fantasy Fiction and not adopt some of the trappings of a Prog act, and this particular Orc appears to have decided that the two drummer approach is the most appropriate nod to that ouvre; it makes for some frenetic, seat of the cod piece, extended instrumental work outs, brought (presumably) to a close by some form of sacrifice or the booming exhortation of a wizard in the studio control room. There’s definitely a human aspect to an Orc’s voice, so the melodies are recognisable and at times sit about where you’d expect. However, all that time around fires of unknown origin, with just bare branches, mist and the detritus of deep forest for furnishings, has rendered their voices ragged and ever verging on hysteria – liable to take fright (screech) or fight (bellow) at any moment. Imagine trying to sing a lullaby with all those needling teeth. Never going to happen. Lyrically, Orcs have a tendency towards understated reportage of their everyday lives, “Let's witness the whole occasion, Piles of bodies fill the garden, Smash the hedgerow with their plummet, Stop with panic, ugly banquet. Floating in the vile moat yeah, Crack their skulls upon the cobbles, Ringing home their lemming's message, Fill the streets with awful messes.”. They don’t really do braggadocio or anything as flowery as metaphor either, and sometimes just sing to-do lists “Old is warrior drink the poison, I am warrior crush your head in”. They do love smashing heads in and this album makes an excellent accompaniment to said act.

Jarvis Cocker and Chilly Gonzales - Room 29

For this song cycle about the Chateau Marmont Hotel, Hollywood, Jarvis Cocker splits the difference between the kitchen sink magician fronting Pulp and his role as narrator of the nocturnally themed Radio 4 show Wireless Nights. An embarrassment of lyrical riches leap out as he pillow talks the exploits and tumults of famous patrons, ruminates on the way Hollywood is buoyed along by our suspension of disbelief and spills beans that can only sprout from time alone in a hotel room (if you want to read that as a euphemism, then it wouldn’t hurt). He’s part raconteur, part sage, part documentarian delivering filthy one liners the other side of a comma from heartbreaking observations. All the above is underscored by Chilly Gonzales’ minimal piano, occasional strings and the odd sound effect. It’s a perfect musical accompaniment that puts you right there, in the hotel, wandering the lobby, corridors and in and out of the rooms, drinking in the atmosphere and faded glamour, surrounded by ghosts, gossip and fading echoes of the Hollywood dream.

Here Lies Man – s/t

I’m pretty sure that it was Face-of-90s-Golf, Nick Faldo, who first uttered the immortal line ‘It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing’ (He really had a face for Golf-in-the-90s… God himself must’ve been imagining him prowling the Fairways like a 9 Iron toting lion, when he crafted that face out of his own ManFatTM) and the debut album by Here Lies Man is a strong candidate for the defence of that little aphorism. In this case, the swing is brought by African Clave beats trampling all over some Sabbath style riffage. This kind of explicit fusion can sometimes sound very cut n paste, sometimes at the expense of the magic of the original sources as they’re bent out of shape and squeezed into a mould they were never meant to fit into. HLM avoid that pitfall by allowing the Afrobeats to reign. Structurally, there’s very little by way of verse-chorus arrangement here. Instead the rhythms push the songs between percussive breaks and tone heavy, syncopated, Low Fi riffs with the vocals largely chanted, repeated phrases (honestly, if you read the tracklisting then you’ve got about 80% of the lyrics; “letting go of the human race, sailing to, into outer space” is the closest they get to Leonard Cohen). As a result, the 8 tracks all have a thematic unity but one that offers enough room for variation to keep the album from descending out of the groove and into a furrow.  It’s the use of keys and electronics that bring out beads of sweat though. They’re the last thing you notice, often washes of synth, tingling harmonic flourishes and bubbling organ stabs, but they glue the tracks together and provide borderline subliminal hooks and moments of revelation on repeated listens.

British Sea Power - Let The Dancers Inherit The Party

I couldn’t begin to claim to have listened to even a remotely measurable proportion of the music released over the last twelve months, so this is most likely bollocks, but concision did seem to be a recurring theme of many of the new releases I got round to listening to last year (The relative brevity of Endless Boogie’s Vibe Killer almost resulted in the band changing their name to School-Run Boogie, Kamasi Washington went from 2015’s triple album The Epic to half hour mini album Truth, Destroyer released an album simply titled Ken wherein 7 of 12 tracks came in at under 4 minutes… I could go on, but am a man of my time and my brutally diminished attention span won’t stand for it). I’m going to venture that perhaps a collective, subconscious realisation dawned in 2017 that we really don’t have time to fuck about with exploratory musings via the medium of theremin solos. Attention to detail, actually listening (let alone repeated listening) have not been hallmarks of this age. Maybe some actual tunes needed banging out, just to be sure that a flicker of humanity pulsed its way out into the universe, before one of the myriad nutters we’ve given distracted, denial ridden bunk ups to, finally locates the big red button that his staff have been desperately trying to distract him from. BSP certainly gave a lot of bang for buck on Let The Dancers Inherit The Party. Hooks were veritably ladeled in, exploratory urges were reigned in and yet none of the idiosyncratic and eccentric ticks and whistles that make BSP so special got lost. See Keep on Trying (Sechs Freunde), which, apart from opening with the fantastic couplet “If you must act like a beast of the field, oh what does it yield?”, has Yan Wilkinson yelping the ‘Sechs Freunde!!’ part of the title in a manner worthy of double exclamation marks and moist with euphemistic glee (he basically makes Sechs sound like sex… cad). See also International Space Station; a paeon to the titular escapee from our there-but-for-a-hair-trigger planet. Also. Fans of classic British Understatement… Tired of saying “This. Is. Typical” through gritted teeth? Try Saint Jerome’s opening gambit ‘Oh it’s strange the way that things work out, running out of matches and the fire keeps going out’, it’s wordier, but provides up to 64% of disappointing scenarios with a soupcon of tragic poetry/poetic tragedy. Delicious.

White Hills – Stop Mute Defeat

Another band positively not fucking about these days are White Hills. The ecstatic guitar pyrotechnics and eye on the horizon kosmiche workouts of the past may have been largely purged for the time being, and yet, in spirit, the album from their back catalogue that this most reminds me of is the one where they gave fullest vent to the afore mentioned inner/outer space explorations; their Dystopian Sci Fi epic H-p1. Thematically, H-p1 confronted greed and our societal dissonance, on Stop Mute Defeat Ego Sensation and Dave W sound a call to arms for those left standing as we reach what must surely (hopefully?!) be a nadir. Musically it comes over like H-p1 triple distilled and reduced down to base elements. That album was a largely instrumental workout. In 2017, a skeletal, industrial vibe pervades and although the tracks are shorter and punchier the vocals to music ratio probably isn’t that different, infrequent vocals punctuate the tracks like slogans racing across LED billboards. If H-p1 was their Abstract Expressionist masterpiece then Stop Mute Defeat is the Brutalist monument. Sounds depressing? Not really, the title track is something of a techno banger.

Pontiak - Dialectic of Ignorance

If you’ve ever found yourself thinking ‘I want to listen to something that sounds monomaniacally baked’, then Pontiak’s latest is probably the go to. You could be thinking ‘baked’ as in the bifter soused sense of the word or baked as in dry, it doesn’t matter, it covers both those bases… offering up tunes akin to visions brought on by a combination of dehydration and lens flare at sunset after a day chasing heat haze with your head in an oven and only Mary Berry for company. The sounds and performances are chitin hard, like a particularly determined scarab marching against the sun, through the sand, while listening to Pink Floyd’s ‘Welcome to the Machine’ on repeat. Returning to the baked metaphor, it’s certainly not an overcooked album, there’s space everywhere and I doff my cap to this sense of restraint, the drums often consist of little more than the simplest patterns over which guitar, bass and synth lines take turns at wringing the life out of subtly unpredictable riffs.

Electric Wizard - Wizard Bloody Wizard

Of all the Lovecraft-ian feats that Electric Wizard have managed to pull off over the course of their long and subtly varied existence, perhaps the most satisfying, for me, has been their ability to sound like an inhuman approximation of Doom; The band themselves (Eldritch/Antipodean) imposters masquerading as humans in the vein of characters from The Shadow Over Innsmouth or The Strange Case of Charles Dexter Ward (if you want to go lower brow, imagine the Alien Cockroach in Men In Black who crams himself into the skin of that farmer, fronting a band). It’s an impression I get most strongly when listening to ‘Black Masses’ and ‘Let Us Prey’, but it could be applied to much of their output; their mixes in particular don’t conform to doom metal’s bludgeoning but crisp, stentorian but actually kind of conservative standards. The Wizeeeeerd consistently left instruments unsettlingly out of focus, FX broiling in a mire of fug so dense that your brain and outstretched devil horn salute gave up trying to settle into a comfortable 1-2 and just submitted to the Cosmic Horror.  With Wizard Bloody Wizard though, they’ve stripped away the elemental hideousness that have up till now left them unseeable, like the Horror bestriding Dunwich, left mics and amps together unchaperoned to let nature take its course and gone to town with the bass runs and some bouncing, rolling tempos… and it suits them… really suits them. They sound energised and souped up. At times (Necromania) they come across like Uncle Acid’s actual Uncle - he’s thicker set, looks at you with sunken, you weren’t there man eyes and definitely ran with a Bike gang who may or may not have (definitely did) perform satanic rites – and the results are actually (whisper it) catchy. But then I’ve thought that there was a great pop writer lurking in Jus Osborn ever since I spent more months than I care to remember humming Vinum Sabbathi to the point of Randolph Carter like distraction. Overall, this is the most human that E Wiz have ever sounded – there’s overt blues underpinning See You In Hell, a veritable romp in the form of the Witchfinder-General-covering-Hendrix’s-Manic-Depression stylings of When The Siren’s Scream and there’s an actual laugh at the end of The Reaper. Admittedly, the track’s called The Reaper and it’s a laugh that’s more Christopher Lee than Jimmy Carr, but it’s definitely a bona fide Human laugh.

Uncle Acid and The Deadbeats – Vol. 1

First things first. This album is more or less proto everything. It’s the borderline unreleased debut by a proto Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats, actually dating from 2010 but only officially released in 2017. Secondly, It’s a proto-metal feast, a mud wrestling Blue Oyster Cult before the Pearlman got put before Swine, Masters of Reality style chuggers morphing into King of The Rumbling Spires rumpuses, a whiff of the Kinks at their speaker slashing-est, Crazy Horse getting stuck in a toy box with Alice Cooper, eyeing each other suspiciously but deciding to make a go of it for the sake of John’s Children. Thirdly, it sounds like a prototype of an audio recording to be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that the drums were recorded using a pencil mike plugged straight into a cassette recorder. However, you couldn’t expect/wouldn’t really want it any other way. Uncle Acid is founded on tape worn thin and the impossibly red blood of no budget Amicus productions. Perhaps the moment that best sums up Uncle Acid’s determination to prevent considerations of taste, decency or proficient sound engineering from pissing on the bonfire of escapism is the fact that during Witches Garden they use a gong (3:24 in the link to be precise). A fucking GONG. The instrument drummers plump for when success has become inversely proportional to self awareness, usually around the same time they start thinking that going swimming with a limo is a reasonable way to fill days off. This album first emerged as a run of 30 CD-Rs. And they/he put a gong on it. And the gong sounds like it was recorded about 4 miles away. But it’s a fucking GONG. Inspired.

[petri808]

Change of Ascendancy

Nalu Love Fest Bonus day 10/27/17 Piercing prompt 

My final entry for this week.  Thank you for reading my stories, it was a blast writing them!  Please enjoy  : )  To read this story or more of my works, find me on AO3 http://archiveofourown.org/users/Petri808/works

The 24-year-old blonde sets up her guest room, getting ready for her Saturday night client.  This evening will be the man’s twelfth session, but who was counting?  She plops down on a chair and looks at the clock, 8:20pm, he’ll be there at 9 she smiles to herself.  After working in this industry for a couple of years now, this was the first time she’s looked forward to a particular client’s visits.  Sure, there had been a handful of bad seeds, men who tried to push things past the rules set in the club but nothing she or the bouncers couldn’t handle.  Most of the guests were just average patrons, if you will, looking for something different, a little more exciting than the typical partner was comfortable dishing out.  

But she was no typical girl.  Realizing in her teen years that while she didn’t always need to be in charge, the most satisfying bedroom games for her seemed to stem from controlling the situation, unfortunately, she also quickly learned that most guys prefer it the other way around.  So, her sex life ended up being few and far between.   That is until she came of age and learned about the world of the dominatrix, where she could get her kicks and even better, get paid to do it.  Well, not that she’d call herself a true dominatrix, she didn’t just dish out pain like they are commonly known for, no she’d use either physical or mental tricks and tools to drive these men wild.  Of course, the key to this endeavor was always maintaining self-control, and never getting personally attached.  

But this guy tonight, he started out as one of her typical clientele, probably had a high demand, intense or stressful job that required a lot of concentration or control, and to unwind from such an environment, sought out the very opposite world of being dominated.  And, three months ago, he had walked in for the first time, an obvious newcomer that she had to school in the do’s and don’ts of this avant-garde style.  The first thing being their safe words or nicknames, hers was always “Star” and he had chosen “Dragon”, she later learned he had a small fascination with the mythical beasts, primarily the fire breathing types.  If for any reason something was too uncomfortable they could simply call out the other person’s name and the action would cease.    

She had no idea what he really looked like because she required them to wear head masks to conceal their identity, but what she could discern was that he had a sweet personality, a very nice body, not to mention a ‘package’ any girl might kill for and the most gorgeous green eyes she’d ever seen.  He seemed close in age to her and always treated her with the utmost respect, never rude or demeaning, simply a very pleasant demeanor.  She couldn’t help looking forward to his now standing Saturday appointments.  In fact, lately she’s been skirting the rules of the club, absolutely no penetration but… while her job ordinarily doesn’t include any touching with their hands or other body parts, and mostly physical punishments with tools, with him she couldn’t seem to help herself…    

Natsu walks up to her door as he usually does, knocking first before entering.  She signals that it’s safe by buzzing him in from a second room where she waits.  He follows the now well-known routine of putting on the mask she has laid out for him and stripping down to his boxers before knocking on the second room’s door to let her know he was ready.  Lucy’s policy is the client can wear anything else they choose to bring with them, but the mask is mandatory; he just chooses to be in only his boxers since he’s too embarrassed to bring anything more, wild.  As she enters the room, she sees a huge grin on the man’s face just light up.  “Well hello…. Dragon…”          

By the time he left his apartment that night, he was practically giddy over getting to see her.  Saturday had become his secret pleasure and he spent most of the week simply rushing through it just to get there.  He didn’t know what it was about this woman that had struck his soul, but she just seemed to know exactly what would drive him utterly mad with passion.  So often he found himself dreaming that his once a week trysts could become a more permanent situation but alas, it was probably a fantasy held by many of her clients.  Who wouldn’t fall in love with a woman who could not only pander to your deepest desires but looked the part of a fashion model and still underneath the exterior facade you could sense the sweetness in her spirit; a total oxymoron of a doe eyed, sweet smiling, tongue pierced; if that’s all she’s marked with, whip wielding goddess.    

The sheer luck in finding her was thanks in part to a co-worker who recommended checking out the local Fairytail Club to help him unwind from their stressful job as firefighters.  His friend regularly visited a blue-haired woman that catered to his odd fascination with water and ice, that maybe developed because it was the very opposite element of what they deal with daily.  At first, he was hesitant, thinking that it was just an S&M club and he had no interest in being whipped and frankly assaulted; he dealt with enough pain from his day job.  So, he was thrilled to learn this club was different from the typical ‘sex’ clubs in that they focused on pandering to whatever the client required; within reason of course.  And this woman was adept at satisfying his desires without getting too rough.  

For the last three weeks, the sessions have taken a turn for the better, at least in his mind they have.  He knows that it might be hugging the line when it comes to not just the policies of the club, but even the original rules set forth by the woman of how much physical interaction was allowed.   The thing is, she was the one initiating these ‘changes’ and hell if he was going to stop her.  Last week he found out how soft her lips could be…

“Good evening Star…” his ear to ear grin giving away his excitement.  ‘Holy Fuck!’  Up till now, the woman’s outfits were black leather strapped or strapless bustier or corsets, tight mini-skirts with black fishnet stockings or leggings, sometimes studded or chained or otherwise adorned, with knee high stiletto boots; but always, always black in color.  Not tonight, no tonight she’s changed it up on him donning a scarlet red, strapless leather corset, a loose, black leather skirt that was so short, her firm little dairy-air peeked out from the bottom edge, and the end of her stunning stems, 5-inch high stiletto’s that really accentuated her calves.    

Lucy sashays up to the young man tapping her riding crop on her thigh and smiling.  His eyes following each swish of her hips with the hunger of a starving man, so much so, that he forgets himself and reaches out to grab them.  Poking his chest, “Tsk, Tsk…” she wiggles her finger and raps the back of one of his hands with the tool.  “You’re being naughty tonight and bad boys require punishment…  Now get on the bed and cuff one of your hands to it!”

“Y-yes ma’am…”  As soon as he turns to walk towards the bed, Lucy strikes his ass with the crop.  “Tss…” he winces slightly from the sting but continues to climb onto the bed and cuff his left hand.

“Oh, stop your simpering, I barely hit you.” she scolds while pushing him down onto his back.  After securing both ankles, she crawls over and straddles his hips, another new move on her part, while she leans forward to strap a collar and chain around his neck.  His breathing almost stops for a second when her ample breasts push down against his chest.  “But, I think I’ll be nice tonight and leave your right hand free… just in case.”  She pulls on the end of his leash, “Now what shall our game be today…”  

~~xx~~

The following Wednesday, Lucy readies herself in the mirror, last minute primping before her date arrives.  They had met online through a blog about her favorite anime about a month ago and tonight was their forth date.  It was a little uncanny how well they seemed to get along, it was almost as if they had been old friends that simply found each other again.  This firefighter was such a gentleman with her but very serious and well she wouldn’t call it controlling, just cautious.  She figured it had to do with his job, always having to be on alert and frankly she didn’t mind playing the damsel in distress sometimes.  

She hears the knock on her door and opens it.  “Hi Natsu.”

He holds out his hand to her, smiling.  “Hey Lucy, you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she adjusts the strap of her purse and takes the offer.

“You look great tonight, Luce.” He beams at the gorgeous blonde on his arm, still in awe that he managed to land such a babe.

She bushes mildly as his twinkling green eyes pulls her into its spell, “You look very handsome yourself Natsu.”  

Dinner was a simple affair for the budding couple as they laugh and converse about their week, the anime that brought them together, or just anything that pops into their thoughts.  Afterwards they decide to get some drinks at a quiet little lounge, settling nicely into one of the intimately tucked, corner booths.  After a couple of hours and a few rounds of drinks in them, things are starting to grow steamier than either had expected.  Normally, Lucy waited until a couple of months to go any further than a good night kiss but there was just something about this guy that made the blonde wanna throw out the rule book and alcohol was making that decision much, much easier…

It didn’t take long before her dominating side revealed itself as she climbed half on his lap and his hand was riding high on her thigh in a full blown make out session.  As his digits travel further under her skirt she slaps his hand gently, “Behave Natsu, there’s plenty of time for that later…”  Her soft yet firm instructions evoke a spark of covetousness only his Saturday master has been able to pull out of him in recent months and he shudders at the idea that he’s found another perfect girl…

“Yes, Princess…”  he whispers back, cognizant of the fact they are in a public place.

She grins while trailing her lips along his jawline, “I like that.  Will you be good for your Princess and do as she asks?”

“Uh-huh…”

Lucy giggles at the idea she’s found the perfect guy for her.  “That’s good, and if you behave… this Princess will reward you…”  And to accentuate that notion she runs her hand against the developing bulge of his pants.  “Now,” she moves his hand back to her ass, “you may hold but nothing more until I tell you.  Nod if you understand.”  He does.  

Doing a quick scan around the room to note there is no one nearby, the blonde untucks his shirt from his slacks and runs her hands under them, feeling around at the rock-hard muscles that flex beneath her gliding fingers, she traces lines and follows towards the cut of his pecs.  Natsu’s eyes roll back as she leans in to capture his mouth with her own and moans quietly at the delicious flavors hitting his taste buds.  When she pinches his hardening nipples that groan deepens.  “Shh…” she scolds him and bites his lip.  

“S-sorry, Princess.”

“Do you want me to stop?  Is this too much for you out in the open like this?”

“No…” his voice breathy and full of lust.  “I’ll try to be quiet.”

“Good…” nibbling his ear lobe, “Cause I find this very arousing.  Do you like it when I’m more excited?”

“Oh, yeah…”

Reaching into his pants she takes ahold of his throbbing member.  He bites down hard on his lip, gritting his teeth and tilting his head back as she strokes it with a gentle and steady rhythm.  “Such a big boy Natsu…” purring like silk in his ear, her whispers only meant for his listening pleasure, “I can just imagine him spreading me wide,” she moans, “sliding in and out of my pussy dripping with our sweet nectars…  so deep in my cave…” his cock trembles in her hand, “…hitting harder… and harder…” he squeezes her ass as those images flood his brain too…  “and your hands…  I want them groping every inch of my body.  I wanna tremble in your arms from all the wonton decadence of your touch upon my skin…” feeling precum leaking over her fingers, she moans against his neck, “can you imagine it…  the pressure building until you finally release all that pent-up essence…”  Groaning, “Mmm…” she licks along the edge of his ear, “would you like that Natsu?”  

“Oh, Fuck yes!” his breathing is ragged.  “But please,” begging, “Princess… if you keep going, I’m gonna cum right here!”

Lucy stops stroking and removes her hand, “We wouldn’t want that yet.  Shall we continue at my apartment?”  

“Yes.  Please Princess.”

“Very well.” Stroking his cheek, “You’ve been a good boy and I think you deserve your reward.”

They walk the few blocks back to her apartment.  Along the way, Natsu is still in shock at what just happened.  She turned him into putty in such a short period of time!  “Lucy, c-could I ask you something?”

“Sure Natsu.”

“How did you do that?  I mean, how did you figure out my triggers so quickly?”

She shrugs her shoulder, “Maybe because I observe and learn people’s personalities to help me in my writing.”  Of course, she wasn’t gonna tell him the truth about her weekend job, the idea of a sex club worker might scare him away and with their relationship going so well there was no way she wanted to risk that.

“Hmm, well you’re definitely… really, really good at it.”  

Squeezing his hand, “Thanks, I appreciate that.  Not too many guys like, you know, letting the girl control things.”

Grinning, “I’d let you control me anytime…”

The second they reach the sanctity of her third-floor apartment, Lucy pins Natsu against the wall rubbing her thigh against his groin and caressing his cheek.  “Be a good boy for me and wait on the couch…” she nibbles his ear, “I’m gonna change in the bedroom to something more comfortable…”

“Mmmm…” he groans, “Anything for you Princess.”

She taps his cheek and sashays out the room leaving the man to wonder what was gonna happen next.  As he sits fidgeting on her couch he looks around the apartment noting that it looks like a typical female’s abode though more on the trendier side.  Black leather sofa and love seat with an oval shaped glass coffee table and flat screen tv hooked to what seems to be a karaoke machine.  The room was separated from an average sized kitchen by an island with three high backed bar chairs, and there appeared to be an adjacent dining area that had been converted into more of an office space.  On a glass, L shaped desk was a pink laptop, printer and a couple of books sitting on it.  Next to the desk was a bookshelf containing several volumes and what appeared to be reams of papers, maybe her manuscripts, he wonders.  

A distinct sound of an opening door causes him to turn around in his seat.  Standing in the dimly lit frame is what he can only describe as that woman you’ll see in the pinup mags but will never actually meet in person.  He gulps at the sight of the black lace of her negligee, all the curves of her buxom figure easily seen through the sheer material, including the fact there was nothing beneath it.  Perky nipples poke through the fabric taunting his mouth, he starts to drool, his eyes zero in on something shiny near her midsection and widen as it drifts lower at the smooth skin of her sex, devoid of any hair…  ‘Damn’  She looks so virginal yet he knows, you can’t judge this book by its cover.  But something else creeps in to his mind, this woman’s profile looks a lot like someone else he knows, it couldn’t be…  In this city of over 100,000 residents, what was the likelihood or luck of running into her on the outside?  

Dangling a pair of handcuffs, she beckons with her finger and he follows her commands like a love-sick puppy as she leads him deeper into the chamber and points at the bed.  “Strip and get on big boy.”  Once he removes all his clothing she takes them and piles it on a chair but grabbing his scarf to use in her games.  Prompting him all the way to the head board, she cuffs his wrists and attaches it to a short tether and swivel ring he hadn’t noticed earlier in the headboard above his head.  

Splayed out in all his glory, Lucy can’t help but fawn over the sight of such a picture-perfect male specimen, though somewhere in the back of her mind swears she’s seen this image before but she tucks the information away.  Knowing that he’s a firefighter means he must stay in peak physical condition but still, this guy obviously pays attention to his appearance.  Well-developed but not overly bulky anywhere, his toned and solid muscle structures are simply beautiful to look at.  She licks her lips, “Mmmm, Natsu, I must say you are just too fucking good looking…”  Climbing over the prone man, Lucy takes his own scarf and blindfolds him.  “Can you see anything?”

“Uhhh.” His voice strains and shudders as she grazes her lips over his ear.  “No, Princess.”  She pulls the negligee off and settles over his hard cock, his moan communicating volumes from the skin to skin contact; and this is just the beginning of her torture.  He bites down hard on his lip as he resists the urge to buck his hips, intuition tells him to stay still or this woman is gonna punish him for it.  

Resuming her handiwork, Lucy leans over, purposely pushing her breasts against his chest while she teases his ears and neck with oral treatments.  Soft velvety kisses intermingled with rougher, more firmly placed pressure; sucking or biting, with pulses of her wet muscle against his skin.  She licks at a scar on his neck, the texture of her tongue over the sensitive skin elicits more trembling moans out of the man.  “How’d you get this scar Natsu…” she breathes out the words between her kisses.

“Huh?”  a little dazed from her spell.  “I um, got it from a fight with my best friend…”

“Fighting with your best friend…”  still teasing around his scar, “Such a naughty man you are…  Over what?”

“Dumb reason…  To see who was stronger…”

“Oh…” she moves her lip caresses to his chest, “So who won?”

When her caresses turn to bites on his nipples he loses his train of thought for a second.  “Um… Fuck…” moaning, “…he did.”

She bites his nipple a little harder, “My big, strong fireman lost?  That deserves punishment…”

“But it, I was only 10…” he groans from her nips that have moved to other areas of his chest.

“I see…” she purrs and scrapes her nails along his sides and scoots lower over his legs.  “What about this one?”  pulsing her tongue over a scar on his abdomen.

“Saving a woman when she was being mugged.”

“Aww, now that deserves a reward…”

“Rew… oh fuck!” he cries out as something wet glides over his throbbing cock.  The little metal ball he senses running over his shaft is a new sensation he’s never experienced before.  He doesn’t quite understand what to make of the licentious piece of jewelry until it catches on some loose folds and creates a new twist of resistance and friction.  “Wow… that’s… different…”  Sinking her mouth over the large appendage, Natsu moans and can barely control his bodies reaction of twisting under her control.  He jerks at the cuffs holding him at bay, gritting his teeth with each palpitating stroke of her tongue.  “Luce…” Bucking his hips when she swirls around the head and massages the shaft with her lips.

The blonde stops her efforts and digs her nails into his thigh hard, “Remember, you said you’d be a good boy for me…”

He winces from the pain, “S-sorry Princess…”

“Sorry isn’t good enough…  You need to make it up to me.”

“H-how?”  Already images of being punished or whipped or something along those lines pop in his mind.  He feels her shifting on the bed, depressions in the mattress getting closer as if someone is crawling along its edge.  “Lucy?”  A deeper sinking on the left and right sides of his head.  “What are you…”  and then he smells it above him.

Kneeling over his face and using the headboard as grips, she balances her moist entrance right over his mouth, “Taste me…” she commands.  

“Yes, ma’am…” Natsu dives in with every inch of his tongue into her opening, consuming her folds and massaging her labia with his lips.  It’s frustrating not being able to see what he’d doing or use his hands but damn if her nectar wasn’t the sweetest fruit he’s ever tasted before!  Lucy’s nails dig into the wood and toes curl as his fondling intensifies, lavishing her sex with the most amorous and sensual caresses any man has performed on her.  She tries desperately to stay in the roll of the dominant position, but that resolve is crumbling, and moans leach out of her uncontrollably.  Knowing the affect, he is having on her, he can’t help but grin as he goes in for the kill, sucking the bud of her rose.

Her legs tremble and knees buckle, “Damn it!” she cries out from the voracity and pressure he creates against her sex.  Unable to support her weight, she crashes against his face and his tongue slips inside her once more, flicking and plunging against her frenulum, “No!” she wants to stop him, but her body refuses to move an inch as the throes of an orgasm hit, spilling her juices all over his face.  Natsu continues his fornications, riding her wave for as long as she’ll allow, which surprising to him, was several minutes.  He had been sure that at some point Lucy would pull away to stay in control but that never happened.  The blonde finally flops over, still twitching from such an intense session, skin vibrating from the slightest touch.  When his arm grazes her side the muscles in her abdomen contract and tense up.  “Don’t touch me…” she utters.

“Sorry Princess.”  Still licking up what he can around his mouth and lips.  “Is that what you wanted?  I hope it was pleasing to you.”  She can hear the grin in his tone.

“It wasn’t exactly part of my plan…  that you’d be so fucking good at that.”  It was amazing, no doubt about it, but it also irritated her that she lost her way.  Now the blonde must figure out how to take back control… or should she?  Sure, it was her preference to have ascendancy in bed but maybe with him, and direction, as he was so willing to take from her, she could let him have some leeway…

Pulling the scarf from over his eyes, she sees the burning need staring back from them.  “Is everything okay, Princess?”

She reaches up and unlocks the cuffs, freeing his wrists.  “I’ve decided, your job isn’t over yet.” He looks at her cautiously.  “I want you to fuck me Natsu.  I want you to pleasure my body and make me quiver under your touch.”  Lying on her back with a pillow under her arched waist. “Now get on top of me!”

‘Is she for real?’  The surprised young man hesitates before positioning himself over her length.  “B-but I thought you’d be…”

“I am, now will you follow my instructions?  Or shall I go back to punishing you in other ways?”

“No.  I’ll do whatever you ask of me Princess.”

Lucy wraps her legs around his hips and squeezes, “Then get on with it big boy…”  Natsu pushes in slow and steady through her magnificently tight canal, moaning all the way until he is seated as far he can go.  She hums in delight at his girth already savoring the ride she’s about to be given.  

He leans in, hovering over breasts, lips sweeping over her nipples, “May I?”

“You may…” she purrs

“Mmmm…” Natsu can’t help but whimper at finally being able to suckle the mountainous peaks this woman possesses.  Droning vibrations against her soft pliant breasts keep her cooing, and the unhurried rocking of his hips timed perfectly soothe her aching core at least for now.  His hands begin to wander, brushing along her sides, even playing with the Leo zodiac symbol dangling from her taunt belly; he’s relishing in the slight groans they bring forth from the blonde.  With no idea how long, he’ll be allowed to play on his own terms, he simply focuses on giving her as much pleasure as he can because ultimately satisfying Lucy is what he yearns to do.  

Bringing one of her legs up, he rests it over his shoulder to open her up even more.  “You feel amazing Princess…” kissing a trail from her bosoms to her neck, sucking and caressing along the ridge of her collar bone, his teeth lightly scraping the bone making the blonde tremble.  He nibbles at her bottom lip asking for and receiving entry into another warm and moist orifice.  “Yummy…” he sighs in her mouth as his tongue dances with hers and she sucks on the textured appendage adding to the plethora of flavors for his buds tantalized amusement.  Her tongue ring is another matter.  Curious, he swirls his around the barbell noting the coolness of the metal even in the hot environment it lives in and jolts a bit when it clacks against his teeth the first time.

She chuckles at his explorations, as it is amusing but goads him into moving on by simply squeezing the inner muscles around his dick to break his attention.  While lacing her fingers through his hair and dragging her nails across his scalp, she runs her tongue over his canines, then bites at his top lip, pulling it between her teeth and letting it grate over the sensitive inner lining before releasing it.  Just that little move elicits a shudder from the man and provokes a response.  She wants to push him to go harder but without saying so, instead using moves that will produce the same results.  

Gripping her hip to hold it still, Natsu escalates his thrusts to a medium pace, sliding out along the entire length of the shaft then pushing back in until he can go no further, lifting just a tad at the end.  Her rumbling coos of contentment echo through his brain, firing off instructions at him to just take off at a sprint, but he wants to relish in this heated exchange not end it quickly.  The fire burning in his loins are already threatening his work enough.  But then again, it’s all about what her desires are…  “Ugh…  Princess…  May I… go harder?”

She pulls his face down and nibbles sharply on his bottom lip and rolls her hips into his next thrust; he got the response loud and clear; permission granted.  

Sitting back on his haunches and using that amazing upper body strength possessed by many a firefighter, Natsu lifts her by her torso and places her directly in his lap, impaling her core.  With his hands holding her rear securely.  Lucy is taken aback at the ease of this effortless move, at how he lifted her up like she weighed nothing at all!  Her eyes widen at the realization that she was about to lose any domination she once held over this man.  Should she call an end to this before he can go any further or should she just give in?  

Noticing the rattled expression in her face, “Did I take it too far Princess?  Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no, I was just surprised at how strong you are.”

He can’t help the grin rising to the surface from her compliment.  “We train to lift a 200lb man and still carry them down several flights of stairs; you are a pleasure to pick up compared to that.  Shall I continue…”

“MmmHmm…” she rumbles, biting her lip in anticipation and gripping to his shoulders for dear life.  Staring at the flexing musculature of his arms as he boosts her up, it is a powerful reminder of what’s to come as he spears her against his shaft repeating the motion over and over, slamming so deeply into her, she can feel the reverberations against her organs; she cries out with each jab to her core.  Her eyes slam shut, and nails dig deep into his flesh, threatening to draw blood at any moment as her shrieks increase in pitch and duration.  Never, has this blonde been ravaged in such a way to leave her utterly speechless, but not just wordless, no, aching.  She’d always been the one dishing out the pain, not receiving it.  Unable to bear the brunt any longer, Lucy cries out for mercy in the only way she’s conditioned to do it in.  “Dragon!”  But as soon as the word dies on her lips, panic sets in and her eyes glue shut.

In an instant, Natsu halts his actions and almost drops her.  “Did you just say Dragon?!”

Cringing at what just came out of her mouth.  ‘What if he thinks I was fantasizing about another guy?!  Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that!  Shit!  Shit!  Shit!’  She peeks with one eye, terrified that what she’ll see is anger, but to her surprise the look on the man’s, now pale face is shock.  She opens both eyes.  “Natsu, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that…”

“Star?”

Now it’s her turn to be stunned.  Stammering, “Are you….  Oh my God….  You are my Saturday client!  I-I, don’t know what to…”  She scrambles off his lap and huddles against the headboard.  “I’ll understand if you wanna leave now…”

“Lucy…”

Covering her face with her hands, the blonde is too embarrassed.  She really liked this guy and it was breaking her heart at the thought of him possibly leaving.  “I know it could be a little weird to date someone who works in that kind of field…  I mean it’s just a side hobby for me but still…”

“Luce,” he crawls over to her and pulls her hands away from her face as tears stream down her cheeks, but her lids stay sealed.  “Lucy…  Please look at me…” Softening his tone as he wipes the moisture away.  

She shakes her head, “I don’t wanna watch when you walk away.”

“But…I’m not going anywhere.”

Opening her eyes in disbelief, “You’re not?”

He cradles her face in his hands, “Why would you think I’d leave just because of that?”

“Because, what I do is not normal.”

His smile softens, “Well then it’s a good thing I had a crush on both you and Star, huh?”  Lifting her chin, “How lucky for me they turned out to be the same girl.”

Tears trickle down once more but this time from happiness and a sparkle returns to her eyes.  She’d heard so many stories from co-workers how often relationships ended the moment they found out where they worked and while clients developing crushes was nothing new, here was a guy who liked both the fantasy persona ‘Star’ and the real Lucy.  “Really?” her eyes search his expressions for any possibility his words were not truly genuine, “I-I could quit that place, it’s not like I need the money.”

“I’ll be honest, I’d prefer not to think about my girlfriend servicing other guys, even though I know the rules you follow;” exhale, “but if it makes you happy, Luce, I wouldn’t make you quit.”

The sincere admission and consternation of his tone pull at her heartstrings.  He really was turning into everything she had ever hoped to find some day.  She sits up straight and puts her arms around his neck, “But if I have you now, I won’t need to get my fix from anywhere else.”

Grinning when he sees that spark he fell in love with returning, “Well, when you put it like that…” pulling Lucy gently down on her side, he leads her into a new make out session.  

“Natsu?”

“Yeah…” murmuring between the kisses.

“Could we go, slower for the rest of the night?”

He stops and smiles down at her, “Whatever your heart desires, my Princess…”

[hysterialevi]

In the Smoke pt. 13 (Cobblebats)

From Bruce’s POV

THE STACKED DECK

After quickly running home and throwing on the hoodie Oz had given me, I simply walked to The Stacked Deck, not wanting to draw any attention with a big, fancy car. I mean, I doubted anyone in Gotham truly sympathized with Hill, and there were probably others out there who would’ve beaten him just like I did, but I still preferred to remain in the shadows. Right now, Oz was the only person I wanted to see, and considering that the press was pretty much at my family’s throats, this hood was the one thing keeping me from drowning in cameras.

Arriving at the bar, I squinted slightly at the neon, card-shaped sign that practically lit up the whole block single-handedly and reflected in the street’s puddles as the sound of glasses clinking reached my ears. There were some patrons chatting outside of the packed building, and the closer I got, the more I could hear the alternative music playing inside. This was definitely the place.

Searching around for a little, I eventually found Oz relaxing in a nearby alleyway, separated from the rest of the crowds. He was leaning against a brick wall with a cigarette in his hand, and the small flame gave off a soft, orange glow as smoke puffed from his nose. Upon noticing me, he threw a casual wave in my direction and straightened his position, putting out the cigarette beneath his boot. I eagerly walked up to him.

“Hey, love,” Oz greeted before pecking a kiss on my cheek. “S’good to see you again--” he chuckled, “--or at least what’s not hidden under that hood of yours.”

I shrugged, grinning. “Thought we could try to avoid a fight, for once.”

Oz rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, speakin’ of fights...” he frowned a little, “Listen, I’ve been thinking a lot ‘bout it, and I just wanted to say sorry.”

I quirked a brow, crossing my arms. “Sorry for what?”

“For what I did to Harvey, back at the debate. Y’know, drugging him. Melting half his face off. I didn’t realize the two of you were so close. I mean, it was obvious that he was your friend, but admitting to loving you? Woof.”

I averted my gaze from him, a bit uncomfortable. “Oh, um--you heard that?”

“Hard not to.” Oz stepped closer, almost to the point where we were sharing my hood. “...you don’t...love him back, do you? We’ve got a good thing going here. I’d hate to throw it away so soon.”

I shook my head. “Of course I don’t,” I lied. “I wouldn’t be here tonight otherwise.”

Oz smiled, kissing me again. “Good. But back to my original point, I really do regret doin’ all that to Harvey.”

I sighed. “Just...no more planning behind my back, all right?”

“All right.” He lowered his voice. “Look, I know I said we wouldn’t talk ‘bout work here, but since I don’t want there to be any secrets between us, there is someone else you should know about.”

“Someone?”

He nodded. “You see, I ain’t the leader of the Children of Arkham. I’m just the right-hand man.”

I double-checked our surroundings, as if someone were eavesdropping. “Then who is?”

“Brace yourself, but have you ever heard of a reporter called Vicki Vale?”

My eyes popped wide-open. “Vicki Vale? She’s your leader?”

“Yeah, except we don’t call her that. We call her Lady Arkham, since that’s her original name. Her parents were assassinated after they tried turning Hill in, just like your mum. By the same person too. Now that I think about it, the two of you actually have a lot in common. More than you realize. It’s like you are her.”

“...is that a good thing?”

Oz laughed. “Depends which aspect you’re talkin’ about. But anyways, enough of that.” He grabbed my hand and gestured towards the bar. “C’mon. Let’s get some drinks.”

From Thomas’ POV

WAYNE MANOR

I sat in my office, blankly staring at the mountain of paperwork that now lived on my desk, but not actually doing any of it. There was just far too much going on at the moment, and with all the tension between me and Bruce, work was the last thing on my mind right now. Though, according to Regina, if this scandal surrounding my family continued, I might’ve not even had to worry about work soon.

I couldn’t believe it. The press seemed to have an infinite supply of evidence pertaining to me, Hill, and Falcone these days, and all along, my son had been the one giving it to them. What was Bruce thinking? I understood that he disapproved of what I did, but bringing all this attention to us--it was just asking for the media to fan the flames. There was also the possibility it could harm him too. Though, he clearly didn’t care about that.

Rubbing my temple, I thought back to when Martha was still alive. Before she had been killed, Martha and I used to argue around the clock about my “side business,” and whether or not I should step out. It got even worse once Bruce started to grow up, and she’d always say that he was living without a father. And as much as I hated to admit it, I could now see that she was right.

I couldn’t remember the last time Bruce and I spent time together as just father and son, and even when helping the city as Batman, I never felt like I was truly doing any good for him. Well, the best way I could redeem myself now, was to keep him safe from Penguin, and any other threats looking to tear Gotham apart.

Just then, a knock came from the door, Alfred walking in not a second later.

“Sir, I hate to interrupt, but Mr. Falcone is here to see you. Apparently, he has something rather...concerning...to discuss.”

“Thank you, Alfred. Send him in, please.”

Opening the door further, Alfred allowed Carmine to waltz inside the office before leaving us alone and heading down to the kitchen to make some tea. The crime-boss’ face was plastered with agitation, just as Alfred had said, and his usual, suave vibe was nowhere to be seen.

“You look troubled,” I commented. “What’s going on, Falcone?”

Carmine took a seat on the opposite side of my desk, letting out a breath of frustration. I could tell that there were words stuck in his throat, but it took him a moment to actually say them.

“Forgive me for putting this so bluntly, Tommy, but,” he took a breath, “it’s Ham. He’s...dead.”

I fell silent for a while, trying to fully comprehend what he just told me.

“Hill is...dead?” I repeated in shock. “Oh god, Bruce,” I muttered to myself, “what’ve you done...?”

Carmine leaned forward. “Hill’s death is gonna cause a load of problems for us, but I’m afraid that’s not it. There is something else you should hear about.”

I dragged a hand through my hair, taking a sip of the coffee on my desk. “Oh? And what’s that?”

His eyes darted around the room for a second. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, Tommy, but there are rumors saying that Bruce is working with Penguin.”

I nearly spat my drink out at that, and slapped a hand over my mouth, staring at Falcone with a baffled glare.

“What?”

“I’ll take that as a no.” Falcone adjusted himself in his seat. “But yeah, just before he died, Hill told me his men caught the two of ‘em meeting at Cobblepot Park sometime last week. He also had them report it to the GCPD, and now, Gordon himself is on his way to track Bruce down. They’re starting to think that he was drugged on purpose. So that he could beat Hill to death.”

“Goddammit.” I snatched my coat off the back of my chair, heading for the door. “I gotta find Bruce before the police does. I don’t care what the media says. I wanna hear the story from him before anyone else.”

Falcone stood up, slowly following me from behind. “Well, then, you’d better start searching. If Gordon reaches Bruce first, there’s no doubt he’s getting arrested on the spot. And he won’t be the only one taking the damage. If people find out your son could potentially be working with Penguin, it’ll be the end of everything we’ve worked for. All of it--just gone. No pressure, of course.”

“Well, thanks for letting me know about this, Carmine. Now, I gotta get going.”

“Good luck, Tommy. It’s a shame it’s come to this, what with the scandal and everything. Bruce was always more of a by-the-book kinda kid, despite being somewhat of a free spirit. It’s hard to believe the whispers traveling the streets. Though, like I’ve said a million times before, and will continue to say in the future: you can’t trust anyone in Gotham. Especially those you call friend.”