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lu-undy · 4 years

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Chapter 20 - SBT

Here it is!

"Maurice?"

The beggar sitting cross-legged on the floor recognised the old, worn-out boots.

"Ha. I didn't expect you." Maurice raised his head. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Need a chat with you."

"We are having it, go ahead."

Mundy sat on the dirty ground next to him.

"I've seen Sanchez and followed him for a few days." He said.

"Found your crocodiles?"

"Nah." Mundy shook his head and winced. "I didn't. Bloke lives one hell of a normal life. Goes back to visit his mum on Sunday too…"

"A nice man, huh?"

"Maurice, please…" Mundy put a hand on his eyes.

"I have information. But I would rather you did not know about it." Maurice admitted.

"Again?" Mundy answered.

"Mundy…"

"Why this time?" He sighed and his shoulders sank.

"Elsewhere." Maurice stood up and Mundy followed him.

They walked and went through another house. This time, it wasn't a concealed door beneath a carpet, it was simply the stairs to the cellar. And it took them a few moments to get back to Maurice's hideout, around that same table.

"So, gonna tell me?"

Maurice gestured everyone out of the room and Mundy raised a suspicious eyebrow. Something was off.

"Sit down, Mundy."

"Maurice, we're losin' time, I'd better be on my way to-"

"Sit. Down." Maurice's calm yet tense voice made Mundy obey.

"What now?"

The beggar sat opposite Mundy and threw his hat on the table. He frowned and lowered his head.

"Ten years ago." Maurice started.

Mundy frowned.

"I know what happened ten years ago. I might know what happened better than you." Maurice said.

"What?" Mundy's teeth were gritted hard.

"But I won't share what I know with you." Maurice raised his eyes to Mundy.

"You know who did it?"

Maurice nodded slightly and Mundy felt hot. He removed his hat and his glasses, tossing them on the table. He breathed loud and hard. He splayed a hand on the table and felt the sweat starting to break everywhere.

"Y-you know .. Really… You know who… Who killed my parents?"

Mundy's ears were ringing like bells in church on a Sunday morning for mass. He raised his eyes and Maurice nodded again, his bushy eyebrows furrowed.

"Who?" Mundy asked.

"I will not tell you."

"Who." He repeated, and Maurice noticed his hand was shaking on the table.

"No."

Mundy pushed himself to stand on his wobbly legs. It wasn't distress. It was rage.

"You will tell me."

"No."

The Aussie walked to Maurice who was still sitting on his chair, and looked down at him.

"I will not tell-huh?!"

Mundy put his hand on Maurice's shoulder. His stare was black.

"You. Will."

"No. If I told you, you would run to get your revenge and die."

"Who cares."

"I do. I knew your parents. They wouldn't want you to run and die ridiculously. And given that you don't want to touch a gun ever again-"

"WHO. KILLED. MY. PARENTS?" Mundy roared and clawed in Maurice's shoulder.

"I understand your lust for revenge but believe me, if I told you what happened, you would end up dead."

Mundy turned on his heels and punched the table violently. Maurice got startled and jumped on his chair as Mundy retrieved his fist with wooden shards and blood trailing along the back of his hand and knuckles.

"Why tell me this then?" He asked, opening and clenching his fist. The pain in his hand was soothing. It took away from his rage.

"Because it has to do with your alligators."

Mundy frowned again.

"What?"

"This man. Arthur Duchemin. He has your alligators, yes, and as I ran background checks on him, he was the one who…" Maurice gulped down hard.

"He was the one who burnt the farm…" Mundy whispered and bit his lip. "How do you know that?"

"The land where your parents’ farm used to lay now belongs to him. He didn't buy it straight away. He had someone else do it first and then bought it off them."

"How can you be sure?" Mundy insisted.

Maurice went to the door and gave a sharp knock. A man entered the room handcuffed and pushed by two of Maurice's beggars.

"Make him sit. Good. Now, repeat what you told me to this man."

The man in handcuffs looked in serious bad shape. Black eyes, skin bruised, he has sweated a lot and his breath was short.

"I… I was the one… I bought that land after it had all burnt in that fire. I received the money and instructions and… And I was promised a lot more money if I did what they asked…"

"What did they ask?" Mundy said.

"They… They asked me to buy the land and gave me all the paperwork to get the rights to dig there and start the oil mining…"

Mundy growled.

"You burnt that house to get some bloody oil, huh?"

"I-I didn't, it wasn't me, I swear!"

Mundy's step was slow and each time his heels hit the wooden floor, the poor man on the chair felt the shock resonate along his spine. The Aussie's eyes shone viciously as he approached the man who was now trembling on his seat and breathing hard.

Mundy squatted to be at eye-level with him.

"Now you're gonna listen carefully mate. You're gonna tell me who told you to do all that. All I need is one name. You give it to me, I make sure you get out of here alive and nothin' happens to you." Mundy tilted his head on one side, his eyes piercing through the prisoner's skull. "If you don't want to tell me, I won't let them kill you either."

The prisoner's eyebrows jumped.

"Nah, why would I let them kill you quick and efficient when I can burn you like you did that land, hm?"

"I-I didn't! I told you! It wasn't me! I swear! Please! Please don't!"

"I will burn you with a tiny, little match. I will let it run everywhere on your skin. It will lick you slowly and I'll make sure you stay alive for days through it."

"What?! You're sick! And I told you! I had nothing to do with that!"

"Name." Mundy repeated.

"Duchemin, it's Arthur Duchemin…" Mundy closed his eyes and lowered his head. "I-I don't know more, I swear I don't! And I wasn't the one to burn it, he was! He-He said it didn't matter, he said there was nothing there and the oil was super easy to get! He said-"

"Shut your bloody mouth before I change my mind and skin you alive right here, right now." Mundy growled.

Maurice gestured for the man to be taken away and once again, he was alone with Mundy.

"Convinced?"

"Hm."

"What are your plans, then? Go to the Queen Victoria again and beat the man to a pulp?"

"I'll kill him." Mundy growled. "But I won't beat him up. I'll take back the 'gators first and bring them to Johnson. Then I'll find him and make him pay."

"And how do you intend to find them, hm? On your own maybe?" Maurice mocked him.

"Maurice, you either help me or get out the way, I'll do it on my own."

"What are you going to do? Follow Sanchez until he finally decides to reveal where your crocodiles are, hm? He won't. They're not in his hands anymore."

"Shut up and help me!" Mundy lost his patience. He clenched his fist but still couldn't feel the pain on his bloodied hand.

"I was going to. If you would be so kind as to take a seat." Maurice calmly said.

Mundy was fuming but he obeyed.

"What now?"

"I know where you will find your alligators in a few days. I will tell you where they are on one condition."

Mundy frowned in determination.

"You have to take a gun with you, at least."

"I…" Mundy lowered his head and ruffled his long hair with his trembling fingers. "I can't."

"You have to. They will be armed and I can't let you go there like that."

Mundy's eyes darted left and right behind his closed eyelids, his eyes screwed shut tightly. If he touched a rifle again, it might all happen again. He will play God, thinking nothing can get to him and then lose it all, lose his parents again.

No, wait, he couldn't lose them again… He didn't have anything to lose any more, on the contrary, he had everything to earn! He had the name of the person who murdered his parents, who burnt their farm and their land, who took what tied him to Earth away… Mundy couldn't lose it again, he could only enjoy his revenge!

"Roight." When he opened his eyes again, he was another man. "Okay, I get it." He wiped the corners of his dried lips.

"I'll get my rifles back. I'll get all the equipment back. Kukris and all. But you need to tell me everything." He pointed a threatening finger at Maurice.

"All I can say is that in two days, they will be in hangar 451 on the old quays. That will be a stop on their way to transport them." Maurice said.

"Good. Very good."

Maurice raised an eyebrow.

"You don't want to know where they're taking them…?"

"I don't care. Why should I?" Mundy answered. "All I want is those alligators sent back to Johnson and Duchemin for me to deal with, the way I want."

"Hm, maybe. But what if I told you that there is a lot more to gain than a few crocodiles, hm?"

Mundy frowned.

"What?"

"What if I told you that Duchemin is secretly trying to open his own reserve of animals, species that are on their way to extinction, priceless animals of all kinds?"

"Why?" Mundy asked.

"He is trying by all means to collect those species and become the single owner of them. Then, the plan would be to sell them to the highest bidder and that's what explains why more and more awfully rich criminals have been pouring here in Oz. Once those people manage to buy them, Duchemin would have secured an awful lot of money and then they would have priceless furs and skins. A win-win deal."

Mundy frowned.

"So you're telling me that he also has other animals somewhere?" He asked.

"Yes. All endangered species, on the verge of extinction."

"Where?"

"That I don't know."

Mundy raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"For real." Maurice added. "I just know that they will do a stop at that hangar to change drivers and swap trucks."

"Hm. Right. I think I have enough to go now. Thanks."

Maurice nodded.

"One last thing though." Mundy asked. "Why did you have that bloke who bought my parents' land beaten up that badly?"

"You are wrong. I didn't have him beaten up. I did that myself."

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. He had never heard of Maurice getting violent.

"I told you, I used to know your parents. They were incredibly generous people." Maurice explained. "They used to give me the extra from their farms, a few vegetables, eggs and even sometimes chickens. It helped a lot during winter in particular."

Mundy nodded, his face serious.

"They… They hated wastin', especially food. Said that some folks were dying of hunger. Would be unfair to throw stuff to rot."

"They were right." Maurice confirmed.

"As always."

"You know…" Maurice leaned forward on his chair. "They fought hard to defend their land that day."

Mundy screwed his eyes shut as he collected his hat and glasses back from the table.

"Your father even used the hunting rifle he had, to defend himself and your mother."

Mundy's eyes nearly popped out of his head, behind his yellow-tinted aviator glasses.

"H-He what…? He hated that thing! Said he'd burn it if he could! He-he…"

"He did try to save your mother."

Mundy's lips were trembling and he turned to give his back to Maurice while leaning on the table.

"How d'you know?"

"There is no way your father would not have fought back."

"S'ppose so." Mundy walked away and nodding one last time, he exited the room.

-- Later --

"There we go. That bandage will work just fine."

Mundy disinfected his hand and managed to remove all the shards he could see. He wrapped it in a bandage and exited the van, before entering the shop.

"Oh hey, pal!" Eddy emerged from the back of his shop.

"You got a shovel I could borrow?"

"Man, this is a hunting shop, not a gardenin' one!"

Mundy raised his eyes from under his hat and Eddy felt that something was different.

"I'll uh… I'll have a look at the back…" Eddy disappeared and came back with a shovel in his hand. "You're lucky I have this old thing in the back. I can't even remember why it's there… Ha, it might be from that time when - oh."

Mundy had taken it from his hand and exited the shop without adding a word. He put the shovel on the passenger's seat and let his foot lean on the gas pedal confidently.

He drove for a few hours, during which he saw the sky change colors from blue to pink to dark. When he parked, even the moon didn't shine in the sky. He left the van's yellow front lights on to see, before hopping off, the shovel in his hand.

Mundy looked around him. He recognised the place. The boulders, the few cacti and the deafening silence. He frowned and made the shovel hit the dusty ground as hard as he was boiling. He dug again and again, only stopping to roll his sleeves up again or push a lock of hair behind his ear. Ah, that hair!

He put his hand in his pocket and retrieved an old elastic band. The Aussie tied his hair before coming back to digging. The ground was hard and dusty, which made the whole operation very tiring and painful on his hand, but there was a flame that burnt inside of him.

Clink.

He threw the shovel away and knelt down. Mundy exhumed a large metal box from the ground. He grasped the handle in one hand, he took the shovel in the other and went back inside the van.

That night, he spent it by the lake again, but he had been busy. After dusting off the old box, he broke the padlock on it with a hit of the shovel's hand. He didn't have the key to that bloody thing. He had chucked it somewhere in the desert, God knew where…!

Mundy knelt down and took the edge of the lid on his fingertips. He looked at the lake for what felt like the last time, before flipping the large lid open.

"Christ…"

Everything was still there. The rifles, the kukris, everything. He had buried them ten years before in the middle of the desert, out of the roads, in a place that he wished he could forget. But no, his brain knew where that cursed box was, that box that had been useless when he had needed it most, that box that reminded him that on the day of his parents' death, Mundy was chasing poachers at the other end of the county, oblivious, ignorant, and carefree, almost happy. While his parents saw their everything disappear in the flames, he was having fun with those infamous rifles. Yeah, fun, anything that wasn't trying to save his parents at that instant was a distraction, fun.

Mundy let his fingers run on the cold metal of the barrels and he felt the shivers.

Crazed gunman.

That was what his father had told him.

Not a crazed gunman, dad.

Yeah, you go around usin' your gun as if it was a game!

Mundy sighed.

"Sorry, dad."

He started to get to work. The rifles needed a good clean, some repairs and upgrades. The kukris needed sharpening, no doubt. The ponytail behind him was loose, he didn't like it. He got another elastic band and tied his hair tighter.

It took him the entire night on the floor, in the back of his van. That, an awful lot of patience. But that was easy to get now that he had a purpose, a goal, something to work towards.

Mundy yawned. The first few rays of light shone through the van's windows and he saw the black suit from the other day hanging from his bed's rails. The black suit that he hadn't worn since his parents' death.

He drove to town to get a coffee and then straight to Eddy's.

"I need bullets."

"What? Why? I thought you-"

"Empty darts, and bullets. Might need a suppressor too."

Eddy's look of surprise and confusion lasted for a few seconds.

"Mate, I don't have time."

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT

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percywinchester27 · 4 years

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About a boy (Part-12)

Word count: 2.7K

Warning: Suspense, feels, physical abuse, child-trafficking, kidnapping, child-violence, bullying, this gets really really dark, rest of the warnings in the tags.

Characters: Dean, Cas, Gabriel, Benny, Michael, OCs and… Sam?

Summary: Dean Winchester has a secret. A secret that could really land him in trouble. He never expected to connect with anyone when he walked into the ‘Blue Stone Orphanage for Boys,’ but even then, the walls he has put up are slowly coming down. Now, a series of strange events are threatening to expose him. When everything starts falling apart around him, will he still be able to save the one person that matters the most?

A/N: Please pay attention to the tags if you have triggers.

Thanks to the dearest @deanssweetheart23 for beta reading this story <3

About a boy masterlist

It had been over an hour, Dean knew that much. The old clock by the bed ticked on relentlessly, pointing out every second that Will was gone; Will and Barry, while Dean couldn’t do anything about it. Cas had gone on and on about how sorry he was that he had let someone clock him out like that. But it wasn’t his fault that someone knocked him unconscious.

Logically, Dean knew there wasn’t anything he could do except wait for Jody to send cops and get them some help, but the chaos in his head wouldn’t let him do anything except wear a hole in the sticky carpet of the room. He was going out of his mind worrying about what could be happening to them right now.

Benny was standing over Cas, trying to console him.

“There was nothing else you could’ve done, Cas,” he said. Frustration and anger were evident in his features. “It’s a miracle that they didn’t kill you for finding out about the holding cells.”

Dean’s passive pacing stopped and he came to a halt. The same thought had been itching him, too. In fact, it was the only thing keeping him standing, knowing that somehow Cas had gotten away. That they had decided to leave him be. Now that Benny had said it out loud, something struck him- a hunch that was fast becoming a suspicion.

“Cas,” Dean said, “Did you really see nothing?”

“No!” Cas grimaced. “My head was turned.”

“And did you hear anything?”

Again, Cas shook his head, anguished.

“That means whoever it was, knew the place well. They didn’t use the flashlight. Though, unlike that figure from yesterday, who didn’t make a single effort to hide himself, this person was stealthy. He did not want to be found. And...” Dean hesitated. Not because he was unsure of what he was saying, but because he knew it would affect his friend. He took a deep breath and continued. “... I think I know who it is.”

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

Dean had never set foot into this particular room before. It was a general rule that only people who were specifically asked could be here at any point of the day. Today, he was beyond caring, beyond giving a single thought about what happened to him, let alone what anybody thought. Will was in danger and if he had to get his ass kicked by the people who had it against him from day one, then so be it. Even if it meant getting bloodied and beaten to pulp by those jerks.

The boy he was looking for was sprawled across the bed, hand over his face.

“Michael!” Dean bellowed.

The room went quiet. His roommates, Gary and Raphael, sat up bolt, scowling at Dean with ill-concealed hatred and anger.

Michael’s face did not betray a single emotion. “Winchester,” he drawled.

Dean stepped inside and immediately Michael’s cronies sprang out of the beds, flexing their muscles. He ducked and swiped his foot from under Gary’s legs, knocking him down on his ass, then pivoted and punched Raphael in the face. Both of them crumpled to the ground. Dean did not wait for them to move. He strided forward till he was face to face with Michael.

“Where is Will?” he said, voice muted but seething.

Michael looked at him hard, then carefully shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dean balled his fists. “I know it’s you who aids the smuggling of the kids. You, who helps Andy and the Stynes with whatever the hell they’re doing out there… and it was you who hit Cas on the head in the west wing.”

When Michael didn’t respond, Dean pushed ahead and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. Michael was a couple inches taller, but Dean was burning with rage.

Gary and Raphael had straightened up, and were beginning to advance on Dean, when Michael put his hand out. Dean could see that it was shaking with constraint. Anger or something else, he did not know.

“What makes you think that?” Michael said, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Dean let go of him with a push. “I know because no one else would have let Cas go. You are the only one who has any sort of pull over Andy and for some godforsaken reason you like Cas. Your lap dogs don’t care about anyone… not even Cas. They beat him bloody in the kitchens, but when you’re around they don’t dare rough him up. They wouldn’t have cared today. No one would have except you. So I’m right about you… aren’t I?”

Michael’s fist came flying out of nowhere and within the split of a second Dean was on the ground, his head hitting the floor hard.

“You don’t know anything!” Michael shouted. “You, moron!” His eyes were wild… not just with anger, but also with what could only be fear.

“What the fuck were you thinking snooping around in the left wing, you idiot?” he barked. “And dragging my brother into this? If anyone found out…”

“If anyone ever found out what?” Cas’s voice was as flat as Dean had ever heard it. He turned his neck upwards to see Cas standing by the door, Benny right behind him.

Dean got to his feet just as Cas walked right up to Michael.

The colour drained from Michael’s face when he saw Cas, and Dean couldn’t help but notice the tiny change in his demeanor. How his eyes quickly scanned Cas’s face, and his head where the blow had been delivered. The blood was still dry along the line of his ear.

“N-nothing,” he stuttered, backing a little.

“My whole life I thought there’s some purpose to everything that happens. Some divine entity looking over all of us.” Cas said in an odd diminished tone. “Isn’t that what they wanted us to believe in that missionary orphanage? I used to look up to you. How you were always so strong and the best at everything. How you would never let any of the boys bully us… look after us like we were your own. And I used to think- ‘what if my parents abandoned me… I still have a family. I have a big brother.’ But you… you?”

Cas looked away… disgusted. It was worse than if he had spat in Michael’s face or even slapped him. There was just something completely blasphemous about Cas’s disappointment. It was like watching an angel crash to the ground. Even though it wasn’t aimed at Dean, that expression on his friends face was just wrong.

Looking at it, something broke in Michael.

“What was I supposed to do?” He yelled, spreading his arms wide. “You don’t know how it is… how it was when that orphanage shut down and we were dumped here. I’m the oldest. All you kids are my responsibility. My family. I had to do whatever I could to protect you, and I did. I am not going to apologise for that. Hell, if it came to it, I would still do it all over again. It’s better for it to be some other kid I’ve never talked to than a brother of mine… than you, Castiel.”

Cas flinched. It was painful to see.

“What do they do with the kids, Michael?” Cas asked point blank.

“I can’t tell you,” Michael said

Cas looked at him steadily, his blue eyes rimmed with red. “Can’t or won’t?”

Michael gritted his teeth, “I can’t, okay? They will take you away, if they found out that you knew.”

Cas squared his shoulders. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to find Andy and tell him that I know. Then they’ll take me anyway.”

“No!” Michael’s voice was menacing. “This is all because of you, Winchester! I don’t know what you’ve done to him, but he isn’t the same anymore.”

“Cas has a mind of his own,” Dean said through gritted teeth. “If you think of him as a brother, maybe you should give him more credit.”

“You!” Michael lunged, hands outstretched towards Dean, but Benny got there first.

“Won’t happen, asshole!” Benny grunted. “Now tell us where Will and Barry are.”

Michael spat in his face.

Dean braced himself to throw a punch, but Cas’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Michael,” Cas said, his voice hopeless and strangled. “Mike… if you’ve ever thought of me as your brother, please tell us where they are. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ll go turn myself over to Andy. Then they’ll either have to kill me to shut me up or do whatever it is that they do.”

Dean had expected some visible reaction from Michael… he got more than he had imagined. Michael staggered backwards, eyes widened, and then almost crashed into his bed, mouth hanging open in silent horror.

“No… don’t… don’t say that.”

Cas walked right up to him. “I will do it,” he repeated quietly.

Michael put his face in his hands. When he spoke through his fingers, his voice was muffled. “There’s an abandoned warehouse, about 20 miles south of the town. The Stynes have owned that property since before this orphanage existed. They use it as the base for their operation.”

“What operation?” Dean asked impatiently, rushing ahead, and Michael shot him a loathsome look.

However, he did answer the question. “It’s an organ trafficking scam. They have a couple of trained people under them who remove kidneys, heart, liver, and then sell it to the highest bidder in the black market.”

“What happens to the kids afterwards?” Benny asked. He was the only one who could even talk. Cas looked about as sick as Dean felt. The growing horror had exploded in his chest and Dean stumbled into a nearby chair.

“If they live, they’re either put into a begging racket or sold into prostitution. But most of the time… they don’t…” He didn’t complete the sentence because there was a loud crack. Cas had punched him in the face. Gary and Raphael moved, but Michael put his hand out, holding them off again.

“How dare you?” Cas growled, tears were making their way down the side of his face.

All fight seemed to have gone out of Michael. “I had to do it. I figured it out quickly enough after we were moved, and Andy threatened to sell you all off first if I opened my mouth. He offered me a deal. That all of us would be safe if I helped him manage the crowd. Did his job of looking at the kids when he was away, and shut everyone up who threatened the operation.”

“So they bought your silence!”

“What was I supposed to do?” Michael shouted. “You are my family. My responsibility!”

“You should have gone to the police!” Cas shouted back. “Don’t give me any crap about how you didn’t have a chance. You have had enough liberties here, and at school. Don’t try to pin your weakness on us! I would have rather died than be a part of any of this, knowing or unknowingly. I can’t imagine what poor kid died in my place. How many…” Cas trailed off in horror.

“Jaime!” Benny asked. “What about Jaime?”

Michael shook his head, hands in his hair. “He didn’t make it.”

Benny staggered to the side, his face crumpling in sorrow and pain.

Dean seized Michael by the collar, but he didn’t attempt to fight back. He looked defeated. “What about Will? He was going to be adopted. Obviously the Kensingtons will look for him now that he is missing. It was the dumbest thing to do! To risk an inquiry for the sake of a single kid.”

“Will was special,” Michael whispered. “The only reason he had even remained here was because they were saving him. His blood group- AB negative- is rare, they knew he’d fetch a lot of money. Last week a very wealthy businessman of the same blood group posted a bid. Adoption be damned. Will was always the means to big money.”

“Stop saying ‘was!” Dean thundered, pushing Michael with both hands. “Will is alright and I’m going to find him. You take me to him now, you son of bitch!”

For the third time in the night, the door swung open, hitting the adjacent wall with a crash. On the threshold stood Gabriel, his face had red angry patches and fury blazed in his eyes. “You, asshole!” he yelled and launched himself at Michael, throwing punches after punches. This time Gary and Raphael didn’t stand back, they rushed in, too. So did Dean and Benny. A chaos of punches and kicks followed, till Dean and Benny had the other two pinned to the floor. Michael was still taking the hits without any protest.

Dean wanted him to be furious, wanted Michael to shout and fight back, because he deserved the thrashing. There was something utterly frustrating about watching him just take it.

Meanwhile, Gabriel was hurling abuses after abuses, each punctuated by another punch. From what Dean gathered out of the broken curses, he had been spying on them all along- Dean, Cas and Benny- after the standoff in their room weeks ago, and that had led him to overhear this conversation. He was also from the same orphanage as Cas, and all things considered, he had also looked upto Michael as their brother.

While Gabe hit every part of Michael that he could find, Cas stood in the corner, eyes hollow, staring at nothing.

“Enough!” Dean yelled. “Michael! The police are on their way. One way or another this ends tonight. Will you take us to the warehouse?”

His face was bloody and bruised badly, one of his eyes was red. Michael raised his head to give Cas a slow glance. Cas was leaning against the wall, tears flowing unbounded.

“Yes!” Michael groaned, still not taking his eyes off the boy who was like his little brother. “I’ll take you there.”

“I’m coming,” Benny said, “You can’t stop me.”

Dean wasn’t going to. Benny deserved to go as much as any of them did. If it hadn’t been for his help, they’d have never managed to get any information.

“I’m coming, too.” Gabriel’s voice sounded brittle, but it did not waiver.

He had red splotches on his nose and cheeks, and he looked like someone had pulled the rug from under him. Dean wasn’t sure what to make of any of it. He didn’t know Gabriel at all.

“Look-” Dean began.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Gabriel shot back. He looked so out of his usual sauve and confident element. “Tell them, Cas,” he pleaded to his brother. “Tell them that you want me there with you.”

Cas seemed to have not heard anything at all. He was in shock.

Gabriel walked over to him and shook Cas. “Say something! You asked me to pick a side, remember? Now I am picking yours!”

Cas snapped out of it. His eyes landed on Gabriel and then met Dean’s. Ever so lightly, he nodded.

There was no time to argue about anything. They had to get out of here. Jody must be close.

It was clear in Dean’s mind what he needed to do. First, he had to go back to his room and page the address of the warehouse to Jody, then they would gather all the flashlights they could find and get the hell out of the place.

“There’s one problem,” Gabriel said urgently, “We don’t have a car, and none of us know how to drive.”

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Images of working in Bobby’s backyard on tens and hundreds of cars flashed through his mind. Him jacking up the gears, fixing the engine, wiring the car… even taking them for a drive. Bobby taking him through the town, smiling proudly as Dean parallel parked perfectly.

He opened his eyes, fists clenched in determination. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “We just have to get to the edge of the town.”

Will was coming back to him. Even if he had to bring heaven and hell together to make it happen.

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

A/N 2: A lot in this chapter is based off the ordeals of kids I used to teach art to in an orphanage. That stuff still keeps me up at night.

Please do tell me what you thought of the chapter? I live for comments!

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stormtrprinstilettos · 5 years

Text

10 Easy Rules (Ch. 1) - Dom!90sRoger x sub!reader (smutty smut) {18+}

Series Summary: Reader is a young 20-something who is living back home with her parents, and she meets their new neighbor. (More info of what to expect here.)

Chapter summary: Introductions... every kind of introduction.

Chapter warnings: nothing major - language & smut (of course), minor D/s, very minor bondage, denial.

Word count: 6190

(This is the man who started it all...)

You absolutely hate these neighbor gatherings every weekend. Today you’re across the street. Next week they’ll all be at your house. This time you get to meet the new neighbors. “They’re lovely,” your mother told you. “Nice couple with a few kids.” Great. “And Sarah said Danny will be there.” Even worse. “He’s such a nice boy, Y/N.” She’s wanted you married and pregnant to Danny since you were born.

You’re feeling completely foolish, even embarrassed. Back home with your parents when you should be out there in the world living on your own like the other twenty-somethings you know do. But no - you’re here because your roommate moved out and you can’t afford rent by yourself, because your parents refuse to help you out since you quit your studies. You’re listening to your headphones that you bought recently because your mother complains when you play the music too loud. Or when you’re on the phone too late. Or when you come in too late. Or when you sleep too late. But you grin and bear it. For now at least. You have your waitressing job, and you’re saving every bit you make from it so you can move out as quickly as possible.

“Y/N, will you please take those things off,” your mom groans as she pulls the headphones off your head. “Can you pretend to be at least a little bit social today?”

You roll your eyes and take off the headphones. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“To make your mother happy,” your dad says. “She wants to show you off.”

You start to laugh as you reach the front door of the neighbor’s house. “More like sell me off to the highest bidder.” After your father rings the doorbell, you giggle. “I bet Mr. Ward would pay a lot for me.”

“Please, Y/N,” you mom groans again. “Best behavior, okay?” You roll your eyes and put a piece of chewing gum in your mouth and chuff. “These are new neighbors you’ll be meeting today. You don’t want to start off with a bad impression right away.”

“You’re right,” you say with a giggle. “I should give them at least a week before they start to think bad about me.”

You knew today would be annoying and boring, and it was. At least for a while. You were being followed around by Danny, who was trying his hardest to impress you, but he couldn’t. You met the new neighbors – well, the woman and the kids. Her husband would be there later. “They’re not really married,” your mother told you, “but we aren’t going to judge them for that.”

You ended up finding yourself in a conversation with the new 14-year-old neighbor. She was just as bored as you were, so you took the time to give her the rundown of all the juicy gossip. Mr. Ward, first name Peter - he’s kind of a harmless pervert who likes to watch you when you go on your morning jog. His wife, Sarah, drinks a lot when the kids are off at school. Their son, Danny - that’s the one your mom wants you to marry – is in college, for what you don’t remember because you really don’t care.

Then there’s the Garlands – Sam and Charlotte. Charlotte is the one who has the money for them to live in this neighborhood since her parents were rather wealthy and left her their inheritance. She’s 15 years younger than Sam, and she spends her days with some younger guy while Sam goes off and does whatever he wants. Sam and Peter like to go out and do “man things” on Friday nights.

Then there’s your parents – you father doesn’t like Sam and Peter much, so he doesn’t go do “man things” with them. Your mom and Sarah Ward do their day drinking together. Then there’s you, the only child, who kind of got put on the back burner, but that’s fine because you’re not really into all of this mess anyway.

“I’m so happy my parents aren’t lame,” she laughs before she starts to groan. “Okay so maybe my dad is lame sometimes. He’s probably going to come make some stupid comment and embarrass me now.” When you look in the direction she’s looking in, you see her dad walking up.

“You two look like you’re having as much fun here as I am,” he jokes. Your new friend groans and walks away, not wanting to be around her “not-lame” dad.

“If you consider wishing for a sporadic tornado to pass over fun, then yes,” you say with a snarky smile.

He holds out his hand for a shake. “I’m Roger.”

“So the rumors are true. I have a famous neighbor,” you say as you shake his hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“Ah, so those rumors are true as well. I have a cute neighbor,” he smirks. Suddenly you find yourself locked in a gaze. A nice, relaxing, sexy gaze that neither one of you knows how to break. “Pete and Sam think highly of you.”

“They think highly of my…” You suddenly stop yourself from finishing that thought and clear your throat.

He laughs quietly, sensing your minor embarrassment and changes the subject. “How often do we have do these? I’m told it’s often.”

“Oh, I don’t have to do any of these. You, however, do these every week.”

“If you don’t have to be here, then why are you here?”

“Wanted to be polite and meet my new neighbors,” you smile. “Had to see if the rumors were true.”

“Y/N!” your father calls for you and you roll your eyes.

“That’s my old man. Guess I get to leave now.” You start to walk away before turning around and walking backwards. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Taylor.” You smile and bite your bottom lip. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “And don’t call me ‘Mr. Taylor.’ Call me…”

“Daddy?” a kid yells out.

You start to giggle. “Alright. I’ll see you around, Daddy.”

“I could get used to hearing that,” he murmurs.

“I’m sorry?” You heard what he said. You just didn’t want him to know that you did.

“Nothing,” he smiles. “I’ll see you…”

You haven’t been able to shake him from your thoughts for the past month. Of course, it doesn’t help that you see him around all the time. He always manages to find himself at the foot of his driveway when you’re returning back home from your jog. Seeing him out there is much more exciting than seeing Mr. Ward so it doesn’t bother you one bit.

You wanted him. Badly. But he wasn’t just some bloke you could throw yourself at, so you had to be subtle. A bit blatant, but subtle. Just as he seemed to have your schedule memorized, you quickly memorized his. The wife/partner, whatever she was, would leave and bring the kids to school around 8:00 and she would be gone all day until she picked them up. But not on Wednesday’s. That’s the only day she would spend at home. Easy enough to remember. So this morning you left for your jog at 7:00, as usual, when your parents left to go to work and to whatever it is your mom did, and you were going to conveniently lock yourself out of the house. And he was going to invite you in to stay there until your mom got home around noon.

Your plan worked, shockingly easy.

As you stand in his living room looking at pictures, he walks in with a glass of water and sees you looking at a picture with the kids. “I’m sorry if she gets annoying. I know you don’t exactly enjoy talking with a teenager.”

“Oh it’s alright,” you smile. “When I was her age I had an older friend too. She lived in this house, actually. She taught me everything I needed to know about sex.”

He started to cough before quickly composing himself. “You are far too young to know everything about sex.”

“I didn’t say I knew everything. Just what I need to,” you grin. “I stink and feel gross. I need to find a way in the house so I can shower.”

“No,” he says, quickly swallowing his water. “I’m sure I have something you can wear. And I’ll let you shower. Wash up. If you want.” You smile and nod, pretending to act timid, and you follow him up the stairs. The only thing keeping you from pushing yourself on him when you get to his bedroom is the fact you’re sweaty. He probably wouldn’t mind, though, judging by the way he’s looking at you.

You purposely don’t close the bathroom door all the way. And thanks to the glass shower walls, you can see his reflection in the mirror as he watches you shower through the crack in the door. You can see him nervously running his hand over his neck. You can see him shift and take a deep breath as you run your hands over your tits. And you can see him reach down in his pants and stroke his cock by the time your lathered hands get down to below your waist. You watch him the entire time, and you don’t turn the water off until you see him cum underneath his shirt.

You wrap your hair in a towel, then your body, and you walk out of the bathroom. He’s still standing in the same spot he was standing in as he watched you, his face still in shock and awe. “I don’t have anything to change into, Mr. Taylor,” you giggle as you walk closer to him.

He’s speechless. You love this. Maybe you’re being cruel. Maybe he’s being cruel standing there looking at you like he wants to fuck you into the next dimension. “I hate when you call me that,” he smiles. “‘Mr. Taylor’ sounds so formal.” He quickly turns and walks away to find you something – anything – to wear.

“You’re right,” you say when he turns his back to you. “I think we’re well past formalities now, don’t you think?”

He slowly makes his way back to you holding a t-shirt and some sweatpants in his hand, staring at you like he’s willing the towel would come loose and fall down. He gets close – really close – and brings his hand up, not touching you, but he wants to. “Yeah,” he whispers, bringing his fingers under your chin and lifting your head, hovering his lips just over yours. “Way past formalities.” He gives you a kiss, a very careful kiss, almost as if he’s not sure this is what you want.

“You can do better than that,” you whisper into his mouth. This time he kisses you deeper, still not sure this is what you want. His hand slides down your shoulder, and just as it makes its way to the towel, he’s interrupted by someone calling his name.

“Roger, I’m not busy today. Maybe we can go into the city and look for that new desk?” She’s home and she just ruined everything.

Tonight you’re working your normal dinner shift at the restaurant. You know you’ll be seeing Peter and Sam - they’re here every Friday night to gawk at you and practice their new pickup lines they took all week to think of. Nothing shocking when you see them walk in, except for the fact that tonight they have Roger with them. You can hear them as you take the order from the table next to theirs.

“I wonder if she’s on the menu because she is looking absolutely delicious tonight,” Sam says.

“It’s nice having her back in the neighborhood. I get to watch her jogging in the mornings,” Peter chuckles.

“I’m not a religious man, but I’m praying for sunshine tomorrow. She’ll be out by the pool…” Sam is quickly interrupted.

Roger snaps. “Stop talking about her like that.”

“Oh come on Rog,” he groans. “You should know how this works by now. She parades around looking like she does and we get to watch.”

“Now, now, Mr. Garland,” you giggle when you walk over to the table. “You know how Mrs. Garland feels when you look at other girls.”

“Are you busy tonight, Y/N?” Peter asks. “Maybe we can go get a pint when we’re done here.”

“Oh, I appreciate it, Mr. Ward,” you say politely, “but I have other plans.” You glance over and smirk at Roger who is quite amused at how you’re handling all of this.

After they finish their meal and you clear the table, your shift is over and you go outside to leave. Roger sneaks out to follow you, and catches you leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette. “You should stop smoking. It’s not healthy.” You roll your eyes and giggle, throwing the cigarette away and turning to face him as he leans with his back against the wall next to you.. “Those two are something, huh?”

“Let me guess,” you say, moving to stand in front of him. “Peter talked about watching me jog in the mornings and Sam is excited because he gets to see me in my bikini tomorrow.” He’s quite amazed that you know about this. “They’ve done this since I turned 18. Did they start arguing over who was going to take care of me? They do that sometimes.”

He grabs your arm and turns you around so that you’re now against the wall, and he’s resting his hand next to your head, tracing a finger over your chest. “Do you need someone to take care of you?”

“In what sense?” you whisper, pulling him closer to you by his shirt and flashing him a flirtatious grin.

He gives you a flirty grin back and runs his fingertips over your shoulders. “You aren’t as innocent as people think,” he says in a low tone, his fingers tracing a path down to your breasts. “You’re a naughty little girl, aren’t you?”

“Do you want me to be?” you whisper. “I can be as naughty as you want.”

He lowers his face to yours, his lips getting dangerously close. “You better watch that mouth of yours. Could get you in a lot of trouble, sweetheart.”

“Maybe I like trouble.”

He pulls you close and hovers his mouth even closer. “You are trouble,” he growls and slides his hand down dangerously close to your crotch. “Have any of these guys around been lucky enough to fuck you, Y/N?”

“No. Not yet,” you say with a smirk.

“Not yet, huh?”

“There’s only one of them I want.”

“Yeah? Which one.”

“You… Daddy,” you whisper in his ear.

“So you are a naughty girl,” he chuckles. “This morning was no accident, was it?”

“I know how to get what I want,” you say, lowering yourself and sneaking away from him under his arm. “I saw you this morning, Mr. Taylor,” you whisper from behind him. “I saw you watching me.” This time he’s not as gentle when he pushes you back against the wall again. “You know you want me too.”

“Do you promise to be a good girl, Y/N?” he murmurs, holding his hand under your chin, raising his thumb to enter your mouth between your parted lips. “Promise to do whatever Daddy tells you to do?” You smile and shake your head and he slowly backs away. “Come on, princess. I’ll give you a ride home.” He winks and walks away as you stand there watching him, your heart almost beating out of your chest.

He was watching you again. You see him watching you as you lay out by the pool, soaking in the sun. You have the headphones on and you’re wearing your sunglasses. You see him. You know he knows you’re watching him, too. He knows because as soon as everyone else is inside to get lunch, you stick your fingers down the front of your bikini bottoms then pull them out, and when you walk by him you make sure to suck on them very slowly.

He follows you up the stairs. No one sees. They’re too busy eating the food and drinking the drinks and trying to outdo each other with grandiose stories. He closes the door behind him when he walks in your room, and you turn around. He puts his finger over your mouth before you can say anything. “Do you enjoy teasing me, Y/N?” he asks. “Because it’s not nice to tease.”

You walk to your closet and take out a dress you want to change in to. “I don’t want to tease, Roger,” you sigh. “I’m just trying to…”

He walks up behind you and starts to untie your bikini top, interrupting you. “Trying to get me to fuck you?” he whispers in your ear. “Rule number one, Daddy’s the one who calls the shots here, not you.” He turns you around, a soft smile on his face, and slides your bikini top slowly off. “Is this really what you want to wear?” He takes the dress from your hand and throws it on the bed. “Surely you’ve got something better than that in there.” He pushes you to the side and starts going through the clothes in your closet before finding a yellow sundress. He keeps talking, ignoring your confused looks, as he takes it off of the hanger and slides it over your head. “This one is much better.”

You don’t even know what to say, so you just smile and walk to your dresser to get some panties. When you turn back around, he’s sitting on your bed, feet on the floor. You reach under your dress to pull your bikini bottoms off and toss them to the side. He stops you when you go to put your panties on and signals for you to walk over to him. Normally you would have made at least five sarcastic comments by now, but he’s managed to render you speechless. You get in front of him and smile, and he’s smiling and he guides you to straddle his leg. You’re incredibly confused, but you don’t protest.

“Rule number two, I get to have you whenever, wherever, and however I want,” he whispers. He holds his hands on your hips and rocks you, very slowly so your pussy rubs slowly on his thigh. “I don’t have many rules, don’t worry,” he grins. You take a deep breath and wrap your arms around his neck. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “It feels good.” Your eyes start to slowly close as you feel yourself rubbing against his leg, his shorts having raised above the spot of his thigh you’re covering.

He moves your hips faster now, and your forehead falls forward and meets his. “Such a sweet girl,” he chuckles. “I knew there was a sweet girl in there somewhere.” You bite your bottom lip and start to giggle, opening your eyes and meeting his gaze. “You like rubbing your hot cunt on me?”

“Yes,” you whisper. His brow raises and you realize that’s the wrong answer. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” he whispers. “You’re going to be such a good girl.” He moves his hands away from your hips, holding them against your back and you start to grind harder and faster. “That’s it, baby. Like that.”

He starts to kiss you, finally a kiss that isn’t awkward or careful. His tongue darts in your mouth, your moans pushing into his, and as much as you’re loving all of this, you want more. “Please, Roger… Daddy. I want you inside me,” you whisper.

“Oh, baby girl,” he chuckles. “You haven’t earned my cock yet.” You let out a frustrated groan and he nudges you to stand up. “Rule number three, you don’t cum unless I say you can.” He wraps your arms back around his neck and lifts your leg, resting your foot on his thigh. He moves his hand slowly up your leg and then underneath your dress, his fingers gliding gently over your soaking lips. “Your little pussy feels amazing,” he whispers.

There’s a quiet knock on your door, and you jump, but Roger holds you in position. “Y/N? Are you in there?” It’s your mother. Roger mouths for you to answer her, all while his fingers continue to play.

“Yeah, I’m in here!” you yell out. As soon as the last word leaves your mouth, one of Roger’s fingers slip inside of you, and you gasp.

“Are you coming back out? The food will get cold,” she asks.

“Y-yeah, I’ll be out,” you stammer, trying to keep your composure. Roger starts to pump his finger in and out of you, and he slides a second finger in.

“You’ll just have to eat with Mr. Taylor when he comes back,” she says. You let out a whimper. You tried to stifle it, but he started to rub his thumb on your clit, and the look he’s giving to you right now isn’t helping you stay quiet. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

“Yes, mamma, I’m fine,” you say, trying to sound normal. “I’ll be down in a little while. Go…” You take a deep breath. “Fuck, Roger,” you whisper. He’s chuckling very quietly, amused by your inability to control yourself. He stops moving his hand to allow you to answer your mother. “Go entertain your guests,” you tell her.

Once he hears her walk away, he resumes his relentless finger fucking of your pussy. “You feel so tight, baby,” he groans. “You really could use a good fucking.”

“So fuck me,” you whine. “Just fuck me, please.”

“Don’t worry, Princess,” he smiles. “You’ll get fucked. Just not today.” He pushes his fingers in as far as they can go and wiggles them around. “What’s rule number three?”

“I can’t cum until you say I can,” you groan.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “You’re learning so fast.” He starts his beautiful assault again, and now he can’t even control his sounds. “Do you want to cum for Daddy?”

“Yes,” you groan. “I want to cum for Daddy.”

He pulls his fingers out and holds them to your mouth, forcing you to open wide so he can slide them in. And as you close your lips around them, he starts to smirk. “Not yet, dove.” You let out a frustrated groan and he chuckles deeply. “If you’re a good girl for the rest of the day, you’ll be rewarded.”

“That’s mean,” you whine as he gently pushes you away. “You do all of this and then…”

“What’s mean,” he says as he grabs you and pulls you close, “is how you’ve toyed with me for the past month. Now baby girl has to learn her lesson. It’s not nice to tease.”

“You could have taken it,” you groan. “I was offering it…” You bend down to grab your panties off the floor, but he pulls you back up.

“You don’t get to wear those,” he smirks. “Second lesson. You have to learn how to control yourself.” He gives you a playful smack on your ass and pushes you to the door. “Now get out there and be a good girl. I’ll be down in a little while.”

You do as your told and walk out, leaving him in your room. You’re not sure why he wants to stay in there, but you don’t ask questions. Instead, you make your way downstairs and join everyone there, trying to take your mind off of what just happened.

But it’s hard to do, especially when he comes in 20 minutes later and sits next to you, pretending nothing happened as he easily jumps in the conversation being had. You, on the other hand, have been quiet. Almost eerily quiet, given how you’re never one to not speak, always eager to throw in a sarcastic remark or make a joke.

All of the women went back outside, and you’d normally follow them out, but you don’t, because you don’t realize they left. Your mind is somewhere else, clearly. “Are you okay, Y/N?” Mr. Ward asks. “You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet since you came back down.”

“I’m fine,” you smile. “Just tired.”

“Long night?” he asks, with a suspicious brow and cheeky grin on his face as he looks at both you and Roger. “Did Mr. Taylor not bring you straight home last night?”

“Alright, Pete,” Roger chuckles. “Don’t start.” Your dad sits on the other side of you and gives Roger a glaring look. “I went to the restaurant and I couldn’t let her just walk home.”

You dad keeps glaring at Roger, and now you’re uncomfortable. “She walks home every other night,” he sneers. “She wouldn’t have to if she wouldn’t have sold her car.”

“I needed money,” you groan. “Are you ever going to let that go?” Roger can sense your frustration, and he subtly rubs his thumb on the side of your leg so no one can see. Amazingly enough, it immediately calms you down. “It was better than asking you for rent. I did what I felt I had to do.”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” Roger says. “If you don’t want me…”

You dad starts to apologize. “I’m sorry for snapping,” he says. “I just see these two idiots…” He shakes his head and starts laughing. “I’m protective of my daughter. Maybe too much.”

“No,” Roger laughs. “You have good reason to be protective.” You look over at him and sneer, but he doesn’t stop. “She’s a pretty girl. I’d be protective of her too. Especially with those two,” he laughs, pointing to Peter and Sam, who are looking a bit unnerved by everything. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure they don’t try anything,” he says with a cheeky grin.

You quickly stand up and walk out, feeling way too uncomfortable, saying nothing as you do, and join the rest of the females outside. “… one day she’ll become responsible enough to leave again,” you hear your mother say. You know she’s talking about you. She’s always talking about you – more like she’s always complaining. “We had no problem supporting her while she was studying, but she quit, so…”

You clear your throat to announce your presence and take a seat next to her. “Glad to hear you’re still bothered by my life choices, mother dear,” you giggle. “Maybe I’m still trying to find my way.”

“Being a free spirit won’t help with the bills,” you mother tells you as she pats you on the leg.

You don’t realize that Roger’s wife/girlfriend/whatever she is to him is sitting across from you until she starts to talk. “You work at that restaurant down the road, yes?” she asks, and you nod your head. “Don’t feel bad about that,” she smiles. You wanted to snap at her and tell her that you don’t feel bad about it at all, and you wanted to smack that little “you pathetic little thing” grin she was giving you off her face, but you kept your composure. “I was a waitress once too, and now look at me.”

“Yeah, look at you,” you grin, sarcasm seeping out. Your eyes glance up and you see Roger standing behind her, raising his eyebrows, silently telling you to calm down. “You’re a lucky woman.”

She starts to yammer on about how she and Roger met, the dates he took her on and some other things you’re really not sure about, because you’ve tuned her out. You’re too focused on him, standing behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders as he chuckles along. You’re trying to hide your jealousy, but you’re almost positive everyone can sense it. They really can’t, though, because they’re not paying you any attention. Not until your dear mother opens her fucking mouth.

“One day this one may find someone to put up with her,” she laughs as she puts her hand on your back. “It won’t happen until she stops being so difficult.”

Roger starts to laugh, trying to ease the tension. “Surely she’s not difficult,” he says, sitting down across from you. “She’s spunky.”

“Spunky?” you fuss. “Fucking spunky?”

“Language, Y/N,” your mom groans. “This is another trait of hers that’s not very becoming…”

You try to stand up but she pulls you back down. “See, my parents are disgusted with me,” you explain as you look at Roger. “I quit my studies and they hate the fact that I’m an independent woman.”

“You’re living at home with your parents,” your mother chuckles. “You’re not independent.”

You stand up and walk away, going back inside and up the stairs to your room. You don’t want to see anyone anymore. Not even Roger.

But that’s not going to happen.

“Hey,” he says as he stands in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that I just want to be alone, but you followed me,” you groan as you lay back on your bed. “I’m sorry. I just…”

He walks in and closes your door and lays on his back next to you on the bed. “I get it. I do.” He pulls you close, and you roll on your side and rest your head on his shoulder. “Don’t let them get to you, alright?”

“Easier said than done,” you chuff. “I feel like such a waste sometimes.”

“Don’t,” he fusses. “You’re not a waste. You just haven’t found your direction yet.” You exhale breath you didn’t know you were holding in, his voice immediately relaxing you, just as his small touch did earlier. “Don’t ever talk about yourself like that. That’s rule number… what number are we on?” he chuckles.

“Four,” you laugh. “Rule number four.” He props himself up on his side, looking down at you and cups your cheek. “Where do they think you are?”

“I went home. I’m tired too,” he smiles.

“How are you going to sneak out of here?”

“Your mum and dad are going to the park to listen to the music with everyone else,” he says. “So by my calculations, we have at least three hours before I have to leave.” He leans down and kisses you softly, and before you know it the two of you are making out on your bed like a couple of horny teenagers until he pulls himself away. “Does my sweet girl still want to cum for Daddy?” he smirks.

You groan and push him away. “Please. Don’t start again unless you’re finishing this time,” you giggle.

But he moves back close. “Daddy,” he chuckles in your ear, “wants to make his baby girl feel better.” He moves your hands above your head, looking deep into your eyes as he smirks. “Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice raspy and almost in a whisper. You nod your head, but that’s not good enough. “Use your words, sweetie.”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I trust you.”

He takes a scarf from under your pillow and ties your wrists together. You look at him, confused, and he smiles. “I hope you don’t mind,” he starts. “But when I was in here earlier, I found this.” He pulls at the knot he’s made, making sure it will hold. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “But I won’t be able to touch you.”

He gives you a soft kiss and runs his fingers on your cheek. “That’s okay. This is about you, not me.” He leans down and kisses you again, running his hand slowly down your leg then up and underneath your dress. You gasp softly as you feel his fingers run up your thigh, and you gasp even more when they find your wetness. “Now be a good girl and relax,” he tells you in a soothing tone. “Naughty little girl, already so wet,” he groans. “So needy. When you left me in here earlier I told you to control yourself.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“No, no,” he chuckles. “That’s good. You did good. Because this isn’t yours to control. It’s mine.” He moves down on the bed, his hands running down your body to your knees and presses them apart. He starts to run his hands up and down your thighs, relaxing them open and lifting your dress up gradually while he lowers his face. He starts with kisses first, savoring everything he can: the sound his lips make when they kiss your inner thighs, the soft sigh you made when he parted your outer lips, the gasp you made when his tongue finally finds your yielding pussy.

Your body stiffens as you feel his tongue invade you, opening you up, sending pulses of exquisite pleasure up your spine. The sensations are almost unreal. “Roger… Daddy. That feels…” You can’t say anything. You’re breathless. You feel Roger's hands on your thighs and lips, parting and holding them while his tongue moves in deeper, exploring every corner he can reach.

When his tongue finds its way to your clit, you jolt at the intensity of it. Your legs fall apart and your body entirely relaxes as his magic tongue paddles you through wave after wave of pleasure. You hear yourself moaning loudly, and feel his hands grip on your ass, squeezing and holding your hips. Then you feel one finger enter you, then a second, and you quickly remember rule number three. “Roger?” you call out, but he doesn’t answer, and you feel him chuckle against you. “Daddy?”

“Hmm,” you feel him hum against you, still chuckling.

“Please, Daddy, can I cum?” you whine. You can’t take it anymore.

He pulls his mouth away and looks up at you. “Cum for me, beautiful. Cum all over my tongue.” His tongue flicks over you and his mouth sucks on your lips as his fingers slide effortlessly in and out, curling inside of you. Your orgasm goes from merely amazing to absolutely mind-numbing. Your body shudders and rocks, bucking against Roger's face. And he keeps his face and tongue right there until you relax.

“Wow.” That’s all you can say. You feel stupid because there’s so much you want to say, but that’s all that wants to come out of your mouth.

“Such a good girl, cuming for Daddy like that,” he chuckles as he moves back over you, kissing you. “Such a good, good girl.” He unties your wrists and lays next to you, laying on his side and moves his hand back down to rub your pussy. “And you taste so sweet, too.” He looks down your body as he rubs, watching everything his fingers touch. “I’m a lucky, lucky guy,” he smiles and you giggle.

You lay with your head leaning against his chest, his unoccupied hand running through your hair, and the room is silent. You feel safe. Protected. Secure. And you want nothing more than to make him happy. He doesn’t stop you as your hand runs down to his waist. He doesn’t stop you as you unbutton his shorts and slowly move the zipper down. He doesn’t stop you when your hand reaches for his cock, or when you release it and start to stroke it slowly.

“Is this okay, Daddy?” you ask with a sweet giggle, your hand wrapped around his throbbing cock that’s already dripping precum.

“Mmm hmm,” he groans, trying to answer. “That feels good, baby.”

You lay there, talking about random things, places you want to go and things you want to see. Things you want to achieve, all while you enjoy his fingers dancing over your still pulsing pussy and he enjoys your soft hand sliding up and down his shaft.

You can't help but notice the swelling of his cock in your hand, knowing an orgasm is approaching. You lean closer and nuzzle into his chest before looking up and speaking softly. “Will you please cum for me Daddy?”

He doesn’t have time to say anything. He quickly lays on his back and grabs the back of your head, shoving your face toward his cock. As soon as your mouth wraps around him, his hips buck up and the first blast of cum arches from the tip of his cock to the top of your mouth just before your lips close around the shaft. You suck, swallow, and fight to keep from gagging as he fills your mouth with his thick cum. You moan with happiness as you clean it off before slowly tucking it back in my shorts, looking up at him with a glassy-eyed smile.

He lifts your face to his and kisses you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue as you run your fingers through his hair. Once he releases you, you lean back against the headboard and grin. “I take it you enjoyed that?” he asks with a smirk.

You giggle. “Of course I did. Would have preferred it if you would have fucked my brains out with it, but I’ll take that.”

“Keep talking like that and I'll give you more to wash out that dirty mouth,” he retorts, unable to keep a chuckle from coming out.

“Promises, promises, Daddy,” you giggle again. “Keep talking like that and you might make me fall in love.”

Permatags: @clogwearingspacepoodle @briansfatbottomgirl @culturefiendtrashqueen @jennyggggrrr @shutup-sorry @dontstopmemeow @letmelivetaylor @tommyleeownsme @ziggymay @drowseoftaylor @mariekuuuuuh @biscuit-barrel @givemequeen @rogmeddows @quirkydeaky @capsparrowtara @vousmemanqueez @vanitysfairr @langdonzvoid @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @thigh-your-mother-down @toomuchlove-willkillyou @lauravic @loveandbeloved29 @catch-a-deak @rogxrtaylxr @formylife-stillahead-pityme @michael-loves-chickens @fat-bottomed-babe @tenement-funstah @mydeakydoesme @onevision198091 @lokimercuri @delilahmay39 @amor-libre @brianssixpence @rogers-pink-sparkly-converse @shadycupcakefox @theatrefreakgirl @fflowerxchild @spacedust1124719 @amcquivey @rogahhtaylahh @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @fairestkillerqueenofall @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @goodoldfashioned-rogerboy

#10 easy rules #roger taylor smut #roger taylor series #roger taylor x fem reader #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x y/n #roger taylor x you #dom!roger x reader #roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor fic #roger taylor fanfic #my stuff

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mediapuppy · 4 years

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Gosh it’s so flattering that people want to know more about me! Now you wouldn’t expected these to be loaded questions, but let me preface this by saying that I’m an absolute mess when it comes to college. I do nothing normally. Sleep is nonexistent. My advisors are going to stab me in my sleep. Come with me while I take you on the wild, dysfunctional rollercoaster that is Media’s College Misadventures™

Now I like a lot of things in an abstract sort of way. I love cooking and baking. I used to do a lot of overseas work with genetics and animals. I’ve always been fascinated by the brain in the sort of vague way most people are. But this doesn’t sell, so I went into my freshman year an Economics/CS major as prep work to take over the family business! Please for the love of god don’t follow in my footsteps but I spent the last two years of high school running with a dangerously fun crew whose blood was 80% vodka and 20% bad decisions and we all somehow got into our top universities. Out of sheer notgivingafuckness I put all the top universities I got into in a hat and just picked one. The next morning I woke up with no recollection of the previous day and a thank-you email from the college I apparently accepted. I was very drunk, yet I regret nothing. This college decided the best course of action would be to send me to Ireland for my first year where I immediately proceeded to make friends with all my professors and go drinking with them after class every day. They showed me pizza clubs and these really fancy underground bars for the Irish elite, I think one of my best memories was going to a gay bar in the back alleys of southside Dublin with my economic perspectives prof then drunk stumbling over to this game shop at 2AM to learn to play magic with these very confused guys that readily accepted us as their new best friends. I learned absolutely nothing. If you’re wondering just how much of a mess I was the dean of the entire fucking university knew me as the girl that was always asleep on the floor between classes with this dude who looked like the human version of Animal from The Muppets guarding my stuff. The dean would go to this chocolatiers place across the street and get a few chocolate treats with his morning coffee to put in my hungover, asleep fish hand for when I woke up. That man was a goddamn delight and I still talk to him to this day. A lot of things happened in Ireland that I will happily tell ya’ll if you want! Just as an overview during these few months we also: got tazed repeatedly because we lived in gang territory (thanks uni for putting us there!!), watched our friend get kidnapped overnight from our favorite club (he was fine), got the entire country of America banned from several bars on our street, got accepted by the gang that terrorized us for the first two months, watched as on Halloween our entire apartment building got set on fire by said gang and we just went outside to drink beer with them while our advisor was having a nervous breakdown, and many, many bad decisions on my part. After a few months we all got shipped back to the actual campus back in the states where things all went downhill. My advisor straight up quit in my first week and I never got reassigned so I was just this poor tiny freshman stuck in upper-level classes with very confused and sympathetic seniors. Halfway into the second semester one of my profs, the head of the whole econ department, started hitting on me. If you’ve ever had the wonderful experience of being A Female In College ™ you know the type. The ones that lean in a little too close, smile a little too wide when they see you. So I said hell no and switched out of the major before the semester had even ended Into my second year, I was just taking classes aimlessly for a while picking new majors every few weeks while my advisors prayed for my demise. I dabbled in psychology and sociology until I realized it was just memorizing terminology (but I made a friend in intro and together we both completed a minor in it just to hang out). There was a very short-lived stint in biology for a while. I dipped my fingers into Neuroscience for as long as they’d tolerate me. Mathematics wasn’t too interesting without a double. I ended up joining a lot of clubs and my main one was an engineering club (my uni is engineering-focused, rip me) but none of the facets of engineering interested me. Following from my long laundry list of good decisions I decided to just start befriending more professors and to aimlessly take their classes instead. Long story short I accidentally completed a full B.S. in Philosophy of Science my sophomore year after overloading courses and being bored as all hell so a friend of mine, one of the top profs in the department, asked me to take his new upper-level quantum course so I said yes if he’d wave the prereqs and oop it turned out to be a senior thesis course and then I was all done with that major. I hadn’t made university hours so the beginning of my third year I was just taking mathematics and a few other courses while my advisors breathed down my neck ready to murder me. They wanted me gone so bad, man, ya’ll have no idea. I’m not even mentioning all the times I raised absolute hell on campus we just focusing on my major-based misadventures right now. Okay, so part of my university is something called co-op: a mandatory work experience period where students take semesters off at a time to do paid work in the field of their choice. I hadn’t really any set majors at the time except for whatever bullshit showed up on my degree audit so I started searching for my 4-6 month co-op just to get it out of the way. Unfortunately for everybody involved, I interview extremely well and look good on paper. I look damn good in a suit too and like to entertain when they’re supposed to be grilling me, so nobody stood a chance. I applied to the most ridiculous jobs I could find. I was not qualified for any of it. I got accepted to 90% of what I applied to. Out of notgivingafuckness pt2 I decided to give myself to the highest bidder which is how I ended up working for a defense contracting company that liked my coding background and how I just kinda roll with whatever’s going on. So on the cusp of the covid pandemic I was working in security and dispatch for a major city hall that controlled the police department, fire, sanitation, everything under the sun. I was so bad at my job, but I was enjoying it and that was everybody else’s problem. When covid really started up and they let me go with 6 months full pay I immediately switched into PoliSci/Cyber and that’s where I am now, in my 4th year! So to answer your question: my major is a mystery to everyone including me, but it’s something like PhilSci/PoliSci/Cyber and I’m taking 6 classes and I am dying fams. My college experience is not and will never be normal, and I’ve still got masters/phd to go. I’ve got a ton of great friends who constantly worry for my wellbeing because I do crazy shit and I am currently taking on the daunting challenge of befriending profs over zoom, who are only half into it. Don’t be me, but go out there and have fun! College doesn’t have to be all about studying, and while now I’m taking too many classes to do much of anything else in my first few years I joined a ton of clubs and experienced all I could, so just get out there and do your best!

#media answers #my college life is a mess don't come for me please #i'll figure it out eventually I swear #media's college misadventures

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chronicbatfictioner · 5 years

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Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 3

Crime Alley, Seven Years Ago

The instant 13-year-old Jason Todd saw the blood rushing out of the girl that his buddy had just shot, he knew it was wrong. The shopkeeper of the shop they were robbing was doing the right thing, pressing on the wound hard while screaming at the phone with EMTs. Hopefully the girl would make it - so Jason hoped as he chased after his buddy Chris. His 'buddy', air quotes included. Chris had promised that the gun would be empty. Instead it spat out a bullet right to the girl's chest.

They had ran, scared. But Chris was no match for Jason and he caught up easily.

"You promised the gun would be empty, Chris! You said it was all about the money!" he growled as he punched Chris, again and again and again. "You lied!"

"Stop it, boy!" an adult voice barked, caught his arms, and bodily lifted him up.

"I'm just...!" he sputtered. "He-- he shot the girl and I'm... I'm... he shouldn't hurt anyone ever again!"

"Yeeeah..." the cop who hoisted Jason away drawled, "...doesn't look like he can hurt anybody now, does he? Dispatch, get me the medic to the alley a few blocks from the shop..." he added, calling into his walkies. "The girl will be okay, kid."

"It's not... he shouldn't..." Jason swallowed around the lump in his throat. "She's someone's daughter..."

"Ain't we all. So how about you come with me, now..." the cop was not threatening. But Jason knew better. Gotham City's cops are not to be friendly with, not especially for people like him. Not especially when he looked like he'd been beaten up on top of having beaten up someone else.

So he dodged the cop and hightailed it out of there, ignoring the yells and skipped left and right and up the fire stairs and into opened windows and door and get out the other side. He was still huffing and puffing, trying to catch his breath, when he realized that he'd made good gains on the cop - obviously too rotund and not designed or trained to do a little jogging.

It had been nearly three months since his mother died and left him alone to fend for himself. Yesterday, he had gone and actually helped someone - a pretty black-haired lady - from attackers. He had bricked one of the stealthier attackers that the lady did not see. She then taught him how to punch in a way that would not hurt his wrists - in case there are no bricks in the future where he would find himself in the same situation.

He had not used the punch on Chris, largely because it was rather specific and Jason was rather frantically angry while he was punching Chris. The woman had said that the punch would eliminate evil from within someone. Or was it immortality? Regardless, he was pretty certain that Chris was not immortal - he seemed pretty shocked and in pain from Jason's punches.

He wondered what would happen if he'd punched Chris and it had been the 'evil' in him that got away. What would evil look like, Jason pondered inwardly. Would it look like an ugly monster, or a shiny pretty devil? Or is there no evil and just Chris himself? Would Jason have killed Chris if the 'evil' turned out to be his soul? What would that make Jason, then - evil, too?

Jason finally slumped down as he leaned on the walls, feeling the immense weight of his remorse. It was his fault. He shouldn't have agreed with Chris to rob the convenience store. But he needed money, and convenience stores would always have money. It was supposed to be empty, too, and it was his fault that he didn't check to see if the store was empty or not.

"You have seen the error of your ways, I presume."

He would have jumped in surprise if he had not recognized the voice. The lady again. The black-haired, pretty lady from yesterday who rode a really fancy motorcycle that she had left in an alley - unlocked and didn't even occur to her that someone could haul it away within seconds. It was until Jason saw her fighting a good dozen of people in ninja suits - the comical movie ninja uniforms in all black and head scarves and all; not actual stealth suits like the history books would describe - that he realized that this lady was not concerned for her bike. She probably could beat up whoever-stupid-enough-to-take-the-bike to pulp.

Much worse than what Jason did to Chris.

"The girl... she shouldn't have gotten shot. Chris was just... He just did it for the sake of it..." Jason muttered. A drop of tear fell from his eyes, and he brushed it off brusquely. "I'm not... she didn't even do anything..."

The lady stood in front of him, bending a little to look at his face. She was still quite young - probably about her early 20s. Her eyes were green, Jason noted, looking rather crystalline even in the dim lighting of the alley. "You are pure at heart, boy, but your journey cannot begin here." she said. "Come! Let us clean you up and perhaps get some calories into you. Allow me to lead that good heart toward its righteous place."

A small voice in the back of his head warned him that there are bad people who would take young children like him - boys or girls - and sell them off to be prostitutes.

But then again, what difference would it make for him, anyway? He was already selling himself some. Maybe with this woman as his pimp, he would at least get some form of protection.

He was still worried, even after a week of lavish and luxurious hotel rooms across the Eastern Seaboard, in which the lady - Talia, that was her name - had set him up in while she "tends to business." He was not being sold, yet. Probably was still being groomed to be sold to the highest bidder or whatever.

Either way, Jason tried hard to mind his manners. This lady could be his meal ticket out of hell, --or the embodiment of Charon and would personally deliver him to Hades. Whatever. Things looked nicer than back in Gotham, anyway. There were plenty of books and internet and reading materials for him to spend his time with; and then food and nice clothes that looked simple, yet he knew each piece would have paid his old apartment's rent for a good several months. Plus the travel. Jason knew that he would need something called a 'passport' to get out of the country; but he never seen or know whether he has one or not. The travel used private jets, he and Talia would simply walk through a private airport, get into a private jet, and off they go. Jason only knew where they were because the pilot would call out the name of the airport and country they would land in before actually landing.

When they finally arrived at where Talia claimed to be 'home', a small child of about three years of age toddled toward her gleefully just as they went past the massive front door that Jason tried so hard not to gawk on.

"This is my son, Damian," Talia introduced. "You shall teach him the ways of the world out there, yet under no circumstances will you take him in person out of these gates; am I clear?"

After the lavish and luxurious things he had seen in the past two weeks, Jason had come to a conclusion that Talia is a very, very rich woman. Her warning about not leaving the gated complex that is located somewhere in Africa sounded quite logical to Jason. Hell, even if this place is in the middle of Manhattan, Jason knew he still would not want to get out; not especially with a toddler. Not unless they're in a fully armored vehicle with about a dozen of armed guards, maybe. "I get it." he replied. "Where shall I start?"

Talia nodded. "First, we dine. And then you may rest for the remainder of the day. Tomorrow morning, you shall start your training. I would also prefer my son's caretaker to be adept, not just smart."

"Sounds good to me." Jason remarked. "Thank you, for everything. I mean... for trusting me and all..." he added, feeling a little embarrassed at his lack of manners.

Talia's glare at him seemed a little sad. "Once upon a time, Jason Todd, I had wished for someone to be the ultimate warrior; the strongest of them all... My Champion. Alas, he was not to be. And then you walked in to my life." she said. "You shall be the strongest of them all, and teach my son to be strong at all cost, yes?"

"Definitely." Jason nodded, looking at little Damian - black haired and green-eyed, just like his mother. "We're gonna be good buddies, aren't we, Damian?" he asked the little boy. Damian lifted an eyebrow in a near perfect imitation of Talia's haughty glare, changed the glare's direction toward his mother, and back at Jason.

"You shall be more than buddies, Jason," Talia gave him a wry smile. "For now, let us dine. Father might join us later for supper.”

#Jason Todd #Talia Al Ghul #Damian Wayne #Red Hood #Robin #JayTim #Batless

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forestwater87 · 6 years

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A big box o’Gwenvid AU ideas: A is for "Aww” and “Angst” and “AAAH”

This post is fucking rad as balls, and I started thinking of fun AU ideas . . . until I remembered that I already have approximately 2 billion WIPs already and don’t necessarily know if any of these have legs as actual fics. But it was fun to think about, so here we are! This is the first of . . . presumably 26 of these? Who knows, but this post we have:

Accidental Marriage AU

In which Campbell convinces incredibly wealthy investors known for their focus on “family values” that the Camp is a sweet family business run by a husband-and-wife team of counselors. The problem, of course, is that it isn’t sweet and its head counselors aren’t married. Campbell only has enough booze to fix one of those situations.

He’ll figure the rest out in the morning. He thinks better with a hangover, anyway.

(Yes I think this one would be awesome in Campbell’s POV. You cannot change my mind on this.)

Actor AU

Okay, real talk this would just be @whiskyarts‘s gameshow AU. Because I kinda love the idea of Jerk!David who just pretends to be a sweetheart for the cameras. Except I would cover it with my filthy Gwenvid hands and make it shippy in that antagonistic-hatemance-eventually-turns-into-something-resembling-feelings. There would be lots of angst and snark and sparkly clothes and I would love it and probably no one else would.

Alien AU

An Interplanetary Anthropologist, Gwen, manages to land a position on the Campbell after years of education and networking and plain old hard work. She is an employee of the most impressive warship in the galaxy -- sure, it’s gone to seed a little bit in the last few decades, but it still has its shine if you look at it sideways and squint a little -- and more importantly, it’s work experience! Paid work experience . . . as a janitor.

When the Campbell picks up a POW that the ship’s commander plans to (illegally) sell to the highest bidder, Gwen decides to treat it as an opportunity to build a real-life case study on one of the universe’s rarer life forms while it’s within arm’s reach. But the more she learns about the strange, sunny alien who was his platoon’s only survivor, the more uncomfortable she is with letting him disappear into her captain’s nefarious dealings and --

Oh fuck, this is The Shape of Water, isn’t it? I mean, I’ve never seen The Shape of Water but I’m pretty sure that’s what this is. Fuck. Goddamn it. Fuck.

Amnesia AU

David takes a rogue bus to the . . . well, everything -- something that’s more or less routine by now -- and hits his head hard enough to knock him out for almost a full day. When he wakes up, he’s the same cheerful David the camp is used to . . . except for three strange new things:

He doesn’t know where he is or what he’s doing -- doesn’t, in fact, remember anything after some vague memories of childhood.

He’s completely terrified of the forest, and especially of Spooky Island.

He has no idea who Cameron Campbell is, but he’s quite positive he hates him.

Android AU

Actually @ciphernetics and I put this idea together a little while ago! Basically Camp Campbell has a state-of-the-art off-brand helper android named David, who is a perfect camp counselor, childcare provider, and comes equipped with the finest Forest Survival software Cameron Campbell could find for free online in half an hour.

Gwen, the new (requisite human) hire, hasn’t ever really interacted with androids, and doesn’t especially want to now. David is used to the distrust, even outright hostility -- very few of the campers seem to like him, and he knows that his presence can be unsettling to humans, and look, it isn’t a D:BH AU okay? It just looks like one, and acts like one. And is one.

Angel/Demon AU

Um the perfect Angel/Demon AU literally already exists, but they only wrote one chapter back in 2017 and never updated, and that makes me absurdly sad. Regardless, David being very bad at being a demon and Gwen being very bad at being an angel is the ideal setup for this kind of AU, in my humble opinion.

However, David being an angel trying to reform his fallen ABFEL (angel buddy for eternal life!), who probably became a demon over something stupid and probably horny, also sounds extremely cute. They’re still friends, even though that is against literally all of the rules, and they secretly meet and hang out. David is convinced he can bring her around, and Gwen insists that she hates having him hanging off her nonexistent wings all the time.

Honestly, probably neither of those things are true. Gwen wasn’t cut out for heaven -- and probably, neither is David.

Apocalypse AU

Cameron Campbell was probably doing something dangerously stupid in the hopes it could make him money. That, or the Quartermaster was doing something dangerous for reasons only he could ever understand. Hell, maybe that’s what that weird Daniel guy’s cult was trying to do. Whoever was doing what, they ripped a hole in their dimension at the bottom of Lake Lilac, and all sorts of awful things start creeping through.

There were signs, of course -- that weird fish-monster certainly didn’t come in through customs -- but an inopportune explosion, or wayward firework, or the rumblings of Sleepy Peak Peak, or something ripped a hole in the fabric of reality big enough for Lovecraftian monsters to start crawling through. There’s no stopping it. Really, there’s no chance of even fighting it.

The second the rift opens, the story becomes one of just trying to stay out from under the Elder Gods’ feet.

Arranged Marriage AU

I think the easiest way to make this one work is by making either David or Gwen Campbell’s actual biological child -- maybe an heir, albeit to a highly illegal fortune and a mountain of credit card debt. But Campbell gets in trouble, the kind of trouble where he’s gambled everything and the only collateral he has left is a kid he got saddled with because their mother had better lawyers. A kid he’s been more than happy to put to work for the last 20-something years, who happens to have caught the eye of a ludicrously wealthy magnate -- not for her own sake (though Campbell would’ve been open to that too) -- but for her child, one she loves more than anything and keeps carefully shut away until the Right Person comes along.

His kid isn’t necessarily the right person, but for the first time in his life Cameron Campbell has a genuine treasure on his hands.

And, like all the fake treasures he’s passed off over the years, he just has to find a way to shine them up and make him a fortune.

Artist AU

Gwen is a starving artist living in a rat-infested hovel in the city, scraping by on a series of uninspired landscapes she paints on postcards and the goodwill of friends, family, and significant others. One day, a bright young man bounces up to her “studio” (it’s a cardboard box outside the park) and tells her excitedly that he’s been looking for her for weeks; he thinks her postcards are the most beautiful things he’s ever seen, and he would like to know if she’d be interested in moving down to a cabin by the lake. He runs a summer camp, he explains, and he knows they’d all be honored if she would teach them art lessons -- and of course paint in her spare time! The views are indescribable, and he’s sure she’ll have no shortage of inspiration.

She weighs the cost of what little artistic dignity she has remaining against room, board, and a steady paycheck for three months, and takes the job immediately.

Art Student AU

Put them in an art college -- maybe condense the ages so that the campers are like, younger students? -- and have Gwen as the Serious Art Student who cares a lot about theory and form and doing things right, and she’s constantly irritated by her classmate David, who sits at the same table as her and has declared them art buddies, and is convinced that the point of art is just to have fun and do your best! Maybe force them to do a group project together and really see them clash.

(Alternatively, there is the infinitely more shameless route of one being an art student and the other being a newd model for figure drawing. I am obviously much too classy to ever insinuate such a thing, but if someone was really looking for a way to write smuht . . . it’s sitting right there. On a table. nekkid. I HAVE TO CHANGE THE SPELLING TO MAKE THIS GO IN THE TAGS ARE YOU KIDDING ME)

Athlete AU

There are 4 major ways this one can go, I feel like:

Basically HSM: Gwen is a small part in her school’s musical (techie, maybe, or the orchestra) and lanky jock David -- which is the most hilarious phrase ever but he’s probably a runner or tennis player, something light on muscles and heavy on speed and springiness -- who’s well-mannered and cheerful but not the brightest, is put into the show as an extra-credit way to bump up his GPA so he can keep sporting his sports, and it turns out he’s both very good at and super enthusiastic about it.

A little like HSM, but as grown-ups: Gwen is the head of the drama/art department, which has just faced heavy cuts to support the superstar sports program, and she furiously storms over to the head coach’s office to let him know exactly what she thinks about him and his stupid meathead jocks. Of course, when the man who opens the door is a sweetheart beanpole with big eyes who already knows her name, she finds it hard to keep up her righteous indignation. And when it turns out that he was completely ignorant of the hit her department took from the budget cuts (or maybe not ignorant, just terminally oblivious) and is almost as upset as she is to hear about it, she’s forced to reconsider everything she’d assumed about Coach Greenwood; maybe he’s not the enemy after all, but someone with whom she can formulate a new battle plan.

Reporter/Famous Athlete AU: Either Gwen is a professional sportsball person and David is the shy, bumbling photographer eager to prove himself, or she’s the plucky, intrepid reporter and David is a good-natured professional athlete who she’s determined to interview.

Teammates AU: Professional or amateur sports team, and they’re just trying to scrape their way out of the bottom of the league without killing each other.

Author AU

There are a lot of potential interpretations of this AU, but my personal favorite is Gwen as a novelist with two distinctly differing careers: as G. E. Santos, the high-concept writer whose books are critical darlings in the maybe 3 publications that care about such things but whose sales can’t quite crack the triple digits; and as Annabelle Elizabeth, whose steamy erotica regularly tops the bestseller lists and is reviled by all of G. E.’s colleagues as “populist genre trash.”

The only person alive who knows about her Jekyll-and-Hyde author personas (besides her older sister Audree, who plays the part of charismatic and sensual Annabelle flawlessly) is her editor, David. He’s an odd choice, as her colleagues in both fields have pointed out -- reading her romance novels with his pen in one hand and the other covering his eyes, peeking through his fingers to write tremulous notes in the margins; stumbling through her ponderous literary works with a dictionary in his lap and his tongue between his teeth, poring through them like he’s learning a new language -- but he’s the only person Gwen will allow to touch her writing.

Maybe it’s because he always seems like her biggest fan. Maybe it’s because she’s known him since they were at a summer camp together years ago. Maybe it’s because he believes in her in a way no one else does -- in a way she absolutely doesn’t believe in herself.

David is, for reasons she’s not entirely sure how to explain even to herself, the only person she trusts.

Avian (Bird People) AU

Centuries ago, it was said, avians were a rarity, an aberrant mutation to be locked up and intently studied but never trusted. Some people thought they were antichrists, a sign of the end times, when all normal humans would be destroyed and only the strange bird-people would remain.

In a way, maybe they were. Because when the earth’s crust ripped open and flooded the planet with magma and boiling water miles deep, avians were the only ones who could take to the sky.

Not all of them, certainly. In fact, most were locked up in detention centers and laboratories when the Swamp formed, and were unable to escape in time. Considering the people who could get to high enough elevations to escape the deluge, there were decades afterwards where the decimated human population outnumbered the avian one. Those were periods of tension, outright war and tentative alliances -- even romances, the kinds of great love stories that dragged both avian and human populations a few generations along when one or both of them should’ve died out.

That was over two hundred years ago, however. Now the Swamp is a murky expanse of scalding water and the boiled remains of civilization transformed into unrecognizable muck, with islands of “land” cobbled out of what remains. This is where the avians live, now. And humans don’t live anywhere, not anymore.

At least . . . that was what they thought.

#campcamp #camp camp roosterteeth #cc david #cc gwen #cc campbell #gwenvid #forestwriting #big box o'gwenvid aus #this was absurdly fun #the fun thing about the last one is it could be either avian!Gwen and human!David or vice versa #or avian!Gwenvid and human!insert-camper-of-your-choice (it's max. it's always max)#there are some cool ways to work with it #humans could be the bad guys #there could be no bad guys #i actually really like this au idea even though i doubt i'll write it

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hrhagnes-blog · 6 years

Text

- ̗̀✰ •【 BARBARA PALVIN / CISF / 20 】announcing the arrival of her royal highness, ( AGNES EMMANUELLE LEMAIRE ), the ( PRINCESS ) of ( BELGIUM ). I’ve heard that she is ( PROVOCATIVE ) & ( DISHONEST ) but can also be ( CONVINCING ) & ( CUNNING ). ( AGNES ) is arranged to marry ( ANY FC ). Rumor has it (AGNES IS A DRUG DEALER). We hope you enjoy your stay at London!

i know no self control .

if fairytale princesses used eyeliner and insisted on getting away with murder , agnes would be the perfect one . raised to the peak of protocol by a severe mother and many , many tutors , professors , assistans and advisors , they knew they weren’t raising a queen : they were raising a wife , and primarily a lady , so they did .

agnes is skilled in the art of mingling , she speaks latin , spanish , english , dutch , french , german , russian , gaelic and ASL . her shoulders have never been seen slumping and there’s never been another gesture upon her features that wasn’t that of understandment and quiet attention to what she’s doing . she’s learned typical dances from most europe and certain rhythms from latin america . always a perfect retort , or a decisive silence , always a light laugh that enchants the room .

if fairytale princesses rode motorbikes that they kept hidden near to their castles , if fairytale princesses licked their finger and counted money before handing out a baggie with whatever she’d been asked , if fairytale princesses had three phones - a burner , a “ business “ , and a regular one - , if fairytale princesses did all that , then agnes would be your girl .

a very strict enviroment with such little space to move , between protocol lessons , language lessons , music lessons , literature lessons , geography and world history lessons , psychology lessons , adding to the list archery , horseback riding , dance , theatre , botany , and every weekly outing for the press , it made it so the only times agnes was really able to disconnect from her life were when she would sneak out and into all sorts of places .

the first time she made a type of transaction with anything illegal was when she was fourteen : she liked a boy , and she wanted to impress that boy , a dark - and - mysterious archetype dudebro with too much leather and smelling faintly of stale smoke in the mid - length hair that said very loudly “ i haven’t touched water in three days “ . the antithesis of everything her parents wanted for her . this boy wanted to get high or something like that , they were talking pills with his friends while she sat on his knee with his hand on her waist , and that’s when she mentioned that she could easily get some pills out from her house . the first time it was a gift , but then rumor started to spread and they wanted more , more people wanted more , so she started charging them .

back at that time , it was merely nothing . child’s play . the plot thickened when she was sent to a boarding school in france . by that time , at sixteen , agnes had stabilished a contact web and was dealing larger amounts , had others dealing for her even . her going off to boarding school opened the opportunity to expand her growing business , make it international . so , with royalty pass and a jet of her own , she smuggled amounts of lsd tablets , pills , weed , coke and even heroine per request . with only sixteen , the belgian princess was supplying at least two hotspots for drugs in two different countries , right under everyone’s noses .

it was harmless , kids just wanted those drugs to have fun during the weekends and whenever they were off the hook .

thanks to her fairytale princess facade , nobody ever suspected a thing . agnes graduated high school as a honor student and was valedictorian for the speech . with no effort put , she was accepted into the most prestigious , ivy league colleges , from which she chose stanford . to study what ? she’s not completely sure . second year and she is drifting like a parachute on a windy day .

however , the good girl facade has been breaking . as of late , what with being in college and not under her parents’ noses anymore , she’s really gotten a tight grip on her freedom . for most of her life , she’d sneak out dressed like a posh girl , then change at a bar - pub nearby , leave her clothes with the barman ( older guy that she both befriended and had a couple of casual fucks with ) , put makeup on in the bathroom , and go out to do her thing being a completely different being from the one that had walked in , only for retracing her steps before she could sneak back in and pretend she hadn’t been out all night .

as of the past two years , the paps have been running wild with the stories the belgian princess sparks in the college campus . for her , it’s just the tip of the iceberg ... and a personal victory . bold makeup and publicly making out with whoever she wants , appearing disheveled because of exam season , in bunny slippers and traces of smudged eyeliner beneath her eyes , and the secret service being constantly dismissed “ for the day “ . being human , finally human .

what with moving to usa for studying , she unlinked herself for the most part from the small drug path she’d built in europe , putting it on hold or delegating , and setting it again in usa , where she was required to take some lengthier measures for ensuing the quality of her product .

agnes doesn’t sell to just anybody , she’s not some corner drug dealer , she gets the good stuff for what it’s really worth ( a lot ) and in return demands complete confidentiality . if someone doen’t have a high - reaching surname , they sure are going to have a hard time getting anything from her other than a pat on the back and you’re so funny that means get lost more clearly than the sky is blue .

whether she’s a sweetheart or a raging bitch , nobody’s really sure . she’s a phony , she will sell herself to the highest bidder and appear to be happy about it . hardly ever does she reveal her true thoughts and there aren’t many people that have seen anything other than ... ice . molten lava and ice .

fun facts :

is a vegetarian .

broke a leg rollerskating and never did it again .

has a white kitten that shadows her , molly .

she used to be a drug user when she was dating the older guy , but ditched them up until the last year of boarding school , when she picked it up again and hasn’t dropped it anymore . doesn’t consider herself to be addicted .

she used to be the apple of her family’s eye when she was younger , and while she always could mold herself to fit it ( to be perfect ) , agnes hates it completely .

hasn’t spoken to her parents in a year , after a particularly “ scandalous “ note came out on TMZ and they insisted that’d “ ruin all her prospects at finding a good spouse “ . how much damage can a few naked pictures make ?

what she really wants is to be a model , but her parents don’t condone it and want her to study something related to science , or politics .

she can do a keg stand for hours .

does yoga every morning outdoors , no matter where she is .

she knows martial arts for self defense , also twisted her mother’s hand on them training her in the use of knives . security first .

changes boyfriends like scarves .

can charm her way out of any situation .

comes off as the fairytale , dreamy princess .

she’s actually fuckin’ adorable , just has a few issues but she wants love , love and lots of space to do what the fuck ever she wants .

she has some v spiritual beliefs .

when she’s in europe , she handles business wherever she is . when she’s in usa , she handles business there , and so forth .

hellfire club member .

is a sagittarius .

#drugs cw #buckingham:intro #well this is a bit longer than expected .#* about.

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ifyougetkilled-walk-it-off · 6 years

Text

Quiet Life Chapter 5

Pairing: Steve/Reader (Platonic, eventual Romantic)

Word count: 1328

Warnings: Asshole date

AN: Thanks to @until-theend-oftheline for being annoying

If you’d like to be tagged at yourself to my tag list

The restaurant was as good as you thought it would be. You had been wanting to try this place for a while and still you couldn’t wait to get out of there. You had been on bad dates before. This one, however, took bad dates to a different level. Technically, Elijah was a coworker, he worked for the Public Affairs division of the Park Services where you headed the IT department. Of course, that didn’t stop him from lecturing you on the coding of park’s websites - despite the fact you had designed and maintain them. For a while you were able to indulge him but anger was quickly starting to bubble up in you. It had started when he ordered for you. From there it had gone downhill when he berated the waitress for forgetting lemon for his water and blaming her for an honest mistake. He then proceeded to explain your sites to you for 15 minutes before you excused yourself to the bathroom.

Save me. You texted Steve. He answered almost immediately.

Aren’t you on a date?

Yeah, but I don’t want to be. Call me with some kind of emergency You watched his text bubbles appear and disappear as you walked back to the table.

“Oh good, you’re back. I feel like you could really benefit from reading up on JavaScript, have you heard of that?” he asked. You were fed up and were about to tear into him when your phone started ringing. It was Steve, hopefully, with a fake emergency.

“Just let it go to voicemail,” Elijah suggested, but it sounded more like an order. Glaring at him, you answered the phone anyway.

“He wouldn’t call unless something was wrong,” you snapped sliding the phone open.

“Hey,” you answered.

“Hi, I have an emergency,” Steve answered with complete seriousness.

“Are you okay?” You asked trying to fake concern. It was hard not to start laughing at the absurdity of Steve calling for fake help.

“I’m fine but I need you to come home,” he answered still serious. You turned to the side a bit, trying to hide the smile that refused to be controlled.

“Of course, I’m on my way,” you hung up quickly. “I’m sorry, that was my friend. He cut his hand pretty bad and needs stitches,” you explained coming up with a story on the spot. It didn’t really matter, you were just ready to leave.

“Oh come on, isn’t there someone else who can take him to the ER? Besides, it’s not right for a girl like you to have guy friends.” You wanted to not make a scene, you just wanted to get out of the restaurant, but the anger in you snapped.

“No, because he called me. If someone calls me and asks for help, I’m going to help them no matter what’s going on. If my friend calls me bleeding, I’m not going to sit here and listen to you lecture me about websites I built from scratch and tell him ‘oh sorry I’m learning about coding from someone who clearly knows more than me despite my degree, call an uber,” your voice got progressively louder. You pulled your purse and jacket off the back of your chair and left the restaurant before he could respond.

You pulled your jacket tighter around you as you walked to your car. Before you had even turned on the car, you had a text from Elijah.

You didn’t have to run out so fast. I’m willing to give you a second chance... you didn’t open your phone to read the rest.

“Asshole,” you muttered tossing your phone into the passenger seat. He wasn’t worth your time or your anger but that didn’t stop you from muttering to yourself as you drove home.

You parked outside of Steve’s apartment and sat in the car fuming. The longer you thought about it the angrier you got. You had already worked too hard to prove yourself as not only the youngest IT director but also the first women in that position. Sure, it had been a rough road and you had to work your ass off but that didn’t stop the frustration.

“Shit,” you gasped as a knock at your window made you jump out of your skin. Steve stood next to your car and you rolled down the window. Your anger had diffused from fury to exhaustion and your temper had calmed to where you just felt drained.

“How much for an hour,” you joked but your voice fell flat. Steve didn’t say anything, instead just reaching into the car and opening the door. You climbed out of the car and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders leading you into his apartment. As soon as you were inside, you kicked off your heels and dropped down on the couch.

“Do you think my parents can just do an arranged marriage and I wouldn’t have to do the whole dating thing?” you asked. You pulled yourself up leaning against the couch arm and Steve sat down.

“Doubtful, we weren’t even doing those in the 30s so I’m not sure how well that would go over now,” Steve answered. “I could arrange it for you, sell you off to the highest bidder, I’m sure Natasha knows some people.”

You chucked one of the pillows from behind you and he let it hit him.

“You’re the worst,” you accused but he had managed to get you to smile. He didn’t pry into what happened or why you called for help, but you wanted to tell him.

“He lectured me about my websites,” you answered his unasked question. “I’ve already dealt with the ‘a woman can’t run the tech department correctly’ speeches. Last thing I need is a date to turn into that. And it’s not like I didn’t tell him what I did, I started off with “yeah I know that site, I built it,” you scoffed. Steve didn’t answer for a while as he fiddled with the edge of the pillow.

“Did I ever tell you about Peggy?” He finally asked. You looked at him confused. He didn’t generally jump subjects as dramatically especially when you weren’t feeling great.

“Not directly, but I’ve heard a bit about her,” you answered quietly. You had been to the museum and everything, seen the official version of their history, but Steve never talked about her.

“You remind me a lot of her back during the war. She refused to let anyone tell her how to do her job. She knew what she needed to do and did it, despite everyone telling her it wasn’t her place, woman in the army. She didn’t take bullshit from anyone.” Steve wasn’t looking at you anymore, he was lost in time and in memories. You tried not to think about it too much, how often he must feel out of place in the world. He had prepared himself to die just to find that it was the world he knew that had died instead.

“I wish I could’ve known her,” you responded. He pulled himself out of his reverie with a laugh.

“That would be awful. You’re bad enough with Bucky. The last thing I’d need is you teaming up with Peggy.” His entire demeanor lightened and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“What are you trying to say, Steve Rogers? That I’m a bad influence on your friend?” You teased and he laughed again.

“I’m not sure who’s influencing who, but if you, Bucky, and Peggy were all in a room at the same time the war would’ve been over. You’d have the Nazi’s surrendering in approximatly 20 minutes.” He stood and went to the kitchen coming back with a couple beers. He popped both the tops and handed one to you.

“To bad dates and kickass women,” he proposed tilting the bottle to you. Reaching out, you clinked it with him.

“Bad dates and kicking ass,” you repeated.

@until-theend-oftheline @blacktithe7 @kill-the-stereo @lavieenlex @justballoonfishthings @lostinwonderland314 @what-if-i-am-weird @gh0stgurl @ayee-style @angryteapot @marianafrizas @katielu-blog

#marvel #stevexreader #steve/reader #steve rogers/reader #steve rogersxreader #cap/reader #stevexreader slow burn #stevexreader friends to lovers #stevexreader fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #quiet life

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kiss-my-freckle · 6 years

Text

Timeline notes

1x1 -

Ressler: Raymond “Red” Reddington attended the Naval Academy. Top of his class. Graduated by the time he was 24. He was being groomed for admiral. Then in 1990, Reddington’s coming home to see his wife and his daughter for Christmas. He never arrives. This highly respected officer up and disappears from the face of the earth until four years later when classified NOFORN documents start showing up in Maghreb, Islamabad, Beijing. These leaks were traced to Reddington. This guy’s an equal opportunity offender, a facilitator of sorts, who’s built an enterprise brokering deals for fellow criminals. He has no country. He has no political agenda. Reddington’s only allegiance is to the highest bidder. Tech: They call him something in the papers. Cooper: “The Concierge of Crime.”

2x1 -

Aram: So he’s looking for someone who lived in D.C. before 1990, has a prescription for Lipitor through Medco, downloads World War II documentaries on Netflix not Amazon and has a digital subscription to both the Wall Street Journal and CatFanatic.

Naomi: I had a life, you know? My daughter had a life with a house and a dog. And then I woke up one day. You can’t imagine what it’s like to have a man like Raymond Reddington turn your life upside down. They accused me of being a part of it? Somehow, I was a suspect. Put my life under a - a microscope every call, every charge. My assets were - I finally convinced them I was innocent. They said I had to go, give up everything. I remember it was a Wednesday afternoon. My daughter wasn’t even out of school yet. And by Thursday, we were in Philadelphia, fending for ourselves.

2x2 -

Liz: I confirmed your daughter was placed in protective custody with her mother in 1990. The Marshal service lost contact seven years ago. She is unaccounted for.

2x8 -

Berlin/Kirchhoff: It was in ’91. The Soviet union was falling apart. A small group of us. Members of the Politburo, the military, KGB, Stasi. Had a plan to push back the progressives, to stem the tide. We were meeting and discussing strategy when a bomb. Red: The Kursk Bombing. Berlin/Kirchhoff: Fifteen died. And with them, our resistance. Rumors began that the Americans were involved. One name emerged. Yours. You came after my daughter. You exposed her as a dissident. She went to jail. After that, my loyalty was questioned. I was exiled to the Gulag, where, one by one, her bones were sent to me.

Liz: You’re working with Berlin? Red: I need to talk to you about a bombing in the Soviet union Kursk, 1991.

2x10 -

Several TV news people: We are just now getting word of a story developing out of Hong Kong. Sources say authorities there have apprehended legendary criminal Raymond Reddington. He’s been on the FBI’s Most Wanted list longer than any other fugitive, but tonight, sources are confirming Reddington was arrested in Hong Kong just hours ago. Reddington was once a rising star at the Pentagon. Sources say he was being groomed for admiral when, on Christmas Eve, 1990, while on his way home to visit his wife and daughter, Reddington vanished. Reporter: Four years later, Reddington resurfaced and was charged with treason in absentia for selling top-secret American intelligence to foreign states.

3x4 -

Red: I was completely swept up in the idealism of the theatre owner - a pipe-smoking cream puff of a German named Gerta. She read “Mother Courage” to me aloud - the whole play in one sitting. A brilliant exploration of the politics of war and those who profit from it. Sadly, it was 1991, and audiences were going in droves to see “Cats.”

3x11 -

Liz. Who is this guy? He claims he’s Reddington? Samar: Yes, and we can’t disprove it with DNA because there’s nothing on file from 1990 when Reddington disappeared.

Devry: March 8, 1985, I ran point on an attack on the Beirut home of Mohammad Hussein Fadlallah. June 1989, I coordinated Operation Minesweep, which provided back office support and oversight for Naval Intelligence operations in Kuwait carried out by the 160th SOAR.

3x16 -

Red: Velov is the one who lied to you, Lizzy, not me. Katarina Rostova committed suicide in 1990.

4x13 -

Red: I first met Stratos Sarantos when he was running guns to Cypriot resistance fighters in 1987. For more than 20 years, he’s overseen my shipping concerns from the Bosphorus to the Suez Canal.

4x16 -

Cooper: Kathryn Nemec is missing? Aram: Yeah, she disappeared in 1991, just dropped off the grid.

Aram: Kathryn Nemec. But she’s been missing since 1991.

5x19 -

Red: In 1990, the KGB and the CIA had almost nothing in common except the mutual determination to hunt down one individual. Jennifer: You. Red: Being a fugitive from American law enforcement is a lot easier than being a fugitive from the two most powerful nations on Earth. And anyone close to a target of theirs becomes a target themselves. Jennifer: Family. Red: Especially family. Unless they’re abandoned on the side of a road on Christmas Eve. Jennifer: After you left, we went into Witness Protection. Red: Put where the Cabal wouldn’t find you.

6x1 -

Liz: Raymond Reddington is a fraud. An imposter who took our father’s place over 30 years ago. The FBI can trace this Reddington forward from ’95. And I know for a fact that our father died five years before that.

6x5 -

Jennifer: It’s not the data, but it turns out the file names were coded using patient-intake dates. October 3, 1991. Liz: The date Reddington was admitted?

6x9 -

Sima: As the ranking officer on that Reddington Task Force, were you familiar with an incident that occurred involving the U.S.S. Gideon in March of 1990? Ressler: I was. Yes. The U.S.S. Gideon was an Ohio-class submarine sunk by the Soviet Navy while on a secret mission in the Barents Sea. 134 men were on board. They all died.

Red: If you found his archives, I need the tape of a phone call he recorded on December 7, 1990.

Cooper: Reddington told us to look for a very specific needle in this haystack. A recording taken on December 7, 1990.

Cooper: We’ll start over. Samar: Uh, I don’t think we have to. December 7, 1990.

Samar: It can’t be a coincidence that Reddington is looking for a recording made on December 7th, and, on December 11th, an assassin injures Bailey and murders a man who appears to have been his lover. Liz: Maybe he used the tape to try and blackmail someone who didn’t take kindly to being blackmailed.

Nuss: A month before the incident, a corporate account was opened in a Cypriot bank known to work with Soviet intelligence. The only person with the power to withdraw funds was the company president. Sima: And who was that? Nuss: Raymond Reddington. Sima: I’m sure many accounts were opened in the weeks prior to the tragedy of the Gideon. What makes you think the activity in this account was connected to it? Nuss: Because a front company for the KGB wired $3 million into the account a day before the incident, and another $3 million the day after it. One week later, the entire amount was withdrawn. Sima: By Reddington? Nuss: Yes. Using fingerprints and a password.

Red: You said the withdrawal required fingerprints and a password. Nuss: It was done remotely. Red: So if someone had a copy of my fingerprints and knew the password, they could have made the withdrawal, and no one at the bank, nor yourself, would have known the difference? Nuss: I, uh - suppose that’s possible. Red: Yes. You know what else is possible? That I was framed by Katarina Rostova, which I could prove if Your Honor would grant me even the shortest - Judge Wilkins: All right, the court will stand in recess.

20, 25, 30 years

Cooper: Remember, he’s been off the grid for over 20 years. (1x2) Cooper: Reddington has brokered some of the most comprehensive international criminal activity in the past 20 years. (1x2) Red: I’ve been moving comfortably through the world for the past 20 years without a trace, and now some two-bit spy killer is gonna put my life and business in jeopardy? (1x3) Fitch: Ray. It’s been, what - 20 years? (1x10) Red: No traffic. No cars to come help. Just me and a car full of gifts. It was more than 20 years ago. (Christmas Eve, 1x14) Tom: Best I can tell, their paths have crossed at key moments in the past 20 years. Quantico, Baltimore. (1x16) Naomi: If you’re looking for him, I can’t help you. You have to listen to me. Reddington - I haven’t I haven’t seen him in 20 years. (2x1) Samar: He’s been on the run for 25 years. His arrest was bound to happen. (2x10) Liz: They put a bullet in your chest, and you have no idea how. You’re the most cautious person I know. The FBI couldn’t find you for 20 years, but they did. (2x21) Aram: Because it was listed in the Fulcrum. 25 years ago, Hanover was a low-level staffer on the Hill. (3x3) Hitchin: I know about the Fulcrum. I’ve seen the list. It’s 25 years old. (3x5) Red: Your past three months have been what my life has been like for the past 25 years. I’m often exhausted. (3x11) Cooper: He disappeared 25 years ago. Could’ve had surgery. (3x11) Dom: I could’ve spent the last 30 years just being her grandfather - you selfish prick. (3x20) Kirk: I’ve been imagining this moment for the last 25 years. (3x23) Red: I know what it’s like to be hunted. I’ve protected myself for 30 years. (4x1) Red: I’ve been disappearing for over 25 years. I don’t need your help to disappear. (4x7) Tom: From 30 years ago. Clearly, it was flawed. (Kirk's DNA test, 4x7) Cooper: But she’s been missing for 25 years. (Kate, 4x16) Liz: He stole it from me 25 years ago. That’s why we needed you to get it back. (Fire memory, 4x19) Red: Understand this was 25 years ago now. I was younger, myself. Intent on building an empire, intent on becoming the powerful criminal the world had been told I already was. (4x19) Red: Nikolaus has been on my payroll since I introduced him to you 25 years ago. (4x19) Liz: From 25 years ago? No. But then, you wouldn’t be very good at your job if I did. (4x19) Red: I’ve spent 30 years building an intelligence network of spies, informants, patriots, traitors. (4x20) Liz: Kaplan spent 30 years tending to his messes while Reddington built his criminal empire, and it took her five months to surgically dismantle it. (4x21) Kate: I’ve been his cleaner, keeper, and confessor for 30 years, and I’m prepared to tell you everything you need to know in open court. (4x21) Dom: My own granddaughter three feet away after almost 30 years, I couldn’t say a damn thing to her. (5x13) Jennifer: Perhaps you’ve heard of him. His name’s Raymond Reddington. He’s been on the FBI’s Most Wanted List for 20 years. (5x18) Garvey: Everything you believed for the last 30 years has been a lie. You’ve spent a lifetime hiding for no reason. (5x19) Sutton Ross: For 30 years, I’ve wanted to be in the same room as Raymond Reddington, the bastard who tricked me into selling the Chinese a dodo bird when they were looking for an eagle. (5x22) Liz: Why he came into my life, why he took your life, why he spent the last 30 years pretending to be Raymond Reddington. I’m gonna figure all that out, and then I’m going to destroy him. (5x22) Liz: Raymond Reddington is a fraud. An imposter who took our father’s place over 30 years ago. (6x1) Liz: We haven’t seen him in over 30 years. He became a fugitive when we were kids. (6x1) Liz: Raymond Reddington. Not the real one, the reinvented one. The one who’s been Raymond Reddington for 30 years, longer than anyone else. (6x2) Aram: 30 years on the run, and a beat cop picks him up at a pretzel cart. (6x2) Sima: You’re aware that, for almost 30 years, he’s maintained a vast criminal empire - (6x3) Red: Getting caught after 30 years? The odds were, I’d be caught after three. (6x4) Red: Officer Baldwin, I’ve been evading the police and law enforcement for almost 30 years. (6x5)

#dialogues

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diveronarpg · 6 years

Photo

Congratulations, LIA! You’ve been accepted for the role of PARIS with a faceclaim change to Jordan Bolger. Admin Rosey: Lia, you have no idea how happy we are to finally have a Priam in our midst. He’s a character that has always been very close to my heart because I love characters that you expect to be overlooked, shadowed by more gaudy and boisterous personalities. But you bring a subtle shine to Priam, like a dying star that’s about to explode and consume us all. Your plots for him make me especially excited because even then you bring his voice to life - you make him wholly yours while doing so. I can’t wait to see him on the dash! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | I’m Lia but my friends call me Lil Li Nasty. (not really :/)

Age | 20.

Preferred Pronouns | She/Her.

Activity Level | I’m able to login 3 to 4 days during the week for replies.

Timezone | EST.

Current/Past RP Accounts | You can look at this one if you’d like. ;-)

In Character

Character | The lovely Paris, AKA Priam Taravella. With a faceclaim change to Jordan Bolger.

What drew you to this character? | Let’s be real, I’m a sucker for morally ambiguous characters with a ton of internal turmoil sdkflfdgk. But I’ve never played a character quite like Priam, which is what drew me to him even more? Like I’ve always played dreamy characters with their heads in the clouds, but this isn’t Priam whatsoever. He has no interest in dreaming, if it isn’t something attainable, then he wastes no time thinking about it. He’s almost practical to a fault, like come on dude you can have one dream! The sheer purposelessness that pervades through his being, his overwhelming desire to belong to something, to someone. All of this contrasted by his inability to understand the concept of love (after all, how can you truly understand something you’ve never experienced?) and his ever shifting principles. Priam is the epitome of someone who gets excited and does something consistently for two days then loses interest and finds something new a few days later aksdjsdlkf I love him for it!

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

il tipo volubile / the fickle fellow — everchanging are his ideas and everchanging are his loyalties. cosimo capulet gave him a sense of purpose and for that he’ll forever be thankful, but priam, ever the opportunist, is partial to whomever offers him the best opportunity. he doesn’t behave this way with the intention of appearing disloyal, but priam prioritizes his need to belong and find purpose over his loyalty. there’s no telling how far he’ll go to occupy his void and betrayal isn’t necessarily out of the question.

mobilità verso l'alto / upward mobility — priam is confident with his standing in the mob, and almost too comfortable with it. i’d be interested in a situation where he screws up, possibly compromising the mob, which will be almost unreal to him because he’s just used to everything going the way that he wants it for the most part? to also keep his position secure, i see him blackmailing a few people, caps and monts, so that’ll be something interesting i see playing out. ;-)

finché morte non ci separi / till death do us part — just as priam had suspected, the montague heir had blossomed into reasonable competition. an attractiveness unrivaled by most, with a soft disposition outlining sharp features, everything verona wanted and more. him and the phan girl had made quite the handsome couple, her perceptiveness balancing out his altruism, but neither the montague heir nor the phan girl recognized this wasting potential. priam had every intention of turning his and juliana’s engagement into an opportunity, as this was a chance for them to play up their marriage to the veronans, affording them just enough of a peak into their lives that they await with watering mouths, for any other opportunity at sight. the least he could do for the pair of them was make them loved by many. and into oblivion will the montague heir fall. priam desires to be remembered to such a degree, that there simply won’t be enough room in the mind of verona for both of them. and he is actively working for this outcome.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes. >:-)

In Depth

In-Character Interview:

What is your favorite place in Verona? | We recommend looking at the location page and reading it over to figure out where your character’s favorite place is – if it’s not their own house/room.

He pondered the question for a moment, mouth pressed thoughtfully to his fist, before turning to the interviewer with a toothy grin. “There’s a garden on the Capulet estate, just west of the of the glass room.” Priam inclined backwards in his chair, perfectly manicured hands crossed in his lap, his eyes fixated on the wall reminiscently. “Juliana and I were first married there. She’d wanted a dress with a matching veil, but naturally her parents hadn’t approved, so she’d settled for the flower crown I made for her.” He’d been magnetizing. There was something about the way Priam carried himself, that just drew whoever he’d been speaking to in. His hands moved in unison with his words, the pictures building upon the story he told. “I made it out of yellow daisies. Tybalt officiated the marriage, and we’d done a butterfly kiss, and that was that. I intend on marrying her in that same garden.”

What does your typical day look like?

“Talking and more talking.” He chuckled purposefully. “In all seriousness, that’s what my job is. Knowing exactly what to say and in the right moment. It’s a delicate art form, you somehow have to make the other side satisfied, while simultaneously achieving the best possible outcome in favor of your own side.” He toyed with his Ferragamo cufflinks. “When I’m not doing that, I’m working with Cosimo. He’s practically taken me under his wing. I’ve learned so much in these past few years with him. He’s like a second father to me.” It had been an easy position to fill, with Priam’s own father being anything but. “When I’m not working, then I’m working out or spending time in nature. I’ve studied certain scenes so much that I could practically paint them from memory.” Priam had actually had his hand at painting, and while they’d been painted skillfully,per say, the complete lack of passion and lifelessness emitting from them had almost been disturbing.

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

Something dark flashed across his countenance, as he recalled the Capulet soldier he’d nearly been caught disposing of. They’d been symbolic of the people who attempted to disrupt his path to wars spoils— the city and the throne. The bride. The notoriety. The name. “There was a time when I was younger,” he begun with pursed lips. “When I wore white socks and black shoes. My parents never let me hear the end of it. I haven’t made that mistake since.” Priam sinks into his seat, smiling humorously, beckoning the interviewer in with his silly, boyish hospitality. He hadn’t the time to dwell on the past or mistakes. Only of the now and what will propel him to the future.

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

Mixing family and work— always a tricky task. Something he learned he ultimately could not handle. It made way to Cosimo gifting him a canvas, giving Priam the opportunity to paint whatever portrait of himself he pleased. Give me at least one part politician and one part killer. That was all that he’d required of him. And thus he began his Capulet reign. “Not losing sight of myself amidst the chaos,” he responded thoughtfully, careful to speak just the right amount. “Becoming one with Verona requires a certain fee. You pay in the relinquishment of your humanity. And if you don’t voluntarily pay, then she’ll force it from you.” Priam, on the other hand, had been on a quest to sell his humanity to the highest bidder.

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

“Inevitable. With great power comes great longing. No powerful person ever went without people desiring the power for themselves. And thus erupted a war.” This was one of those moments Priam had grown to appreciate, the ones where he’d been able to speak freely, from whatever parts of him that had remained authentic. He tilted his head with a raised eyebrow, lips etched into a teasing smile. “I’ve grown bored of your questions. Now, if there’s anything else outside of the interview you’d like to further discuss…”

Extras:

myers briggs: the commander (entj-a)

“Commanders are natural-born leaders. People with this personality type embody the gifts of charisma and confidence, and project authority in a way that draws crowds together behind a common goal. However, Commanders are also characterized by an often ruthless level of rationality, using their drive, determination and sharp minds to achieve whatever end they’ve set for themselves. Perhaps it is best that they make up only three percent of the population, lest they overwhelm the more timid and sensitive personality types that make up much of the rest of the world – but we have Commanders to thank for many of the businesses and institutions we take for granted every day.”

random brainstorming for priam.

muse tag.

playlist.

aesthetic—

cartier hoops, a poisoned tongue positioned between antidote lips, fickle values and fickler lovers, indefinite scowls, a pair of sunglasses for every day of the week, provocative realism, a tipsy crown (if it weren’t for the graff vivid yellow diamonds, it’s tilt might’ve been discernible), a gaping void, pompous vexation, flowery tattoos (the only evidence of permanence in your life), morsel of your true self, anything to belong, salvatore ferragamo’s limited edition loafers, an impassioned youth.

#accepted: paris #accepted

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crazy4thewinbros · 6 years

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Tears of the Sun AU

Hi! So is Monday! New chap is here!!

Ao3

Chapter 8 The Right Call.

They left the village and began the track to the border; there was determination and fire in the people's eyes, even when they saw and lived so much pain and terror they still managed to find strength to keep going; how blinded was he to assume they were just “packages” and not the amazing people they were, Thor clapped him on the back making him jump in surprise at the contact.

“They are so much more than Fury or even us though about them don't you agree?” Thor asked, he nodded “their grief and sorrows won't deteriorate their spirit, instead it’ll bring forward their courage and kindness, they are true warriors” Thor said awe and reverence in his tone.

“The people of Wakanda are strong, they won't give up and will continue forward there is no doubt about it” the young handsome male that was next to M’Baku affirmed, his dark eyes flared with ferocity and determination at his spoken words his shoulders pulled back and chin up high, regal and intimidating the man looked

“Yes, they’ll push forward” he agreed and looked ahead his eyes found Tony instantly a few meters ahead talking with Nat his Russian impeccable just as his Wakandan, Italian and English, a well educated and raised heir not a spoiled brat as he believed; Nat had a small lopsided grin, mirth in her eyes as Tony spoke, she looked happy and carefree, hell she looked the age she truly have a beautiful 28 year old and Tony was smiling widely speaking with rapid words and hand gestures, then she laughed hard, she put her hand on her lips muffling her laughter and Tony, he giggled making her laugh harder, he couldn't help the smile that appeared on his lips, move forward indeed.

They found a resting place when the sun went down making way to the stars and the moon, the heat diminished but it was till hot and humid, his tack gear felt like a heavy skin and he longed for a shower and a cold beer, but he put that aside and focused on the people they were protecting; tiredness in their frames but resolution in their eyes, warriors.

“Star one, over” Sam clipped voice made him turn with a frown “can you wait one sir?” Sam asked and handed him the phone mouthing Fury, he sighed and took it.

“Yes, sir” he answered contained anger in his tone.

“Captain, you want to tell me why the hell that bird was full of unwanted and unauthorized cargo and not your critical?” Fury’s voice exploded over the phone, he turn to look at Sam and mouthed Fury’s pissed, Sam shrugged and rolled his eyes, he smirked

“The doctor wouldn’t leave without his people, sir” he explained calm and innocently, which made Sam and now Buck deny with tiny smirks on their lips

“Don’t play coy, Captain; you’re telling me that you and the team couldn’t get Stark in a helo?” Fury’s reproach and impatience clear in his voice

“He was on the bird, it’s —difficult to explain” he snapped annoyed, making Tony turn around and frown at him, he excused himself from M’Baku and the male and walked towards him, concern in his whiskey eyes.

“Give me a break Rogers, I send you to this mission because I knew you wouldn’t screw it up and now you’re telling me is difficult to understand?” The I send you because you are good soldier who follows orders was heavily implied making him clench his jaw and repress the growl that wanted to come out at Fury’s words.

“Is this impatience has anything to do with SI contract over SHIELD’s?” he asked making Tony stop and look at him in surprise, the silence that followed was answer enough “we’re taking these people to the Bravo pickup zone, need 3 helicopters to take them out” he demanded his captain voice leaving no room for arguments.

“Negative” apparently Fury was an angry, stubborn asshole.

“Come on, Fury, give me three choppers, I’ll have these people in Kenya in 20 minutes” he growled, but Tony took the phone from his hand before he could hear Fury’s answer

“Now you listen to me Nick” Tony said, his voice was deathly calm and cold, it made him shiver and for the pale look on Sam and now Bucky he wasn't the only one nervous but he was sure he was the only aroused by the display of power in the young doctor “either you put three helicopters in the pickup zone the Captain has mentioned or you can say goodbye to that ostentatious computer program you call firewall, Jarvis already made it his bitch so don’t make me make the call and spill every single little secret you have; my lovely Pepper and my brilliant well paid lawyers are more than ready to drop more than a hundred lawsuits on your desk for the stunts you have put me through, hell even the air force is ready when you give the say so because this are your men and if the answer is still a negative one I can guaranty that SHIELD will be dismantled in his totality and sell to the highest bidder, and you won't even be able to crawl under a rock when Pepper and I finish with you, because as you well know at the end of tomorrow SHIELD is mine to take; now I’ll put the nice Captain Rogers on and you can ask him at what time and place the pickup will be held, it’s as always a pleasure to speak to you Nick” Stark finished and handed him the phone, just as he took it, Stark was calling someone on his own phone, firing quick words for him to pick up, Pepper and Rhodey were a constant that he could follow and few thing about the legal team SI possessed.

“Rogers” Fury voice made him snap and pay attention to his director

“Sir”

“Pickup zone, send coordinates” Fury snapped and hang up, he sighed and looked at the man that was still talking on the phone, Tony smiled at him brightly.

“Did our nice doctor just coerced our director to do his binding?” Thor asked impressed next to him, he nodded stunned and weirdly proud.

“Why didn’t he do that earlier?” Scott asked confused.

“Because I lied to him about Fury giving the go to evac his people before, there was no need for him to doubt me” he said with regret and shame, they nodded and settled again to rest he sighed and sat up on a boulder, he closed his eyes and drank some water after, Stark squatted in front of him eyes concerned and worried, lip held tightly between his teeth, he frowned

“Tony, is something wrong?” he asked concerned and confused, Tony denied but a small smile graced his lips.

“Let me take care of your arm” he said softly, he was ready to dismiss the plea, but there was something on those eyes that made him stop and nod

“All right” he said, moving to take out his guns and tactic gear, Tony helped him remove every layer with quick movements and in silence, Tony’s face was so close to his, that he could count his eyelashes and notice the freckles on his tan skin, if he just lean a few inches they would kiss, he stilled himself and prayed that the darkness covered his flaming skin, the way Tony removed his layers felt intimate, familiar, just right, as every piece that was left on the ground he felt freer, looser, he sighed when Tony touched his skin, his hands were warm and tender on his skin, every caress made him feel alive, his eyes never left Tony’s, the whiskey dark and gleaming with something, his blues were captivated by them, then Tony lowered his eyes and began to open the medical kit by his feet and began to work, he couldn’t stop staring it was entrancing the way he moved, the way he touched him, he wished , he knew more, to have more of this man.

“How did you end up here?” he asked softly making whiskey eyes find his, then lower again

“I came here with my mother when I was a child, she helped build a hospital in Ruanda, the royal family of Wakanda invited us to stay with them for a few days, I loved this country the moment I set foot on it, T’Chaka used to tell me stories about their ancestors and tribe; I used to play tag with the prince and princess; do math with their scientists, see the training of the Dora Milaje. SI began trading with them when my mother spoke with dad about Wakanda, I came as often as I could as I grew up; Ramonda, T’Chaka’s wife told me about the mission and what they were trying to achieve, a bigger school and an orphanage a well stocked hospital, I was immediately on board, Pepper agreed that me coming was a good idea, good press, but I didn’t do it for it you know, I just wanted to help, medics are far and between this far away from the city so I over stayed, the royal family was happy to have me, then T’Chaka died, I was already boarding my plane when it happened, but I stayed a few more days for the funeral and the prince coronation, then Fury pulled out the SHIELD team that was with me and the coup happened few days later, I fled as quickly as I could when Hydra soldiers advanced in the city, I couldn’t get to the airport it was overtaken; I tried to go to the embassy but it had been already evacuated so I managed to fled to the mission, I thought that if I was farther away from any mayor tribes and raids I would be safe” he said eyes fixed on his arm, he nodded

“You traveled alone?”

“No, a small party came with me, they didn’t make it” he said

“How come?”

“We were in a hospital, I was helping a woman give birth when Hydra came in, Nakia and Limbani” he began but stopped dressing his wound, eyes watery and his voice wavered “they, uhm; there were too many Hydra soldiers and the rebels began to shot everything that moved, they tried to stop them to protect me and the woman I was helping but they couldn’t, Hydra killed them, they were dear friends of mine”

“I’m really sorry, Tony”

“You did a good thing today” he said with a watery smile

“I don’t know if it was a good thing or not, feels like so long since I’ve done a good thing, the right thing” he confessed, Tony hand caressed his cheek sending goosebumps all over his body

“You should have some rest, Steve” Tony said and pulled his hand away but he grabbed it and pulled him in, whiskey eyes glowed with something he couldn't pinpoint but quickly demeaned at his next words

“Thank you for taking care of my arm” he whispered inches away from his lips, his eyes focused on pink lips, the pull was so strong, God how he wanted to just lean closer and take those lips in his

“Steve” Tony whispered his name, making him snap his eyes to his “it was a good thing you did today, the right call. Thank you captain” Tony said, and then he pulled away, the moment gone, he let him and watched him go and sit between M’Baku and the younger male; they received him with smiles and soft caresses in shoulders and arms, jealousy curled in his gut and anger flared at the soft smile Tony shared with them…

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massielandnetwork · 3 years

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Thriving in an Economic Bubble during Anarchy

10. The Christian Succession – Wisdom versus Culture

Pontius Pilate famously asked Jesus “What is truth?” In a classic state of confusion created by his personal power and wealth, ironically Pilate asked that question of the Son of God, Jesus. He was talking to The Truth and did not know it because he was blinded by “culture”. That experience is prevalent in the USA today which explains why Christianity is exploding everywhere in the world but not here.

If you are currently confused about what are the facts and what is fiction here in the USA, you are not alone. Everyone I talk with in the business world directly or indirectly alludes to not knowing what are the facts about – the election, the virus, their business, and what is happening around them. They correctly assume the media is just propaganda and struggle to find sources on the internet that are accurate recognizing that the major internet companies have an agenda they are pursuing by shutting down anyone that does not agree with them.

Many express to me that they feel isolated in their exhaustion by the false gods of Climate Change, CRT, MMT, and Social Justice – all misnomers for tactics designed by those we have put in leadership positions that openly state their hate for America and Americans.

From conversations, polls, and videos I have watched, it is evident that the vast majority of Americans know something is seriously wrong with those currently in leadership positions. I am convinced that since the movie “One Flew over the Cuckoos Nest” led to emptying mental hospitals in favor of “Mainstreaming”, we have relocated the mentally ill into homeless camps and politics. Both of those conditions need to be changed.

My belief is that God is working making it easier for us to recognize the Wise from the Unwise who are consumed by popular culture. Some recent examples of the Unwise being revealed:

1. A Democrat legislator in Pennsylvania has authored a bill to require a photo id to buy ammunition (but not to vote).

2. The mentally ill Mayor of Chicago who has defunded police and her city has the tightest gun control laws in the USA, is upset that last weekend there were 70 shootings including the killing of a female cop. When she went to the hospital where the partner of the slain cop was a patient, the cops gathered there turned their backs on the Mayor.

3. When various government entities surveyed their employees about what pronoun they wanted to have associated with them, the overwhelming majority refused to answer.

Last week I was blessed to have numerous fascinating conversations with a variety of participants in the business world. While all of their perspectives were different because of their different positions, the common theme was the same – we are running hard in the face of major distortions in the supply chains so that everyone is having to solve an unending stream of unexpected problems on the fly in order to keep their businesses moving.

In stark contrast, the Demented Marxists (DM) in control of our governments in Virginia and nationally continue to pursue their “Never Waste a Crisis to Achieve our Goals” mantra by moving forward their misnamed “Infrastructure” bill in the Senate. They are selling their misguided Green New Deal stimuli camouflaging it as infrastructure.

The graft is quite amazing. Perhaps to make his grab appear less onerous than the $5 Billion given to Organize America with Obama’s “shovel ready” stimulus bill in 2019, Senator Manchin (D-WV) is obtaining $1 Billion for the Appalachian Commission where his wife was appointed a commissioner ($165k per year) by Biden this spring.

Another stunning example is the $21.5 Billion to fund Office of Clean Energy Demonstrations. Since Secretary Granholm will have the control of the money. Her previous efforts in the Clean Energy arena while governor of Michigan were all total failures. “Consistency is a virtue” is one of my favorite sayings because consistency eliminate surprises. When did we get away from meritocracy so that we now welcome mediocrity?

Not to be left behind, Gateway Pundit has released information that Virginia Senator Warner has introduced an amendment to the “Infrastructure” bill that would financially benefit one of his major contributors. Is there any doubt that we have descended to the realm of our government being for sale to the highest bidder? It is confirmation that the DMs/RINOs are at the pillage stage of our social decline.

As the DMs and RINOs openly and increasingly steal from the American Taxpayer, several important global economic events concerning China are occurring:

1. Is one of China’s largest real estate developers, Evergrande Group, teetering? It is so big a collapse will be felt globally.

2. China’s government has cracked down on entrepreneurs and caught American investors who thought the CCP was joking when they said “No foreign ownership” in their wake. The CCP meant what they said. Investors lost $1 Trillion.

The divergence between the DM/Elites and the Average Joe and Jane continues to increase. This dangerous situation will continue to fester until the moment some event causes it to explode. I pray that we have honest elections in Virginia this year and nationally next year so that the change in direction comes peacefully.

I am amazed at the folks who volunteer to me that they support the forensic audits. The demand for forensic audits is spreading like wildfire and reflected in the polls showing the majority of Americans now believe the November 2020 election was fraudulent. Mike Lindell is an American Hero putting all of his wealth on the line with his Cyber Symposium. Some of the facts I have read from that event are both confirming and startling. No wonder his event is under constant attack by the DMs/RINOS and their hackers.

Pray for the success of the Patriots around the country pushing for honest Elections. If you want to get the facts, go to “Defending the Republic”, download Telegram and join The Arizona Conservatives group. Things are happening and success will only come from the ground up. The electronic voting machines have to go away!!!

In my conversations with the business community several folks expressed concern that with every machine there is a point where stressed enough it breaks. I am not smart enough to know where that point is located in our current economy. The DMs are driving us towards higher energy cost, unreliable electricity, higher taxes, and rob the national while burdening us with their “Social Justice garbage, teach our children propaganda not reading writing and arithmetic, tell all whites they are racist and evil, force vaccinations, et al. There is a breaking point.

The Wise know “The Truth” and prepare accordingly to be able to provide for their family and those around them. The Unwise are consumed with foolishness and will perish.

Every portfolio must have some cash but a great piece of land remains The Best investment long term. Capitalism builds wealth, Marxism/Socialism consumes it in self destruction. Pray for a return to honest and audited elections in the USA. God is in control. Men make plans, but God ALWAYS wins.

“Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time, because the days are evil. So do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is. Do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery; but be filled with the Spirit, as you sing psalms, and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves, singing and making melody to the Lord in our hearts, giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

(Ephesians 5:15-20) New Revised Standard Version, Oxford University Press)

Stay healthy,

Ned

August 11, 2021

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girlsbtrs · 3 years

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Using Music to Regulate and Express Emotions

Graphic & Written by James N. Grey

I think I spent my entire childhood in a depression. And I think I spent all of the depression concurrently with anxiety. I say I think because I was never truly diagnosed, not until I entered my junior year of college. But my diagnosis isn’t new; it’s barely average. It almost feels overdone, actually. And to everyone else in charge, I’m pretty much just a statistic.

I’m alright with being one though because it’s just another way to say that my story is valid. And we should all receive validation for whatever it is that we’re going through, or went through.

And I think that lack of validation is what led me to turn to a lot of digital media, namely music, as a child. And I think that’s how I regulated whatever emotions I did have when alternating between feeling too much (anxiety) and feeling nothing at all (depression). No, I know that’s how I regulated my emotions.

Let me explain: I grew up in a house full of five other kids, three of which were my cousins, and all of our parents, and my grandmother. That’s eleven people in what I would consider a normal-sized house. It was a mother-daughter type home, so each family got a side. That did nothing to stop the rampant arguments and abuse, both physical and emotional.

It was chaotic and hierarchical: my dad and uncle at the top of the food chain, the sons next, the wives after, and the daughters last. I spent my early childhood years, from 3 to 8, being taught my place, so to speak. And from then on, I always knew I’d come out last, and was always put in my place.

But what about the music, you ask. When and where does that come in? Your life story is great, but I didn’t exactly ask for it.

Nah, you didn’t. But I’m gonna tell you anyway. Because it’s important. It’s relevant.

My family’s refusal to acknowledge the horror of the situation they put us all in and my inability to express myself due to my environment pushed me to find acknowledgement and validation in music, as I clearly wasn’t receiving it elsewhere.

I chose music that specifically communicated whatever emotion I was feeling at the moment and used mainly this coping mechanism to regulate my emotions. Studies have shown that people with a tendency toward depression were more likely to listen to sad music (Garrido & Schubert, 2013). Researchers have also found that depressed individuals listened to music more often than non-depressed individuals (Wilhelm et al., 2013).

Unfortunately for me, I also believe I innately had a harder time processing emotions due to being emotionally sensitive. Researchers have found that the temperaments of some children are just more innately capable of self-regulating than others (Schore, 2015).

And using music to regulate emotions isn’t surprising (Thayer et al., 1994). Studies show that depression is linked with impaired emotional regulation skills (Campbell-Sills et al., 2006). And emotional regulation is defined as pinpointing which emotion you have when you have it and how you express and/or experience that particular emotion (Gross, 2014). Since I couldn’t name what emotion I was feeling, due to my depression caused by my chaotic environment and also possibly by my innate personality, I turned to music to define it for me. This actually led me to almost singularly use music to regulate my emotions, which isn��t bad, but it is when it’s your safest option.

You’re wondering: Okay… So why didn’t you just find other ways to understand and express your emotions?

Yeah, here’s the thing, here’s the kicker: based on my culture and religion, I was seen as a product of my father rather than a separate person, so I had to fulfill the requirements of a product. The core of it was this: I had to look like a doll and get good grades so they could improve their honor as a family and be able to sell me off to the highest bidder (another man) for marriage. Experiences and emotions would not increase my monetary value so they were actively snuffed out.

And when you’re at the bottom of the food chain, you don’t want to get caught doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. The problem is that you don’t always know what’s forbidden. So you don’t want to get caught doing anything. If you do get caught, you’re screwed. Because now that they’ve noticed you, they’re gonna find ways to reinforce pushing you back to the bottom of the food chain/force you into acting like an object and they’re going to gaslight you and invalidate you.

This is how I lived up until I left for college. It was exactly like Daya’s song title, “Sit Still, Look Pretty.”

BUT!

I knew that I could always get away with looking busy doing schoolwork. And I could totally get away with listening to music with earphones whilst doing so. Because it was quiet and unobtrusive.

So I listened to a lot of sadboi/emo/rock music because I was feeling very sadboi/emo/punk, and this music named what I was feeling and that it was okay to feel that way. Naming anything is half the battle sometimes.

Although some studies say listening to sad music has a negative effect on emotional states (sad music makes you sadder) (Garrido & Schubert, 2013), there is a recent study that contradicts this finding which happens to be in line with my life experience and anecdotal evidence. This study found that those with depression may be listening to sad music for its calming effects rather than to maintain their sad feelings (Yoon et al., 2020). And that’s definitely what music did for me.

Music made me feel heard. It validated my existence, validated my experiences, and validated my emotions. Music was something that I could always turn to to make me feel safe.

I’ve since learned other coping mechanisms to regulate my emotions: I’ve spent a lot of time with only myself to pinpoint exactly what I’m feeling and noting patterns in how I express those emotions. But I still go back to music, this time with an expanded repertoire of genres and styles so I can express everything, and feel it too, with the freedom to be myself, breaking away from hierarchical constraints.

Works Cited

Campbell-Sills, L., Barlow, D. H., Brown, T. A., & Hofmann, S. G. (2006). Effects of suppression and acceptance on emotional responses of individuals with anxiety and mood disorders. Behaviour Research and Therapy, 44(9), 1251–1263. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.brat.2005.10.001

Garrido, S., & Schubert, E. (2013). Moody melodies: Do they cheer us up? A study of the effect of sad music on mood. Psychology of Music, 43(2), 244–261. https://doi.org/10.1177/0305735613501938

Gross, J. J. (2014). Emotion regulation: Conceptual and empirical foundations. In

Gross, J. J. (Ed.), Handbook of emotion regulation (2nd ed., pp. 3–20). New

York, NY: Guildford Press.

Schore, A. N. (2015). Affect Regulation and the Origin of the Self. Taylor & Francis.

Thayer, R. E., Newman, J. R., & McClain, T. M. (1994). Self-regulation of mood: Strategies for changing a bad mood, raising energy, and reducing tension. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 67(5), 910–925. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.67.5.910

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murilloautumn · 4 years

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insurance companies in fresno

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare quotes from different companies :affordableinsurancefinder.top

insurance companies in fresno

insurance companies in fresno. In addition to the listed insurers, you may want to look at companies that partner with the company or service you can’t count on. Insurance products, like home insurance, are some of the most popular cars on the road. It’s safe to say that some of the cheapest car insurance companies and options are in high-tax states. If you’re looking to save on your premiums, consider getting a policy with a high deductible. If you get into a freak accident, your deductible is $500. While some states do not have a higher deductible — or limit the amount you’ll have to pay before premiums start to go up, in most cases — Washington D.C. typically has a flat $1,500 deductible. That means your insurance will cover $500 of damage to your car, up to an extra $5,000 per accident. If your car is totaled, that’s a $25,000 payout for the car’. insurance companies in fresno is to be a small cost of doing business a simple rule to look up. I have been a contractor for 2 or longer time. I live in Pennsylvania. i had to pay all the bills for a day. in the evening. I was asked insurance, but that I have no fault in any of these accidents. I am currently looking for a job so that I have liability insurance on everything. Can i just cancel the last insurance that will be in effect for an entire year? i like to the the policy at the end of the month will it be paid as well? what would i need to keep my insurance in effect for my accident but is it still insurance i need insurance before a accident but no idea where it will be the full amount is it paid for, the first month of insurance, and then at about half the cost. what should i do that i need to know do i need 2 years after an accident and i know the insurance i need to get on the same plan for. insurance companies in fresno. I think I am going to get a policy at an insurance company I don t know for home when my husband goes in to see his insurance company work. We have a new policy on him when he goes to see it and the policy says cover him at his insurance company that has their money back from our checking accounts. Thats very vague and I think he is going to be paying it so I cant know. I haven t filed that yet when he had it but that seems fine. He did have a claim that was for 5 days cause he was driving a car I am not so sure because the insurance company said I can t get a good look into that. I wish it was at company that says he has their money and pays a bill. I am wondering what to do or why the insurance company I have the same amount of insurance on the policy as he does? That is what it says but who knows what the future will hold. How are you going to get insurance info to.

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Auto Insurance Fresno – Auto Insurance Modesto

Auto Insurance Fresno – Auto Insurance Modesto – Auto Insurance Fresno So, if you have a situation like this or any information that would help us, we would love to hear about yours. Send us an email at to have a conversation about your insurance questions. We appreciate your patience and understanding during this all along effort. There’s no one who is best for you, a question you can think of right now. The good news is that many auto insurance companies are able to help drivers. Auto insurance companies may also cover people who drive for an online account. You can call up a local agent to help you with your insurance or contact the DMV (in person) with questions. Auto insurance companies should be aware that local agents can be extremely helpful. A local agent can answer any question you may have on auto insurance. It usually helps to get a free quote, which is usually a free service to get approved. Your agent will not only be able to provide you with a good quote but also can show you how much you could.

Cheapest Car Insurance in Fresno If You Have Tickets

Cheapest Car Insurance in Fresno If You Have Tickets or Youâve Had Enough Driving Experience Itâs Time for a New Look! Fresno’s traffic-impairment fines, fees and the law to know for speeding and distracted driving. The law will pay up to $20 on your vehicle repair, according to DMV fees for failing to pass a state driving test and for speeding while your vehicle is being assessed. For the most cost-effective way to get the cheapest rates: Compare low down payments and coverage. Auto insurance is a necessity but itâs a smart idea in Fresno: Fewer car insurance rates, less turnover. A driver with suspended license fees must pay court fees and court costs � even if they donât get payment by the time the suspension ends, says AutoinsuranceEZ.com. Itâs a good idea to consider adding supplemental or full-coverage insurance to your insurance policy.

Commercial Insurance

Commercial Insurance Company Limited) is an insurance company registered in England and Wales (Company A) Limited. It operates as an insurance firm offering insurance and annuity products. Product under development is a suite of home insurance and personal accident products. The company has been writing insurance and annuity products since 1959, and has grown to make the insurance market accessible to individuals and families who are looking for the best rates offered by insurance companies. It currently has more than 7 million policyholders as of 2016 and has a combined premium of over 14 billion dollars. We think this company is a great choice for you if you are looking for an insurance provider. We are a free internet resource for anyone interested in learning about the auto, home, business insurance and financial services industry, in the United States. All of us live with one vehicle, and we are not limited by the size of your car. You can call us and speak to a licensed insurance representative at their office. We have the experience and knowhow to get you the.

Crop & Hail Insurance

Crop & Hail Insurance for drivers of: Illinois is a top 40 state for the lowest car insurance rates. The cheapest car insurance in the state costs about $1,300 per year or $3,440 annually. For a married couple in Illinois each could pay as high as $3K each year. Finding cheap car insurance is easy with GEICO, but there are a few things you should consider when determining your car insurance rates. You want an experienced and knowledgeable agent who knows which company offers the best car insurance rates. The rates below are approximate and may vary greatly from one person to the next, so there is no value in comparing. Also, check with Geico before signing on the car insurance quote, as these companies are not always known for providing cheap quotes. Most of these companies, however, offer affordable rates, making the process to find the best car insurance providers easy. If you’re looking for affordable car insurance in Illinois with high-quality coverage, GEICO might be the company for you.

Mercury Car Insurance in Fresno

Mercury Car Insurance in Fresno, CA, offers excellent coverage and the option for a variety of different policies. The company also has a high financial rating and A.M. Best rating. Most of the benefits offered through auto insurance companies are non-discriminatory and do not penalize you or force you to buy coverage. You won´t have to deal with higher insurance premiums because the insurance company doesn’t penalize you for having a history of accidents. There are also some non-discriminatory pricing based on risk factors like age, smoking status and location. This insurance company is one of the biggest, perhaps, insurance providers in Fresno and a strong contender in customer satisfaction ratings. It is currently ranked in the top five for good auto insurance, and it is known for its stellar financial standing, and better financial security. It also has an A+ rating from A.M. Best. One of the biggest brands in California, Mercury offers a wide array of products and services which help customers get the best.

Auto Insurance

Auto Insurance Compare and save with Insurify today! Insurify lets you freely compare accurate car insurance quotes and discounts from top national and regional insurance companies in a matter of minutes. You can choose between coverage levels and adjust deductibles to ensure you re not just getting the cheapest policy, but the most appropriate one, too. Users save an average of $489 a year when they buy a new insurance policy through Insurify. Think of Insurify as your personalized, online insurance agent. Insurify s platform uses the latest in AI to match you with real, accurate, and bindable car insurance quotes based on your driver history and budget. Insurify is not an insurance company and will not share the information you provide with partners (based on your personal information). Insurify is the top-rated and most-rated insurance comparison website in America. Unlike comparison sites that just take your information and sell it to the highest bidder, Insurify is built on trust and empowerment. No.

Insurance Providers That Serve Fresno

Insurance Providers That Serve Fresno Freehold County Area’s Small Businesses State Farm Co.-Sanborn Farmers Brokers Are a Free Market Agent Farmers Auto Sales Brokers Know They Can Help You Farmers Insurance Brokers Say, “We’re on your side, our free insurance agents” California Rural Rural Fire & Casualty We’re also a State Farm Member and a Farm Bureau Member (not affiliated with Farm Bureau) Farmers, Farmers’ Auto Insurance Providers, Farmers Farmers Brokers Farmers, Farmers’ Insurance Providers, Farmers Farmers’ Insurance Providers, Farmers Farmers’ Insurance Providers, Farmers’ Insurance Providers and Farmers Insurance Providers, Farmers’ Insurance Providers (3) days in all states, to see the rates for those who are members or to see rates for Farmers, Farmers and Farmers Independent.

Cheapest Car Insurance in Fresno by Coverage Amount

Cheapest Car Insurance in Fresno by Coverage Amount Requirements Fresno drivers must purchase minimum liability insurance with $25,000 coverage for each eye. Largest Car insurance companies offering car insurance in Fresno Insurance CompanyFerris Liability maximum Total policy limits $25,000 per person $50,000 per accident $25,000 total per accident Largest Car insurance companies near Fresno Insurance CompanyFerris Total number of policyholders with total assets under management of more than $3.2 million Ferris was founded in 1922 and offers basic insurance coverage to Fresno drivers. It has offices in Fresno and Oakland. Total auto insurance claims to date Total auto insurance claims to date Total auto insurance claims to date Ferris-sponsored total Largest car insurance companies in Fresno Total number of total auto.

Factors That Impact Insurance Costs in Fresno

Factors That Impact Insurance Costs in Fresno There are three main factors driving up Fresno s insurance costs, which are: Age of the applicantMost common type of coverages and types of coverageMost common covering 1) Personal Injury Protection2) Medical Payments3) Property Protection3) Personal Accident Fund4) Property Damage Fund (PDI) Personal auto insurance from CSAAFornia, California’s largest auto association. CSAAFornia, CA does a great job of explaining all of its policies online and over the telephone. It gives you a good overview of all your options for affordable California-provided insurance; a good insurance brochure is also helpful. It has a quick and easy option guide that can be easily taken up by anyone who wants to see the coverages and limits. 2) A lot of other parts of your policy are covered in your liability coverage. If California is one of the largest motor cities in the state, then CSAAFornia, CA is a good option for auto insurance.

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