#Delroy Brown

[paisholotus]

Aesthetics

[curryvillain]

JAmaicans Sing @BurtBacharach Hits In Our New Playlist!

On February 8, the music world lost one of the most influential persons in Pop Music, the late Burt Bacharach. With his songwriting, production, and various compositions whether solo or done with collaborators, Bacharach has given us some of the greatest songs and sounds, helped to elevate the careers of some of the best Artists including Dionne Warwick, Tom Jones, and Dusty Springfield, and…

[tofuxtea]

𝟕:𝟎𝟒 𝐚𝐦 | 𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — murdoc (2016) x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — nsfw, explicit, reader needs something, murdoc wants something in return, oral (fem!receiving) murdoc is an asshole, hair pulling, quickie (?), face fucking, panty stealing, murdoc uses readers panties, lowkey nose kink lol, clit sucking, tongue fucking, slight overstimulation

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 — NOT PROOFREAD! literally stayed up til 7am to finish this bc i refused to not finish it. i had this idea when i watched like the second episode he was in and i couldnt get it out. also i need more david dastmalchian esp jack delroy, murdoc, johnny, and james lewis moots pleasepleaseplease

you were pissed. that much was obvious when you stormed into the prison with a slim folder between your tense fingers and a scowl etched into your typically stoic features.

you had demanded the guards get him into the interrogation room before you got there and told them to keep away from the door for the next hour. though they weren’t allowed to do so, they refused to fall into your vicious crosshairs.

they did as they were told, and the second you swung open the door to the stuffy, metal room you were met with a smug grin and taunting stare.

neither of which wavered even when you slammed the manilla folder onto the table in front of him and used that same hand to backhand him right across his cheek. your fingers closed around the collar of his plain white shirt before he could fully process the strike and you forced his body back upright. his handcuffs rattled with the motion. the proximity should have scared him.

“you sold us out?” your voice bounced off of the walls like a gunshot had rung out. but murdoc didn’t flinch. instead, his smile steadily grew until he was laughing in your hands.

honestly, you should have expected this. the consequences of trusting a sociopathic assassin like him. known for lying about any and everything, completely indifferent about who he hurts and the amount of chaos he creates.

you made the stupid mistake of placing what should have been the satisfying wrap-up to a very important mission in his hands and ended up getting double crossed, and your coworker and good friend almost killed. in whatever time murdoc had between your meeting with him and what was supposed to be a surprise confrontation, he gave away every last detail to whoever knew of your connections with him.

luckily, the phoenix foundation had never known a loss thanks to macgyver. he narrowly managed to flip the score and gain the upper hand in a heavily disadvantaged fight, giving your team just enough room to make just a few arrests. the rest were able to escape.

but despite the half victory, you knew it wouldn’t happen every time. so you had to remind your little informant who he belonged to.

your hold tightened on his shirt, and finally his cuffed wrists rose as a meek defense. “oh, come on sweetheart. i’m flattered you thought so highly of me, but i’ve told you before. my service only goes to the higher bidder now.” his voice was calm and condescending. it pisses you off.

you held him still for several seconds, debating on painting his cheekbone purple before shoving him back into his chair. it was so forceful, you heard the thin legs grit and scrape against the ground. murdoc chuckled lowly. “you’re strong for such a small thing, aren’t you?”

your eyes shot daggers into his own, but you control yourself. the team would only fall into deeper shit if you pushed him into a non-verbal state. they were relying on you, even if they had no idea you had come back here.

“you’re going to tell me who these people are, and where they might’ve gone.” you instructed, voice low and sharp. murdoc’s eyebrows twitched upwards as you flipped the folder open and spread several papers onto the table.

he glanced down at them, eyes shifting left and right like he was tracking a moving dot. “need i remind you? again?” his empty brown eyes came back up to you. his smile returned. “why should i?”

right. payment. in truth, you had shown up completely empty handed, boldly praying that you could get him to comply and the answers would merely fall out of him. maybe a punch or two. but this was murdoc. he felt nothing.

your jaw tightened when you came up with nothing. he seemed to sense that before you could say it and he scoffed out a laugh. “oh, then i’m afraid you came all this way for nothing, sweetheart.”

that was the second time he’d called you that. it felt almost dehumanizing coming from him, especially paired with the not-so-subtle observation he stole of your figure. though, it seemed to strike something in him, and the corner of his lips lifted.

“you know, i might be willing to settle for a second place offer.” murdoc held your gaze with a newfound intensity, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. dealing with many men in your profession, you knew that look all too well.

your stomach lurched. though you couldn’t tell if it was in a nauseating or interested way, seeing as your stomach suddenly tensed so badly it really could have been either. the man was attractive, there was no denying that. but still, you’d never pictured a situation like this with him before.

murdoc tsked at your shock. “i have needs.” he said matter-of-factly with a small shrug. his handcuffs clinked against his chair.

“i thought you had to be human for that.” you shot back.

every bone in your body told you to pack the file back up and leave him hanging. that was what your best judgment was screaming at you to do. not to entertain a maniac like him and put yourself at such a risk. but for some reason your feet were glued to the floor. you couldn’t move.

murdoc actually looked offended by your words, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “i can be as human as you need me to be. just say the word.” his voice dropped, suddenly teetering towards gravelly. “you need something, i want something. my prices really don’t get this low, you know.”

knowing murdoc, his idea of ‘needs’ was bound to put you in some compromising position. you shouldn’t. you really shouldn’t. but the way he was looking up at you with what could only be described as pleading eyes forced your refusal back down your throat.

then, his lips spread into a victorious grin. you noticed his sharp canine fangs for the first time. “good girl.” he breathed. he shifted to face you, reaching out to inch you closer to him with one hand. the distance between you two was already microscopic, but it got even thinner as he gently eased your legs in between his parted knees.

the chain that bound his wrists together granted him far too much leeway, you noticed when he planted his hands on either side of your waist.

your clammy palm pressed onto the table’s surface beside you to balance yourself, finding your guard was beginning to slip away. a heavy sigh escaped from your nostrils and your eyes squeezed shut while you took in your position.

you could back out now, you thought. there would be no shame in it. you’re only caught up in the moment now. he stunned you. that was all. you didn’t have to do this. you didn’t want to do this, you corrected, more loudly in your head this time.

murdoc’s fingers began to massage your hips over the skirt of your form fitting black dress, drawing you out of your meditative space. your eyes found his when they snapped open, and murdoc hummed.

“no need to worry, sweetheart. i know what i’m doing.” like that made you feel any better. he also knew what he was doing when he killed dozens of people.

you let a sigh slip past your lips when his hands traveled downward, inching towards the hem of your dress. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say there were two guards behind that door. but there isn’t, is there?” he asked lowly and knowingly, shooting a glance over to the locked door you had come in from.

your response was reluctant. if you told him he was right, he could easily use his position to overpower you and get out. but if you let him believe the guards were there doing their job, would he stop? you looked down at him, then down where his hands were gently massaging your upper thighs.

“no, they’re not.” you replied truthfully.

“good.” murdoc quickly replied. he moved you so that you stood in front of the table. your expression shifted to one of curiosity. “you can be as loud as you’d like.”

your face flushed hot at his words. how he said them so casually and cockily despite being (almost) completely at your mercy.

his fingers hooked onto the bottom of your dress and pulled it up to your waist, sighing with admiration as he took in the sight of your black panties. you gasped at the abrupt exposure, wanting to pull the bunched up fabric back down your thighs. but the sudden sensation of murdoc’s fingers rubbing at the dampened crotch of your underwear caught you off guard and you let out a whine.

“that’s it,” murdoc groaned when your thighs instinctively parted wider for him. he traced up your wet folds through the thin fabric, stopping at your clit to circle it. your chest filled with a sharp gasp and you cried out, legs going near slack. “good girl.”

your hips bucked shamelessly into his fingers, desperately trying to match his steady rhythm. “shit, shit,” you gasped, fingers curling around the edge of the table. your head fell back between your shoulders, strained whines falling from your lips.

murdoc quickly stole your building-up orgasm when he took his hand away to slide your panties down your legs and plant himself onto his knees before you. he whisked the garment away but you didn’t entirely care. the sight of him made you blink, realizing what he was about to do.

this was what he meant by wanting something? honestly, you had expected him to bend you over the table or have you straddle him on the chair.

“go on.” he gently nods towards the table behind you. hesitantly, you pull your dress down to cover your ass before hoisting yourself up onto the edge. you wince at the cold that seeped through the thin fabric meant to protect you. the rest of it bunched up at your hips.

murdoc’s hand slipped behind your thigh, holding it in place, the chain lightly digging into your skin as he brought his other one up to rub at your inner thigh. you waited for him to tend to your aching cunt again, but it never came.

you looked down at him, growing irritated. “what do you need me to do?” he asked far too sweetly for your liking. you glowered at him, but he didn’t give in. “don’t forget, you’re the one who needs something.”

bastard. he was going to make you say it out loud. humiliate you for a little bit, even if he was painfully hard in his orange jumpsuit. he had patience like no other, so he would get his way.

you swallowed what was left of your pride and responded, “please, make me come.” your words held bite and lacked the lust that coursed through you. and although murdoc looked like he was going to make you answer correctly for a moment, he shrugged.

“since you asked so nicely.” he said sardonically before he planted his mouth onto your cunt. the response was immediate, a startled cry of his name falling from your lips and your thighs tensing around him.

his tongue delves into your cunt, working you slowly and skillfully. you press a shaky hand to your mouth to try to keep yourself relatively quiet, but it’s like he knows exactly how you touch yourself at home in bed. he’s hitting every spot, and the vibrations of each of his moans make your back arch.

“murdoc—” his name sounded so strange when you weren’t cursing it to hell and back. “—fuck, don’t stop,” your hips rolled against his mouth, the tip of his nose prodding at your clit. you risked it and carded a hand through his hair, taking a handful of dark locks and tugging. he moaned, louder this time, and his knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on your thigh.

you watched as his eyes fluttered shut, practically losing himself in your pussy. he shifted to sucking on and licking at your clit, reveling in the way your cries got higher and more frequent, and how your body writhed wildly against his face. then he’d move back to devouring you, messily and loudly.

your hold on his hair went icy and you pushed him deeper into your cunt, thighs spreading impossibly wider. murdoc whined at the assertion, peering up at you through hooded eyelids.

the sight was obscene, burning itself into your vision forever. the feeling would, too. you hadn’t received anything like this in years, especially not from your silicone and rubber replacements at home.

it’s then that you notice that he’s breathing too hard — or rather, moving far too much — and that he’s slowed down significantly. and that his hands have left both of your thighs and had gone back to his lap. one still loosely held your calf, you realized, but the other worked at his stiff cock. you couldn’t see it, only the rapid up-and-down of his fist.

it wasn’t because of his jumpsuit, which he had worked open at some point, but because also in his hand was your panties. it should’ve disgusted you. watching murdoc jerk himself off and using your panties to do it.

but instead your breathing went ragged and you moaned. “fuck, fuck, murdoc!” he groaned in response, his tongue delving into your pussy in slow, deep drags. he didn’t care that you’re fucking his face now, or that he can’t breathe. he was chasing his own high, fisting his dick with your panties and listening to your relentless cries.

you cursed and cried out as the coil tightened in your gut, feeling like your body was about to explode if he didn’t stop. you didn’t want him to. so you held his mouth against your cunt, hips jerking sporadically as you finally came on his tongue. you felt murdoc’s lips curve into a smirk against you, but you didn’t have the strength to care.

instead, you let him fuck you with his tongue through your blinding orgasm, gently rolling your hips in time with his languid thrusts. you tilted your head and peered down at him, watching him get himself off with your underwear.

you wished you’d worn a sexier pair, but the stirring in your stomach was still there. just knowing they were yours.

a weak moan slipped from you when the sensitivity started to catch up with you. murdoc kept going, still licking up your first orgasm. “holy shit, murdoc,” you slurred, a second orgasm quickly building.

your head fell back and your fingers ran through murdoc’s hair, tousling it even more. but he persisted now, shifting to messily work at your clit. the noises were obscene, and the shame was beginning to set in, but once you looked down and caught his gaze, it was gone.

his nose poked at your abdomen while he sucked on your sensitive nub, and spit and cum glistened around his mouth. you held the contact for only a moment before you came for a second time on his tongue, and telling from the trembling moan he let out right after, he did too.

he pulled away after a second, both of your heavy panting filled the room. you could barely hold yourself torso up, you couldn’t even imagine standing up yet. so you stayed propped against the edge of the table while murdoc cleaned himself as best as he could.

“you can keep them.” you mumbled before he could even try to give you your panties back. but the man only blinked at you.

“i know.”

the anger from before threatened to return. god, he was such an asshole.

“that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked with a smug smirk as he wiped your cum from his face with the back of his hand. the action made you gulp, and the way he was staring at you, still on the ground, forced you to your feet and to the other side of the table.

you had to put distance between you and him or you’d end up shoving his face right back between your legs again. and you would rather die than have murdoc know that you wanted him to tongue fuck you again.

“right, now, can you give me what i need?” you asked, hurrying to rearrange the shuffled papers on the table.

murdoc got back up into his chair, watching you compose yourself with amusement. “that depends, sweetheart.” he replied. “what do you need? names or another round?”

did this in one sitting ur welcome. god i love david dastmalchian. so much. also i might write a part 2 to this.

[return-to-ravenbrooks]

Return to Ravenbrooks:

Biography

Entry 2

Name: Delroy [REDACTED]

Date of Birth: 1996

Gender: M

Current Address: 910 Friendly Court

Height: 5'7

Hair color: Black

Eye color: Dark brown

Key features: Wick Pompador, shaved eyebrow

Role: Bagger

Abilities: strength, endurance, charisma

Occupation: Stock boy

Status: Fair

Biography:

I wasn't close with Aaron.

It wasn't like I hated him or anything- at least, not unlike the way everyone seemed to after the accident. We just weren't the kind of people who jived well. He was quiet to himself and his goals, and I was to mine.

And like most of the town, I didn't care too much when he disappeared. We were all fed the same lie through town gossip. Aaron and his sister Mya were shipped upwards in the country. Minnesota I think. But I remember one thing, one person who made it loudly known that he didn't believe it.

"I- you guys don't understand! He left me a note and- there was blood on it! Mr. Peterson he-" his eyes were red, like he'd been crying recently, but his voice was livid. Scared, but livid.

I'd winced at his yelling. It was kind of a shame, really. Even for a new kid, he wasn't the largest social outcast I'd seen in town. And supposedly he could even snap back a decent insult occasionally. But with this- outburst. Standing on the outdoor picnic tables, yelling like a lunatic? All that was washed down the storm drains, just like everything else that got stranded in the streets of Ravenbrooks.

And now here I was, sitting in a cheap folding lawn chair in the middle of Trinity's dining room. It wasn't ideal, sure. But I didn't mind. We alternated which of us sat in it with every meeting.

Did it even matter that her dining room only had six chairs though, if she couldn't even manage to sit down? Her pacing was vigorous and thoughtful.

"...So?" I leaned back in the lawn chair, listening as it creaked softly. "People move in and out of town all the time, who cares?"

Almost immediately I could feel glares on me. Most obviously from Trinity, slightly from Enzo and Mari, and while his was the least obvious, I felt the most silent hatred for my question from Nick. No, not the question, the implication.

Trinity paused her steps finally and sighed "I dunno I just... I thought- I mean after they checked the basement and- I thought-"

"He was...gone gone." Enzo finished for her. Finishing sentences had become commonplace since the Inventor's Club became the Ravenbrooks Investigation Club. The things we'd seen together, heard. You understood what someone else wanted to say, but were too stunned or maybe even polite to let the words out.

"Well, not to burst your collective bubbles, but he's here." Finch yawned. I don't blame her, it was too early for this meeting. Too early to be looking at the photos Trinity took at most half an hour earlier. But an emergency meet-up was an emergency for a reason.

She set her hand on the table, not a slam or anything, more-so shifting her weight. "What should we do?"

"What do you mean? I mean... He's just building a house, right?" Ivan asked quietly.

"Over Peterson's house!" Nicky, resting both his arms on the table, straight, to balance his weight as the chair he sat in scooted back across the dining room floor, all in a voice too loud for this time of day. Finch leaned away slightly and he sank back into his chair sheepishly.

"Probably cheaper land-" Ivan excused. "Or- I dunno, maybe he's sentimental of the land. Either way, it's not like we can do anything, really." I nodded, leaning forward again to rest my elbows on the table.

"Yeah, what, we gonna sneak around his half-built house for 'clues'?" I laughed.

[mystycalypso]

Return to Ravenbrooks: Biography

Entry 5

Name: Enzo Esposito

Date of Birth: 1995

Gender: M

Current Address: [REDACTED]

Height: 6'0

Hair color: Brown

Eye color: Black

Key Features: Glasses, Undershave, Baby Face

Role: Planner

Abilities: Agility, Stamina, Map making, Quick Thinking

Occupation: [REDACTED]

Status: Fair

Biography:

It was so many years ago now, but God I remember it so- clearly. The way she gathered us in the science club room, telling us all to sit and listen. We were all still so shaken up from what had happened... none of us could've expected what she told us next.

Yeah, the Raven Man was a conspiracy in Ravenbrooks. I even remember seeing kids dress like it for Halloween. It was another spooky story, a cryptid, a monster under the bed. No more or less real than Bigfoot or Mothman. At least, I thought so. Yet her description of it certainly fit, the long yellow beak and body draped in a long flowing cloak.

It broke in so easily... that horrified me, and still does even now. Could it get anywhere that easily?

Despite that meeting, it took much longer for things to form. The formal invitation Trinity handed out, disguised as a sleepover, was the first "official" meeting I was invited to.

I'd been surprised to see Delroy there at the time but, looking back on things I'm glad Trinity invited uim. Although it didn't make hearing the news any less unbearable.

"We've been going out to the Golden Apple amusement park to investigate," He'd explained. My jaw was slack. It seemed- insane. I mean I thought breaking into Mr. Peterson's house was suicidal but chasing after this creature with no help, no defenses, practically no plan at all?!

I know she had reasons for inviting me so- late, compared to the others. But God if anything had happened because of it all...

I suppose it doesn't matter now. We're much more- careful nowadays. Thankfully.

[kissorkill16]

Out Of The Ordinary: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: The gang goes to talk to Nicky.

Trinity knocked on the door or the Roth house and patiently waited for someone to open, the rest of the gang standing behind her.

"Are you sure he's even gonna know?", asked Maritza.

"He has to if he's been doing nothing but avoiding us. I need answers, and he's been acting weird ever since his disappearance.", replied Trinity.

Ivan stepped in, "Also, he kinda owes you for that time he ditched you in Mr. Peterson's house."

"Ivan, I'm not worried about that right now."

Just then, a woman with black hair, teal eyes, and a light blue outfit opened the door. Standing next to her was a man with brown hair, brown eyes, and a white and teal shirt.

Ivan jumped behind Delroy, and Delroy pushed him away. "Get away from me!"

"Sorry, I get nervous when I meet new people. And I was lost in thought when she opened the door.", said Ivan.

"Well hello.", said the woman.

Trinity gave the woman a little half wave, "Hello, ma'am. My name is Trinity, I'm one of Nicky's friends."

The woman nodded. "Nice to meet you, Trinity. My name's Luanne Roth, and this is my husband, Jay. I swear Nicky has mentioned you before, but I'm not so sure I remember."

Delroy rolled his eyes and flapped a hand at the Luanne, "Listen, we're here to talk to Nicky."

Luanne slowly shook her head.

"Sorry, kids, but that's sort of out of the question. Nicky hasn't been acting like himself lately and I don't think he even wants to talk to anyone, not even us.", said Jay.

"He's barely even eating or sleeping. We tried asking him about it, but all we get is shaking and whimpering.", said Luanne, moving to shut the door. "We'll tell him you guys were here and we'll see if you can come back tomorrow."

And with that, Luanne shut the door.

Maritza sighed, "What do we do now? Give up and go home? Because that's what I feel like doing right now."

Everyone else nodded in agreement.

Trinity stomped her foot, "No!", she turned on her heel and started running to the backyard. "I need to talk to Nicky!"

The gang followed close behind her, Enzo was the slowest since he had to help Maritza walk a little bit.

"Trinity, are you seriously thinking about throwing rocks at his window?", asked Enzo, "What if you break it?"

But Trinity wasn't listening. She picked up a rock, and was about to throw it, but Maritza stopped her. "How do you even know which one is Nicky's?"

Trinity paused for a moment, then lowered her arm carrying the rock.

"Look, just guess I suppose. We're already here.", said Maritza.

Trinity didn't have to be told twice.

She threw the rock at the window, earning a loud bang on the glass surface. Thankfully, it didn't break, but Nicky didn't answer. She began to think this wasn't Nicky's room window, but she picked up another rock and threw it at the window again.

A moment of silence passed by, then the gang saw a silhouette of a boy, and Trinity immediately knew it was Nicky.

The boy slowly opened the window.

"Guys?", said Nicky, "What're you doing here?"

[silent-raven13]

"Daddy, may I have another teacake?"

(AU: Miles is a transman happily married to Hobie and they have a son together.)

Miles looks through his kitchen to find a teacups for afternoon tea and scones. The thirty one year old set up the two teacups and scones then he hears the tea kettle whistling out loud. Going to get two tea bags, he quickly rushes into the living room to find his sister in-law sitting on one of the arm chairs reading a book. "Will Earl Grey be fine? I couldn't find Black tea."

Hobie's older sister's dark eyes glances up with a small smile, she had on a floral purple printed head scarf to cover her shaved head. The dark circles around her eyes made her eyes look bigger, and she wore a long blue floral printed house dress with some fuzzy green slippers. Her once flourished plump legs were now skinny, very slim to the point it look boney. She wore warm thick socks, and have a blanket on her lap.

"That's fine, Miles." She set her book down to the table next to her. The large window behind her set the comfortable mood.

"Alright, will you be fine with blueberry scones?"

"Yes, can you please cut it for me?" She kindly asked having a soft voice, she's the shyest sibling out all of them. Miles is always amazed by her shy kindness, she's like a little mouse... yet, she was the one that raised all of Brown children.

"Yes, would you like it toasted with butter?" Miles asked knowing full well his sister in-law wouldn't ask what she wants, she felt a burden the moment she came out to her family about having cancer.

It shook many of her siblings, but many didn't seem to be able to have the ability to take her in or they try to figure out what to do. Miles remember how Hobie came to him freaking out, scared almost in a full breakdown for his eldest sister. His husband always said his older sister is more of mother to him than his actual drunken mother.

Miles wanted to support his husband and want to help with Ronica as much as possible. The two first thought about sending money to support her, hoping one of his siblings would take her in and watch her. Sadly, half of them couldn't because they couldn't afford it or have the time. The other half had their schedules, families, or aren't committed to that kind of responsibilities. It was all back and forth which causes them to fight, argue about the whole thing.

The other main problem was their mother, she didn't seem to care or wanted to watch over her eldest child. She didn't mind taking the money for her own personal use, which all of them knew she would do. So the Brown siblings had to make sure their older sister has to get out of that home to be take care of. Another is to watch over her, or hire someone to take care of her.

The stress causes some to ghost for a bit, which was very messed up. Ronica tries to say she can do it on her own and work something out with their mother. For the first time in years, Hobie had a cigarette from the stress, and got caught by his Sunflower. Miles never forget the look on his face.

"Sunflower? Um... this... fuck, I can't think. I... My sis..." Hobie inhale a long drag of his cigarette being outside of the small balcony from their apartment, "Delroy... that bloody.... that nitwit told us that he's out. Fucking hell, he rather spend his money on his own damn drugs."

"Shh, it's okay, baby. I understand." Miles knew his man being stressed out for his sister. Slowly went to hug him, he didn't care about him smoking, again.

He shook his head, "Chandice and the others can't take her in..."

"What? Why?" Miles looks up at him being surprised.

"I dunno... stupid excuses. Or... I dunno. You would think they would try to help." Hobie grunts, "And Ronica, too! What was she thinking telling us all late about her cancer? Level 3! 3! She needs chemo, a nurse to watch for her, and- and FUCK!" He bangs on the rail with his fist being pissed off to the point his eyes filled with tears, "She needs to feel comfortable, safe! Not with that fucking monster."

"Baby, I know. I know, you are worried. But you need to calm down," Miles rub his husband's back, "We'll figure something out."

"Luv, I... she will die if she doesn't get the help and-and I'm not ready for that. She did everything for us," Hobie weeps into his husband's arms, "How come six of us can't fucking figure out how to help her, but she can take care all of us, hmm? Tell me, how fucked up is that?"

"Hobie," Miles held his husband's face been caring and gentle, "You need to understand your siblings have lives, too. Look at us, we're here in America. Chandice is a lawyer always in and out never at home. Heck, even her own children barely sees her with the way she's always working. Delroy- well, he always been the kind to never keep his promise. Your other siblings work for minimum wage and live in smalls apartments. You even said Ronica needs to live in a comfortable home with her own space, and nurse. The only solution for them is to move back with you guys' mom! And she's not easy to deal with." He tries to give the benefit of the doubt for his sister and brother in-laws, they all ended up runaways or left home at a young age to avoid their mother. The only one that stayed was Ronica.

"It's just... she sacrifice for us so much! Why can't we? Huh? Why can't they suck it up and-" Hobie saw the look his husband gave it was a concerned frown. "Miles, Sunflower don't give me that look."

"Mi alma, you know no one wants to go back to that horrible house. Not when your mother is still there." Miles tightly hugs his husband, "We'll figure something out-" Hobie cut him off, "The only thing I can think of... nah, too much."

"What is it?"

"I... No, forget it."

"Hobie!"

"What if we move to Britain? We can buy a house, live there to take care of her." Hobie asked.

"Hobie..." Miles's eyes widen.

"I know. I know! I thought, we're fine. I'm making money from my band and-and I'm sure with this new album out and the tour, you can stop working for a bit. Just to go back to your art career. Stay at home and freelance." He tries to explain, "I know it's stupid. I never w-" Miles quickly said, "Let's do it."

"Wha?"

"Let's do it. I'm all in! Bae, Hobie," Miles stares deeply in his man's eyes, "I'm willing to do this for Ronica, I want to help and be there for her."

"Really? Like for sure?"

"I'm sure, bae."

"Alright... um... okay." Hobie let out a big smile through his teary eyes, "We're doing it. We're moving to Britain, Sunflower." The two chuckles. "Gawd, I love you."

"Love you, too, bae." Miles kisses his husband. "Mm, cigarette taste.. yuck."

"Opps, sorry, Sunflower." He put out his cigarette, "Doesn't taste as good as it use to. I'll quit, right now."

It's been two years since the move, they bought a beautiful home in a nice area with a lovely garden, and nice view of a pond. Ronica did love going to the patio outside to watch the scenery, her favorite part is watch a family of ducks waddling around the pond. It got Aaron interested to watch them.

Miles quit his job to be a freelancer artists and help take care of his sister in-law, while Hobie focus on his music career. The band had a massive fanbase causing tours to pop up, and new ideas for the next album.

Of course it was hard to move from his family and his home. New York had always been his home, and he loves every bit of it, but he wants to his husband to help Ronica as much as he can. It was hard saying good-bye to his family, even Aaron was upset in saying good bye to his grandparents. Miles knew this would be a fresh new start for the Morales family.

Seeing how Ronica is slowly recovering, it's all worth it.

"Yes, please. Perhaps a little bit of blackcurrant jam." Ronica kindly said liking her scones to be a lightly toasted with butter and jammed.

"Alright, no cream?"

"Oh no, darling. It's much too sweet for me." She said.

"Okay," Miles went back passing by his four year old son watching television and playing with his toys. His hand playfully petted his boy's bald head, "What you doin', bebé?"

"Umm... watchin' Spongebob." Little Aaron already talking and walking being a kind boy. Now he has a British accent like his papá. It makes Miles crack up, because he never thought his son would speak in a British accent.

Miles smiles at his boy before going to the kitchen to prepare for teatime, "Mi vida, you hungry?" He called for his son being reminded if he wants some snacks.

"Yes, daddy." Little Aaron walks into the kitchen with his hands together being curious.

"You want a Chocolate scone or blueberry one?" Miles asked.

"Hmmm?" The little boy took a moment before he asked, "Daddy, can I have a two chocolate covered biscuits?" His British accents is heavily influenced by his aunty and his daycare friends.

"Now, you know you can't have cookies, right now." Miles noticed his son having some fixation with cookies and would gobble it up like nothing. "You had one in the morning."

"I did? Oh dear," He looks a bit surprised like his daddy told a lie to him, he grab his Bluey blue shirt having to pull down being a bit anxious, "I simply can't remember."

This made Miles hold on his giggle with his lips pressed together, hearing his son speaking so polite is adorable and funny. Never in his life he expected this, always thought his boy would have a full blown Brooklyn accent.

We're living in Britain, now.

"How about a scone, mi vida?" Miles asked.

"No, thank you. It's terribly dry for me." Aaron said being unamused by the second option.

"How about a teacake?" Miles knows a teacake with a bit of butter will be alright. "A little butter."

"Is it the one with chocolate and marshmallows?"

"Aaron, you know that has a biscuit in it?"

"Yes, but it's a teacake. A lovely teacake." He looks at his parent with a puppy pout, "I rarely eat them."

That is true....

Miles sighs, "Alright, mi amor. One teacake and a side of strawberries?"

"Okay. Thank you." Aaron turns to his television, "Now, if you excuse me, I would like to watch my show." He went back to the living room.

Miles finally let out a giggle being so amused at his son, he quickly went to get the tea and scones ready. He took out a small sippy cup with a none caffeine tea with milk for his son, since Ronica and Hobie mention that Aaron should start liking tea like the other kids.

Depending on the parents, they would allow tea to their child's diet. Some add milk, others drink plain. Miles wanted Aaron to slowly get use to it by adding more of a none-caffeinated tea with milk.

The thirty one year old came by with a tray with their tea and treats, "Tea is ready. Aaron, honey, come join us for tea time." He and Ronica saw Aaron quickly pausing his show with a remote, before rushing to sit on his daddy's lap.

"Oh, how lovely!" Aaron saw the tray being well organized and presentable, his own little plate with a chocolate teacake and strawberries on the side and a sippy cup.

Miles picks up his son and hand his sippy cup, "Here you go, mi vida." Giving him a kiss on his bald head then a gentle rub. "How is it?"

"It's nice." Aaron sips his tea with milk enjoying the taste. "May I have a teacake, please?"

Ronica giggles, "He's such a polite boy. Hobie use to be like that when he was a toddler with me but never our other siblings."

"Hahaha, he respects you too much." Miles chuckles having a buttered scone in his hand to take a bite.

Aaron sips his sippy cup then took a bite of his chocolate covered marshmallow teacake. A bit of chocolate got around his lip as he chews. "You like your teacake, bebé?" Miles asked his son who was nodding as he's chewing.

"Mmm-hmm."

Ronica chuckles, "He has a massive sweet tooth like his pa." She took a sip of her tea.

"Oh yeah, I would have to hide the teacakes or else Hobie would devour it all in one sitting." Miles said, "I find these tea times really fun when I first moved into Britain."

"It's quite nice, isn't it? Aaron seems to get the accent plus the Jamaican one, too." Ronica giggles having to be the main influenced when she watches her nephew.

Aaron did pick up a British Jamaican accent while living in Britain. Miles was aware once Aaron fully understood Hobie and Ronica speaking Patois here and there, even he would use the language. Meanwhile, Miles is trying to teach him Spanish and had the daycare put up for Spanish Speaking lessons. "He's becoming a little British boy."

His sister in-law laughs in amusement, "Indeed he is. He's been liking the food, too. You were having a hard time adjusting, hmm?"

"Haha," Miles did admit he didn't like the food in this country, it had a rather plain taste to it. Certain locations didn't have the flavors he craves for. He did admit he did became fond of Battered fish and chips, pastries, and their chocolates. Luckily Hobie and Ronica show him areas where it's mainly focus on Caribbean shops for their seasoning and fun spots they like to eat. "Yeah, the food didn't have any flavor. Also, the coke here isn't as good as the one in the US."

"Really? I quite like coke here. Then again, I never traveled anywhere except the local shop near my old home." Ronica's show a bit of sadness, "I never did anything extravagant compare to my brothers and sisters really."

"There's still time for you to do the things you want. How about we write a list what you wanna do or go. I'm sure we can make it happen."

"Oh no, you and Hobie did so much for me. It would be-" Miles placed his hand on Ronica's thin hand with a gentle smile on his face, "Nica, it's alright. We're family. We got your back. See it as Hobie repaying you for dealing with him when he was a kid. Besides, you deserve to enjoy yourself and be free. You're no longer at your mother's and need to watch her."

"Thank you. I'm just... I don't believe I deserve it. I felt like I didn't do enough with my siblings."

"You did plenty. You gave up most of your life for them and it shouldn't been you, it was your mother's responsibility. You deserve to treat yourself and enjoy the things you want that's why Hobie gave you allowances and credit cards. So tell me, where did you wish to travel?"

"Hmm," Ronica let out a shy smile, "I always did want to go to the Big Apple. Hobie always loves talking about how the food is large, the places are crazy and the people are just as wild. I did want to go to London, too. I rarely got as much to visit places around here." She admits she never left her home not when she only wants to buy groceries or simple clothing in near shops.

"Then, we can plan it." Miles happily said.

Aaron already finished his teacakes and had lick his hands covered in chocolate, "Mmm, delicious. Scrumptious!"

"Oh Aaron, don't lick your hands!" His daddy quickly grab a napkin to clean his hands, "I know it's good but licking your hands isn't good manners."

"But we're at home! Dad always licks his fingers when he eat cake with his hand." Aaron being confused.

Ronica giggles, "Looks like he's picking his papa's habits."

"Oh certainly not." Miles will shut down those bad habits, "I will make sure of that." He let his son eat his strawberries in peace. "I will have to talk to hubby about it."

Aaron chews on his strawberries, "Mmm, yummy." He wipe his hands on his Spider-man shirt while he grabs another strawberry.

"Aaron, you have a napkin to wipe your hands..."

"Papá wipes his hands on his pants..."

Ronica hides her giggles, "He has a mouth just like your husband."

"I'll probably have to talk to him about these habits." Miles mutters while taking a sip of his tea. He enjoys these moments with Ronica, it's like he had another sister by his side.

Aaron smack his lips, "Daddy, may I have another teacake?"

"Sorry, bud." His daddy said, "You have to wait after dinner."

"Why?"

"Because you'll get too full when it's dinner time."

"But Papá eats the whole box of teacakes! Why can't I?"

This made Ronica let out a hearty laugh, her poor nephew is throwing his sweet papa under the bus. "I'm sorry, Miles."

"No-no. Your good. I get it. Hobie and Aaron are a funny pair." Miles shook his head at the idea that his sweet baby boy is learning all of Hobie's habits. "Okay, how about this? You can get another teacake if you can ask in me in Spanish." Maybe this will be a fair outcome.

"Spanish?" Aaron asked.

"Sí, pregúntame en español." Miles spoke Spanish to his son.

Aaron turns to face Ronica with an adorable lip smacking sound, he wanted another teacake. Then he asked in Spanish, "Puedo comer otro pastel de té?" Without even trying, he looks at his daddy with the most innocent face.

Oh, that's the innocent look his husband pulls! This made Ronica let out a gasp with a wide smile seeing a similar Hobie Brown.

Miles could only give him another one, "This is your last one, Cookie." A little nickname he gave his son for his love for cookies or as the British say biscuits.

"Yay!" Aaron happily claps his hands with joy. The four year boy happily ate up his second teacake with pure joy.

It was night time and the famous punker arrived in his private home from a long day in the music studio, writing songs, fixing tunes, and singing different styles... it's all a very long process. He came home to a quiet house, it's late so he figured his sister and son went off to bed. They never like missing curfew, so he went to the kitchen to find an island with a plate of his food covered with his name on it.

"Awe, Sunflower." His heart flutters knowing his husband prepared him a plate. Oh, and it looks like it's rice and peas with Jamaican chicken curry, and fried plantains. Hobie's mouth watered when he saw Jamaican fried dumplings. He can tell his sister helped Miles in making their mother's fried dumplings, though it should be known as Ronica's fried dumplings. The old bat never did anything for him or siblings.

The lights turned out, "Welcome back, Anarchist." Hearing his husband's soft voice, the older punker happily turns to him leaning on the side wall where the switch was.

"Sunflower." Hobie let out a warm smile, he saw his husband wearing a loose knitted oversized sweater and pajamas pants with slippers. His hair in a navy blue bonnet. "How was today? Was work too much?"

"Honestly, it was easy. Your sister ate a good amount," Miles went over to sit next to the island, watching his husband heat up his dinner in the microwave. "Aaron ate two plate fulls."

"Oh yeah? The lad is eatin' like a man." Hobie grins at his husband, "Just like me."

"And he's picking up certain habits from you, too."

"Like?"

"He licks hands and says you lick your fingers when you grab cake and eat it like this," Miles mimics how Hobie grabs a slice of cake with one hand and eats it, "or he wipes his dirty hand on his clothes and say you do it with your jeans..."

"Well, I don't actually wipe my hands on my jeans, Sunflower..."

"and how you always eat a whole box of teacakes and he only gets one so he ask why he can't get another one before dinner."

"Cheeky lad. Throwing me under the bus."

Miles went over to hug his punker, his arms around his waist, "Bae, Aaron is four and he's picking up these things and thinking they're okay. I just want you to be mindful when he's in the room. Also, we're gonna strict your daily sugar intake, just this week I bought twelve boxes of teacakes and we're down with only two!"

"In my defense when I get high I need my teacakes, and I need my snacks." Hobie happily said as he kisses his husband's lips, "Love you."

"Hobie."

"Alright, I'll be a well-mannered gentlemen, but only after he goes to bed I get to be myself." His punker hums, "And here I thought I'm going to raised my little anarchist."

"He can be an anarchist and have good manners. I don't want him being gross at daycare and stains don't come off easily, bae." Miles explained, "Now, give me a kiss." He pucker his lips waiting for his hubby to kiss him.

"Mwah, then I'll make him the most witty anarchist yet." Hobie chuckles lowly.

"Please, he's already like you. You should've seen him when I told him he could have another teacake if he can ask me in Spanish, and he acted all innocent! He gave that look you always do when you pretend to not know what's going on?"

"What look?" Hobie does the look.

"That look!" His husband pointed it out. Hobie let out a deep chuckle being amused.

"And did he?"

"He asked fully in Spanish as a four year old would. Hobie, we're raising another you. Ronica find it so amusing."

"Hahaha, I bet she did. I was a lil pain in the arse and she cursed me out about how I would end up with a little me."

Miles laughs, "Because no one can be Hobie Brown if it's his own kin."

"Exactly, luv. Mwah. Mwah!" He kisses his husband lips and the tip of his nose, "Love you for putting up with us."

"Oh hahaha, you know I love you guys." Miles playfully shove his man, "Besides, Aaron is gonna make you stress when he's a teenager."

"Please, I dealt with my brother, Abraham and Delroy was known to cause trouble with gals in our neighborhood."

"And you think Aaron won't? Teenagers are always curious. Remember how you were with my dad?" Miles arched his eyebrow with a smug look on his face. "I think that's where he got gray hairs."

"Me? Naur, I refuse to believe your pops got grey hairs because of me, Sunflower." He had a wide smirk on his face giving a weak lie.

Miles hums, "If you say so, bae."

"I swear!"

His husband can only rolled his eyes, "Anyway, I've been wanting to talk to you about our summer vacation."

"Yeah?"

"Ronica told me she always wanted to explore the United Kingdom a bit more. Maybe we can take a safe road trip with her and Aaron?"

"Hmm, you know what that does sound a good idea. I was wanted her to go to London and let her live a little." The punker did want his sister to enjoy herself.

"And Scotland would be nice to go. I was looking at a nice hotel, but I wanted to make sure if you're okay with this. I know this is all maybe seeing we have to wait how her condition gets."

"It'll be fine to take her as long as she gets better if not baby steps. We'll go one important city for a day." Hobie took out his warm plate from the microwave after he heard the beep. "Maybe go to the beach for her to experience everything."

"We can take her to a nice cafe, book store and maybe take her on a blind dates?" Miles offers.

Hobie frowns, "I dunno about blind dates... she's very inexperience with those things and with mum putting fucked up thoughts in her head..."

"We can give her therapy, if she wants it." Miles knows his husband's mother had ruined a lot of the Brown children's self esteem, especially Ronica taking the worst verbal abuse. It's a shame to see his sister in-law viewing herself as an ugly woman with no appealing features on her body, she made comments about her hair, her black skin or her face. Yet she had beautiful dark umber skinned that makes her so majestic, so appealing to see. "Your mother was a monster, Hobie. You know, a bitter woman couldn't stand her children especially her daughters doing better than her. She's a drunk with nothing to show for it all over for a man who left her and you guys."

The crazy about the Brown's children, they do not look their age. They are the prime example of Black don't crack. Ronica being the main proof, she's forty years old looking in her twenties. Right now, she looks older because of her cancer, when she's cured she'll be back looking young and beautiful.

"When she gets better, perhaps we can ease into it. It's a sensitive topic. Our mum really called us ugly stupid useless bastards." Hobie knows this all too well.

"Horrible. Such a horrible woman." Miles remember meeting her once and that was enough for him to walk before wanting to smack the old bitter woman around. "I'm just glad with got Nica out of there."

Hobie nodded, "Yes, we did." The two stood in silence for the moment.

"Well, finish your meal, bae." Miles patted his husband's back, "I'll be in the room."

"Alright, thank you for preparing it." Hobie pulls him into a side hug.

"You're welcome, husband." Miles kisses his cheek before taking his leave.

After Hobie finished up his meal, he went into his bedroom to find his husband taking off his sweater revealing his bare chest. The faint scars of his top surgery looked nicely healed, and a vivid happy trail, "I didn't know you were putting on a show, Shuflower. Do I lay on the bed?" He jokes.

"Ha, ha, ha." Miles fake laughs at his husband before putting on a big oversize white t-shirt to sleep, "just changing into my comfy shirt, you horn-dog."

"I do enjoy seeing you strip." Hobie sat on his bed to take off his heavy thick Doc Martin black boots, then remove his jewelry making clicking sounds as he set them on his nightstand.

"You must be so exhausted?" Miles finished changing, he crawl on his king size bed to go over his husband to massage his shoulders, "Ohh, you're tense."

"Mmm, feels nice, lovely." His husband groans at the massage. "I need this."

"You're working hard, bae."

"Have to with the deadline for the album. We only got to finished two songs... fucking Karl is on this drama crap with his boyfriend." He grunts.

"You think they would get married already."

"Heh, they act like they young. We're getting old, Sunflower." He lift his head to face his Miles.

"Ay, we're still young and thriving."

"Ha, not with these back pains."

"Oh bae, please. Just the other week you went to a party taking shots, and drinking beer like you were twenty one." Miles huffs, "Your being so dramatic."

"I had a nasty hangover the day after." He pouted, "And I use to mix my drinks, now I can't handle tequila."

"You never did. Bae, Tequila is the worst for you." His husband cracks up.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Yeah?" Hobie playfully got on top of his husband giving his tickles and blowing raspberries on his neck. Miles bursts into giggles as he struggles to break free.

"Hobie that tickles!" He laughs again.

The punk give him a kiss, "Sunflower, you challenged me."

"No, I didn't it." He laughs, then he quickly got on his husband's lap.

"Oh? Luv, it's like you want something from me." His arms resting on his husband's waist, "Hmm?"

"Oh yeah?" Miles flirted.

"Yeah," Hobie patted Miles' rear, "Alright, let me go shower."

"No."

"No?"

"You smell good, stay for a bit." Miles' hands cup his punker's jaw, "You don't wanna stay with me for a bit, hmm?"

Hobie smirks with a low seductive voice, his lips lightly graze his Sunflower's, "You always know how to get me in the palm of your hands, luv."

Miles giggles as the two kiss passionately. Hobie happily falls on his back and mutters about a condom in his nightstand. "Shh, don't worry about it. We always wanted another baby." Miles suggested as he unbuckle his man's belt. Hobie could only smile loving at his husband.

[howlingmoonradio]

June 13th Playlist

We continue our salute to Black Music Month and focus on the genre of reggae music, a musical style that is dear to my heart and that I've had the pleasure of collecting and playing in clubs and on the radio for close to 40 years. I chose the above picture of Augustus Pablo, not because he made the playlist tonight, he didn't, but because we play a couple tracks from one of his collaborators and mentors, Herman Chin Loy. I had the privilege of seeing Augustus live in the late 80's, and it was a magical experience. Anyhow, roots reggae is the dominant style featured on the episode, with a smattering of ska and rocksteady in the mix as well. Hope it hits and you feel all right..

Side A Howling at the Moon-Hank Williams This Train-The Wailers Who Feels It, Knows It-The Wailers Simmer Down-The Wailers Fling it Gimme-The Gladiators Mr. Music-Culture New York City-Heptones International Farmer-Peter Broggs Hill Street Dub-Burning Spear

Side B Telegraph Dub-Burning Spear My Time-Gregory Issacs Rain from the Sky-Delroy Wilson My World is Empty Without You-Dennis Brown No More War-Beres No More Version-Herman Heavy Manners-Prince Far I Heavy Discipline-Prince Far I Jah Solid Rock-Israel Vibrations

[mrdelroy]

CHARACTER SHEET.

𝙱𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙲𝚂.

full name.   jack (middle name pending) delroy.

nicknames / aliases.   mr. midnight.

height.   6'1" / 187 cm.

age.   42.

zodiac.   gemini.

spoken languages.   english.

𝙿𝙷𝚈𝚂𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙻 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂.

hair color.   black.

eye color.   dark brown.

skin tone.   fair.

body type.  average.

dominant hand.   right.

posture.   relatively good. has a tendency to slouch given his height.

scars.   none of note.

tattoos.   none.

birthmarks.   none.

most noticeable features.   sideburns, that big made-for-tv smile.

𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙷𝙾𝙾𝙳.

place of birth.   berwyn, illinois.

siblings.  older brother, currently unnamed.

parents.   mother and father, currently unnamed.

𝙰𝙳𝚄𝙻𝚃 𝙻𝙸𝙵𝙴.

occupation.  late-night show host.

current residence(s).   nyc.

close friends.   june ross-mitchell (parapsychologist, @latenightpsych), gus mcconnell (night owls cohost).

relationship status.   widower.

driver’s license.   yes.

criminal record.  no.

vices.   pride & greed.

𝚂𝙴𝚇 & 𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴.

sexual orientation.   bisexual, has a preference for women.

preferred sexual role.   switch.

libido.   low to average.

turn-ons.   dominance, teasing, being handsy in public.

turn-offs. arrogance & aggression, sadomasochism.

love language.   physical touch & quality time.

relationship tendencies.   jack is very physically affectionate. he's flirty and clingy and a huuuge sweetheart who loves nothing more than to spoil his partner. that said, it can be difficult to get past his stage persona; he struggles to truly open up to others (especially after minnie's passing). his romance often borders on cheesy shows of affection until he's finally able to be himself.

𝙼𝙸𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙴𝙾𝚄𝚂.

hobbies to pass time.   listening to his vinyl collection, going to movies & plays, visiting jazz clubs.

mental illnesses. depression.

self-confidence level. varies from average to high.

tagged by: @samuhelll tysm!! :D tagging: @latenightpsych, @sosordid (for sybil), @dissimulxte, @ghospoke, @giallifilm, aaand anyone else interested!

[ulkaralakbarova]

When a rich man’s son is kidnapped, he cooperates with the police at first but then tries a unique tactic against the criminals. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: Tom Mullen: Mel Gibson Katherine Mullen: Rene Russo Det. Jimmy Shaker: Gary Sinise Agent Lonnie Hawkins: Delroy Lindo Maris: Lili Taylor Sean Mullen: Brawley Nolte Clark Barnes: Liev Schreiber Cubby Barnes: Donnie Wahlberg Miles Roberts: Evan Handler Agent Kimba Welch: Nancy Ticotin Agent Jack Sickler: Michael Gaston Agent Paul Rhodes: Kevin Neil McCready David Torres: José Zúñiga Jackie Brown: Dan Hedaya Bob Stone: Allen Bernstein Wallace: Paul Guilfoyle Fatima: Iraida Polanco Roberto: John Ortiz Reporter Guest: A.J. Benza Nelson: Peter Anthony Tambakis Agent Sam: Daniel May Wong News Reporter: Donna Hanover FBI Agent: Anton Evangelista Cop #1: Joe Bacino Cop #2: Carl S. Redding Cop #3: James Georgiades Cop #4: Christian Maelen Cop #5: David Vadim Bank Manager: Michael Countryman Science Fair Coordinator: Cheryl Howard Science Fair Judge: James Ritz Radioman: Craig ‘Radioman’ Castaldo Liquor Store Cop: Joseph Badalucco Jr. Liquor Store Perp: Dell Maara Man at Party: Mike Hodge FBI SWAT Team #1: Mick O’Rourke FBI SWAT Team #2: Henry Kingi Jr. FBI SWAT Team #3: Roy Farfel FBI SWAT Sniper: Lex D. Geddings Don Campbell: Todd Hallowell Film Crew: Director: Ron Howard Screenplay: Richard Price Screenplay: Alexander Ignon Producer: Scott Rudin Original Music Composer: James Horner Director of Photography: Piotr Sobociński Editor: Mike Hill Editor: Daniel P. Hanley Casting: Janet Hirshenson Casting: Jane Jenkins Production Design: Michael Corenblith Art Direction: John Kasarda Costume Design: Rita Ryack Set Decoration: Susan Bode Tyson Second Unit Director: Todd Hallowell Producer: Brian Grazer Stunt Coordinator: Jeff Ward Stunts: Mic Rodgers Stunts: Peter Epstein Stunts: Paul Bucossi Stunts: Gregg Smrz Stunts: Andy Duppin Stunts: Steve Mack Stunts: Don Picard Stunts: Manny Siverio Stunts: Keith Leon Williams Stunts: Elliot Santiago Stunts: Norman Douglass Stunts: Cheryl Wheeler Duncan Stunts: Jophery C. Brown Stunts: Bill Anagnos Stunts: Tim Gallin Stunts: Jim Lovelett Stunts: Janet Paparazzo Stunts: Scott Wilder Stunts: David S. Lomax Pilot: Robert ‘Bobby Z’ Zajonc Pilot: Alan D. Purwin Pilot: Al Cerullo Pilot: Joseph R. Brigham Unit Production Manager: Carl Clifford First Assistant Director: Aldric La’Auli Porter Second Assistant Director: William M. Connor Production Supervisor: Michelle Morrissey Camera Operator: Bruce MacCallum First Assistant Camera: Jay Levy Second Assistant Camera: Christopher Norr Steadicam Operator: Larry McConkey Camera Trainee: Jennifer Stuart Still Photographer: Lorey Sebastian Video Assist Operator: Peter A. Mian Sound Mixer: Danny Michael Boom Operator: Andrew Schmetterling Cableman: Anthony Starbuck Assistant Editor: Guy Barresi Assistant Editor: Richard Friedlander Assistant Editor: Glenn Allen Assistant Editor: Joe Binford Jr. Location Manager: Jan Foster Second Second Assistant Director: Jeffrey T. Bernstein Script Supervisor: Eva Z. Cabrera Production Coordinator: Liz Newman Assistant Production Coordinator: Miriam Schapiro Assistant Production Coordinator: Eric Jacobson Unit Publicist: Julie Kuehndorf Production Accountant: Michael McCormick First Assistant Accountant: Louise DeCordoba Payroll Accountant: Kathy Welch Post Production Accountant: Liz Dykhouse Chief Lighting Technician: Russ Engels Best Boy Electric: Michael F. Burke Electrician: James C. Walsh Electrician: John Smith Electrician: Walter Fricke Jr. Electrician: Robert Connors Electrician: Doug Dalisera Rigging Gaffer: Ken Connors Key Grip: Dennis Gamiello Best Boy Grip: Brian Fitzsimons Dolly Grip: Edward W. Lowry Grip: Michael Finnerty Grip: Martin Lowry Grip: Richard C. Montgomery Jr. Grip: Gerry Lowry Grip: John Ford Rigging Grip: John Lowry Property Master: Tommy Allen Assistant Property Master: Diana Burton Supervising Sound Editor: Anthony J. Ciccolini III Dialogue Editor: Louis Cerborino Dialogue Editor: Bitty O’Sullivan-Smith Dialog...

[how-serene]

Devil I know - Ch. 1

Pairing - Obsessive!Jack Delroy x Fem!Reader

Summary - A bad string of luck leads you right to his feet.

Word count - 4.1 k

Warnings - dark!jack delroy, 18+, nsfw, dubious consent, smut, masturbation, stalker tendencies, possessive behavior, jealousy, mention of death, mention of cancer, invasion of privacy, mention of smoking, fem reader, fem pronouns, set in the 70s so expect sexism, abuse of power, jack is not a good person in this, overall creepy behavior from jack, cults, rituals, mention of religion, no use of y/n, implied age gap, personal assistant!reader

A/N - first series so a lil nervous. here we go.

series masterlist (coming soon) | main masterlist

March, 1977

You were starting to believe you were cursed. 

Perhaps you were hexed, or a malevolent god set its sights on you for no reason other than for you to suffer. You closed your eyes, drawing in a deep breath, till your lungs felt like they would burst. New York's cool night breeze tickled the back of your neck. When you re-opened them, the words on the wrinkled piece of paper in your hand remained the same. 

RENT INCREASE BEGINNING NEXT MONTH 

An inexplicable rage burned through your bones as you unlocked the front door. The harsh sound of the door slamming behind you shook the curtains as you stepped inside the apartment. 

“Have you seen this?” you asked, slamming the piece of paper onto the kitchen counter. Your roommate (and long-time friend) Lisa jumped, balancing a cup of tea in her hands. She peered down at it, brushing back her feathered brown hair. You could see her shoulders sag as she quietly read to herself. 

“Great.” she muttered, taking a sip from her mug. “They haven’t even fixed our leaking sink yet.” 

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the counter. 

“That’s not even the worst of it.” 

Lisa watched as you tossed the bright work shirt on the counter, along with an unopened bottle of wine. A tacky red bow was sloppily glued to the front of it, already falling off. The mere sight of the ‘parting gift’ made your stomach clench. 

“The store is closing at the end of the week.” you explained, pushing the bottle towards her. “So they decided to let a bunch of their staff go early.” 

The familiar bitter feeling of disappointment swarmed you again, as you bit back tears. 

“It's a store brand.” you mentioned, watching Lisa look down at it with disdain. 

“How nice of them.”

 She looked back at you, with a mixture of pity and visible concern. 

You groaned, rubbing your face as you glared down at the letter. The black bold lettering on the paper stared up at you, mocking the situation. 

“Alright.” Lisa started, placing her mug on the counter. “It’s going to work out, you’ll find another job.” She faintly smiled, dimples poking out from her sweet round face. 

You tried to return the smile, but it felt too tight and stretched on you. 

“Yeah, It’ll be that easy.” you muttered, the day's events threatening to anchor you to the floor. Lisa tapped at the side of her cup, a nervous habit of hers. You wordlessly grabbed the bottle off of the counter and made your way over to the couch. The ribbon was completely off now, showcasing the store’s label printed on the front. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Choosing not to have a single sober thought.” You explained, wiggling the bottle at her. “Care to join?” 

Lisa was sprawled out on the couch, balancing an empty glass on her stomach. Some mindless sitcom aired on the tv, the grating sound of the laugh track filling the cramped living room. The half empty bottle of wine sat on the coffee table. 

You were currently chewing on your second piece of Bubble Yum, the artificial sweet treat masking the bitter drink that lingered on your breath. A character in the show made a joke, causing the audience to erupt into a boisterous fit of laughter. Behind you, from your place on the floor, Lisa giggled at the screen. 

“I think I’m going to have to drink a bottle of mouthwash.” you said, slumping against the couch. Lisa flipped around on her stomach, her hazel eyes glancing down at you. From the lamp's dim glow, you could make out the constellation of freckles that painted her face. 

“It could have been worse.”

You snorted, “Other than me losing my job.” 

Lisa’s round green eyes widened, frowning at your words. She rested her cheek against her palm, her long acrylic nails tapping against the glass she still held onto. 

You two fell into a long silence, Lisa slowly finishing off the bottle of wine. The outro to the show played across the screen, a generic upbeat tune that fueled a headache. Your body felt heavy, as you rested the back of your head against the edge of the couch cushion. The outro song felt unnecessarily long, as if it was being played on loop. Lisa must have also been dozing off, as her arm fell against your shoulder, soft snores emitting from her lips. Your head felt fuzzy from the alcohol, as you closed your eyes and drifted off.

Sunlight peeked through the curtain, stabbing you directly in the eyes. The shaggy beige carpet itched against your cheek, as you were curled up on the floor. You stretched your limbs, wincing as your lower back pinched. A migrain was working its way into the corners of your brain. Your mouth tasted like rotting fruit left out too long. 

“Jesus christ.” you groaned, pushing your tired body up off the floor. A pair of sandal cladded feet approached you, bending down to help your struggling form. 

“Did you really let me sleep on the floor?” you asked, looking up at Lisa who sheepishly shrugged. Her hair was curled, and a peachy blush coated her cheeks. She smelled like cinnamon sticks, it comforted the nauseating ball forming in your stomach. You sank down into the couch, the cushions offering some release to your stiff bones. 

The wall clock read 8:30 a.m. 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” 

“My back is screaming at me.” You complained, massaging your fingers into your shoulder. 

Lisa rolled her eyes, straightening the edges of her cream colored blouse. Chunky silver bracelets covered her forearms, jingling with every movement. 

“I have errands to run today.” She explained, walking over to the front door where a multicolored crochet purse rested on a hook. 

Lisa fiddled with her purse, brushing back her hair that fell perfectly around her face. Her brows were pinched forward, as her hands skimmed over her outfit. 

“You look nice, stop worrying.” 

A shy smile rose from her lips, heat rising to her already blushed cheeks. It struck you, just how pretty she really was. The sudden blare of a car horn outside caused her to flinch. 

“Good luck!” She said, before racing out the door. 

You collapsed against the couch, welcoming the silence that followed. 

The lady apologetically smiled at you, with teeth too yellow and lipstick too bright. 

“I’m sorry, we filled in the position yesterday.” 

The greasy burger joint smelled of onions and smoke, wafting out into the open streets. Incoherent shouting could be heard behind her, from her stance by the cashier. The line of people behind you grumbled to themselves, trying to get through the lunch rush. You nodded, stepping back from the line as a couple sideyed you and approached the counter.

Three Days. Five applications. You weren’t sure if it was you, or the world at fault.

“I must be doing something wrong.” You muttered, sliding into the hot leather booth. The sun spilled through the window beside you, its rays warming the side of your face. 

“You could smile more.” Thomas said, sitting across from you. His arm was securely around Lisa’s shoulder, pulling her into his side. She elbowed him, throwing a glance his way before focusing her attention back on you. 

You sarcastically grinned, stretching your mouth so wide your cheeks began to hurt. 

The light caught on Thomas’s golden curly locks that went down to his shoulders. His wide set brown eyes shone with amusement at your gloomy expression. You ignored him, and chose to stare out the window, at the herds of people walking past. 

“Tom actually has some news,” Lisa said, motioning for him to speak. 

He remained quiet, toying with the straw wrapper in front of him. You sat back, clenching your jaw with impatience. The usual bitterness you held for the man continued to grow, causing you to sink further into your seat. LA’s summer sun beamed down on you, adding to the stuffy heat locked inside the restaurant. 

“Well,” he finally spoke, in a slow manner. “A friend of mine, Jersey, works with a film crew for some late night tv show.” 

“And?” You stretched out, waving for him to continue. 

Thomas reached for his drink, his pink lips drawing a long and agonizingly slow sip from the plastic straw. 

Asshole, you thought, suppressing the urge to groan. 

“And the host for said tv show is apparently looking for a personal assistant.” Lisa continued, before glaring over at Thomas. Her shoulders were tense, yet a sunny smile broke out on her face towards you. 

“Your friend told you this?” you asked, disbelief across your features. Thomas dressed like your average hippie, and was unemployed most of the time. As much as Lisa loved him, you had a hard time finding the information reliable. 

Thomas just nodded, providing no other information. 

“He can get you an interview.” Lisa said. 

You sighed, wanting to rest your head against the cool tabletop. Lisa bit at her bottom lip, eagerly awaiting your answer. Thomas nonchalantly chewed on the end of his straw, seemingly not caring either way. 

“How are you going to get me an interview?” 

“I’ll talk to Jersey, he’ll set it up.” Thomas said, tossing the straw back in the cup. 

“How do you even know him?” 

“I introduced them a few years ago,” Lisa chimed in. “Jersey and I used to attend the same university.”

“The one you dropped out of.”

Lisa rolled her eyes, dismissing your words with a wave of her hand. 

“I don’t even qualify for an assistant position.” You argued, crossing your arms. 

Lisa leaned across the table, taking your hand in hers. The rings from her fingers were warm against your skin. 

“Just go for the interview.” She pleaded, fingers lacing with yours. You tried to avoid her gaze, yet found it impossible as her viridescent eyes were locked on yours. 

“Lisa-

You contemplated it, rolling the idea back and forth in your mind like a marble. You hadn’t received a single phone call back, or even been scheduled for an interview. If Thomas could manage this, maybe you had a genuine shot of securing a job before April. The thought of having to dip into your savings account just to pay your portion of rent made your stomach drop. 

“What’s the show called?” 

“Night something.” Thomas replied, struggling to recall the name. 

You raised your brow, “Night something, gee that’s very helpful.” 

He brushed your comment off, ignoring the snark in your voice. 

“Do you at least know the name of the host?” You asked, staring him down from across the table. 

He bit the corner of his cheek, giving you a tight lipped smile.

“His name’s Jack Delroy.”

Two Days. That’s how long it took for Thomas to call. You were practically breathing down Lisa’s neck when she had the phone cradled to her ear. She scribbled down an address, her sloppy handwriting barely eligible. 

You peered down at the same note now, squinting as you re-read the address. It led to a towering office building, surrounded by green shrubbery that was recently trimmed. The entirety of it was glass, the windows reflecting cars and people walking down the street. Your stomach clenched, threatening to throw up this morning’s cup of coffee. 

Breathe, girl, you could practically hear Lisa say. 

The beige blazer you adorned was suffocating in another day of Los Angeles heat. A bead of sweat rolled down the curve of your back, making you grimace. You clutched onto the paper, stilling your shaking hands before walking through the double doors. 

The entryway led to a spacious waiting area, with brown leather chairs lined in a row. Only one other person occupied the area, sitting at the far end. The flooring was a warm beige tile, with a long dull green rug in front of the chairs. An older lady at the front desk,  silver hair fastened in a bun, was hunched over a stack of files. 

She glanced up at you from behind her glasses, which sat perched on the edge of her nose. 

You cleared your throat, “I’m here for an interview with Mrs. Davenson.” 

The lady let out a heavy sigh, and plucked the front desk phone from its receiver. She spoke into it, her eyes scanning you up and down for a moment. 

“Down the hall, third door to your left.” is all she said, before continuing her paperwork.  

You walked down the hall, heels clicking against the recently waxed floor. You smoothed out your top, hyper aware of the cotton fabric pressed up against your skin. As you approached the door, you drew in a deep breath, forcing down the building nausea.

“Please let this go right.” you prayed, before knocking. 

The office was stuffy, and had an overwhelming odor of tangerines. Mrs. Davenson sat across from you, behind her thick oak desk. She was a stout lady, with tan skin and thinning black hair. You shifted around in the seat, nervously digging at your nail bed. She peered down at your resume, silently glossing over it. The interview had been going on for 15 minutes now, each second chipping away at your relaxed composure. 

“You were an assistant manager at your most recent job?” She asked, glancing up at you. 

“Yes, for nearly a year.” 

“Have you worked as a personal assistant before?” 

“No, I have not.”

“What encouraged you to apply for this job, then?” She questioned, gently placing the paper back on her desk.

You fell silent, racking your brain for all the bullshit reasons you gave during past interviews. Somehow, it felt as if none of them applied here.

“Well-

Behind you, the wall clock steadily ticked away at your nerves. 

The sun was beginning to set, bathing your bedroom in a golden light. A warm breeze rustled the sheer embroidered curtains. Soft melodic music played from the record player on your dresser, filling the room. The hustle and bustle of people on the street was drowned out by the crooning of The Everly Brothers. 

Lisa sat beside you, analyzing an album cover. You were currently laying on your stomach, cheek squished against the pillow. The blue and yellow floral comforter itched against your skin, causing you to shift around. 

“I think you’re being dramatic.” She said, smacking on a piece of Bubble Yum.  

You groaned, “I fucking bombed it.” 

She sighed, shaking her head at you like a disappointed mother. “I kept freezing up.” You explained, rolling onto your back. 

“I bet it went a lot better than you think.” 

Lisa’s infectious positivity was beginning to give you a headache, as you brushed off her words. 

You scoffed, “I bet it didn’t.” 

Suddenly, you fell back against the mattress as Lisa smacked you with a pillow. Giggles fell from her lips like chimes as you scrambled to sit upright. 

“Would it kill you to be a little more optimistic?” 

You stared at her, watching as her smile fell to one of concern. Since you’ve known Lisa, she always tried to have a better outlook on things. Whether she truly believed in them or not, you weren’t sure. You never had the heart to ask her, either. 

Lisa shied away from your lingering gaze, choosing to pick at the lint on your bedding. 

Her face was bare, and dewy from the face cream she applied. The sun spilling in through your bedroom window washed over her features. 

“Yes, it would kill me.” You said, holding back a smile. 

Lisa rolled her eyes, smacking you on the shoulder. You two soon doubled over laughing, nearly falling on top of each other. Her fluffy hair tickled your skin, as the sweet smell of her hairspray filled your nose. 

The abrupt shrill sound of the phone ringing startled you. 

You looked over at your bedside clock, it was 7:15 p.m. 

Lisa groaned, begrudgingly climbing off the bed and heading to the living room. You trailed after her, watching as she picked up and answered. She exchanged a few quiet words, before holding the phone out to you. 

“Someone named Mrs. Dave-

You snatched the phone from her before she could finish. 

Lisa stepped to the side, to sit on the couch. 

“Hello?” You said, toying with the long beige cord. 

“We spoke earlier ma’am, regarding the personal assistant position.”

You nodded, “Yes, yes I remember.” 

Lisa peered up at you, a knowing look on her face.

“I wanted to briefly go over your schedule since you’ll be starting tomorrow.” 

It felt as if the air had escaped your lungs, leaving you too breathless to speak. You flinched as Lisa pinched your forearm, her nails leaving a mark in the skin. 

“O-Of course.” You stuttered, grasping onto the phone cord. 

Mrs. Davenson did in fact briefly go over your schedule,  not even pausing to breathe. You scribbled her words down, trembling fingers barely holding onto the pen. It felt like some strange dream, as you stared down at the address of the studio she gave you. You half expected the paper to burst into flames, as you fell through the floor into total nothingness, before waking. 

“Of course, when you come in you’ll be asked to sign some documents.” Mrs. Davenson informed. “Afterwards, you’ll be introduced to Mr. Delroy, and his team.” 

“Sounds great!” You said, nervously chuckling. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

The lady hummed, before promptly hanging up. You still held onto the phone, as if it might jump out of your hand. 

“I should have bet money.” Lisa said, laughing at the look of disbelief on your face. 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Tomorrow came faster than you would have liked. It felt as if you had no time to prepare, as you were being thrown directly into the deep end. You stared in the mirror, smoothing out the creases in your skirt that came above the knee. The snug turtleneck felt warm against your skin, causing you to tug at the fabric. Lisa had lent you a pair of black tights, that thankfully weren’t riddled with holes or lines. The sleek black pumps pinched your feet. 

Your stomach churned, bile rising up in your throat before you promptly swallowed it down. The turtleneck now felt constricting, as if gently squeezing at your neck. You braced yourself against the ceramic sink, sucking in shallow breaths. Here you were, hiding in the studio’s bathroom, wanting to throw your inside up. Your hands trembled, curling around the edges of the sink. 

Oh god, what am I doing here? You thought. I’ve been laid off from my last two jobs, as if it was some inside joke between the companies. Even Lisa has better luck with stability, she’s worked at the same botanical garden for the past three years. 

“Stop it.” you scolded, rubbing at the sides of your temples. The overwhelming nausea made you feel faint, like someone spun you around too fast. 

The sharp sound of the bathroom stall door unlatching forced you to stand upright. 

 Finally, you pulled your hands away from their tight grip on the sink. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, smoothing out the creases in your foundation.

With a sigh, you left the bathroom, clenching your fists. 

Nearly an hour had passed of signing documents and going over general contracts. The fine printed words somehow became warped by the end, overlapping one another with terms and phrases you didn’t understand. The lawyer across from you nodded, and smiled when you signed the NDA. 

You now patiently waited for your tour guide, to help you become acquainted with the studio set. 

The hallway walls were gray, with a saturated patterned carpet that strained your eyes to look at. Few women passed by, not even sparing a glance towards you as they strode forward, with purpose and importance. You tugged at your skirt, somehow feeling underdressed now. 

A soft tap to your shoulder made you flinch. You snapped your head, meeting a pair of warm brown eyes. He was a dark skinned man, with a short afro and goatee. 

“Whoa, sorry.” He apologized, chuckling at your reaction. “Didn’t mean to set you off.”

You shook your head, softly smiling at him. “It’s my bad, I was a little distracted I guess.” 

“You’re Lisa Carter’s friend, right?”

“Yeah, how did you-

You squinted, taking in his slim tall figure. He wore flared jeans, and an all green flannel. Suddenly, it clicked. 

“Are you Jersey?” 

“That’s just a nickname.” He explained, waving his hand. “My name is actually Jacob Miller.”

Jacob stuck his hand out, you politely shook it and introduced yourself. 

“So, why Jersey then?” 

He let out an airy laugh, rubbing at his neck. “It’s not the most creative of reasons. I just happen to be from New Jersey, and the name sort of stuck when I came out to New York.” 

You nodded, somewhat disappointed by the obvious reason. 

“I’ll stick with Jacob, then.” 

He smiled at your answer, and moved aside. The long stretch of hallway behind him seemed to go on for miles, of just the same wall and carpeting. 

“Don’t worry, after a while you’ll be able to navigate this place blindfolded.” Jacob said, urging you to follow him. You had to take long strides, to match his pace. The overhead fluorescent lighting buzzed, reflecting off of Jacob’s leather brown loafers. 

“So, what is he like?”

“Who?” Jacob said, glancing over at you. 

“Mr. Delroy, I haven’t had the chance to meet him yet.”

He shrugged. “I’ve only been working here a couple years now. Haven’t really spoken to him much during that time.” 

You stayed silent, hoping for a better answer. 

“He’s a nice guy, from what I know.” He continued. “Doesn’t treat his employees like shit.”

You snorted. “The bar is in hell if that’s all.” 

“In this line of work, you’ll find out the bar can go much lower.” 

You tried to brush off his words, shoving them into the dark corners of your mind. But they left behind an echo, as you two approached the set door. Jacob opened the door, politely allowing you to step inside first. 

The door led to a dark corner of the set, cut off from the audience’s view. Jacob promptly shut the door, leading you further backstage. Multiple sets of chairs, and tables were left out, cluttered with props and food. A vanity was to your right, the massive dark bulbs outlining the mirror. Makeup brushes and pallets were strewn about on the table. 

Then there were the people. 

They milled around the set, hanging over by the snack table or mingling by the cameras. The overhead lights were turned on, showcasing an empty audience. A hazy fog of smoke filtered the air, itching your throat. 

So this is where the magic happens.” You said, looking back at Jacob. 

He nodded, rubbing his ring cladded fingers over his angled jaw. 

“It’s usually more chaotic, but we don’t shoot till tomorrow night.” He explained, surveying the scene. 

A couple of people milling around the cameras waved towards him. You noticed their stares lingered on you, the only unfamiliar face. The tight knot in your stomach threatened to come undone. 

Jacob tapped your arm in reassurance. “You’ll find your way around here, just give it time.” 

“You sound like Lisa.” You blurted out. 

A warm smile bloomed on his face at the comparison, lighting up his eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

You went to respond, when Jacob’s eyes shifted to look behind you. Something in the air moved, as the few people hanging around also diverted their attention. The sound of multiple footsteps approaching forced you to swiftly turn around. 

A lady was walking towards you, closely followed by a man who towered over her. He wore a dark navy suit, adorning a striped red and black tie. His black dress shoes shined, just recently polished. 

“Here comes the man of the hour.” Jacob whispered, leaning his head towards you. 

The man stuck out his hand when he approached, his black eyes boring into yours as he politely smiled at you. His dark hair was brushed back, exposing his forehead. 

“Jack Delroy.” He introduced, warm palm against yours. “I understand you're my new assistant.” 

“Yes, I am.” You beamed, firmly shaking his hand. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Delroy.” 

The studio lights glared down at you, getting caught in your eye. 

You allowed yourself to believe, for a second, that things would work out this time around. 

Maybe Lisa is right, you thought. 

Maybe. 

[bamboomusiclist]

5/1 おはようございます。Horace Andy Sound Dimension / Mr. Bassie - Mad Lads / You'll Never Know 等更新しました。

Rita Reys and The Pim Jacobs Trio / Marriage In Modern Jazz P08052L Earl Hines And Jimmy Rushing / Blues And Things ST1021 Craig Hundley Trio / Arrival of A Young Giant wps21880 Bob Brookmeyer / Traditionalism Revisited pj1233 Joe Pass / 12 String Guitar st1822 Jackie Mclean / One Step Beyond Bst84137 Cannonball Adderley / in Chicago Mg20449 Lem Winchester Ramsey Lewis / Perform a Tribute to Clifford Brown lp642s Woody Shaw / Stepping Stones JC35560 Roger / The Saga Continues 23975-1 Kip Hanrahan / Desire Develops An Edge AMCL1009LP 1008EP Antonio Carlos Jobim / Tide Sp3031 William DeVaughn / Be Thankful for What You Got Rlx100 Fela Kuti & Roy Ayers / Music of Many Colours phd003 Spirit / Clear S63729 Sun Treader / Zin Zin Help13 Delroy Wilson / Whats Going On - Love To See You Smile Horace Andy Sound Dimension / Mr. Bassie - Mad Lads / You'll Never Know

~bamboo music~

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[movienized-com]

Fear the Invisible Man

Fear the Invisible Man (2023) #PaulDudbridge #DavidHayman #MhairiCalvey #MarkArnold #WayneGordon #GrahameFox Mehr auf:

Jahr: 2023 Genre: Fantasy / Thriller Regie: Paul Dudbridge Hauptrollen: David Hayman, Mhairi Calvey, Mark Arnold, Wayne Gordon, Grahame Fox, Emily Haigh, Joe Tucker, Mike Beckingham, Marc Danbury, Demelza O’Sullivan, Delroy Brown, Tim J. Henley, Malcolm Winter … Filmbeschreibung: Eine junge Witwe verbirgt einen Kollegen von der medizinischen Fakultät, der unsichtbar geworden ist. Während…

[return-to-ravenbrooks]

Return to Ravenbrooks:

Biography

Entry 5

Name: Enzo Esposito

Date of Birth: 1995

Gender: M

Current Address: 910 Friendly Court

Height: 6'0

Hair color: Red-Brown

Eye color: Black

Key features: Round glasses, under shave, baby face

Role: Planner

Abilities: Agility, stamina, map-making, quick thinking

Occupation: [REDACTED]

Status: Fair

Biography:

It was so many years ago now, but God I remember it so- clearly. The way she gathered us in the science club room, telling us all to sit and listen. We were all still so shaken up from what had happened... none of us could've expected what she told us next.

Yeah, the Raven Man was a conspiracy in Ravenbrooks. I even remember seeing kids dress like it for Halloween. It was another spooky story, a cryptid, a monster under the bed. No more or less real than Bigfoot or Mothman. At least, I thought so. Yet her description of it certainly fit, the long yellow beak and body draped in a long flowing cloak.

It broke in so easily... that horrified me, and still does even now. Could it get anywhere that easily?

Despite that meeting, it took much longer for things to form. The formal invitation Trinity handed out, disguised as a sleepover, was the first "official" meeting I was invited to.

I'd been surprised to see Delroy there at the time but, looking back on things I'm glad Trinity invited him. Although it didn't make hearing the news any less unbearable.

"We've been going out to the Golden Apple amusement park to investigate," He'd explained. My jaw was slack. It seemed- insane. I mean I thought breaking into Mr. Peterson's house was suicidal but chasing after this creature with no help, no defenses, practically no plan at all?!

I know she had reasons for inviting me so- late, compared to the others. But God if anything had happened because of it all...

I suppose it doesn't matter now. We're much more- careful nowadays. Thankfully.

[fallenloverecords]

In one hand the past, in the other the future. Shuffle the deck. It took longer than I wished but I've reached the place where I wanted to be for a long time. Married, happy, building a home and a life together. We're in the best place in our relationship that we've ever been and from here the rest will hopefully sort itself out. After years of waiting, my boss finally entered me into the management training course and I finished with flying colors. This time next year I'll be running my own store and theoretically making proper adult money finally in my late thirties, an annual salary instead of an hourly one for the first time. From there, more opportunities. A chance to travel, to leave North America for the first time? A chance to try to make more of my dreams come true? No matter how far I drift, I am always anchored by my past. I don't make five zines per year like I did in my younger days but I sell more than ever when I table at the annual zine fair here every October. I don't fall in love with as many new artists per year as I would like but certain gems still find their way in and I don't give up on the search. In the meantime, I revisit forgotten favorites from days gone by. We've got a long cold stretch ahead of us. Build a fire in your heart.

"My 10 Favorite Albums Of 2023"

1. Tiny Microphone - Other Cities 2. Hannah Jadagu - Aperture 3. The Motifs - I'm The One You Love... 4. Sailor Down - Lookout Park 5. Jenny Lewis - Joy'All 6. Dizzy - Dizzy 7. Julie Byrne - The Greater Wings 8. Lowest Of The Low - Welcome To The Plunderdome 9. Lost Film - Keep It Together 10. Withered Hand - How To Love "My 4 Favorite EP's Of 2023"

1. Bridey - Arena Rock Appetizer 2. Jeanines - Each Day 3. Radlands - All Alone 4. Laughed The Boy - The World Seemed So Small "My 5 Favorite Cover Songs" 1. The Beths & Pickle Darling - "Brand New Colony" (The Postal Service cover) 2. Soccer Mommy - "Here" (Pavement cover) 3. Jonathan Richman - "I'm In A Dancing Mood" (Delroy Wilson cover) 4. Petite League - "Bastards Of Young" (The Replacements cover) 5. Julie Byrne with Laugh Cry Laugh - "These Days" (Jackson Browne cover) "My 10 Favorite Songs Not On The Above Releases"

1. Nic Hessler - "I Know You Know" 2. Mother Tongues - "Worm Day" 3. Jobber - "Summerslam" 4. The Slow Summits - "Oh Me Oh My" 5. The Telephone Numbers - "Weird Sisters" 6. The Primitives - "I Won't Care" 7. Girl And Her Bad Mood - "Heals" 8. Fairfields - "4pm" 9. The Cat's Miaow - "Between The Stations And The Silence" 10. April June - "Burning Love Letters" "Top 5 Blogs" 1. Records I Like 2. For The Rabbits 3. Jangle Pop Hub 4. Various Small Flames 5. When You Motor Away "Last.fm: Most Listened To Artists" 1. Eels 2. Martha 3. Lowest Of The Low 4. Jens Lekman 5. Guster "Last.fm: Most Listened To Pre-2023 Songs" 1. Martha - "I Didn't Come Here To Surrender" 2. Gin Blossoms - "My Car" 3. Allo Darlin' - "My Heart Is A Drummer" 4. Adult Mom - "Berlin" 5. Letters To Cleo - "Cruel To Be Kind"

[kissorkill16]

When We Were Once Happy: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: A story before Trinity moved to Raven Brooks.

Chapter 2

On the first day of school, Nicky couldn't be more nervous. He had recently gotten his new schedule last week, but he didn't know where to go, who any of the teachers were, he didn't know anything.

He didn't want to go to school, he didn't want to do anything except lock himself in his new room and just die there.

"C'mon, Narf. Turn that frown upside down. I'm sure you'll fit right in.", said his father as he pulled up in the driveway.

"And if you don't know the way to any of your classes, you can always ask a grownup.", said his mother.

That didn't make Nicky feel any better about school, but he just pretended to be happy for the sake of his parents. Once they were pulled up, Nicky got out of the car and walked into the school, towards the hell that awaits him.

It wasn't too bad. He didn't have to ask too many people where his classes were, and the teachers didn't really seem all too happy that they were getting another student. He thought they thought he was just another brat they had to deal with.

He didn't even cause that much trouble, he just sat in the back of the class, minding his own business, trying to get by until 3:00.

Then came lunch time.

Lunch time isn't really all that bad. It's nice to get free food, it's nice to not have to keep on an inside voice because there was a stupid teacher talking, the only stressful part is trying to figure out where to sit.

He thought this could be a perfect opportunity to try and make friends. Hell, maybe they might share some interests. Nicky spotted a girl in a girl scout uniform and walked up to her.

"Hi, I'm Nicky, I -", he didn't finish as she shoved a box of vanilla cookies onto his plate.

"$5 a box.", she said.

"Sorry, I don't have any cash on me right now.", Nicky said, smiling awkwardly. The girl just rolled her eyes and scowled. "Ugh, then step.", she said.

Nicky walked away. "Rude.", he mumbled. Were all girl scouts like this? Did they always get mad because you won't buy their cookies? It wasn't his fault, though! He just didn't have any cash on him.

He spotted a table and a kid with a yellow jacket on, he decided to sit there. "Hi, I'm Nicky. Is it okay if I sit here?", but the boy didn't seem to hear him. He spotted headphones in his ears, and tapped his shoulder. The kid just looked at him with an angry look on his face.

"What?"

"Hi, I'm Nicky. Is it okay if I -"

"Yeah, I'm Delroy. The guy who didn't ask. Step off, loser. This seat's taken."

Nicky left the table. Seriously, not even a whole lunch period and people already didn't like him. He didn't give up though, he was going to try again and again and again until he made at least one friend.

"Sorry, this seat's taken."

"Beat it, loser."

"Newbies sit somewhere else."

"Go away."

"No room. Push off, newbie."

"Nuh uh."

"Taken."

Nicky finally gave up. He decided to sit by a tree. It was a free seat, not taken, no one to tell him to go sit somewhere else. He barely even took a bite of his cheese sandwich before he spotted someone in the corner of his eye. Someone was staring at him.

It was a kid with light brown hair, a salmon shirt, a gray jacket, and blue shorts with stripes. He was just staring at him like a total weirdo.

"Stare at me all you want.", Nicky mumbled under his breath. "Nothing to see here."

Once the lunch period was over, he made his way to his next class. Mrs. Davis. The teacher looked just about fed up, like every other teacher in this school.

"Excuse me, miss. I -"

"Yes. Yes. They told me I was getting a new student.", she interrupted him. "Unfortunately, all of the seats are taken. So...", she pointed to a boy sitting in the back corner of the class.

"Mr. Peterson, he'll have to sit with you until further notice."

Nicky went to sit down, and he jumped when he saw who he was going to have to sit next to. It was the same kid who was staring at him. Seriously? He had to sit next to the kid with a staring problem?

"Sit down so we can get on with the lesson today!", the teacher nearly shouted. Hearing her voice, Nicky immediately sat down.

Nicky didn't want to look at him. He knew he was staring right at him, but he didn't want to look back, he'd just be setting himself up for a lot of prolonged eye contact.

"Alright, now that everyone's here, let's get on with today's lesson.", said Mrs. Davis. She went to sit down and type on her computer to get the projector working, and when it turned on, she tried standing up again, but she couldn't. It was like she was stuck to her seat.

"What the hell?!", she said, frustrated. She finally freed herself from her seat, and her face turned bright red when she realized she ripped her own skirt off her backside. The rest of her skirt was still on the chair.

Everyone in the classroom started laughing their heads off, and Nicky couldn't blame them, this was pretty funny. Nicky turned his head to the kid next to him, accidentally, he didn't want prolonged eye contact, but he saw something in the kid's hand.

A tube of super glue. The kid looked at him dead in the eye and made a shush noise at him, signaling him to keep quiet.

Nicky didn't want to know what would happen if he snitched on him, he just looked away from him, terrified.

After the last bell rang, Nicky practically bolted out of school, he originally planned to go straight home, but then he saw that same kid who was staring at him at the entrance of Raven Brooks elementary. He didn't want to spy, but he also wanted to give that kid a taste of his own medicine. He hid behind a tree and began to stare.

The kid waited, and waited, and waited, and waited. It felt like hours, hell, it felt like a lifetime. When the kid finally did move, it was when two girls came out. One of the girls had ginger hair and blue overalls and an indigo striped shirt, and the other had brown hair and a red dress. They were so young and beautiful.

"What took you guys so long?", asked the kid.

"Sorry, Aaron, but Lucy and I were talking about the new club we were going to start.", said the ginger haired girl.

"We were thinking about calling it the inventor's club.", said the girl in a red dress, who Nicky just figured out was Lucy.

"Yeah, that's really cute. Let's just go home now.", said the kid. When they started to walk home, Nicky started to go home himself, in the opposite direction of where they were going. Nicky knew he was walking away from the kid with the staring problem, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was watching him.