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kinetic-elaboration · 3 years

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August 5: 3x02 The Enterprise Incident

After several weeks of being in like a TOS desert (Assignment: Earth; Spock’s Brain) finally we get to The Enterprise Incident, one of the best episodes, possibly of all time. Why was D.C. Fontana so good??? How??

McCoy narration! How unusual. I like how it contributes to the generally jarring opening, with Kirk acting so out of character and so on. All of the crew being fooled and the audience too.

I’d say this scene is the only one Kirk haters have ever seen--where he’s all arrogant and impatient and mean--but he’s not being slutty enough.

When you need intel, you go to Uhura.

This is an interesting ep because the Enterprise is being uncharacteristically sneaky. Usually, they’re obviously doing the right thing in the straightforwardly right way, but this really is an espionage mission, which includes, in addition to the garden variety lying, major stuff like uh treaty breaking.

Wow, a Romulan with a name. Unusual. Is he the first named Romulan?

They want the Enterprise. They want his lady!

Hmmm, you have a Vulcan on board, do you? Very interested in that. It’s pretty funny that the Commander calls up as soon as Tal mentions Spock,like she has a sixth sense that picked up on a potential hottie on the enemy ship.

Oh no, Kirk and Spock aren’t getting along. Trouble in paradise...

Spock looks very disapproving. And Kirk is acting downright despotic. Hot.

Imagine being the Romulan hostages lol. That’s awkward. “Go their ship and uh sit in their brig, nbd, we’ll bring you back.” (And then later one of them is unceremoniously stripped naked.) (And then later still they’re completely forgotten about!!!)

Scotty’s face when he sees the hostages is very funny. Like “oh I know what to do with YOU.”

I love the Female Romulan Commander already.

Wow Kirk is such a liar. Just say it loudly enough and it will SEEM true. Navigation error etc.

“It’s no myth that Vulcans can’t lie,” Spock lied.

“It’s not a lie to keep the truth to oneself.” Feel like I gotta outright steal that.

Oooh, the Commander has a temper.

Kirk is “a highly sensitive and emotional person.”

He’s living for the drama.

This must be all very confusing for the crew.

I love Captain Scotty. He’s so intense.

“You make a brave noise.” Burn.

Spock’s been an officer for 18 years. I’d do the math on that but I’m not sure when one becomes an officer specifically.

“Do you like Captain Kirk?” (I don’t even remember why I wrote this down, but uh, yeah.)

...Damn this whole scene is so good.

“I don’t make house calls.”

Except for Kirk.

It’s bizarre that the Romulans are in Klingon ships (that look like Federation ships on the inside) for pretty much no reason but I do like the design of them in general.

Funny how “Attend me” sounds an awful lot like “My wife, attend.”

Lol at the crocheted board shorts on the male Romulan officers. The Commander is MUCH more stylish.

“Are the guards invited on our date?”

“It would be illogical to assume that all conditions remain stable.” What a F L I R T.

Very bold of her to basically declare “Spock, you’re Captain now.”

Kirk looks like the drunk friend, swaying in the background, gearing up to something.

“Vulcan death grip” lol. Sounds like made up Vulcan nonsense to me! (And it is.)

Even if it weren’t, Spock is an adult Vulcan and a trained Starfleet officer, he would never just accidentally death grip someone.

And now it all comes out. Because Chapel was nosy. Love that she just casually knows all this stuff about Vulcan abilities.

They told Bones pretty late about this whole plan. I feel like Scotty and Bones should have been in the original loop.

“You’re lucky they didn’t start an autopsy.”

Love that part of Kirk’s transformation into a Romulan was putting on eye shadow.

Also love Scotty’s face journey when he sees Romulan!Kirk.

Look at these decadent Commander’s quarters. Spock must love them.

Recruiting inducements lol--is that what the kids are calling it these days?

“Don’t beam me into a bulkhead.” Don’t even joke.

Spock hasn’t sent the coordinates because he’s DISTRACTED while on his DATE.

I love their little square drinking glasses.

“I do... appreciate it.”

“If you don’t tell me your name, I’ll have to make one up for you.”

TOS Spock apparently more smooth than AOS Kirk.

When she stood up, that mini-skirt basically became a shirt--barely.

His lady leaves the room and he immediately call his man--what a slut.

The Commander’s “casual” outfit is easily one of the best TOS costumes. So pretty! 10/10 would wear today.

“Stimulate...our discussion.” Sure. Your discussion.

He’s been moved emotionally.

Dammit Tal! Stop cockblocking the commander.

Love how obvious it was that she and Spock were hooking up--she's dressed up, he appears dramatically from behind the flowing white curtains in her frankly huge quarters.

The cloaking device looks suspiciously like Nomad again.

“How could you do this to me?” Girl, you’ve known him for an hour. Calm down the drama.

Also love the earrings.

That was a weak slap. She should have sent him sprawling with her Romulan strength. I guess her heart wasn’t in it.

Romulans are Vulcans but with unfiltered Drama.

I like her jellyfish chair.

Now Spock shall fillibuster his own death by reading a very long prepared statement.

She hears the phrase "historic tradition" and sighs like "this is gonna be the longest 20 minutes of my LIFE.”

Silly of Kirk to assume they wouldn't fire on the commander and/or that she wouldn't ORDER them to fire.

“Alien contraption.” Scotty enjoying himself.

Hmmm, the Commander was bragging to Spock off screen about the cloaking device--what else might she have said that we didn’t hear?

Mr. Spock will escort you to your quarters--more like Mr. Spock will escort you to HIS quarters amirite?

She would like his weaponry.

“Military secrets are the most fleeting of all.” Well that line didn’t have to go that hard.

“It was the only choice. You would not respect any other.” Where’s all the talk about loyalty and oaths now?

“They do not look aesthetically agreeable on humans.” Textual evidence for my theory that Vulcans, though humanoid, have some sort of indescribable Alien Aura quite apart from the eyebrows and ears.

That was such a good ending. Last major dialogue scene was a serious one between Spock and the Commander, but then there’s a little humorous coda, too--a good shot of Spock looking pensive, but also the peanut gallery having a little laugh.

I love that episode so much. I love how... difficult Spock is to read. On the one hand, I do think he was really attracted to the Romulan Commander. I also think he was hiding a lot of the truth about why he didn’t join the Romulans--I mean yes, that was never a real option and it would certainly be wildly out of character for him to do it. But he also talks exclusively about loyalty to Starfleet, his oath, his uniform, as if but for the happenstance of these things, if he were making a decision for himself instead of following his duty, he might prefer to be with her and the Romulans. But what about the obvious other factor--Kirk himself? What about “A starship runs on loyalty to one man, and no one can replace it--or him?” I feel like his connection to Kirk is like the unspoken undertone to all of this. Especially because, as Captain and XO, they were the only ones to know about this plan from the beginning, and probably came up with the details of it themselves. But we also know that Spock takes the mean things that Kirk says to heart, even if they’re only said as part of a mission or larger ploy. And we also know that he truly desires belonging, and that being part one thing and part another often makes him feel as if he belonged nowhere. But the Romulan Commander didn’t seem to care about his human heritage. She asked him what he was, and only mentioned the human part one other time, not in a negative way. I do see the temptation for him.

It’s also interesting that Kirk initially refers to the Commander as “he,” implying he didn’t know specifically who was in charge of the ship. That means that while he and Spock clearly planned for Spock to undermine and then “kill” Kirk, and almost certainly to play on Romulan/Vulcan cultural connections, they probably did not plan on Spock seducing anyone. He did that on his own.

This would reboot so well. Like, aside from the S/U aspects, it’s a perfect candidate: a spy narrative that has a little bit of the gray morality they’re so attached to; Kirk and Spock tension; Kirk being Dramatique; cool aliens--and it would have been very interesting to see this story play out in the context of the destruction of Vulcan. (More generally, I think completely forgetting about the Romulans after the first reboot film was a huge mistake but whatever.)

Mmmm, I just... I want to watch it again lol. D.C. Fontana was truly the queen of alien world building. That sense of alien-ness that I get in the Spock and Commander scenes is like what I’m going for in some of my own stuff.

#the year 2021 #2021: fandom thoughts #2021: star trek #star trek tos

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Galactica, Chapter 5 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Since we’re on a roll and impatient as fuck, we decided to up our posting rate! Hope you enjoy! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet gave Trixie a heads-up about Fame’s dislike of the new collection, and moved into her new apartment--where she found some very welcoming neighbors.

This Chapter: All hands on deck as Fame demands a complete reconceptualization of their Spring collection.

***

Fame swept into the office on Monday, all business, barely looking Violet in the eye as she rattled off a waterfall of orders.

Fame pulled off her coat and dropped it, nearly letting it fall on the floor before Violet dove forward to catch it.

“Have you taken care of the messages I left you over the weekend?”

Fame seemed almost frantic, her energy all over the place.

“I’m almost done Miss,” Violet folded her coat over her arm, holding out her hand for Fame’s bag. “I just need to confirm wit-”

“Good.” Fame hung her bag on Violet’s wrist, the weight almost toppling Violet over if it hadn’t been for her hours at the gym. “Have you ordered the new fabrics I talked about?”

Violet nodded. “They are on their wa-”

“And what about my new assistant?”

“Yes-” Violet reached for her desk, a stack of resumes already printed out. “I’m starting the pre-interviews tomorrow-”

“Wonderful.” Fame completely ignored Violet and the papers she was holding out, instead walking towards her office. Violet quickly disposed of Fame’s coat and bag, putting both down on her desk so she could grab Fame’s coffee and the letters for the day before she followed her.

“Remember, only perfection is accepted,” Fame instructed, settling down at her desk.

“Yes, Miss.” Violet handed her the coffee, which Fame took a single sip of before she scrunched her nose and handed it back to Violet.

“I’d like a new latte and a medium fruit salad, no pineapple.”

“Yes Miss.”

“Is that the schedule for the day?”

Violet nodded and handed her the paper.

“Also, before you go. Get Raja up here. I need to discuss the collection. That’s all,” Fame said, turning to her computer.

It wasn’t for a few minutes that Violet realized how serious Fame was about the collection change. She was standing in line at the coffee shop, checking her email, when she saw that Fame had sent one to the entire senior management team.

Subject: URGENT

All hands on deck meeting at 3 pm today to discuss a complete re-conceptualization of our Spring collection. Bring your best ideas, ready to discuss, along with samples and visual aids. Be prepared to work late.

Violet gulped, forwarding the email to all of the applicable assistants, when another one ticked in.

Subject: Violet - Get me Pearl

***

“This is interesting, try to get a sample of the skirt done ASAP and then spruce up the sketch,” Trixie said.

Trixie had been walking around the busy design floor, checking out what his team had come up with over the weekend. Ever since getting Violet’s text last Friday, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that Fame was about to bring down a hammer, and so they needed to be prepared with new ideas.

Half of the team was working on changes and additions to their current collection. Half of them were working on entirely new concepts and ideas.

‘Remember guys,’ he’d said before they left on Friday. ‘This is a spaghetti against the wall situation. No bad ideas, time to explore everything. If it’s unique and innovative, that’s a plus. Pull out your passion projects.’

The truth was, Trixie had no idea what to expect. Fame had been silent all weekend, which made him even more nervous. Usually she’d send at least a few texts or emails. Ideas that popped into her head. A doodle on a notepad. Image references. But now, when she was allegedly questioning their whole collection? Nada.

Trixie walked over to where April was draping out an ornate sample dress in multiple shades of blue, telling her to carry on. Then he moved on to Alexis, scrutinizing the sketches on her desk with a critical eye.

“Some of these shapes are interesting, but I need you to redo them with different colors and fabrics,” he told her. “Remember, the color story is apparently the thing she’s most ambivalent about.”

“Got it,” Alexis said with a good-natured sigh, picking up a fresh pad.

“Um, Trixie?” Kandy looked up, a terrified look on her face as she hung up the phone.

“Yes?”

“Raja says to check your emails, don’t panic, and that she’s coming down to fill you in,” Kandy said.

Trixie pulled out his phone, stomach lurching as he read the email from Miss Fame, face going pale.

His worst fear had just come true: they were facing a complete reconceptualization. He looked up, forcing a smile in order to not terrify the design team even more.

“Okay,” he said, attempting to keep his voice light. “New plan...Blu, Jovan, Gia? Forget about the adjustments you were working on. We’re looking for fresh ideas, anything that you think could be a new signature piece. Everyone: the deadline is today at 3 pm.”

A small gasp rippled through the team as they realized how soon that was.

“Three pm?” Blu asked, the Irish designer looking like she might burst into tears.

“Yeah.” Trixie scanned the room again, hating the anxiety that he saw on everyone’s face, which he knew full well was not conducive to innovation. “And try to have fun. Remember, this is fashion, not heart surgery. No one’s gonna die.”

“We might die,” Jovan muttered under his breath, ripping his current piece out of a sewing machine and tossing it onto the ground.

“It’ll be okay,” Trixie put a hand on Jovan’s shoulder. He was his oddest worker, the wrinkly brain he had coming up with the most beautiful, crazy, intricate ideas when he was left to his own devices. “I promise.” Trixie squeezed, trying to put as much conviction behind his words as he could. “Just do your best.”

***

Pearl had just settled into her chair, ready to see if anything exciting had happened on Twitter while she had been by the design department to give Trixie his lunch.

It wasn’t something she normally did, but Katya had been near heartbroken when she saw that Trixie had forgotten the lunchbox she had made him that morning, and since Pearl was a pretty damn good roommate in her own opinion, she had volunteered to deliver it.

Katya had given her a kiss and a hug as thanks before she hurried out the door, two tote bags and canvas under both arms. If Pearl didn’t love her so much, she’d be almost disgusted with how good of a human being Katya was, spending her summer as a volunteer art teacher at a community center in the Bronx.

Her beating heart was however also the reason that Pearl hadn’t been kicked out of the apartment she shared with her Trixie when he and Katya had started dating, so who was she to complain?

A polite cough came from the door just as Pearl was catching up on Olivier Rousteing’s Instagram. She turned around and came face to face with Violet.

Pearl smiled; it was always a joy to see Violet, the other always a sight for sore eyes with her almost impeccable beauty.

It was always fun to see what Violet would wear, the woman almost vintage in her style.

“Is that Gabbana?��

“Of course it’s Gabbana” Violet smoothed down her skirt, and Pearl smiled. She was the only person who Pearl knew that could wear a button up, and still look like someone begging to get fucked.

“You’re late.”

“Am I?” Pearl smirked. Violet was fun to rile up, but Fame was her favorite, one of her very best days at work happening because she had agitated her boss on purpose.

“Is this about the collection? Trixie told me Fame has officially freaked.”

Violet didn’t say anything, and Pearl almost wanted to roll her eyes.

“I’ll take that silence as a yes.”

Violet was an annoyingly good assistant, never saying a word against Fame, always holding her tongue even when it would have been more than fair to complain.

“She wants you in her office in 10.”

“So I’m not actually late?” Pearl turned around to her iMac, seeing that the small email icon on her screen was blinking red. “Ah.”

Pearl realized that Violet had just saved her from Fame’s disappointment, but there was no way she was going to let the other know of her gratitude.

It was too early in the game for that.

“Sorry for helping you.” Violet huffed, rolling her eyes. “Here-” Violet put a folder down on Pearl’s desk. “In case you want to actually prepare-”

“Thanks Vivi.”

“Don’t call me that.”

***

“Shit.” Trixie exhaled a groan of frustration as he dumped down in his chair. He had known the email was coming, but it had still felt like a punch to the gut when he’d actually seen it.

Raja had come straight from a meeting with Fame, and Trixie had known it was bad, real bad, when he had seen how Raja’s normally ice cold exterior was chipped.

Trixie sighed, burrowing his head in his hands for a minute. He hated having to push his designers, hated forcing them to deliver in extreme conditions. A few of them thrived on it, Betty always delivering excellent work, while Aiden almost always buckled when he didn’t have time to pay attention to his details.

Trixie reached into his mini-fridge, taking the lunch Pearl had stopped by to drop off for him. It was only 10:30, but he unpacked it anyway. Katya had packed two pieces of carrot cake, a can of diet coke and as Trixie opened the metal container, the lovely smell of Katya’s best mushroom and cheese blinis greeted him.

He opened his drawer, pulling out a fork as he turned his computer on, the promise of carrot cake the only thing getting him through the avalanche of worried emails he knew was waiting for him.

***

Raja heaved a sigh as she stepped off the elevator. She’d been trying to give Trixie a warning about Fame’s current state of mind without causing the EVP of Design to freak out, but couldn’t shake the notion that she’d failed, seeing the crease in his forehead deepen the more she spoke, until she’d finally just left him with a firm pat on the back. She entered her own suite, the rich fabrics and warm colors immediately soothing her, although her relief was short-lived, since Jaida was perched on Ivy’s desk, a stern look on her face.

“I need to talk to you.”

Jaida was the most recent addition to their management team. The bright, resourceful CFO joined them almost two years ago, when Patrick stepped away from the day to day financial management to focus on his own firm. She’d truly been a godsend—immediately understanding the need for creative flexibility in their budgets, and helping to streamline the company’s organization in a way that was incredibly effective even as they grew by leaps and bounds.

But now, Jaida’s beautiful face was about the last one that Raja wanted to see. She was well-aware that Fame’s email had caused mass panic, and Jaida’s mind was probably already spinning in 100 different directions, thinking about how their timelines would now completely change the budget for Fashion Week beyond the normal contingency plan.

Raja gestured to her office, resigned to have this conversation now, and Jaida immediately sailed in, settling on the forest green velvet couch that Raven had picked out. Raja turned to Ivy, requesting some herbal tea, before joining her.

“So, Jaida, what are you brightening my day with?”

“An entire reconceptualization, Raja?”

“I’m aware that-”

“Has she completely lost it? Can’t you talk to her?” Jaida implored.

“Fame has made up her mind.”

“Ughhh!” Jaida’s hand fell into her hands.

“What a mature response-”

Raja was cut off when Shangela burst into the office. One of their longest and most loyal employees, the Director of Operations usually never panicked, taking on every challenge with an almost annoying amount of enthusiastic joy.

It was possible, Raja supposed, that she was extra annoyed by Shangela because of their failed relationship, but she liked to tell herself that that was besides the point.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Shangela exclaimed, taking a seat across from Jaida.

“I was stalking Ms. Gemini here.” Jaida pointed with her thumb.

“Shangela, you’re in my office-” Raja began.

“Listen. I just want to make sure everyone understands the situation at hand. Bendela is already asking to double the staff in the tailoring department through September, and Alyssa says that this is going to potentially triple the budget for the media campaigns, and-”

“I know! It’s a shit show!” Jaida exclaimed.

Raja closed her eyes. Where the fuck was Ivy with her tea?

“I hear your concerns, however, we haven’t even had the creative meeting yet, so don’t you think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“But Bendela says-”

“Of course she does, Shangela.” Raja sighed. Shangela was always so dramatic, but she was irritatingly good at her job.

“Bendela’s been requesting to hire more tailors for months now. That doesn’t mean that her estimate is accurate and if she truly sticks to her guns, Trixie just interviewed potential interns. I’m sure some of them can be assigned to tailoring.”

Ivy pushed her way through the door, a tray with coffee and tea for everyone in her hands.

“Right, okay, but what about-”

“We’re going to get through today, listen to what Fame has to say, what ideas everyone comes up with, and then reconvene tomorrow morning,” Raja said, gratefully accepting the tea that Ivy handed over.

“Fine,” Jaida said. “But if I were you, I’d convince Miss Fame that the current collection is brilliant.”

“You don’t think I tried that?” Raja laughed.

“Fair enough,” Jaida replied, finally letting a small giggle escape.

“Another day in paradise,” Shangela added, rising up from the couch.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #lesbian au #fashion au #pearlet #violet chachki #miss fame #trixie mattel #pearl liaison #raja gemini #jaida essence hall #shangela laquifa wadley

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shazzeaslightnovels · 4 years

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Danmachi 12

Author: Fujino Omori

Illustrator: Suzuhito Yasuda

Label: GA Bunko

Release Date: 24 May 2017

My Score: 4/5

English Release: Yen-press is currently releasing this series in English under the title of Is it Wrong to try to Pick up Girls in a Dungeon?

Art Notes: Do you ever just realise how weird Lili’s design is? Like, Hestia’s design is well-documented as being weird but part of me still finds Lili’s weirder. When I’m watching the anime, my brain auto-corrects her outfit to wearing shorts or jeans because it just refuses to accept her outfit. I mean, a mini-skirt is bad enough for adventuring but why is the buckle never done up? It’s just so weird and feels out-of-character for Lili.

After the events of the Xenos arc, Bell has levelled up yet again, this time to level 4. This means that he has some new abilities and the time for Denatus, the meeting of the gods, has come again and gives Hestia an opportunity to give him a better alias. The Hestia Familia has also ranked up meaning it’s time for them to go on their first expedition. Together with Daphne, Cassandra, Chigusa, Ouka, and Aisha, the Familia head to the 25th floor.

The main point of this volume is to get the reader to appreciate how strong Bell has become and how he has changed and that’s probably my biggest issue with this volume: so much of it is about strong Bell is now to the point that, on a physical strength level, he would be able to solo many floors of the dungeon. It’s not like the others don’t get a chance to shine in this volume; They do and that was great but Bell is so much stronger than them that I can’t help but be annoyed at the power level difference between them. I much prefer it when the series is more about team battles and found family than when it’s about Bell kicking ass on his own and I wish the power balancing was better.

I still rated this volume a 4 stars because it was really entertaining and exciting and I did appreciate seeing the characters other than Bell grow and obtain some new skills in this volume. The action scenes were excellent and I did enjoy the volume overall.

I do have Sword Oratoria 9 lined up for a read soon so I’m looking forward to that because I’m pretty sure it’s going to give me the Ais backstory that I’ve been waiting to learn about.

#Danmachi #is it wrong to try to pick up girls in a dungeon?#dungeon ni deai wo motomeru no wa machigatteiru darou ka #Fujino Omori #suzuhito yasuda #ga bunko #November 2020 #4 stars

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theladyofdeath · 5 years

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Lovely {ACOTAR, ch 5}

written alongside the lovely and talented @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty . Look for chapter 6 coming soon. :) for previous chapters, click the link: Lovely

The clock chimed noon as Elain pushed open the door of Azriel’s tattoo parlor. He was sitting behind his desk, sketching a piece for a customer as he looked up and met her smile with one of his own.

“Hey.”

“Hey, boyfriend,” Elain beamed, holding up a paper bag from the taco food truck down the street. “I brought you lunch.”

“You’re too kind to me,” he said, sitting up off his stool to meet her lips with a soft kiss.

“Nah,” she breathed, coming around to perch on his knee. “I just noticed I hadn’t seen your truck leave yet, and if Rayna isn’t working I know that you,” she pressed a kiss to his nose, “weren’t going to eat lunch.”

He caught her lips with his and traced the seam with his tongue. She allowed him entrance and after a minute, when his hand glided up bare thigh, skimming under her dress, Elain broke the kiss and giggled. Azriel growled slightly, but began to pull his food out of the bag. Carne Asada tacos, with no cilantro. Exactly how he liked it. As he took a bite, Elain made her way over to the mini fridge in the corner and grabbed two water bottles. He opened his and took a drink. “Did you close the shop?”

She shook her head and pulled her own lunch out of the bag. He pulled her back onto his lap. “My assistant designer can handle it while I have lunch.” She took a bite and he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

It had been a week since Azriel has asked Elain to be his girlfriend. A week of surprise visits and coffee dates and the happiest that Elain had ever felt. But they still hadn’t had sex.

It was partially Elain’s fault. He had been ready and willing the night she’d made him dinner, but she made him wait. And now, she was making herself wait and she thought it might cause her to combust.

“What’s this one?” She asked, turning the tablet towards her. She saw intricate lace work, the tiniest details in each eyelet. A bow at the top. And all along the edge...flowers. Tons and tons of flowers.

“It’s for one of the girls who work at Rita’s. She’s one of the bartenders. Mor sent her to me.” He took another swig from his water bottle.

Elain gnawed on her lip. “When you’re done with that one, can you show me your flower pieces you’ve done?”

Without a word, he saved his design, closed the app and opened his archives sketch book. He handed her the pen, allowing her to look to her heart’s content.

“Wow,” she breathed, going through sketch after sketch. “Az, these are beautiful.”

They were flawless, each sketch done with the same amount of love and adoration from the artist. She stopped on a black and white sketch of peonies. The flowers surrounded a pocket watch strung by pearls.

“Have you done this one on anybody?” Elain asked.

Azriel shook his head. “That one is waiting for the perfect person.”

Elain looked up at her boyfriend, brow raised. “Are you dropping a hint?”

Azriel’s small smile told her all she needed to know. But, he gave her a shrug and finished the last half of his taco in one big bite. He washed it down and she handed him back the pen. He opened his sketch again and began shading. He glanced up at her. “Do you have plans tonight?”

She was taking a bite of her quesadilla, covering her mouth as she chewed. She finally shook her head and said, “I don’t think so, why?”

“I’ll have Asher tonight, but I was wondering if you’d want to come over for dinner. My turn to cook for you.”

Her eyebrows raised. “I’ll be by at six, then,” she promised, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

“We’ll be waiting,” he smiled, watching her repack her few belongings.

“I’ll see you later,” she said and bent to kiss him. The second their lips touched, he stood to his full height, wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her until she was perched on the edge of his desk. He hooked a hand under her knee and the same hand from before skimmed up her thigh. He pulled back a fraction, his lips still skimming hers. “I can’t wait.”

He sat back down in his chair and watched as she closed her eyes and physically fought to control herself.

When she opened her eyes, he was smirking at her.

Her cheeks burned. “Yes?”

“You’re beautiful,” he said, voice low.

Every piece of her shook from within.

She picked her bags up and turned to go, but he caught her wrist and pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand. “I’ll see you after work.”

She smiled as he let go and made her way to the door. She looked back at him before she opened it and breathed, “Bye.” With that, she slipped out the door and made her way across the street to her own shop.

As she came back in, Claire was helping a couple finish up an arrangement and she gave Elain a smile and a small wave before returning her attention to the couple.

She made her way into her office but before she could even sit in her chair, her phone was buzzing in her pocket.

“Hello?” she answered, pulling it out of the pocket of her polka-dotted dress.

“Busy tonight?” Lucien asked, sounding out of breath.

Elain blinked. “Yeah, going to Azriel’s. Why?”

“Oh, I see,” he said, in between pants. “You get a boyfriend then your best friend is old news.”

Elain chuckled, but she had to ask, “Please tell me you’re not…in bed with someone right now?”

Lucien laughed. “No, I’m not. I’m at the gym, jogging on the treadmill, but thank you. I see where your mind is at this afternoon.”

He wasn’t wrong, she could still feel Azriel’s hands snaking up her thighs, burning against her skin.

When she didn’t answer, Lucien asked, “Is there something you haven’t told me? Did it happen?” “No,” she replied, quickly. “But...I want it to.”

“You don’t sound like you want it to,” Lucien pushed, gently.

Elain took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she fell back into her desk chair. “I haven’t been with anyone since Greyson, and that was three years ago. It’s a big step, that’s all. And I’m nervous.”

“You don’t have to, you know,” Lucien said, catching his breath. He must have slowed down to a walk. “It’s not like he won’t like you any less if you want to wait. Even if you never get to that point with him, he’s crazy about you.”

Elain nodded and then remembered she was on the phone and had to physically respond. “You’re right, I know that. But I really do want him. There’s just a...pull there. I can’t explain it. I’m drawn to him.”

“Well, be safe,” he said, and it wasn’t judgemental. “Are we still on for brunch Sunday morning?”

“Of course,” she said, turning in her chair to log into her computer. “I’ll talk to you later, I just came back from lunch. Gotta let Claire take hers.”

“Such a good boss,” he teased, but she heard familiar laughter in his voice. “Have fun tonight, Lainy.”

“You too, Luce,” she said, smiling fondly as she hung up the phone.

~~~

The halls were nearly empty after the final bell as Nesta walked toward the performance hall. Cassian had texted her during their final period to meet him there after school, but she didn’t quite make it.

Before she could make it to the hall itself, a strong, calloused hand pulled her into the supply closet, shutting the door behind them.

Cassian grinned in the dim light before pressing his mouth lightly to hers. “Hi.”

“Cass,” she breathed, her hands immediately gripping his shirt as their bodies were pressed together. His lips found her neck and she tightened her grip. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to fuck my girlfriend in the janitor's closet,” he said, lifting her so her legs automatically wrapped around his waist.

No one knew they were a couple. None of their coworkers, their students, and shockingly enough, their families. It’s not that they didn’t trust anyone, they were just enjoying having their own little secret.

Without another word, their lips had found another again. Nesta would never get over this feeling, the feeling of absolute safety and pleasure she got from being in this man’s arms.

After setting her feet on the floor for only a few seconds, her panties were unceremoniously dropped from under her skirt and Cassian undid his pants and was sliding his member against her wetness. He picked her back up, pushing into her in one fluid motion and capturing her lips with his own, stifling a moan that threatened to tear from her. He set a relentless pace, bottles and mops rattling off of the shelves beside Nesta’s body.

She could honestly say that a janitor’s closet was one place she had never had sex, and the thought was almost amusing. But when Nesta opened her eyes to find Cassian watching her with that damned predatory gaze, there was nothing funny about it.

Her lips crashed into his as the grip she had on his shirt tightened.

She felt light, like she was floating on air. Peaceful. Happy. Complete.

He paused and she was about to whine — literally whine — when she heard what he had somehow picked up first: the chatter of voices from outside the door, heading towards the performance hall.

“Shit,” they said, almost in unison, and they laughed lightly, while Cassian put her down and zipped himself back up into his jeans. Nesta began trying to smooth her hair down and brush down her skirt.

“Where’s my thong?” She whispered, frantically looking down in the muddy light from the dusty, hanging bulb.

He held the scrap of blue lace on one finger. “You mean these?” She went to grab them, but he snatched them back and stuck them in his pocket. When she began to protest, he pressed his lips against hers. “Come over tonight and you’ll get them back.”

“Cassian,” she warned, stomping her foot lightly.

“Was that a temper tantrum?” He smirked, brushing a curl back from her face. “Wait about a minute before you leave. I’ll be home at five-thirty.”

He gave her one last bruising kiss on her lips and without another word, he was gone.

She sighed and picked up the bottles they had knocked off. When she determined it had been long enough, she cracked open the door, checked that the coast was clear, and made her way back to her studio.

The only thing she could focus on was how slick she was between her legs as she walked. She had her back to the door and was pulling her purse out of her desk, when she heard a knock at the door.

She turned and quickly sat in her open desk chair as she said, “Dad. Hi. What are you doing here? I thought you wouldn’t be back in town until the end of the month.”

“Wanted to come see my daughter at her dream job,” he smiled. “I’m so proud of you.”

You wouldn’t be if you knew what I was doing in the closet ten minutes ago.

“Thanks, dad,” she said, giving him a side hug.

Things had not always been so good between Nesta and her father. Now, he was often out of town on business. He didn’t see his girls as much, which had actually improved Isaac and Nesta’s relationship.

“So, what do you think?” She asked, gesturing to the room around her. “Same as you remember?”

“It is,” he said, “Although I really like what you’ve done with the place.”

Nesta just opened her mouth to reply when Cassian’s voice came floating from beyond the doorway.

“Oh, Nes, could you also-.” He froze when he entered the doorway, catching sight of Nesta’s father.

The words fell out of Nesta’s mouth. “This is Mr. Nazari. He’s a music teacher here.”

Cassian’s surprised expression eased into something far more relaxed as he reached out his hand for a handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” her father smiled.

Nesta began to cough as their hands touched. From where she was standing, she could see the blue lace of her panties peeking out of his back pocket.

She tried to direct her father’s attention towards her, hoping to catch Cassian’s eye as well. “Dad, have you talked to Elain yet? I’m sure she’d be excited to see you back home so early.”

He walked over to the window as he answered and Nesta tried to get Cassian to look at her. “I spoke to her on my way into town. I wanted to surprise you and Feyre.”

Cassian was looking at Nesta like she was insane as she tried to get him to understand that her underwear were sticking out of his back pocket. She was about to walk over to him when her father turned around. “I was wondering if you’d have dinner with me, Nesta. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Her eyes went wide. “I would, Dad, but I’ve already got dinner plans.”

Cassian had started to awkwardly back out of the room. “Nah, Nes, I’m sure they’d understand. You should have dinner with your father.”

He turned and as he left, Mr. Archeron said, “Son, you got something falling out of your back pocket.” Cassian froze with his hand on the door frame. “I imagine that young lady will be wanting those back.”

He was rubbing the back of his neck as he turned back around, a lazy grin on his mouth. “Yeah...I should go do that. It was...nice meeting you, sir. Miss Archeron.” he dipped his head before hurrying into the hallway.

“Womanizer,” her father mumbled.

Nesta had to press her lips together to keep from laughing. “Well, I suppose I can reschedule my plans if it's important to you.”

He shook his head. “No, sweetheart, I’ll just see you this weekend. Go out. Have fun. You’re only young once.” He gave her a quick hug before leaving out the same door Cassian had just a few minutes before.

One more time, Nesta fell into her chair, but this time, she ran her hands down her face and sighed, which bubbled into riotous laughter. She sent Cassian a text letting him know she’d be over at five-thirty.

~~~

Feyre glanced at her phone for the hundredth time, waiting to see if Rhys had left his apartment yet. She had already ordered a pizza and, according to the tracker on her phone, it was coming to her door in thirty minutes or less.

She had looked at herself in the mirror every five minutes. She didn’t want to look like she wasn’t trying hard enough, but she also didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard for a night in.

She was wearing leggings and an oversized hoodie. Her hair was in a long braid, her makeup flawless.

She had changed her slippers twice, only to settle on a polka dotted pair of fuzzy socks.

It was nearly seven when a quick, obnoxious knock sounded on the door.

The pizza guy stood on her front porch. She stepped out and pulled the door shut behind her.

“Archeron?” He asked. She nodded and he glanced down at the receipt. “$22.17.”

She quickly handed him three ten-dollar bills and told him to keep the change. As he strode down her porch steps and headed to his car, Feyre’s phone chimed.

Leaving now. Be there in 5. Need me to bring anything?

She smiled as she responded.

Pizza is already here, so all I’m missing are you and the drinks. You got that under control, bartender?

His reply was nearly instantaneous.

Pretty sure I can handle that.

“Look at you, smiling at your phone. Must be Rhys.”

His voice felt like nails on a chalkboard, immediately putting her on edge. It was also slurred.

He was right next to her on the porch, somehow getting up the stairs without her notice.

His green eyes were glazed over, his blonde hair a mess. “You used to smile at my texts like that.”

“Why are you here?” She asked. There was no bite, only exhaustion.

He frowned. “I’ve missed you, baby. I want you to come back to me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Feyre shook her head. “Leave. Now. Before Rhys gets here and you’re too drunk to defend yourself.”

She could’ve sworn she watched his hackles raise. “I made a mistake, Feyre. Brannagh was-.”

“Exactly what you needed,” she finished for him. “I’m sure she’s always willing to beg and grovel and get on her knees for you.”

“I’m not with her,” he growled. “You’re the one I want to be with.” His words were starting to string together more and more. “I love you.”

“You don’t get to start this shit.” She shoved hard against his chest, surprised to see she could actually move him. Another shove. “Stop it.”

He shook his head, as if trying to clear a fog. Before she could stop him, his hands were on her face, his lips crashing into hers.

She whimpered against him, pushing so hard against his chest that he went stumbling back. He couldn’t catch himself.

Tamlin, tripping over his own feet, fell to the porch boards, eyes fluttering shut as his alcohol consumed him.

He laid there, perfectly still, breathing steadily.

Feyre wiped his scent off her lips, nausea rolling in the pit of her stomach.

He would never change.

Couldn’t change.

Tamlin had taken too much from his father, searching for happiness in all the wrong places.

“Feyre, what are you-?” Rhysand’s sultry drawl was cut short as he saw Tamlin on the ground and the tears beginning to stream down her face. Before the near silent sob was able to fall from her lips, Rhys was there, face in his hands. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, alright? I’m here.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and Feyre gripped his wrists, grounding herself to him.

“What happened?” He breathed.

She was breathless as she answered. “He snuck up on me when I was paying for the pizza. Then he begged me to take him back and when I said no, he kissed me.” She gestured to him on the ground. “When I shoved him off of me, he hit the ground and passed out.”

Rhysand pressed another gentle kiss to her forehead before letting her go and kneeling by Tamlin’s head on the ground. He checked a few places on his neck and then lifted his arm by the wrist and let it go.

It landed on the porch with a resounding thud.

“Yep, he’s out.” He looked up at her. “Want me to call the police?”

She could tell that regardless of whatever history they had, he was offering for her, not for his own gain.

She shook her head. “Help me get him inside.”

Rhysand hesitated, but nodded nonetheless. He gathered Tamlin in a not-so gentle manner before dragging him through Feyre’s door and lugging him onto the couch in the living room.

Rhys gagged. “He smells like shit, where the hell has he been?”

Feyre sighed, softly shutting the door behind them. “I don’t know. Don’t want to know.”

Rhysand’s face softened as he met her where she stood on her welcome mat. “Are you okay?”

She nodded again and he pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“Not exactly how I saw our evening starting,” he said quietly, running a finger over the back of her hand.

She couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled from her. “Me either.” Her eyes widened. “Oh crap, the pizza! I left it on the porch.”

He kissed her again and said, “Pick any movie for us to watch, even a chick flick, and I’ll watch it for you. I had something in mind, but you choose.”

“My couch is kind of occupied,” she said, nibbling on her lip.

“Oh.” Rhys looked at Tamlin passed out on her couch. He glanced back at her.

“We could go up to my room instead?”

Rhys’s eyes widened. “That’s, uh- That- Yeah, that should be fine.”

Feyre raised a brow at his boyish stuttering before grabbing the pizza from the porch and leading him upstairs.

She had cleaned her room, which she hadn’t done in quite some time, just in case he came up. Now, she was grateful that she did.

Rhys looked around as he entered and smiled fondly.

There were unfinished paintings littering her room, lining all of the walls and propped against every piece of furniture. There were tapestries draped from ceiling to floor and string lights were draped on every surface, strung across the draping. It coated the room in a soft glow.

It was exactly how he’d imagined it.

She tossed the pizza onto the covers and crawled onto the bed. Rhys tried not to focus on the way her hips swayed as she moved across to the other side.

He sat down, hesitantly, on the edge.

“You don’t have to do that,” Feyre laughed.

“Do what?” He asked.

“It’s just a bed,” she said, simply, blue eyes softening. “I’m not going to try and seduce you.”

He almost told her that he wished she would, but thought better of it. He swung his legs onto her midnight blue comforter as his body began to relax.

“So,” she began, grabbing the remote and flipping through the different streaming services. “Comedy? Scary movie? A drama? Or a tv show?”

His eyebrows rose as he looked at her. “A tv show? That would require me to come back over to continue watching it. Are you sure you want to start something with that much commitment?”

Feyre rolled her eyes, but tossed the remote his way and grabbed a slice of pizza. “Fine then, you choose. You said you had something in mind anyways, didn’t you?”

Rhys caught the remote before it landed on his lap and chuckled.

He flipped through the options, stopping on a murder mystery documentary.

“Really?” Feyre asked, brow raised. “That’s what your choosing for a date night?”

Rhysand grinned. “Scared?”

“No,” she stated. “Unimpressed? A little.”

“You wound me, woman,” he said, kicking his shoes off and reclining back on the bed. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

Soon enough, Rhys had scooted over to Feyre’s side of the bed and his arm was thrown around her.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Feyre mumbled, voice sleepy, “but this documentary is terrible.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, and Feyre glanced up, seeing the smirk on his face. “I was just waiting for you to say so, so I could do this.”

His lips were on hers and his hand gripped her thigh.

She laughed against his mouth, her hand instantly reaching up to cup his stubbled cheek. The pizza and the documentary were instantly forgotten as her tongue gently swept along his bottom lip.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling away. She inclined her head downstairs. “About him. He kinda put a damper on our night.”

Rhys rolled them until he was on top of her, his weight pressing her down into the mattress. “I’m not going to say that I was planning to be a perfect gentleman tonight, but,” he breathed, kissing down her neck. “I’m not going to take you for the first time while your ex, who I just happen to hate, is passed out on your couch.”

Feyre’s breath hitched. “Tease,” she breathed.

He chuckled, low and deviously. “I’m just telling you the truth.”

But it was the truth that created the throbbing between her thighs.

As if he knew, he pressed his impressive length into her core, grinding into her. She gasped and his eyes snapped up to look at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were dark.

He dropped his forehead to her chest and whispered, “Fuck,” before rolling off of her. Feyre sat up but didn’t say a word. She understood. If they didn’t stop, they were going to do exactly what he’d just swore, consequences and ex-boyfriends be damned.

She wanted him, though. That much was obvious. He was perfectly beautiful, perfectly kind. Her heart skipped a beat when she looked at him, much less when he was on top of her, tongue slipping between her lips.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

Something primal flashed in his violet eyes as they trailed from her mouth, then back up to her eyes.

They wouldn’t go all the way.

They would save that for another night.

But for tonight, Feyre would take what she could get.

——————

At five-thirty on the dot, Nesta pulled into a parking spot of the apartment complex Cassian had sent her the address to after she told him she’d be coming. She looked up the stairs, to the door marked 221. She glanced down at her outfit, at the leggings and oversized VIA hoodie she wore. He’d told her to dress comfortable, but she was worried she’d gone too far. She quickly pulled the hoodie over her head, dropping it onto the passenger seat, leaving her in nothing but a soft pink camisole. She groaned and grabbed her purse and keys, getting out of the car before she could stop herself.

She hurried up the steps and gave the door two quick knocks.

No answer.

She knocked again, but still, the door went unanswered.

She quickly dialed his number and called him, able to hear his phone ringing faintly from inside.

After the phone went to voicemail, she waited a minute before hesitantly knocking one more time.

The door swung open.

Cassian stood in nothing but a towel, wet hair dripping down his body.

“For cauldron’s sake, woman, I didn’t think you’d actually be here at five-thirty exactly.”

Nesta wasn’t listening though. Nesta was watching one droplet of water that had cascaded down over his chest, fallen into the grooves of his abs, and was now trailing into his towel along the defined V on his hips.

He grinned, leaning against the doorframe. “See something you like, sweetheart?”

Her eyes snapped to his. “Awfully cocky tonight, are we?”

“Last time I checked you liked my cockiness,” he winked. “Please, come in.”

With a roll of her eyes, she entered. “It smells delicious in here. Did you…actually cook something?”

“I’m not just a pretty face,” he said, shutting his front door. “I have many talents.”

She set her purse down on the table by the door and turned to face him. She glanced down at his towel again.

“Yeah,” he drawled and the slight blush that rose on his cheeks made him look boyishly charming, despite his nakedness. “I’ll be right back. There’s wine in the fridge.” He softly pressed a kiss to her lips and as he stepped around her, she briefly debated the idea to follow him back to his room.

But she didn’t, thanks to a ridiculous amount of self control.

She helped herself to a glass of wine and sat at his small kitchen table. She felt like that was too formal, so she made her way to the couch.

She wasn’t good at this stuff.

Sex? Yeah, that she was pretty good at. Actually being in a relationship? Eh.

She heard his footsteps coming back down the hall and she quickly crossed her leg over her knee and she kicked his coffee table.

She cried, “Ow! Fuck.”

He came around the corner and was on red alert. “Baby, what happened? Are you okay?”

He was crouched in front of her, his hand resting over hers on her ankle.

She didn’t move. Just looked at him.

She whispered, “You’ve never called me baby.”

He blinked. “Does it bother you?”

No. It didn’t bother her. It actually made her stomach flip and her heart beat faster.

“You may call me whatever you wish,” she said.

He leaned up on his knees and pressed his mouth to hers, slowly, tenderly.

“I can’t cook.”

Nesta pulled back. “What?”

“Azriel is making dinner for your sister tonight. I went to the store with him this afternoon and got all the same ingredients.”

Nesta sputtered a laugh. “So you are just a pretty face, then.”

His grin is what made her mouth find his, once more.

Baby.

She was his baby.

She pulled him on top of her on the couch and dinner was long forgotten, whether it was edible or not.

————

Elain was on the way back to the kitchen from the restroom when she spied the door left open across the hall from Azriel’s bedroom. She didn’t want to intrude, but she couldn’t stop herself from quietly pushing the door open.

The nursery was decorated in blacks and grays, just like the rest of the house, but random flashes of color kept it from being morose.

She smiled, softly, to herself.

Azriel had put so much thought into it. His love for his son was perfectly portrayed in the little nursery.

Elain admired the sketches that were framed on the wall. Azriel had drawn himself, and Asher, and one of them together.

“He doesn’t get to spend much time here, but I want him to think of this as his home.”

Elain jumped from where she’d been trailing her fingers along the railing of the black crib. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-.”

“It’s okay.” He smiled and she could tell it was genuine. He stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, dropping a kiss to the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

“I’ve always wanted a big family,” Elain breathed. “Growing up with two sisters, I always knew, that’s how I wanted it to be. I can’t imagine it any other way.”

Azriel was silent for a minute and Elain was about to turn in his arms to face him when his arms tightened around her waist and he said, “I’ve always wanted a big, loving family because I never had one.”

He didn’t sound sad though, just thoughtful.

Elain turned and faced him. “I have no doubt you will have that someday.”

A small smile twisted his lips. “Your kindness is overwhelming, sometimes. Do you ever get mad? Annoyed? Have you ever cursed?”

Elain laughed, forehead falling against his chest. “Oh, yes. I curse all the time. In my mind.”

He laughed then, too, and the rumble in his chest shook her body lightly. “Will you curse for me?”

She glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”

“I want to hear you swear. Say a cuss word.” There was a light in his eyes that she wouldn’t have been able to say no to if she tried.

“Fine,” she said, and took a deep breath in. “Hell.”

Azriel threw back his head in laughter. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I said it,” she said, laughing herself.

“You said a place,” he said, resting his hands on her hips. “Give me a real one. And use it in a sentence.”

She gnawed on her lip, glancing down at the black ink peeking out of his v-neck shirt. She looked up at him, into his hazel eyes, as she breathed, “I want you to fuck me.”

Azriel leaned back, only slightly, his hazel eyes wide with surprise. “Was that…an example or an actual fact?”

“Both,” she whispered.

He leaned down and kissed her. “Dinner first. Then we’ll see about the rest.”

He walked away, glancing at her over his shoulder through his dark bangs, smiling tauntingly.

Elain didn’t move for a good minute. Her cheeks began to heat, her thoughts running rapidly through her mind.

It wasn’t until Asher began to fuss that she was snapped back into reality.

She made her way back down the stairs and found Azriel holding Asher while he stirred whatever delicious smell was filling the kitchen.

She sat down at the bar across from the stove, watching him, and said, “You never told me you could cook.”

“Sort of a hobby of mine.” He was bouncing Asher on his hip.

She smiled at the sight. “What are you making me?”

“Cajun chicken pasta,” he said. “Homemade sauce.”

Elain rested her chin on her hands. “Homemade, huh?”

He chuckled, bouncing Asher as he turned to face her. “You’re going to be pleasantly surprised. Promise.”

She stood up and walked around the island, reaching out and taking Asher from him. He immediately began to coo and kick. He gripped her hair and pulled. “Ow, okay, ow.” She laughed and she worked his chubby fingers from her hair, letting him cling to her finger. He began to laugh and Elain giggled, looking down at him.

She glanced up and blushed as she found him watching her, a hip leaned against the table.

“What?” She asked, swapping Asher to her other hip.

He reached out, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “You’re going to be an amazing mother.”

Elain felt her cheeks heating as she arched a brow. “Is that so?”

He nodded, smiling at her newfound nervousness.

His comment from the hallway came back to her mind.

Dinner first, then we’ll see about the rest.

Elain cleared her throat, setting Asher in his high chair by the table. She opened her mouth to change the subject, but nothing came.

“Ready to eat?” He asked, grabbing two — surprise, surprise — matte black bowls from the cupboard.

“Starved,” she said, taking a long drink and emptying her wine glass.

“Good,” he glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled.

He served them both, refilling Elain’s wine glass and opened a small jar of puréed carrots for Asher. The baby immediately resisted when he tried to put the spoon to his lips and Azriel sighed. “I gave him banana baby food one time and now nothing else is good enough.”

Elain laughed quietly and took a bite of her pasta. She dropped her fork back into the bowl and moaned.

When she opened her eyes, Azriel was staring at her with an intensity she’d never seen.

Elain quickly took another bite. “This is delicious.”

Azriel did nothing, didn’t move. It wasn’t until Asher began banging on his high chair table that Azriel blinked.

“Thank you,” he said, although his voice was quiet.

They ate their meal in silence, though, and as per usual, it was completely comfortable. They randomly caught each other’s eye and before long, Asher has dozed off in his high chair.

Azriel quickly finished off his food and picked Asher up. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna put him down.”

He left, leaving Elain to quickly check her breath. Although delicious, Cajun chicken pasta was not a very good meal to have before…

This was it.

It was the night.

Elain was nervous, but in a good way. A shock of thrill and affection shot through her body.

Waiting for his return felt like hours.

Finally, she heard him coming back down the stairs. She turned and looked at him as he reached the main floor. His hands were in his pockets and he looked up at her through his lashes. “Sorry, he woke back up right after I put him-.”

Elain had stood from her chair, crossed the room and crashed her lips against his, cutting him off. His arm snaked around her waist and his hand dove into her hair.

Azriel was quiet. He was respectful, and kind, and genuine. But as he kissed her, he was everything but the gentleman she had come to know. It wasn’t that he was disrespectful in any way, but he was rough. There was a need radiating through him that Elain mirrored.

Breaking apart from him in any way in that moment felt like the end of the world.

He gripped her under the thighs and lifted her, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. There was no need to ask where he should take her, no need to remove his lips from hers.

When they entered his bedroom, her back did not meet plush expanse of the bed as she expected. No, he pressed her up against the wall, his hips pinning her in place as his palms pressed against the wall by her head. He tugged her bottom lip between his teeth and Elain gasped lightly.

He immediately pulled back, his eyes bright with desire. His gaze left her face, after snagging on her parted lips, dragging down her neck, to her chest, and then to her spread legs wrapped around him.

A shudder shook Elain’s slim frame.

It wasn’t that this would be her first time. She had made love to men before, and she had enjoyed them plenty, but her heart had never pounded inside of her chest as it was doing at this moment.

Azriel was not like the others.

She cared for him as if she had known him her entire life.

Her desire for him was a feeling that should have been impossible, fictional, but wasn’t.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. “I’m perfectly fine with going back downstairs and turning on a movie.”

Elain didn’t reply. Her arms wrapped tighter around his neck and she crashed her lips against his.

As they kissed, she worked her hands down to the hem of his shirt and lifted it. He broke the kiss and pulled it over his head. The sight of him made her mouth water.

The black ink that covered his arms continued onto his body, the swirls and whorls cascading down his chest and even onto his abdomen.

He spun them and carefully laid Elain on the bed, his lips finding her neck as he began to work the button on her jeans.

He continued his handiwork until she was bare before him.

Elain was not fond of being naked in front of a man, but he made her feel like a goddess.

She felt beautiful, invincible, ethereal.

She met his gaze as his skin, every inch of him, was pressed against her own. Azriel moved a strand of brown hair out of Elain’s eyes with steady, scarred fingers.

He pressed one, long kiss against her lips as he lifted her hips, her legs wrapping up around his waist as he pushed his length into her.

Elain’s eyes fluttered shut, her lips falling open as her body tensed from the contact.

He stilled once he was inside of her, letting her adjust to his size, his lips brushing over her cheeks, nose, eyelids, forehead. He kissed her lips, letting his hands roam over her body.

Elain stayed still, enjoying the fullness, the feeling of him filling her, until she felt like she was burning from the inside out. Her nails dug into his back as she began to writhe beneath him, aching for friction.

Azriel took the hint and slowly began to slide out of her. The headboard hit the wall as slammed back into her in a hard thrust. Elain cried out, his mouth still pressed against hers, and she clung to him as he set an unrelenting pace.

She suddenly could remember nothing, nothing else but him. She could barely remember who she was as his mouth slid along her jawbone, down to her neck, his tongue dancing along her burning skin.

Her released barreled into her all at once, surprising her, and she threw her head back in utter ecstasy. She had the vague notion of hearing herself calling his name, but could only focus on the feel of his hips rolling into hers.

Azriel was able to hold himself together until Elain begged, “Azriel, please,” and he began to spill himself inside of her with a groan.

After a while of making love and yearning for a life of staying in bed with the man beside her, Elain couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. As she lay awake with her head against his chest, tracing the ink along his tanned skin, Elain Archeron fell in love.

#lovely #tacmc #throne of ashes and beauty #collab #fanfic #acotar #acomaaf #acowar #acofas #elriel #feysand #numbness #fanfiction

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rovalent · 5 years

Photo

After much preparation, it is time for their mini-guerilla concert to happen!

As stated previously, they’ll be performing ‘I Feel Good’, ‘Mini Skirt’, ‘Boy’, and ‘Like A Cat’ from their own discography tracklist. They were given the choice of doing two special performances: one will be a dance routine to ‘Cray In Love’ and the other is a full cover of ‘I’m Fine’ by DE:CODE. They’ll go to the IFC Mall in Yeouido where the concert will happen on March 13th. The entire show will last around 30 minutes including the performances, the start and end ments, as well as the talk times in between. The members will be dressed as based on this image:

Ashe — LE

Cheri — Solji

Ella — Jeonghwa

Yena — Hani

Zoe — Hyerin

Seoul’s Fashion Week will start on March 16th, going until March 21st. All of the members were invited to watch the show on March 16th, while Ella was chosen to walk for the designer UL:KIN. She’ll wear two outfits: 1, 2. On their way to the event, they’ll all stop for photos on the ramp leading up to the blue carpet, and on the carpet itself.

On March 16th, the whole group will head out for a recording of After Mom Is Asleep for the S-POP Channel. You may use this video as a reference!

The Season of Spring will start this month and, to commemorate it, Music Bank canceled its usual airing on March 27th in favor of a special concert—and Luxe is invited! The group will perform two songs: ‘Cherry Pop’ and ‘Like A Cat’. They’ll wear the clothes as seen in this image.

Ashe — Hyejeong

Cheri — Mina

Ella — Jimin

Yena — Chanmi

Zoe — Yuna

Apart from their group stages, Ella will also take part in a special stage along with other idols. She’ll do a performance of the song ‘Trouble Maker’ along with B.Mil from DE:CODE. They’ll initially learn the choreography apart, but, since they’re from the same company, they will be able to meet up on certain dates to practice together with the presence of their dance coaches. They’ll record the song beforehand on March 20th.

From March 22nd on, they’ll start learning the dance of their next title track, Up & Down. At the start, Yena will be the one standing in the center.

The girls will all go to their usual hair salon on the March 29th to get their styling for this comeback, or just to make sure their hair is in good condition. They’ll all be going together in one morning trip. Members who changed their hairstyles are told not to reveal them to the public until their next official public appearance.

Ashe — Blonde (reference)

Cheri — Brown (reference)

Ella — Black (reference)

Yena — Dark brown (reference)

Zoe — Bronze brown (reference)

Ella will continue to film her drama, but this month will have an extra degree of excitement: the drama will start to air! The episodes will air two times a week, on Wednesday and on Thursday, the first one airing on March 25th. The finale will be on May 28th. Ella will have to attend a press conference on the day of release, March 25th, along with the rest of the cast and the director that will explain the plot simply, as well as the characters, through questions and answers which can be referenced by this video. She’ll be dressed as seen in this image.

To help promote the drama, she’ll go to a recording of an interview for Kocowa TV after the press conference is over along with her co-stars Kim Minji, Hong Hyun, Na Joonhyuk (NPC playing Kim Tan), and Kim Dongha (NPC playing Choi Youngdo). You may use this video as a reference. On March 26th, she’ll go along with the four other cast members to Kiss The Radio, and on March 30th to Idol Radio.

Zoe will be pulled aside by their manager on March 9th to let her know of a new opportunity. The people in charge of the musical ‘Legally Blonde’ are checking for interest on her taking part in it, but with no big role. She’ll be given a dancer role and will start practicing to along with the rest of the cast starting on March 16th. Her practice times won’t be as intense as the lead actors, so she’ll be given some liberty, especially as an idol. She may use some of her free time after practicing for her songs to work on the musical at the Royal building. Musicals take a long time to prepare, so she should work hard until it is ready for its first performances in a couple of months time.

Meanwhile, a producing team enters in contact with Royal Entertainment to offer audition opportunities to a new drama of theirs. This time, Cheri is the one who is offered this opportunity. The role she’s auditioning for wasn’t specified, nor was the drama they’ll be producing described. She is to choose any scene of her liking to act for an audition on March 28th. The results will come out the following month.

You will gain +5 POINTS TO DISTRIBUTE AS YOU WISH, +3 DEBUT POINTS and +2 ACHIEVEMENTS for completing the written requirements as explained on the idol tier page. As this is not a promotional month, you may choose any two achievements for the month’s points. There is a capped maximum of five solos, sets of starters and/or partnered threads you may write for to collect this month’s points.

* For clarification, old threads from previous months will count towards points so long as they fulfill the requirements as explained on the idol tier page. However, at least one of this month’s requirements must be written about the schedule to gain any points for March.

The only form that needs to be submitted at the end of the month is a verification form for your debut points and achievements. Any SP points earned can be collected as soon as you finish the requirement for them. At the end of the month, you will submit the following form to the Points Verification blog:

IDOL’S NAME - ROYAL ENT - MARCH SCHEDULE (for the April 1 verification form)

PROOF OF ACTIVITY: [ x ]

POINTS: +00 SP [ distribute these however you like ]

TOTAL POINTS EARNED: +00 SP +00 DBT

+1 WK ACHIEVEMENT #1 [ NUMBER OF TIMES TAKEN + CURRENT LEVEL ]

+1 WK ACHIEVEMENT #2 [ NUMBER OF TIMES TAKEN + CURRENT LEVEL ]

IF DO MAX REQS. : +1 WK ACHIEVEMENT #3 [ NUMBER OF TIMES TAKEN + CURRENT LEVEL ]

DEBUT POINTS SPENT ON THE IDOL SHOP THIS MONTH:

NEW DEBUT POINTS TOTAL:

**** For their guerrilla mini-concert, Luxe will receive 6 EXP. For their group appearances on the fashion week, the group will receive 1 EXP, while Ella’s walk on the runway gives another 1 EXP. Their appearance in the S-POP channel gives 1 EXP. Their performances on the Spring Concert gives 2 EXP, and Ella’s special stage gives 1 EXP. The airing of ‘The Heirs’ gives 5 EXP. Ella’s drama promotion gives 3 EXP, making it a total of 20 EXP. For more information regarding GROUP EXP, refer to the idol tier page.

#rkluxe #luxe:mar20

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kierongillen · 5 years

Text

Writer Notes: The Wicked + the DIvine 42

Spoilers, obv.

Probably time for the periodic reminder that these notes are an assorted of random thoughts, and any attempt to take anything I describe herein as the sole reason we did anything is a mistake. I would hope by this stage of WicDiv we should recognise that, in that it's one of the book's major themes – as in, Be Careful When Jumping To Conclusions From Limited Information, but it's worth stressing. I was talking to a friend, and the idea came up that when the whole thing is over, to do a whole OTHER set of writer notes about the writer notes. As in, "Now this is all over, I can actually talk about some of the things I wasn't talking about at this stage." As we step towards the end, more of that big picture stuff is going to creep in. Not yet though – when thinking of this issue, I thought "Shall I write this?" and realised it still is too early.

I will be glad when this is done, for many reasons, but being able to just talk freely is one of them. I also suspect I won't be doing a huge amount of that. DIE has no writers notes per se, and that's the direction I'm heading.

Anyway - "Okay" is six issues, but the last issue is an epilogue. That means the arc is actually five issues, and this is its mid-point. It's also one of those issues where when after I wrote it I realised that the dovetailing material had created an unusually prominent thematic backbone. Last time I can think of one as strong would be issue 31, where the concept of Theft just percolated it. This is even strong.

This is an issue primarily about masculinity and the men in the story. Two of those men die. One man reaches the key turning point. Two other men have clearly key beats. This is rare in WicDiv, where the women tend to be at the centre of the plot.

Jamie/Matt's Cover: Which makes the cover being this somewhat pointed. Brunhilde, smeared in blood. All our covers are inspired by something inside the issue, and someone in it. This is in the tradition of issue 10's cover, which promises something obliquely.

Vanesa Del Rey's Cover: I love Vanesa's work – do read Redlands – so getting her to do a full-witchy Norns made a lot of sense.

Page 1

One page scene, which is telling. As the solicits put it "I just read the synopsis for this issue and gaped. We’re actually going to do all this in an issue? That AND that AND that? Honestly, this last arc really is going for it." When writing that, it was a question I clearly asked myself. How can I get all this in? Any one of the three set-pieces is probably enough drama for an issue, but they structurally speaking have to be here.

As each key scene is so big we give them as much space as possible, so everything else is crunched down. The scene structure is 1-5-1-6-1-4-3. And the last two scenes could really be read as 1-1-5 in terms of what the pages are doing – or maybe 1-1.5-4.5.. Each of the big stories actually get five pages – the 6 is actually 5 pages of page budget.

Anyway – TIGHT!

As the antagonists were missing from last issue, we catch up with them here, giving Baal a key baal image of standing on top of the shard. Look what Jamie does with the verticality of that first panel. Even on a five panel page, it feels big.

Matt's using a purple palette her – which is the Inanna palette that Baal turns to occasionally, for obvious reasons.

Still – even with a one page scene, we get two silent panels, plus the WicDivian use of mobile phone read out. I'll miss working with this team. It's easy to see what we do in the set-pieces, but it's the basic work which is a delight.

First of Jamie's strong expressions at the end of the page.

Christ. This much words on the first page. I'll cut down.

Page 2

Bible quote from John, subverted. I often think of these kind of truisms like that. The whole "What does not kill you only weakens you for final inevitable collapse" kind of thing.

Page 3-7

PoV shot to keep the reveal of the Creature for the page turn, leaving room for Jamie's quiet acting. I like trying to keep these kind of scenes quite low key, to ground the fantasy of it. What would you do when seeing something like the Creature? What would you do after five minutes of exposure?

The PoV hopefully reminds people of when we've seen this before – as in, Minerva. The Captions re-set the stakes, and adds more specific information. Clearly we could have said the "we need him on our side or not alive" at the end of last issue, but that would have complicated things, especially as it's a story route we're not going down here.

The heads thing is my biggest lampshading of the key thing in this arc – as in, not everyone knows everything, and the holes in the knowledge is significant. Trying to remember who knows what and when is one of the many challenges.

In terms of "this is everything I've ever loved" the visual reference I gave Jamie was the people entombed and dismembered in Aliens. The 2 panel reveal is a standard thing we've done since Phonogram. As I've said before, I quite like having a response next to an image rather than on the next page.

The catch up is a necessary paraphrase of the specials, including a little extra information. This arc features quite a bit of this (next issue especially) in terms of making concrete things which readers may not actually work out. There's stuff which I don't explain – but the 1831-Inanna-was-not-a-god would very much be among them. As I've also said before, I've always been interested in which things actually make people theorise and which don't, and I never saw anyone question that element of 1831 – I suspect a re-reading of 1831 the tells are clear.

(Her grasping that necklace in most of the scenes is one of the more subtle ones, but when you realise that she's not telling you a key fact, it's very much the sister issue to Woden's 14 in "When you know what the narrator is not telling you, it all changes." That her own transformation is completely skirted over is a huge absence.)

To state the obvious, the Why Some Bits Of 1921 Had To Be In Prose may also be clear now. If we'd shown the Zeitgeist, you'd have known who she was.

I love what Jamie did with the Metropolis-inspired element of the design on her on the wall.

Page 6 has another of "The characters know different stuff, so we have to be true to the characters, and then avert the derailment" captions.

Jamie has to work overtime in this whole sequence, of course – Baal's realisation of the awful horror of what he's done is happening at the same time as an information download. That the information download is what hits Baal ties it together, but does mean these are dense panel layouts. Jamie's choice of moments. The expression in the last page of 6 just kills me.

The last page of the sequence is just horrible. There is a lot of horrible in this issue.

Page 8

And the second of the one-page scenes. I originally had Mimir go up to the surface to make the call, but remembered I'd already established at least 3G coverage in the underground.

Let us applaud Jamie's design for the jury-rigged Mimir phone for a second, and the expression as he sends, and the shot as he walks back. There's a lot here.

Yes, I'm aware that it's a little strange that we get the heads free again (and three with bodies) and this is the only action by them in the next issue is this. They'll have their time soon enough.

This is another heartbreaker. Dominoes falling.

Page 9

Reference to Crisis on Infinite Earths, the 1980s DC event which basically formalised the modern crossover

Page 10-15

Another tightly packed scene, but also one I knew we needed space on. Abstractly the first two pages could be a single page. In fact, in terms of page budget, they are. We're using repeats (and tiny tweaks) on panels to extend a moment, so we give Woden the appropriate amount of time to actually think this through. Woden's mask has been a major boon for such trickery, and this scene wouldn't have played nearly as well. Note how we turn to a rigid grid to ensure this actually works.

There's a lot of great expressions in this issue, but Minerva's "It's a name as good as any" is an under-rated one. The soft change from "be"ing Mini to "be"ing Ananke.

Page 12 reveal of the Valk's teleporting in the sort of colouring rush I want to stand up and applaud for.

Minerva's explanation to Woden is another thing we're doing this arc – as in REALLY making explicit things which the reader has been 100% shown already, and may have missed. (We've seen Minerva appear out of nowhere twice. We see that she has the same memories – she knows the number to call to contact Ananke. We've seen they don't share a consciousness because she has to phone to tell Ananke where she is when she arrives in 2013, etc) but it's such key stuff to the understanding of the story that it's important to state it outright.

Anyway, Woden's fucked. It's been a long time coming, and he gets consumed by his hamartia. It's not the cleanest example of it, but it's there. He had several chances to back out of this, but at the end, he still is trying to treat other people like objects to further his own needs.

The Maened death sequence connected to the hive mind was set up all he way back in issue 8, of course. There is a lot that's horrible here – the revenge against Woden is hollow. The Valkyries are still being used as tools, after all.

Still... that at this late stage that Minerva, for all her obvious monstrosity, can still get a fist-pump moment from the readers for killing another character is a sign of how loathsome a certain other character is.

Minerva provides the back quote here too. "I am oh so bored of men like you." Rarely has a quote fit an issue as well, I suspect.

I do wonder how long I would have stretched out the death sequence given more space. Probably for the best- this is metronomic, clinical, and horrible. The use of the grid and the hard cuts sort of reminds me of some of the dance-beat stuff we did.

Page 16

Another one page scene, and definitely one I'd have given more time to in another issue... but that moment with Baal and his family and him being seen was absolutely essential. Once again, Jamie does a lot with six panels – the thing one of Baal's expression in panel 5 is a hell of a thing. Laura's captions also do the heavy lifting connecting the scenes. This is a mode I'm more using over in DIE.

The middle panel is interesting for Jamie's choices – very wide, to show the fight scene in almost scrolling fighter way, but still giving space to see Laura and Cass arrive. There is a LOT here. Compare and contrast with the previous panel, which gives the more traditional comics action shot, used in a stealth mode. Jamie is very good here.

Page 17-20

Back in the underworld. Panel swap from the blues and whites of the previous page to the warm reds. In some ways, 17 could be seen as one of those one page scenes. This is Baal and Inanna. What can I say? No more than Baal can, clearly.

18 is the last elements of set up for next issue, but is also clearly setting up the end of the issue. The "Ever" from Nergal is obviously loaded – it's a Now Or Never.

"Faces are remaining distinctly unkicked." Oh, Lucifer, I missed you so.

The "It's gone midnight" bit from Cass on 19 is something I suspect I'll cut for the trade – it's an artefact from me trying to overexplain something. Reminding people of the failsafe from Imperial Phase is enough.

19 also is one of my favourite beats, in that it's not part of WicDiv's planned structure, and just listening to the characters. Of course, Cass would say something inappropriate about Woden's death. Of course, Mimir would be heartbroken. And, of course, Cass would realise. Being better is hard. Cass's "I'm so sorry" is an amazing panel from Jamie. I've been there.

20 is tightly wound too – I could have given more space, at the expense of the next scene. In the end, I decided this was the right way to go. I haven't changed my mind.

In the original draft Cass's last line was "Oh fuck." After Baal's line, it seemed too much... and you always know things are going badly when Cass doesn't swear.

Page 23

Reference to Satre's perhaps most famous line.

Page 24-26

Nine panel grid, back again. It's taken a late period WicDiv life of its own, right?

There's little I can say about this – partially as I don't want to, partially because it's still too early. It's the sort of thing I may talk about in issue 44's notes.

It's a slow motion showcase of Jamie's acting. I'd never write this for almost anyone else. This is as real a sacrifice as we can get, and the longer we spend with the moment, the realer it is, but only if it's grounded visually.

Baph's own story was about his fear of death. He's the character who tried to kill other people to scramble out of this. He's come to a place where he does this. Normally WicDiv gods are consumed by their hamartia. I believe Baph is the first who actually overcome his. This scene breaks my heart.

(This Corrosion just turned up in shuffle, and the like a healing hand howl is a bit too close to the bone.)

Last page is astounding. Not a way I'd have pictured it in a million years.

Page 27

I believe uniquely for WicDiv, this is a continuing interstitial. As in, a response to the previous one. Issue 43 is going to be late, for the health reasons I describe at the back of the issue. It's at the printers now.

Thanks for your patience and thanks for reading.

#WicDiv #the wicked and the divine #writer notes

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chungha-supremacist · 6 years

Text

No borders - Chapter 1

word count: 2565

SUMMARY:

“It’s just us 5 right?”

“Forever.”

“No men allowed… ever. Let’s promise to eachother that we will never let any man come in between us!”

“Never!”

Naive promises told at a young age, just between 5 best friends. They promised their world to eachother, “best friends ‘till death breaks us apart”. 10 Years passed. The same 5 girls, but no longer blinded by those “stupid promises”. It will be broken. The promise of a lifetime. The lust of love is what makes us all see unclear. We lose our friends, or soulmates, we fall for the unknown, we fall for lies and for the feeling of being important to someone who will drag us far away from who truly matters.

“Forget about the world… forget about them… right now, it’s only me and you. They don’t need to know that I love you.”

CATEGORY: F/F; F/M

Fandom: RED VELVET (Band), NCT (Band)

Relationships: Park Sooyoung / Kim Yerim; Bae Joohyun / Kang Seulgi; Son Seungwan / Nakamoto Yuta

Characters: Park Sooyoung; Kim Yerim, Bae Joohyun, Kang Seulgi, Son Seungwan, Seo Youngho, Jung Jaehyun, Nakamoto Yuta, Dong Si Cheng, Wong Yuk Hei, Lee Taeyong, Chung Ha

Additional Tags: friendship,angst, mistrust, lies, cheating, lesbian interactions, smut, fluff, fashion, models, rich life, etc

RATED: SMUT, FLUFF, ANGST.

CHAPTER 1

“Buckle up, LESBIANS! We’re going shopping!”

“What… the… fuck.” Says Seulgi half-asleep, looking like a mess, standing on the edge of the bed.

“Are you deaf! I need a new dress, girl, and GUESS WHAT, you and Joohyun are the only ones home!” says Yeri while waving the keychain on her index finger. Yeri has always been like this. The soul, the spirit, the jokester of the “group”. They all “hated” her extravaganza, but what could they do? After all, without Yeri, they would’ve been a mess of boring, lazy and soulless singles. She is the one that takes them to all the parties, or more to say, ‘drags them’. They met all their friends through Yeri, including most of their male friends. After all “a male is a girl’s best friend”, to quote Yeri.

“Did I just hear-“ Joohyun makes a pause while scratching her messy-morning hair, standing in the doorway. “Yerim… What a pleasant surprise…” says Joohyun through gripped teeth.

Joohyun , or ‘Irene’ as her nickname is, has never been like this. When younger, Irene was very eccentric and party-animal. She was just like Yeri. Now, years have put their pattern on her… Tired, exhausted of life… It’s true, she’s only 27 years old, she’s still a “young flower”, but her big, dark eye circles say otherwise. She doesn’t live with Seulgi, but last night it happened that these two went out drinking and Irene was too drunk for Seulgi to just let her walk to her own home like that. So she took care of her dear “best-friend” and took her to sleep in her immense penthouse.

Secret to how Yeri got into the house? Easy. All 5 of them got a spare key to eachother’s houses/apartments. And Yeri makes use of them the most.

“So…” says Yeri while serving herself with a glass of orange juice from Seulgi’s fridge. “Had a sleepover without US?” putting the accent on “us”.

“Yerim… don’t be like this.” Says Seulgi while scratching the back of her neck. “Irene just wanted to go out drinking after she got back from the photoshoot. She got drunk. I took her here so she won’t fall and break her head in her apartment or something and that was it. No sexy pajamas and cocky movies.”

“Hahaha. Knew it, y’all don’t know how to have fun without me.” Says Yeri confidently while sipping sassily on her juice.

“Bullshit.” Says Seulgi while rolling her eyes. “Anyway…what do you need a new dress for?” continues Seulgi while grabbing an apple and biting on it savurously.

“A date.”

Seulgi chokes.

“A what?”

“A date.”

“With who?”

“A handsome guy I met at my last convention. Damn you should’ve seen those magic brown eyes and-“

“Yerim!” Yeri gets starled by the small scream of Irene who was standing on top of the stairs, arms crossed. “What date… What guy…?”

“Irene.. Seulgi.. don’t worry girls… He’s nice, I promise! Y’all will be the first ones to meet him if our first date works well! PINKY PROMISE?”

“Ew… where are you? Kindergarten?” says Irene, rolling her eyes and judging the younger one.

“Grandma…” mocks Yeri while hitting the table with the glass.

“I support you…” whisper Seulgi supportively and gives Yeri a small hug.

“Thank you baby girl… You are the best! NOW COME ONE COWGIRLS! We got an uber to catch!”

Irene was wearing her signature style: always classy, in a fancy suit or a gucci dress, never wearing heels in her free time, only loafers. Seulgi on the other hand, has a different style: “boyfriend-material” as Seungwan calls her, always wearing ripped jeans, a plain t-shirt, a Gucci cap, and some sneakers. They’re both models and they encounter all types of styles and looks, but these are definitely their own pattern.

Yeri walks up in front of the two girls, proudly walking on her 10cm Louboutin heels and her short black summer dress paired with a leather jacket.

“What is she so excited for… psh.” Sighs Irene.

“Irene… let the girl be… she is 21 now. She can’t be single forever. You know Yeri, nothing will come between us and her. No guys, remember?” Reassures Seulgi while giving a small smile to Irene’s straight face.

“It’s whatever to me…” and roughly removes Seulgi’s hand from her shoulder which made Seulgi sigh at the attitude of her Unnie.

Sometimes, they all miss old Irene… More like Joohyun. Since “Adopting” this stage name, “Irene” she became cold towards her friends, stone-hearted and ignorant. This is what everyone at her work place thinks of her, but her friends know. They know the real Joohyun. They know she loves them more than her own life. They know Joohyun would risk it all for all of them. She is the Unnie and the one that keeps this “group” together.

“What do you think she’s doing….” Says the girl, impatient and walking all around the room.

“Sooyoung… can you calm down?” says Chung Ha while applying some more blush to her already rosy cheeks. “I am sure your little ‘best friend’ is probably at work or out with some friends. Why such panic when you should put on that mini-skirt.”

Chung Ha is Sooyoung’s colleague and the only “friend” she gets along with her at her work-place, the only friend she has besides her 5 best-friends. Chung Ha is definitely the most beautiful female Sooyoung has even seen and she could swear she caught herself staring at her beauty from time to time. It’s impossible not to get lost in her looks. She’s got everything you could want in a model. And this is what Chung Ha is, the face of the company where Sooyoung works. As for her, she is just an average model, with low self-confidence. When she looks at Chung Ha, she thinks “oh damn… maybe I should go to the gym more… maybe I need more make-up… maybe I need a bigger size at the bra-“. But she is just underestimating her because of her rough past.

Growing up, Sooyoung had only misfortune in her life. Being bullied since kindergarten for coming from a family with only one parent (her father), in high school suffering from all the fake rumors that she is coming from a poor family and at work… she once got a scandal at her ex-office about rumours that she “harassed” a female worker. All of these were false obviously, Sooyoung couldn’t dare to raise a finger to anyone. All she wanted in this world was to feel loved.

Sooyoung soon leaves a text-message to Yeri asking her to call back when she sees the message and then she goes out from the backstage and goes to rule the small catwalk she had to do in front of some small modelling agency managers. She nailed it, especially because before this, Chung Ha gave her some encouraging words. Chung Ha was her muse.

The curtains fall down and now its silence. There’s not a minute and Sooyoung hears the scream of her “boss”. He is not really her boss, he is just the chief of this department, he could aswell be a model, but he decided to inerhit this department from his father.

“Oh my. Congratulations Sooyoung, Chung Ha, my stars!”

“Oh my god Yuk Hei.” Says Chung Ha while doing a fake smile.

“What is it princess? Can’t take a compliment from your boss?” says Yuk Hei smirky.

“Let her be Yuk Hei…. And thank you, for the congratulations.”

“No need Joy” (Joy is how all the close ones call Sooyoung) “So… are you girls doing anything tonight?” says Yuk Hei while leaning slowly on the make-up stool and making a sign to the make-up artist to leave.

“You’re hitting on us again…” Chung Ha rolls her eyes in disgust.

“What? Who? Me? Naah. I got plenty of chicks in my hands to deal with, Chung Ha” says Yuk Hei playfully. “I was just asking because… you know…”

“You have no friends…” whispers Sooyoung with her head down.

“PARK SOOYOUNG”

“I’m sorry Yuk Hei… but isn’t this the truth. If so… Then maybe I’ll go out with you” says Sooyoung while packing her stage clothes into a workout bag.

“Ugh… I DO HAVE FRIENDS, ok? It’s just… They’re all having a night shift tonight and I just wanna celebrate with my models… What’s wrong about it?”

“Nothing, Yuk Hei… I will go with you. Chung Ha?”

Chung Ha seems to not knowledge the two of them and mumbles “I got better plans for tonight.” She takes her designer bag and leaves.

“Psh… I should fire her for this behavior…” says Yuk Hei while getting up from the seat. “What about we leave after you get changed? I will wait for you in my office, when you’re ready.” And he leaves the room which he filled with his strong, expensive cologne.

Yuk Hei is the type of young CEO who is just a spoiled brat at the first sight. You see him with ladies at poker nights and all fancied up in the most perfect-fit black suit with a little rose ready to be given to any lady that would catch his attention. He is that handsome, tall, perfect pushed back, black hair, and deep brown Chinese eyes that no body could refuse. Besides all of this, he’s got the charms, charisma, his humour is always a fine one. Sooyoung was very attracted to him at first, she could’ve sworn she will faint when she came at this agency for a modelling interview. He was standing there, scanning every move of her body. This made Sooyoung’s legs tremble and she thinks he just chose her as his model for mercy. Now, 2 years later, she sees Yuk Hei only as a good friend, and her “boss”.

Yeri just got home, after the “tiring” shopping session with her unnies. Tiring, in fact, only for her, because all Seulgi and Irene did was stare at the younger one running from store to store, trying on 10 dressed per store and buying in the end only one from the last store they went into. Yeri is happy though, she got to spend time with two of the most important persons to her and now she is at her vanity table, getting ready for her “big date”. She plays music loudly as she does her makeup so she couldn’t bother to hear the entrance door opening. Perfect timing for her evil Canadian friend to sneak in and scare the life out of Yeri.

“WENDY SON!!! I SWEAR TO THE GODS YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS-“ screams Yeri and stomps her feet to the floor like a little child who didn’t get any candy.

“Woah woah woah! What are you getting ready for, miss single?” says Wendy, with a cocky, proud smile on her face while making herself comfortable on the endge of Yeri’s bed.

“Not you business.”

Wendy grabs her hand firmly, enough to scare Yerim again and intimidates her “My business!”

Yeri is terrifyied by Wendy’s power. She is that one friend that gets everything she wants from anyone, with just a death glare. Besides that, you could easily get lost In her insanely gorgeous eyes. She is one stunning half-american girl. She is a bank accountant and she works at Yeri’s father’s company, the biggest one in Seoul.

“Ah Wendy! Stop playing games…” says Yeri poutyly. “I’m going out…”

“With? Joy?”

“NO??!!”

“Why so panicked?” Wendy smirks.

“Stupid… I’m not panicked, im just nervous. I’m going out with the most handsome guy in my agency. He’s a photographer and”

“Wait. WHAT?? YOU GOT A DATE?”

“yes…” says Yeri very confused, not knowing if Wendy is being mad or excited for her.

“That is… GREAT! Now let me redo that eyeline, you ain’t going out like that-“ and Wendy smacks the eyeliner from Yeri’s hands and positions herself good enough to give the younger one a BOMB make-up look.

Wendy is a “professional” in dating. She has dated the most men until now. 6 at count. 3 during high school and 3 during the past 4 years of work. Even so, she keeps these “Details” private to her best-friends. Why?

FLASHBACK

“They would never understand…” and she leans her head on his shoulder.

“But they are your friends Seungwan… Will you hide this from them forever?”

“I don’t want to lose you… or them…”

“If you continue like this, you will lose one of them… or maybe all. Let’s tell them.” And he wakes up to stand firmly in front of his dear one.

“Give me some more time… Please.”

“Just because I love you… but the time is ticking.” And he places a meaningful kiss on her forehead leaving her to sit alone on the cold bench in front of the Han River.

END OF FLASHBACK.

Hours and hours of getting ready, and Yeri is finally ready to go, under the splendid makeover done by Wendy.

“You looks stunning!” says Wendy while she analyses her bestie from top to bottom.

“I love you so much Seungwan! Thank you.” And she suddenly become thoughtful.

“What’s wrong?”

“What if I fail.”

“Yerim… what’s with this negativity… I don’t wanna hear none of this! You will go there and have the wildest night of your life-“ Yeri is looking at Wendy with big eyes.

“W-wild?”

“I mean- Yeah. Wild.”

“What do you mean by-“

“OH MY LOOK AT THE TIME!” says Wendy, flustered and drags Yeri to the door.

All the details are done and now she is ready to head to the door, right when the doorbell rings.

“Uhm. Is he supposed to come pick you up”

“Yes. I think that’s him.” Says Yeri while staring blankly at the door, not knowing what to do.

“then… WHY ARE U STANDING AND NOT GOING TO OPEN?” says Wendy is a quiet scream.

“SHH! Ok, ok ima go.”

And she opens the door, leaving sight to one of the most beautiful man they have ever seen. Or at least, Wendy has seen. She was standing awkwardly in the back of Yeri, staring the man down. It was a male in his 25s, dressed not very fancy, but definitely breathtaking as he was wearing a nice white shirt, complimenting one of the tiniest waist Wendy has ever seen at a male, some black jeans that looked like they were made to be worn by him and only him and a denim jacket falling over one of this shoulders. His cologne already made Wendy zone out and now that she is done scanning his body, she gets to the face, a face that stuns her beyond words. “The prettiest man alive” she tought to herself.

All her thoughts are now faded as she finds herself alone in the room. “Did they leave?” She must’ve zoned out way too much that Yeri and the handsome man already left. Did she really catch herself looking at the man Yeri is dating?? Yeri, her best friend?? “This can’t be possible…” she tells to herself as she leans thoughtful on the sofa. She feels sad. She feels disappointed in herself but yet, she really can’t take her mind off the man she has just seen. She ends up falling sleep in Yeri’s apartment, on her sofa, sunk deep in thoughts and questions.

#red velvet #nct #red velvet fanfic #red velvet scenario #nct scenario #kpop

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toldnews-blog · 5 years

Photo

New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/lifestyle/the-chic-octogenarian-behind-barbies-best-looks/

The Chic Octogenarian Behind Barbie’s Best Looks

LOS ANGELES — Carol Spencer, 86, may be the most influential fashion designer you’ve never heard of.

In the mid-1960s, she made a red pencil skirt with a white sleeveless blouse that had red stitching and three red buttons down the front. Short white gloves came with it. Thousands sold.

In the 1970s, well aware that the counterculture’s loosening dress code and mores had made it to the mainstream, Ms. Spencer designed a red bandanna halter maxi-dress and a matching leisure shirt for men. Those designs were popular, too.

In the Nancy Reagan 1980s, Ms. Spencer aimed for high-end appeal, making a one-shouldered ball gown in blue jacquard with an organza flower at the nipped-in waist and a cape. One of Mrs. Reagan’s go-to couturiers personally approved the gown to be sold under his name: “Oscar de la Renta for Barbie.”

Ms. Spencer has made wedding dresses, saris, go-go boots and caftans. All in miniature. From 1963 to 1999, she was Barbie’s fashion designer, a career celebrated in her new book, “Dressing Barbie” (HarperDesign).

Ms. Spencer also made her own clothes, and had an easy time working with the doll’s famously unusual proportions, she said, because they weren’t so far from her own. “I have shrunk but in those days, I was tall and skinny,” she said. “I had a 16-inch waist and something on top, too, I sure did, but Barbie’s legs were better than mine.”

She was sitting in her dining room, wearing a blouse in a shade that can only be described as Barbie pink, with a Barbie brooch and a Barbie digital watch that legions of girls probably begged to get for Christmas in the 1990s.

It was a different body part that was most important for her job, Ms. Spencer said: “I have small hands.” She set down the Barbie teacup filled with lemonade she had been clasping to show her fingers. They are small and jut out at angles from the joint, a disfiguration likely caused by years of grasping little needles and bottles of glue.

In creating a wardrobe for Barbie and the entourage (Skipper, Ken, Midge, Big Jim, Baby Sister Kelly, Cara, Stacey, Christie, P.J., Steffie and Miss America), Ms. Spencer was part of a team that has inspired the work of designers including Bob Mackie, Nicole Miller, Jeremy Scott and Jason Wu, who once said he played with Barbie dolls when he was a child.

For a Moschino fashion show in Milan in 2014, Mr. Scott had a Barbie waiting on front-row chairs and sent models down the runway in blond bouffants and pink skirt suits.

Last month, to celebrate the doll’s 60th birthday, Mattel hosted a profusely pink Barbie bacchanal in New York City with Instagram-friendly Dream House backdrops, intended to draw in a new generation of fans who are too young to know that Barbie was the original influencer.

1. Ms. Spencer designed Ski Party Pink for Barbie in 1982. The sweater had Dolman sleeves and a cowl neck. In her ankle-strap high-heels, she was ready to hit the bars, not the slopes.

2. Released in 1979, this City Sophisticate outfit had a faux-fur-trimmed coat and skirt accented by a yellow soutache braid.

3. A Mattel employee accidentally ordered 2,500 yards of gold-and-white striped fabric, instead of 250 yards. Ms. Spencer’s 1965 Country Club Dance fashions made use of the excess.

4. The 1992 Totally Hair Barbie was one of Mattel’s best sellers. Ms. Spencer designed a Pucci-inspired mini.

5. Ms. Spencer wanted to create an “evening pajama” look for Barbie after Barbra Streisand wore a Scaasi version when accepting an Academy Award in 1969. Ms. Streisand’s outfit was see-through, so Ms. Spencer made Barbie special panties.

Saving the Dune Buggy

Even since her retirement, Ms. Spencer has devoted her time to Barbie. Inducted in 2017 into the Women in Toys, Licensing & Entertainment Hall of Fame, she has spent her golden years attending Barbie collectors events, doing research and amassing artifacts.

For years she has worked on “Dressing Barbie,” which is sized for a coffee table and subtitled “A Celebration of the Clothes That Made America’s Favorite Fashion Doll, and the Incredible Woman Behind Them.” Laurie Brookins, a writer and stylist, helped Ms. Spencer with the project.

The book combines styled vintage fashion photography with memoir. Born in 1932 and raised in Minneapolis, Ms. Spencer rejected the wife-and-mother path that prevailed in the American midcentury and instead made a career for herself. “I truly fell in love with Barbie the first moment I created her clothes and accessories,” she writes in the book.

Barbie has been a go-to emblem of all that has ill-served girls and young women in American culture. Living in a world that is almost exclusively white, the doll has breasts that are disproportionately large compared with her hips, and her feet are contorted into a permanent “floint” (short for flexing your toes back as you point the rest of your foot).

Her hair seems to be bleached blond, never with dark (or gray) roots. At times she dressed the part of a doctor or politician but has seemed unable to hold down a job. And there’s the place in Malibu. Does it come from a trust fund or Ken?

But Ms. Spencer would like to counterpunch the Barbie bashing. She points out the doll’s humble origins, with her proportions modeled after paper dolls cut from newspapers. She also defends Barbie as a healthy alternative to video games; an engine of imagination for girls and boys, who can project onto a Barbie doll whoever they may wish to become.

“It’s wholesome play,” she said, as she pulled from a case one of the many hundreds of dolls in her home. This one was wearing a yellow chiffon-like pleated tunic with see-through pajama pants, inspired by the Arnold Scaasi transparent ensemble Barbra Streisand wore to the 1969 Oscars when she won a best actress award for “Funny Girl.”

Ms. Spencer’s house is filled with books like “Barbie: Her Life and Times” and “Dream Doll: the Ruth Handler Story,” about Ms. Handler, who, with her husband, Elliot, and Harold Matson, founded Mattel in 1945. The Barbie fashion doll was released in 1959.

Over a cluttered desk are posters of Barbie, like one showing the same image of the original 1959 doll, displayed against four different bright backgrounds, à la Warhol. (It was made to celebrate Mattel’s 35th Anniversary Barbie Festival, in 1994.)

Ms. Spencer is a scavenger for treasures in a toss-everything world. One day at the Mattel offices, then located in Hawthorne, Calif., she noticed someone was about to throw away an important piece of Barbie memorabilia.

“It was the prototype for Barbie’s dune buggy,” she said. “They were tossing it, and I said, ‘Would you toss it my way?’”

She learned thrift as a child. “During World War II, things were scarce and I remember the family would get the Sunday paper,” Ms Spencer said. “When they’d get through with it, they’d hand me the comic pages so that I could cut out the paper dolls.”

She began to create paper fashion for these paper dolls. Soon she was making her own clothes. But being a fashion designer didn’t seem like a realistic goal in those days, she recalled. “You could be a teacher, nurse, secretary or clerk,” she said. “But wife and mother were the big ones.”

She was engaged to a medical student but when she realized she was expected to work to help pay for education before quitting to be a “doctor’s wife,” she broke the engagement. Then she enrolled at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, where she got a bachelor of fine arts with a focus on fashion design.

In May 1955, as she was about to graduate, she received a telegram from New York letting her know that her application for a “guest editor” slot at Mademoiselle magazine had been approved. Instead of sticking around for her commencement ceremony, Ms. Spencer took her first plane trip and moved in to the Barbizon Hotel for Women, for a month.

During her time in New York, she attended a reception at the home of the cosmetics entrepreneur Helena Rubinstein, visited the recently opened United Nations, danced with West Point cadets at the St. Regis hotel and interviewed the designer Pauline Trigère in her studio.

Ms. Spencer was in the same class of Mademoiselle guest editors as Joan Didion. “It was about as far from Minneapolis as you could get,” she writes.

She returned to her hometown to work, designing children’s wear for Wonderalls Company and then moved to Milwaukee to become a “misses” sportswear designer.

In late 1962, Ms. Spencer spotted an advertisement in Women’s Wear Daily. “A national manufacturer who leads its industry with annual sales in excess of $50 million seeks a cost-conscious fashion designer-stylist for its suburban Los Angeles facility.”

She sent a résumé and heard nothing back. Still, sensing this mysterious job was her destiny, she and her aunt packed up their 1959 Ford Fairlane and drove across the country to California.

In April 1963, she saw an ad in the California Apparel News for the same job, and this time her application got a response. It was from Mattel, the toymaker already known for the postwar bombshell: Barbie.

Ms. Spencer went to the company headquarters for an interview and was asked to make a suite of outfits for this creature. She made a halter-top-and-boy-short bikini, a one-piece in the same shade of orange-pink. There was a cover-up and a wrap skirt. She got the job.

Pink Pills Nixed

At that time, Mattel made about 125 different outfits a year for Barbie, and the fashion department, run by Charlotte Johnson, could be cutthroat.

“Charlotte had a theory,” Ms. Spencer said. “If you have four designers, you put them in four corners. And it was always competitive and you were pitching your product. Sometimes the competition was kind of dirty.”

How so? She wouldn’t say. “I’m out of it, I’m retired, I’m enjoying life, I’ll put it that way,” she said, and she took a sip of lemonade from her Barbie teacup.

Some of her early successes, all of which she has cataloged, included Country Club Dance (a white and gold striped gown), From Nine to Five (a midcalf blue dress with an embroidered vest and hair scarf) and Debutante Ball (an aqua satin gown with a fur stole).

Ms. Spencer took her cue from the culture around her. As the Jane Fonda aerobics craze of the 1980s took off, Barbie got a purple leotard and leg warmers. When NASA’s space shuttle exploration was in full tilt, Barbie became an astronaut (albeit one in thigh-high boots and silver capes).

And there was inspiration from her own life as well. When she needed a biopsy on her breast, Ms. Spencer was transfixed by the white coats doctors wore. The biopsy was negative, but the fashion was positive. Guess who became, however briefly, a surgeon?

There were missteps too, like when she gave Dr. Barbie a case of pink pills without knowing that at that time pink pills were known to be methamphetamines. “Let me tell you, that caused quite a stir,” she said. (Her faux pas was caught before Meth-Head Barbie made its way to children’s dollhouses.)

There are hundreds and hundreds of designs that are Carol Spencer originals, with only a small portion bearing her name. Until the mid-1990s, Mattel didn’t put designer names on Barbie’s packaging.

But Ms. Spencer remembers each of her creations, and many of them are in her home, which her sister, Margaret, 88, will be moving into soon. But even though Ms. Spencer gets out less these days, and relies on a walker to take more than a few steps, she said she feels surrounded by good company.

“You’re never alone when you have dinner at my house,” she said. “Barbie is always with you.”

#e news lifestyle #healthy lifestyle news report #lifestyle audit news #lifestyle news feed #lifestyle news ghana #lifestyle news hindi #lifestyles #national lifestyle villages news #odia lifestyle news #the lifestyle newshound instagram

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lifeofbouyd · 6 years

Text

Telephone Love

Text: Feb 2008

Text join to 1876444chat to join Jamaica’s hottest chat groups and meet new people. Only $10 per text.

I sat and read that message in class a few times before replying. I thought to myself if all the things that could possibly happen in a group and my imagination ran wild.

Teacher: Mr. Smith, I do hope you’re not there texting again. I’ll take your phone this time if I catch you.

She had warned me several before but I didn’t give a shit. She couldn’t take my phone even if she wanted to. I sat there trying to decide if I should join or not.

Text:

Text join to 1876444chat to become a member of Jamaica’s number 1 chat room. You could meet your partner today. Only $10 per text.

That text was even more convincing than the first. Meeting my partner sounded worth my $10.

Teacher: Mr. Smith, could you please come up here and demonstrate how to persuade someone into buying your product by using this pen. You better be able to do it or I’m failing you.

Me: Sure. Good morning class, today I want to introduce to you our latest state of the art pen that is designed to blow the mind of pen users around the world. We bring you the future today. This pen comes with...

Teacher: Mr. Smith, please have a seat. Class I hope you’re all paying attention. Mr. Smith spends most his time texting and talking however he’s able to remember everything he’s taught.

She gave us a pop quiz shortly after and most the class failed. I had forgotten about the chat room as I was more focused on passing business management. A few days later I heard some people talking about it, saying they had met new people from the chat group. Instantly I signed up. I joined several groups but there was none like Church Sex. It was the most outlaw x rated group. Most the members were interested in sucking each other and having group sex which was brand new gossip for me. They shared vivid sex stories that made every girl I forwarded it to wet. I became obsessed with the group within a few days within a few days and my fan base sky rocketed. Every girl wanted to meet “Sex God Anthony”. I had described my self as a 18 year old with well built body, perfect body and a sledge hammer of a dick. I had stolen that description from a Hot Coffee Magazine I had stolen from uncle. The name grew quickly and every group I joined girls wanted to come meet me and get the dick they’ve heard so much about. I was chat room famous.

Text: Mar 2008

Hi, I’m sexy T from Kingston. I’m 18, live alone and have a big butt. Can someone welcome me plz?

By the time I saw that message she was welcomed by at least 70 people. But her message just stood out. It sounded as if she wanted someone. Bragging about her butt and living alone. I imagined what she looked like and I sure as hell pictured slapping that ass. I welcomed her and told her I’d like to slap that ass. To my surprise she replied with her number encrypted.

Text:

Hey Sex God, message me ggptdwm.

Only a true texaholic could figure out what that meant. We texted for days until we started calling each other. Before I knew it we were together. We spent every night on the phone. Shit got so intense we even started having phone sex. There were nights when she’d scream in my ears while she drowned her fingers in cum. Even though we didn’t know each other then we had something real. I felt way better than a face to face relationship. We talked everyday and we shared our dreams. It made me feel like I had being missing out all my life. I had dated countless girls before her but there was just something about this telephone love. I couldn’t get enough. We decided it was time we met for real. All this telephone talk made us eager to strip each other naked. I hitched a city bus early one Saturday morning to go see the girl if my dreams. I was a long drive but she was sure as hell worth the journey. I had imagined what she’d look like so many times I had created the perfect character in my mind. I stood in the park waiting to meet her but gave her a wrong dress code. This was due to meeting a fake a few weeks back. Girl said she was Cinderella but when I got there she was Fiona in the Ogre state 🤦‍♂️. A great disappointment and I couldn’t afford another surprise like that. But to my surprise she was beautiful. She looked even better than I had imagined and that ass. Damn, she was blessed. I took her to KFC then headed back to the park where we spent hours talking and laughing. She was a brilliant girl, with her future all figured out. Of all the things she wanted, she wanted me to live up to my name the most. I had created vivid sex images in her mind and she now wanted to feel me in reality.

Sext T: I’m horny.

Me: 😏

Sexy T: I know where we can go but you gotta keep on the look out.

Me: Ok

She pulled me around a corner across the street where there was an abandoned building. There were used condoms all over the place. It looked like a regular fuck spot for teens. We started kissing and kinda melted away in each other’s arms as we had been dying to do this for for months. I got so hard it started jumping in my pants. I think she had planned for it because she had nothing on but a mini skirt and a tube tube top. She took my dick out and rubbed it on her mesh underwear which made her soaking wet. She put me to sit on an old chair which seemed to have to hell and back while she pulled her skirt up. She quickly rolled the condom as if she was in a rush. I sat there staring at her body with a million thoughts in my head. What if I can’t please her, what if I cum too quickly? Her body was amazing, my anxiety level was through the roof so looking at it I had approximately 5 minutes if not less before exploding. She sat on it reverse cowgirl and slowly moved her waist. It felt warm, moist and tight. I could feel every inch of her through the condom as if I wasn’t wearing any. She felt so good all I wanted to do was cum but she kept telling me not to. I couldn’t help myself as she felt so damn good. I had to push her off a few times not to cum. She then turned around sitting on it and looking straight in my eyes while she rides my pole. She pushed her nipples in my mouth and started riding faster and faster, squeezing my head between her tits as if she wanted to kill me. I kept thinking about world war 2 which helped me keep my composure for a while but the moment she started kissing me and riding my dick all hell broke loose. She started vibrating and the chair collapsed. We both came in perfect finesse. She would have been flooded out if it wasn’t for the condom. I wanted to fuck her again but we had to run like thieves because there were cops coming in. They were after some chicks on the other side. It was practically dark anyway so I had to head home before I got stuck. I couldn’t help but laughing on my way home. I had scored big on the charts and pulled off being 18. I guess experience had a lot to do with it.

Text: April 2008

So I met sex god today :) I think I’m in love. Nigga got bandy legs and nice dick.

Instantly I received several encrypted contacts requesting personal messages. Sexy T had made my name even bigger. Every girl wanted to meet me; at one point I had to be sharing them with my bro. I met this chick Natasha who was willing to pay to meet me. With not a second thought I arranged everything for her to come and spend a weekend with me. She did say she was pretty but I didn’t expect her to be that pretty. I was shocked out my life when I picked her up at the bus station. She was all that she said she would be and so was the other chick waiting there. I had 2 girls lined up that weekend so I had to give my bro 1. Celine was really nice but u was more interested in Natasha as she was willing to pay and she was the prettiest. We took them home with intentions of a wild, unforgettable weekend and to my surprise they both bought the sex god act. As soon as we got home Natasha demanded what she came for; claiming she wanted to see if sex god was as good as his street credit. To my surprise, she stripped butt naked and pushed Celine out the room. I kept laughing to myself, this girl was really serious about getting dick. She pulled me close and started sucking on my lips. She stuck her hands in my shorts and flicked my dick out; rubbing it against her leg while she vibrated. I nibbled on her tits like a baby on a nipple bottle; this made her drooling wet. I planted slow wet kisses along her sides while playing clit. She moved as is she was Demond possessed; her legs shaking, back arching up, vibrating like a ringing phone. I kept rubbing the of my snake on her jumping clit causing her to cum several times before I even entered her. I made her beg me to cool her down with the pink headed hose before I slipped my rubber on. I kept slapping her pussy with my hard dick which made her even more anxious. I then held her waist and rubbed her clit with my thumb while I slowly forced my way in. She grabbed my by the neck and pulled me to her the moment the head slid in. Her eyes rolled back and her body trembled every stroke I stroked her. I went slow and deep causing tears to flow down her cheeks while she decorated my back with scratch marks. I asked her several times if she wanted me to stop but she just kept saying I should shut up. I raised her legs to my shoulder I tried going balls deep but she kept pushing me out. “Año charity punny did, not a bc” 😂 I couldn’t help but laugh. We switched positions until she begged me to stop. We had been having sex for more than an hour and I hadn’t even cum yet. She had cum until she was weak; staring at me through one eye with a smile on her face.

Natasha: Thanks. I needed that. I think you might have to move with me to Kingston.

I just sat there smiling at her and laughing in my mind. I had pulled it off again, object bingo. All hell broke loose when Celine realized that my bro wasn’t sex god. He had already knocked her out the park but Natasha went bragging in the group.

Text: May 2008

I’m currently at Sex Gods house, we just had great sex and Celine is also here with his bro. Hands off bitches I call dibs on Sex God.

The group became a text shooting range. Words fired like AK shots. Who should suck what and shut what. Who’s gonna kill who and who can’t go where. Sexy T was furious as I told her I wouldn’t fuck anyone else from the group. The group remained a shooting range throughout the weekend but that didn’t stop our fun. The weekend turned out way better than we predicted. It was hard to believe we had met these girls for the first as we were all over the place. Sexy T wanted to link up about two weeks after and I turned the offer down as she had promised to punch me in the face. Weeks on weeks she asked and I declined. Eventually she sent this message:

Text: October 2008

Remember, life is short and my knife point is long. The next time I see you it’s gonna be a blood bath. Think you can fuck me and diss me. Mi man a dan.

I didn’t really pay much attention to her message as I thought she was just yapping away, regular girl talk. I went to Kingston that December to get some stuff for school. I heard someone call my name several times but I didn’t pay attention as very few people knew me as Anthony. (((Batty man sex god!!!))) That’s when it hit me, someone was really calling my name. By the time I turned around I had to dodge wild punches. It was Sexy T trying to hit my face in. The more I dodge the more she threw punches. I begged her to stop but she just kept yelling that I was gonna feel her wrath. She pulled a kitchen bitch (long knife) from her bag and that’s when I realized shit got real. This chick really wanna kill me. I ain’t no fool neither am I a coward but I sure as hell was no bulletproof. The fight became a hot pursuit and just like Bolt I had outdone myself. Call me whatever you like but I didn’t plan to die that day; I had too much to live for, so much to see, so much to do. I wasn’t even 15 yet. Like a bitch I ran for my happy life and I don’t regret it. I lived to flirt another day. By the time they got to the bus park my bus was already driving out. I didn’t even get what I went for 🤦‍♂️. Chick had me running like a bitch and I ain’t the kinda nigga to run from a fight.

Text: December 2008

So I almost killed Sex God today. Had him running through downtown like a bitch. Be warned, the next time you won’t be so lucky.

Right then I realized the importance of my life. This chick had fallen for the late night convos and 1 sex in an abandoned building. I’m not gonna say I didn’t feel anything for her but I sure wouldn’t kill anyone for her. She texted me several times after that trying to fix us but I didn’t reply, I was more concerned about staying alive than fucking her again. I had forgotten about her and thought she did the same but she was a different girl when I saw her again in 2009. I went on a beach trip that August with intentions of getting new chicks. I was in the changing room when she walked in. I thought that was the end. In my mind, she came to kill me. We both froze when our eyes made 4. We stood still for a few seconds before making any sudden movements.

Sexy T: You haven’t returned my calls. Is there a reason why.

We stood there for a while talking but barely exchanged words as if we were having a western standoff. The wrong words could start a war. She claimed she was sorry and she wanted to make up for it. I didn’t trust her one bit but shit turned around. We actually had a good time and I got to know her better and even fucked her again. During all this she left out the most important detail; she came with her boyfriend 🤦‍♂️. Another drama, another day, same Bouyd. Shit escalated from 0-100 real quick. Nigga wanted to fight; for the same girl he brought that I fucked in the changing room. I realized he was paranoid, delusional in the head. How can you fight over that? I sure wouldn’t. He got angrier by the minute even though I tried walking him out. He was determined to defend his stripe but he ended up on the bitter end of my right fist. 1 solid right to ear drum had him walking confused for a while. Again I deflowered her in the changing room before leaving. I just couldn’t have enough. Eventually we went back to hating each other after that. I guess good sex doesn’t fix everything or maybe it was only good to me lol. Whatever it was I know we connected somehow and today I don’t regret a thing.

From this I had learnt two valuable lessons. Don’t fuck her good if you don’t plan to keep her and secondly; a girl will fuck you just got fuck sakes while being deeply in love with someone else. Since then, if it comes I accept it and if it wants to leave I let it. At the end of the day, what’s yours will always be yours. The less you expect, the less disappointment you face.

Stay tuned. It only gets better.

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forestwater87 · 6 years

Link

She really should've been more prepared.

At the end of the day, that's what she'd kick herself for.

Chapter 5: Party

"Well, Gwendolyn. It's a pleasure to see you again, though I wish it hadn't been under such unusual circumstances."

Gwen glanced over at Campbell, trying to figure out what reaction she was supposed to have. On the one hand, clearly they were meeting with the Woodscouts crew to work out some sort of deal, and she definitely didn't want to fuck that up for them. On the other hand, Edward Pikeman made her skin crawl, and he'd tried to kill her boss's son, so it seemed the rules of proper etiquette were a little all over the place.

Campbell gave her a tiny nod without directly meeting her eyes, and she ducked her head, hoping the mini-bow made up for the fact that she couldn't muster up a smile. "It's, uh, good to see you, sir."

"Sir?" He quirked his eyebrow, smirking. "You've got her well-trained, Cameron. Most impressive. But you should watch this one — she's not very reliable."

She almost jumped as warm fingers closed over her own. David was ignoring the conversation between the two gang leaders, watching a family paddle around the lake with a detached, cheerful expression, but he squeezed her hand gently before settling back on his elbows and looking up at the clouds. That kind of affection had grown familiar at this point, and while Jasper had briefed them not to be too close with Pikeman around — he had a less-than-subtle interest in Gwen, and Campbell was hoping to exploit that if at all possible — it was more or less automatic for her body to orient itself closer to his, weeks of playacting creating pathways out of muscle memory.

Besides, it was sweet. She wasn't really used to sweet, and she hated to admit it was growing on her.

Campbell laughed, too loud and hearty to be genuine, and clapped Gwen on the back of the neck with an affectionate shake. "No worries, sport. I keep an eye on my people." And the warning to them both was so clear it chilled the air a few degrees, causing her to instinctively reach out for David's fingers again, because god she didn't want to be here. Gunfights and explosions were one thing, but she wasn't prepared to deal with this kind of manipulative tiptoeing.

His hand met hers halfway, like he’d been doing the same thing, and though they both pulled back at a warning glare from Hook — or Quartermaster, as the rest of the crew called him — it was nice, just for a second, to know she wasn't the only one here in over her head.

Gwen had been specifically told by the Quartermaster not to pay too close attention to whatever Campbell and Pikeman were talking about, and she was more than willing to let their words wash over and away from her, focusing instead on the people dotting the park. For a Saturday in June it was surprisingly sparse, and she began to wonder if that was something one of the crew leaders had designed. It made people-watching easier, at least: a group of kids screaming their way up the shore, two twenty-somethings doing their best impression of every romantic scene from The Notebook at the same time, a dweeby-looking teenage girl fiddling with her slouchy shoulder bag, and a creepy-looking motherfucker who was observing the PDA couple with way too much interest.

She returned her gaze to the kids, noticing with disbelieving amusement that David was watching them as well, a small wistful smile on his face. "Miss them already?" she murmured; if they weren't supposed to be paying attention, they might as well really not pay attention. "It's literally just the weekend, David."

"I-I know!" He blushed, turning away from the lake and pretending to be very invested in something at the other end of the park (while steadfastly ignoring the couple making out). "I just . . . like my job." He shrugged, glancing over at her with a shrug. "They're nice kids. I know it sounds stupid, but they make my day better." Gwen would have to disagree with them being anything but horrible goblins, but she thought it was sweet how much he loved them.

Fuck, David didn't belong here. So why were they?

She eyed the creepy guy again. He'd pulled out something in a paper bag, but she was fairly certain it wasn't a weapon. Still . . . Drawing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her legs and fiddled with the hem of her ankle-length skirt, looking around as casually as she could. Just a few inches from her twitchy fingers was a gun (hot pink and lime green, a gift from Jasper) that she really hoped she wouldn't have to use — a hell of a change from just a handful of months ago.Honestly, she'd gotten so used to the calm that she worried she was out of practice.

"It's a very reasonable request," Pikeman was saying, leaning in way too close to Campbell, "don't you think?"

"I think you should know better than to expect reasonable around here, Ed," Cameron replied with a grin, “especially considering you don’t have much room to make any type of request.” Of all of them, Campbell was the only one who seemed completely unperturbed by the weedy little twerp with the Hitler Youth bodyguards.

Turning her mind away from that conversation, Gwen continued surveying the park. Cute kids, obnoxious couple, shy girl, creep . . .

Wait.

Fuck.

"Mr. Ca —" she began, but before she could get the words out there was a blur of motion and a crack, and without thinking she twisted to the side and threw David to the ground, ignoring his startled yelp.

The ground behind them exploded, slicing the air where his head had been and splattering them with chunks of grass and dirt. The second the shot landed, Gwen grabbed David by his collar, hauling him upright and shoving him behind her while yanking free her ridiculous neon gun. There was something almost relaxing about staring down the barrel of that hideous weapon, a strange warm pleasure settling in her chest as she steadied her gun with her other hand and aimed at the bookish teenager's forehead.

"Dead or alive, sir?" she asked quickly, scrambling to her knees.

Of course, there were a lot of people she could've been talking to, which resulted in some confusion.

David gripped her hand blindly, face pale and spotted with specks of dirt like freckles drawn on with a marker. "D- dead?! You're not re-ally going to —"

"Well, it's not my decision, but I think alive would make things more interesting, don't you?" Pikeman interrupted.

Campbell's voice cut through the panic, and she latched onto it gratefully. "Don't worry about her, Gretchen dear. Why don't you just focus on getting Davey home?"

She hadn't even finished saying "Yes, sir" before she snatched David’s arm, shoving him ahead of her as they sprinted to a relatively more protected clump of trees. Behind her she could hear the sounds of returning fire, and she knew the police would be there in minutes.

Which meant they had to be very very gone very very soon.

Unfortunately, neither of them had cars. Why would they, in a city where the traffic looked like it hadn't moved in the last twenty years? But taking the bus was virtually suicide. She yanked her phone out of her purse, putting her gun in her bag and frantically pounding the touch screen.

"Hi Gwen! Having fun yet?"

"Can you get us transportation?" she asked abruptly, grabbing David's wrist and tugging him toward the sidewalk. Maybe they could get lost in the crowd . . .

Jasper laughed. "Are you crazy? The police've already set up roadblocks around the park! You're getting away on foot, guys." There was a few seconds of what sounded like rapid typing, then, "Okay, looks like there's a holdup near Park and Westmore, cops haven't gotten there yet. If you can get out through there before the hole closes, you won't be stopped."

Park and Westmore . . . "Okay, we can do that. But, uh, we might have to borrow something once we're in the road." Some sort of bike, hopefully, something that could weave through traffic without attracting more attention than the average douchebag motorist. "That could get David in trouble."

"Don't worry, we'll make it work. That's what I'm here for!"

Gwen wasn't sure if that meant Campbell would pay off whoever they robbed or just kill them, but decided it was better not to know. "Got it."

"Enjoy the rest of the party!"

She hung up without a goodbye, then grabbed dragged David toward the park entrance closest to the intersection Jasper had pointed out, weaving through trees and keeping an eye out for anyone. Whoever that assassin was hadn't caught up to them yet (between Campbell's crew and the Woodscouts, that girl didn't have great odds), but for a job like this, with so much firepower in one location, she'd be crazy not to have brought reinforcements.

"Gwe — !" David's hand ripped from hers, a bullet tearing through the tiny space between them and turning a nearby tree into wood chips. She whirled around to see another young woman — not the one who'd shot at them — holding a gun in her shaking hands. Her eyes widened when she took in Gwen's weapon, but she kept hers trained on David, who'd fallen to his knees and was pawing at his shirt, but seemed more bewildered than anything else.

"I promise you he's not worth it," Gwen said. She wasn't sure why she was even giving the girl a chance. Maybe David had softened her too much, but she wanted to at least try to let the kid walk away; she couldn't be older than fifteen. "Don't be stupid, you can still get out of here."

"I . . ." David started to climb to his feet and the girl's eyes dropped to him, her finger tightening on the trigger. Before she could shoot Gwen fired, watching her stumble back with her hands over her stomach.

"Come on!" Gwen grabbed him by the wrist and took off running before he'd even regained his balance, and for a second she was worried he'd fall over and she'd end up dragging him along the ground by his face. But he caught himself, his long legs keeping pace even though she was (in theory) in much better shape for this kind of thing.

"Wh —" She wasn't sure if his difficulty speaking was due to breathlessness or shock, "what did you — that . . . girl —"

"She'll be fine. I didn't aim for anything lethal." That was a blatant lie, but the last thing she needed was David having a panic attack. They reached the entrance of the park and stumbled into the street, Gwen scanning the frozen traffic for anything they could use to get away. “Fuck fuck fuck — there!” They weaved through the cars, nearly knocking over the bike idling on the other side of the street. “Hey, let us borrow this.”

The woman on the motorbike glanced between them, her plum-lipsticked mouth falling open in a small O. “Um . . .”

Gwen turned to David, a mess of embarrassment and nerves wringing his hands and a few seconds away from tugging his collar over his face, then to the owner of their escape vehicle. With a sigh — Jasper and Campbell really better be able to smooth this over — she tugged her neon weapon out of her handbag. “Not a request, lady.”

The woman’s face paled and she scrambled off the bike, the first bit of good luck they’d had this entire afternoon. Unfortunately she also shrieked, “Gun! She’s got a GUN!” at a volume that could shatter crystal, which suddenly made them the most noticeable people on the street.

With a muttered curse Gwen hauled him onto the bike behind her; she supposed it was also lucky that David looked like a kidnapping victim, even as he scrambled to hold onto her waist and buried his face in her low pigtails.

“Come on come on come on . . .” The bike started with a low hum, and she tried to remember everything her college boyfriend had taught her about riding motorcycles. They only wobbled slightly as she lurched onto the sidewalk, the impact jarring her teeth and making her wish she’d at least snagged the woman’s helmet for David.

But hindsight was a luxury to be enjoyed when not veering through stopped cars and terrified pedestrians.

David’s grip on her waist was almost painful, and despite the wind whipping past them she could hear his high-pitched, panicked breaths against the back of her neck. She wanted to tell him to calm down, if only so he’d stop cutting off her circulation, but there was no way she was going to waste a second on that, not when she could hear sirens growing closer. Silently praying he knew to hold on, she took a sharp right into an backstreet, nearly scraping them off against the ugly brick wall of the building looming above the small alley, and slammed the acceleration. She could see the traffic on Westmore at the other end of the alleyway, cars slowing but still creeping forward toward Park Street, and she sincerely hoped that meant the police hadn’t gotten there yet.

Come on, come on . . . Gritting her teeth, she slowed the bike to avoid crashing headlong into a pickup truck and took the turn out of the side street much more cautiously than going into it. If only she didn’t care about plowing over motorists . . . but “crazed couple faces several hit-and-run charges” was the exact kind of headline they didn’t want.

Unfortunately, that care (plus the few minutes it had taken to “borrow” a motorcycle) meant that the police were just arriving to set up roadblocks as they rounded the corner, sliding into a gap in the traffic as it slowed to a halt.

“What do we do now?” David whispered, still clinging to her even though the bike wasn’t moving. His voice shook a bit, as much as she could hear him trying to hide it.

“I . . .” Fuck, she wasn’t good at this. Well, she was -- getting out of places fast was one of the few talents she had -- but not without causing a lot more harm and attention than they could afford. Scanning the long row of townhouses as they slowly crawled by, she suddenly slammed on the brakes, jumping off the bike and grabbing David’s hand. “Come on, down here!”

“But --” He followed, wincing at the crash as the bike fell over. As they ducked into a small strip of grass between two of the houses, he lowered his voice and said, “what if someone’s home?”

He’d figured out her plan, she realized with a small glow of pride, dropping to her knees and fiddling with the doorknob on one of the townhouses’ side doors. “No one’s been home for a while,” she replied, scowling. Why was this lock so damn sturdy? “The mailbox out front was overflowing. If you ever go on vacation, cancel your fucking mail if you don’t want a break-in.”

David’s nervous frown cleared, replaced with a split-second smile. “That’s so clever, Gwen!”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m a real Rhodes Scholar. Goddamn it!” she hissed as her lockpick broke. She should’ve taken Jasper up on his offer to get her a better one . . .

“Do you need help?”

She did, although what was he going to do, chirp the door open? Still, the cars on Westmore had completely stopped, and it wasn’t like she was getting anywhere. Gwen took a step back and let David take her place, using the time to think through their options.

There . . . weren’t a lot, honestly.

Someone had to notice them careening into the road, and plenty of people had noticed the abandoned motorcycle in the middle of the street, if the honking was anything to go by. They weren’t visible from the road at the moment, but they had five minutes if they were lucky.

There was no other side to this little yard; it backed up into another house, so they’d have to go out the way they came . . . unless they found a fire escape and could make it to the roof, which presented some issues of its own but had more options than where they were standing --

Click. David sprang to his feet as the door swung open, beaming at her like a kid showing off a magic trick. “There we go!”

Her muscles locked up temporarily, so that for a second all she could do was stare at him. Shaking herself out of her shock (and forcibly closing her mouth), she hauled him into the building, locking the door behind them and ushering them well out of view of the sidewalk. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”

He flushed. “Oh, the Quartermaster taught me! I was a real rascal of a kid, and, um, Mr. Campbell thought . . . to keep me safe . . .”

She’d been hunting through the front closet, but turned around when he trailed off. His eyes grew distant, and she noticed with some worry that he was still breathing hard. “Mr. Greenwood?”

The formality snapped him back to her, and he gave her a slightly quavering smile. “Of course, Gwen! We’re still working, aren’t we? Not out of the woods yet!”

Oh, fantastic. “You’ve been doing great, boss,” she said, hoping the praise would distract him from what felt distressingly familiar.

She was no stranger to panic attacks.

But of all the fucking times . . .

The grin sharpened a little, grew more steady. “Really?” he asked, and the knot in her chest loosened at the genuine pleasure in his voice.

She tugged a brown leather jacket out of the closet and shrugged into it. (No one was going to see her looking unladylike, and this place was cold. Besides, she liked leather.) “You’ve gotta teach me how you picked that lock. If it wasn’t for you I’d probably still be stuck out there.”

Maybe she was laying it on a little thick, but it was worth it to see him inflate a tiny bit more, straightening his shoulders and tugging at his bandana with a quiet chuckle. “That’d be fun.”

The sirens had stopped, and she risked a glance outside to see that while traffic was still stopped, there wasn’t an angry mob outside their door. The bike was still lying forlornly in the middle of the road. “Looks like we’ll be here for a couple hours, until the roadblock clears.” She led him to the small living area in the back of the building; she really didn’t like those windows by the street. “Can I take a look?”

His brow furrowed. “A look? At — oh!” He reflexively put his hand on his chest, wincing. “Of course.” He took a seat on a small round ottoman, unbuttoning his shirt and folding it before setting it aside. He was starting to look pale again, his movements losing their clumsy confidence and slowing as his brain got tripped up on his thoughts.

Time for another distraction. “We really need to get headsets or something,” she growled, unceremoniously tugging his body armor over his head and kneeling down to take a better look at his injury. It wasn’t bad: a large, ugly bruise from the impact grazing his side, but it hadn’t broken the skin. She’d still bandage it up, if for no other reason than to feel useful. She snagged the first aid kit out of her purse and set it in his lap, hoping the responsibility of holding it for her would help ground him. “We should’ve had Jasp in our ears the whole time.”

It worked; he cocked his head to the side, handing her an elastic bandage. “Did Mr. Campbell not give you anything like that?”

She paused. “I really need to remember my headset.”

David laughed, the sound cutting off with a pained hiss as she pulled the wrap tight and tied it off.

The storm had cleared, at least for now.

She climbed to her feet, setting the remaining bandages on the counter. “We can loosen it later if it’s bugging you,” she said, gesturing with her chin to his side as she crossed over to the couch and settled down. “Compression’s good for bruises, so right now we’re compressing.”

“Thank you.” He was quiet as she rooted out her phone and texted Jasper: ‘couldn’t get out. laying low in a house on westmore.’ She paused, biting her lip and watching David stare at his hands. ‘we’re okay. i think.’

“Hey, boss?” His head jerked up, eyes wide and startled like a deer’s. Gwen grabbed her handbag and tugged A Game of Thrones out of it. (She’d turned her purse into a real Bag of Holding, in part because she wasn’t used to being allowed — let alone expected — to carry around something so cumbersome. The damn thing weighed like thirty pounds, but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t come in handy.) “Storytime?”

David brightened; storytime was his favorite part of the day at work. She was pretty sure he loved it more than the kids did. “Sure!”

With another quick glance out the window (no bike, but the traffic was still at a standstill), she settled back and listened to him read.

They had about ten minutes.

Ten minutes of quiet was a luxury in her line of work; if a mercenary complained about only having ten minutes to relax in the middle of a job, they’d be laughed at and then fired, and mayne shot for good measure. But she must’ve grown soft working for David, or just complacent.

Ten minutes of David’s soft lilting voice -- interrupted by occasional involuntary gasps as the book surprised him while he was reading -- before the peace was shattered with a spray of glass.

Brushing shards of the broken window off her dress with the sleeve of her jacket, she looked up to make sure David was all right; she paused on the way, her eyes landing on an innocent-looking plastic bar. For about half a second her mind whirred, trying to recognize why the damn thing looked so familiar.

Slim, almost dumbbell shape, large round holes —

“Shit, David —”

The world exploded.

Gwen sat up before her head had stopped spinning, hauling herself to her feet by clinging to the wall and trying to ignore the way the room looked like a blazing tilt-a-whirl. There was no way to tell how long she’d been out. She was alone in the room (she suspected the explosion had kept everyone in the road at a safe distance), but she couldn’t have more than a few minutes before the police came in to see what the hell had just happened.

Fucking stun grenades. She’d never liked them, not even back in her mercenary work. Too loud, too unpredictable, way too likely to set things on fire. (Jasper, of course, loved them for all these reasons.)

She couldn’t hear anything except a high-pitched ringing, and she’d never felt quite so vulnerable, exposed even with walls close on all sides and a veil of smoke blocking her from the doors and windows. But she wasn’t hurt, not beyond a few scrapes and an ugly-looking burn across the top of her foot where the explosion must’ve shot some debris. All the flashbang had done was . . . well, flash and bang.

Left her blind, deaf, and unable to walk, but in one piece.

“David?”

Sound was returning, faint and bloody like she was underwater, but clearing steadily. First the sound of sirens, only distinguishable from the ringing by its slight modulation, then a babble of panicked voices.

Closer, with the authoritative blare of a megaphone: “Eight, seven, six . . .”

“David, are you here?” Gwen staggered forward, trying to keep her voice down (though with her muffled hearing it was hard to tell). The grenade had landed on the table between them, so he should’ve been knocked flat by the explosion as well. But as she dropped to her knees — half in an attempt to escape the thickening smoke and half because her balance still wasn’t entirely back — the only thing she found was A Game of Thrones , the edges smoldering.

Okay, she wasn’t going to panic. She was a professional, even if the last several months had been less like a job and more . . . strange. He couldn’t have evaporated even in this extreme heat, so . . .

“Four, three —”

Fuck. Bolting to her feet, Gwen scooped up the book without thinking and lurched for the front door, snagging a chair from the kitchen. She shoved it under the door handle just as the countdown reached “one,” stumbling back and banging her hip against the coffee table without taking her eyes off the door.

“You have had the opportunity to exit the building. Now, we’re coming in!” There was a muttered order and then a thud that made her teeth rattle, but the door held. She breathed a sigh of relief and raced up the stairs leading off from the living room. It was a small townhouse, and she’d bought herself a few seconds.

Which was all it took to realize that this place was spotless, expensive, and completely empty. Wherever David was, it wasn’t here.

Maybe he’d stumbled outside? She could picture it, could see him pressing that stupid bandana to his nose and mouth, delirious with smoke and still reeling from the shock, and staggering into the waiting arms of the police. Even the thought of him leaving her behind wasn’t too crazy; David could be thoughtless, selfish even. (She’d once lost him at the mall for nearly two hours and had eventually found him kneeling by the loading area, holding out a pretzel she didn’t see him buy to a pigeon -- oblivious to her increasingly-frantic calls because he didn’t like his ringtone, so he put it on silent.) The idiot wandering outside with his brain almost literally rattled in his skull wasn’t out of the question.

There was another thud, louder and accompanied by the creaking of agitated wood. She hurried downstairs with her mind whirring furiously. If the police hadn’t already realized there was a back entrance, they would soon, and with the shattered window they might not even have to force entry. The right side of the building shared a wall with an identical townhouse, and the left framed the alley — making it her best bet, assuming she could squeeze her way through one of these freakishly tiny windows that cities always insisted on installing. Like there could possibly be too much light with buildings looming in every direc —

Focus, Santos. She lifted the kitchen window as quietly as possible, praying the sound wouldn’t alert the police in the front or back of the building, and slipped outside. It took some careful maneuvering to get her jacket covering the worst of the grass- and burn-stains, but within minutes she’d ducked out of the alley, doing her best to look like a rubbernecking passerby. As she sidled onto the sidewalk, letting herself get swallowed up by the crowd, the front door to the townhouse opened, releasing billowing smoke from the dying fire.

So the police had found the back door. Saved her a minute.

She stood on her tiptoes, scanning the assembled officers in search of a flash of gleaming auburn, but the only redhead she saw was a cop with pixie-short hair and a too-sharp gaze that raked over Gwen’s clothes and hair. (She quickly checked to make sure her gun wasn’t visible, realizing belatedly that she couldn’t have looked more suspicious if she was wearing an overcoat and wraparound shades.)

The officer nudged her partner, leaning in without taking her eyes off of her, and Gwen turned and shoved her way through the crowd, breaking into a sprint when she heard someone shout, “Hey!”

Despite her lack of recent running-for-her-life, chasing after small children must’ve kept her in decent shape, since she managed to slip free of the police without trouble. But she didn’t stagger to a halt until several blocks from the house, slumping against the brick wall of an ancient electronics store. She fumbled for her phone — maybe David had contacted her, or maybe Jasper had gotten word — and caught sight of something on her hand. Figuring it was dirt or soot or something, she moved to wipe it off and froze.

It was smeared from sweat and friction, but she could still read the note scrawled across her palm in cheap blue pen:

DEG

17 S LIL

sorry

Her brain, still choked with smoke and recovering from being stunned, processed the words in reverse order.

Sorry. Someone was sorry . . . Well, after the fucking day she’d been through someone should be.

17 s l i l. Slil? 17s l—

South Lilac. She’d had a few jobs there, not well-paying but with little competition. It wasn’t a nice part of town, the kind of neighborhood that was regularly in the news.

And the letters. They took the longest to permeate her foggy brain, and when they did her struggling hold on clarity was wiped out in cold white panic.

D E G.

David

Ethan

Greenwood

They had David.

#campcamp #camp camp roosterteeth #gwenvid #cc gwen #cc david #forestwriting #i don't have a tag for this oops #it's just the fahc ripoff fic #guess who can't write action?#dis bitch #gimme people talking in a room or internally monologuing about their feelings #none of this fake-shootout nonsense

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charliesthomas021 · 2 years

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6 Must-Have Dresses & Skirts for Women

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Conclusion

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#Dresses and skirts

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electricbikexubh318 · 4 years

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How Do I Choose A Womens Bike? - The Facts

Step-through bikes are the compromise between the low-step and the step-over frame, which we will discuss soon. Step-through bikes provide riders the most upright riding position and will also be the easiest for riders to install and dismount by simply stepping through the curved frame. Step-thru bicycles are ideal for fun, casual trips, or your daily commute to and from work and supply comfort and style with every flight.

They are a great alternative for riders that do not have a total series of movement, and are especially terrific for older riders or riders who have a challenging time lifting their leg over a standard bike frame - step through bike. Additionally, step-thru bikes are an excellent alternative for individuals carrying parcels or constantly find themselves in stop-and-go traffic.

Step-through bikes are likewise terrific if you are travelling to work, and need to wear formal clothing that might not be as versatile, this can consist of a mens fit or womens dress or skirt, enabling you to get on and off the bike with ease and without breaking a sweat.

Because step-through bikes do not have the leading bar protecting the front and back of the frame together, they can be viewed as less durable than a standard bike. For this factor they are typically made from more long lasting materials, which implies they will be somewhat heavier. This guarantees they are durable and safe to ride.

Ever since, and with the innovation of electrical bikes, action through bikes are now just as fast as their equivalent. The Aventon step through designs reach the very same speeds as the traditional models, and depending upon the bike you select, can increase to speeds of 28mph. Furthermore, they are not the preferred bicycle design if you are traveling through hilly terrain.

With step-thru bikes, this sensation can typically feel quite shaky when utilized on hills and, sometimes, could be rather dangerous. Step-through bikes can likewise be rather tricky https://geizhals.at/aventon-cordoba-rahmenset-a2201940.html to accessorize. electric bicycle. Because of the style of its frame, step-thru bikes are not developed for accessories such as water bottle holders or mini-backpacks, which can be a disadvantage for some riders.

Lastly, taking a trip with a step-thru bike can also be a difficulty, as it needs a top tube bar adapter to be included to secure the bike to a rack, otherwise lots of racks will not work with your step through bike.

The Can A Woman Ride A 24 Inch Bike? Diaries

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Print This Page Boomers and seniors are deciding for step through bikes a growing number of every year. There is a lot to be stated for ease of mounting particularly if you are not as limber as you once were. (And who is?) Likewise, rental companies like them for their adaptability.

They are getting terrific evaluations from the folks that really ride them. The idea that they are just a woman's bike simply does not be true https://hiconsumption.com/best-fixed-gear-bikes/ anymore. Bike producers have actually lastly pertained to recognize that there is a big market potential for bikes that are easy to board. Now they are jumping on the bandwagon and creating designs and materials for step through bikes that conquer the weight-bearing restrictions of the old styles. fat tire electric bike.

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This means that typically the rider can keep the correct seat to pedal distance and still put their feet flat on the ground while seated. This makes the wheelbase a bit longer than a standard bike, and has a small result on the handling however, it really boosts the riding convenience - ebike.

Other than the frame, the other components are all standard. In fact, recumbents and tricycles are step-throughs likewise so that gives us a lot more choices. If you are specifying where you have to lean your bike method over to mount it your next bike need to most likely be an action through.

There are numerous benefits to step-through bikes however here are the primary ones: This is probably the most significant advantage of a bike with a step-through frame. It's the main reason that they're still utilized today by lots of riders. They're a terrific choice for riders who do not have a complete range of movement or restricted movement.

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thegeekerynj · 4 years

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An Occasional Attempt to Read, Discuss and Review the Wonders of Comics

By: John Rafferty, cranky old man, and Fan of All Things Comics

Riding the IND

Designed with the intent to acknowledge the Immense Contribution of the Independent Comic Press, and highlight a more unique stable of products

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Short Hops on the IND

Quick looks at books from the Independent Press, when the reviewer has too much on his plate

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Seven Secrets #2 (Boom! Studios)

Writer: Tom Taylor Artist: Danielle DiNicuolo

‘You know, being a Leader, I really expected my decisions to be undermined less.

Really? That’s cute.

Why do I keep you around?

Mainly to hold this. I suspect you have unusually weak arms.’

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So, Caspar has been born, and shipped off to be trained, becoming another Secret in the Order of Secrets…

And he comes back. At 9 years old, trained in the martial arts, Smarter, more inquisitive and much more driven than any Initiate before. Training with Keepers and Holders, to become one of them.

And more importantly, to discover his roots.

Taylor’s scripting is tight and fast. He packs a great deal of story into 24 pages. More importantly, he brings Caspar’s story fully around, to the point of Sigurd’s departure.

The artwork from Danielle DeNicuolo is simply beautiful. I know… I waffled on about how pretty her pencils were last time, but Jeebus, this issue is prettier. It’s almost as if last issue was a test balloon, to see if she had the hook she wanted, and now… well, she’s fishing the pond dry!

This issue ends on a terrific cliffhanger line, one I will not repeat.

More importantly, one which can mean many things, depending where the story goes.

Suffice to say, I am determined to follow this book. I would suggest you do so also.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

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Locke & Key ‘…In Pale Battalions Go…’ #1 (IDW)

Writer: Joe Hill Artist: Gabriel Rodriguez

‘Where did Father find you? Be honest, I shall have the truth soon enough. I best not learn he hauled you out of some sordid immoral hole.

No. Worse. Canada.

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Locke & Key.

The story of Key House, on Lovecraft Island, has spanned years, for Key House, itself is older than the Americas.

The Lockes have forever been the guardians of the Keys to Key House, guarding them against the Evilthat wants to use them… for the Keys are Weapons. Not weapons like guns, and rifles and knives or spears. But Weapons.

Those which have the Power to Destroy. And the Keys DO want to be used.

Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez have taken it upon themselves to bring us another tale in the History of Key House. Thank Gods!

The year is 1918, and the Great War is raging in Europe. Jonathan Locke is 14 years old, and wants to fulfill his destiny, for the Lockes have been represented in every war. As the only son, this is his right, and with the Keys of Key House, there’s no telling what he can do…

Gabriel Rodriguez seems to have decided to leave everything on the battlefield with his artwork. His pages are so expressive, and capture the feel of the World War One era. If the closing splash is any indication, the actual war pieces will be fantastic.

As far as Mr. Hill, what can I say? There has not been a miss, even remotely, in his portfolio… and this latest edition of the Locke Family chronicle is no exception.

My only complaint, it relies on a conceit that the Reader knows the story already, and gives little information about the Keys in play… Now, this is a minor dig, for if the Gentle Reader perusing this truly wants to find the history of Key House, and its family of Guardians, they would merely have to purchase the prior volumes of Locke and Key, and read to their heart’s content.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶

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A Man Among Ye #1 & 2 (Image / Top Cow)

Writer: Stephanie Phillips Artist: Craig Cermak

‘You might try using the eyes that head, Jack, unless you fancy a new breathing hole. Still I do love the smell of gunpowder in the morning…

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Well, this is a pleasant surprise…

A comic about pirates. Not any pirate, not a ‘Jack Sparrow’ type of pirate.

No, this is a look at Captain John ‘Calico Jack’ Rackham, and more importantly, his first mate, Anne Bonny.

The stories of Jack Rackham, Anne Bonny and Mary Read are almost as extensive, and fantastic as those of Blackbeard, William Kidd and Bartholomew Roberts.

What makes Anne Bonny and Mary Read so special is their being successful Female Pirates in a male dominated world. Every bit as strong, independent, and batshit crazy as all the others of their time, Bonny and Read ran the British Navy ragged throughout the Caribbean, while doing so an all-male crew, an amazing feat for the 18th Century.

Stephanie Phillips has certainly done her research, taking this story from the sinking of a British frigate by Rackham and his crew, to the British Governor of the Bahamas, and his plan to capture all the pirates, and execute them.

Cermak’s art is nicely complementary to the story, however I find it a little trope-y… The Heroes / anti-heroes are pretty, the ‘Villain’ is an ugly brute, and things are a little to clean… This is a pirate story, on the High Seas, there is nothing clean and pretty about this…

But, I digress.

With two issues in, and the British on their tail, Rackham, Bonny and Read have their hands full. Knowing a little of the history here, I am looking forward to seeing how much legend Phillips mixes in with the facts of the raids on the Barbary Coast, the Tortugas, and the shipping lanes.

It’s really nice to see a non-Super, strong Female Led Book. Here’s hoping it gets legs, and readers!

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶

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Bomb Queen - Trump Card Part 1 (Image - Shadowline)

Creator - Jimmie Robinson

‘Why the FU*%ing rush? *cough - cough* He’ll be gone like every asshole politician. They’re all the same.

Not this time. Trump changed the Constitution by repealing the 22nd Amendment. He’ll make himself President for Life if he wins this election.

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Sweet Jeebus. As if Jimmie Robinson hasn’t fed the zeitgeist enough with cut-off shirts and tiny, tight skirts, now he feeds the fears of America, outlining an America with a lunatic trying to rewrite Democracy… And the need for Bomb Queen to run against him!

This is my introduction to Bomb Queen, the ninth mini-series, each of the earlier ones a titillating wonder of humor and over-sexed action. At this point in her world, the anti-hero has had her own country for Super-Villains, and is now on the run, having beset upon by the World’s Heroes.

Captured by her Clone / Sire (these things are never clear), Bomb Queen is offered a choice, as it were. Run for office against the Orange Horror, or well, you know, because heroes aren’t really heroes…

His artwork is pretty, simple, and clean. There’s a certain elegance about the characters he draws. They’re not overmuscled, although the ladies do have exceptionally large ‘lungs’, which are emphasized by uniform cutouts (a’la Power Girl)…

This book is full of hoots, giggles, belly laughs, and unfortunately, the harsh reality of the 2016 Election. There’s a two page spread which harkens back to the CNN / MSNBC / National Television Network ‘Man on the Street’ interviews, with paraphrased quotes I heard about Trump over his opponents, and over Clinton. The idea that Robinson could make it fit so easily, and fluidly… well it both makes me ill, and gives me pause to want to read much more.

As I said, Jimmie Robinson has grabbed the National Zeitgeist by the shorthairs with this storyline, not because he’s rich, and just can, but because it’s just too soon, and no one will be able to deny the ugly nature of what they are reading.

This is worth a read to see where he takes it, to see if he has the stones to finish what he started, and to see HOW THE HELL Bomb Queen WALKS IN THOSE FRICKIN BOOTS!!!

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶

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Cyberpunk 2077 Trauma Team #1 (Dark Horse Comics)

Writer: Cullen Bunn Artist: Miguel Valderrama

‘Everyone’s resentful of how little money they make. Doesn’t change anything.

We get the call.

We do the job.

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As I read this book, and watched the flashes of color race across my eyes, my first thoughts were ‘godsdamn, this guy makes Frank Miller look good!’

Gentle Readers, in my introduction to this book, inside the first 5 or six pages, I was making comparisons between the artist of this book, and the master of dark, splatter mayhem.

Miguel Valderrama has a very special touch to his pencils and inks, maybe he buys them from the same place, perhaps they are fashioned from the same tree and graphite quarry… whatever the reason, the cause, I want MORE!

The biggest difference is the lightness of touch, the fine lines, there are many more, much more elaborate detail than the broad strokes Master Miller uses, however, this is not a complaint. Rather , the observation is more of a wistful longing for a, well, a ‘What if Frank Miller Drew Everything The Way He Drew His Crowd Scenes?

The answer might be found in this book

Cullen Bunn’s story reads like a reality television story. This is a look into the psych eval of the lone surviving member from a Medical Evac Team. This Trauma Team has medics, and soldiers to act as guards, as the areas they are sent into aren’t exactly Beverly Hills, unless the 90210 has been overrun by the Crips and Bloods, and they are eating the shop owners.

As Nadia is running through her memories of the events, we are seeing it in real time, along with the interviewer’s requests for clarification. She appears to be a solid medic, her only concern being getting back in the field. She has a job to do…

Now, at first glance, this could be seen as pretty derivative… like Judge Dredd / Anderson as a Guard / Medic team… BUT… and this is a Big One, the comparison ends with the big helmets and firefights.

There’s none of the cynicism, or the poking fun at the Government / Branches / Cabinet Offices. Rather, there’s what feels like a genuine look at how being a survivor has effected this character, and how she is going to handle getting back out into the field.

I liked this. I have to say, I went in to this book with some preconceptions, and was happy to see them dashed. The interactions between the Team characters come across as real, there’s little stilted, unnatural dialogue… and that was a great thing to see.

The twist Bunn slams at the reader on the last page of the book, well, I want to see Issue 2, just to see how this plays out.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶.5

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HEAVY #1 (VAULT Comics)

Writer: Max Bemis Artist: Eryk Donovan

‘I’ve got fifteen Hitlers to do away with before the end of the night!

They’re throats aren’t gonna slit themselves!

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Have you ever read ‘The Punisher’?

Seen R.I.P.D.?

Put the two together, you’ve pretty much read this book.

Hyperviolence, set to a redemption arc, while saving the Multiverse from the worst iterations of the Famous (both good and bad… Leonardo DaVinci as a bisexual foot fetishist who uses his genius to become Dictator of the World, and build weapons that are sexual torture devices???!!!???)

The redemption part?? To get to the Other Side, and redeem yourself, you have to partner with, and train the jerk who killed you and your girl, and make sure he doesn’t get killed when you are on the job!

Unless this is what you are into… HARD PASS!

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶

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We Only Find Them When They’re Dead #1 (Boom! Studios)

Writer: Al Ewing Artist: Simone De Meo

Boss, tell me if I’m out of line here, I don’t mind not knowi—

— But what IS this between you and Richter? What happened?

Oh, it’s quite simple, Jason.

She killed my PARENTS.

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I was hooked on this book before I got to these lines of dialogue.

I don’t know if it was the absolutely wonderful artwork, the beauty of the layouts, the detail, the ——Oh Hell, Simone De Meo’s artwork grabbed me and held me for the three readings I gave this book. I couldn’t get over the visuals, her place ts of panels, the character sketches… Hell, some of this was downright cinematic.

There are panels, and pages, that made me think of James Gunn’s vision of Knowhere… and that is high praise from me.

Al Ewing, what is there to say. After reading his work on Judge Dredd, i sought out his work wherever I could find it.. This is tough for me, not being a big Marvel Fan, since almost everything he has written has been for the House of the Iron Mouse…

The story, is simplicity. Explorers in Space find the corpses of the Gods. Well, that is as close as they can come to what they are.

There is a market for their meat, the materials which clothe them, certain parts of their organs, both a legal and a Black Market.

Once a Godcorpse has been identified, the Sutopsy Ships descend upon it, to stake claims. these are monitored by Escort Ships, in place to enforce Government Regulations concerning what can and cannot be stripped from the Godcorpse.

Violate protocols and die.

This is the story of the Vikaam Two, her captain, Georges Malik, his crew, and his plan to find a Living God.

I can’t wait!

Eight Bells… All is well…

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶🌶

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Grendel, Kentucky #1 (AWA /Upshot)

Writer: Jeff McComsey Artist: Tommy Lee Edwards

‘You believe what Pap said about Clyde?

How he died?

Do I believe a bear killed my Daddy?

No Fuckin’ Way.

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1976. Junior Year of High School, my AP English class was assigned ‘Beowulf’ as an Advanced Placement Test read. In the Olde English translation.

It was an attempt by my teacher, a wonderful elf of a nun, to get her literary stunted students to stretch, comprehend, and recognize themes once they see them, in preparation for the exam and the expectations of college.

2020. As is my wont, I picked up all the First Issues of the Indy Comics at my local purveyor of Four Color Sequential Art, The Geekery.

While running up my near National Deficit weekly Comics tab, my eyes slid across the title, and the gritty cover… Hmmmmm, too much of a draw not to at least give a look, add it to the pile.

In the opening pages of this book, Clyde Wallace has dressed himself in catcher’s mask, chest protector and knee / shin guards (poor man’s body armor), and strapped on enough real and makeshift weaponry (baseball bat with spikes driven through the business end to an M-60 grenade launcher) to make Rambo, Negan and Max Rockatansky run screaming into the night.

Clyde marches into the mouth of a mine…

WHOA! By Hrothgar, King of the Danes… This is Beowulf… In Kentucky!!??!!

Set in 1971, the Beowulf character, Denny, is a veteran of the Viet Nam Police Action, his warriors, well they are an all female biker gang, led by Marnie, a woman his father raised from childhood. The King, Pap, is the Town Elder, and he knows something he isn’t talking about.

Yeah, this is already good, one issue in.

Jeff McComsey has written an offbeat take on the Beowulf epic, taking some very severe literary license with the story lines. The epic heroes and warriors, well, not so much. Relatively amoral, criminal for support, ahhhh lets face it, these guys are all anti-heroes, at best.

If this were today’s America, I’m not sure I wouldn’t be rooting for the monster.

But I digress.

The artwork by Tommy Lee Edwards is gritty, hard on the eyes, and, well appropriate to the story. His artwork HURTS at times, you can feel the violence, the intent, through the eyes. America in 1971, it was not a pretty place.

As a miniseries (1 of 4, so far), this is worth the read. Too much more, and it would feel like I was prepping for a test again… but I digress.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶

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Inkblot #1 (Image Comics)

Creators: Emma Kubert and Rusty Gladd

‘Sweet Suckleberries!

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Her Name is KUBERT. As in Joe, and Adam and Andy and Katie.

That alone earns her the right to a viewing.

The fact that this is a fun little book she co-created with Rusty Gladd, well, that’s a gallon of whipped Italian Sweet Cream on top of the cake!

Give this a shot! Buy it for your little ones, if you have any! Lie about having little ones, and buy it for yourself! You won’t be disappointed!

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

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Spy Island #1 (Dark Horse Comics)

Writer: Chelsea Cain Cover / Designer / Supplemental Art: Lia Miternique Artist: Elise McCall

‘Some people are afraid of the ocean. There’s a word for it: ‘Thalassophobia’. A fear of the open ocean and what lies beneath its surface.

Not me.

I think the ocean’s great*.

*except for the Kraken.

——————————————————————————————————————————

SO. That happened.

There is an area of the Atlantic Ocean, delineated by vertices at Miami, Florida, San Juan Puerto Rico, and Bermuda, which has been the source of many stories concerning the disappearance of airplanes, ships, crews of ship, and unusual activities. This area, lovingly referred to as the Devil’s Triangle, or the Bermuda Triangle, is the source of this tale.

Spy Island is located somewhere inside the Triangle, and it plays host to spies, bad actors, scientists, etc from all nations, some other worlds, and all times.

It’s the story of Nora Freud, Agent for an unnamed country, possibly the USA, possibly not. She is a spy, and so much more. She is also a woman of action, who can perform any assignment given to her.

Including assassination.

Lia Miternique and Elise McCall have put together an artistically gorgeous offering in this book. Between the inserts for the fish, maps, the advertisements and covers, this a visually wondrous.The underwater scenes in and of themselves are masterful, offering a view of the ocean one might actually see off t a Caribbean island.

The story, well it is OK. Lots of self exposition, not much action (the best stuff is in the first 4 pages), this is setting up like a spy thriller, of sorts. DUH, bimbo!!! Look at the title!

It is a first issue, and seems to be tagged for a longer run, so, I’m willing to give Ms. Cain the benefit of the doubt here. She had to have given the artists the perspective to draw from, and I am cautiously optimistic, based on Mockingbird, and her NYT Best Seller Status…

It’s worth a shot, just for the eye candy…

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶.5

#indie comics #seven secrets #locke & key #a man among ye #bomb queen #cyberpunk 2077 #heavy #we only find them when they're dead #grendel ky #inkblot #spy island #image comics #dark horse comics #boom studios #comics #comic books

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