#John L. Horn

[psikonauti]

Horned puffin (Fratercula corniculata)

Photographed by John L. Crawley

[facesofcinema]

Experiments in Love (1977)

[herpsandbirds]

Horned Puffin (Fratercula corniculata), family Alcidae, order Charadriiformes, Alaska

photographs by john l crawley - BIRDS (@jc_wings)

[dazed-and-confused23]

I love your latest entries with Dusty the Deathclaw😄 So you think you could do something with Cooper where he and the reader are visiting GoodNeighbor again with a juvenile Deathclaw with them? And when John goes to welcome them back, he jumps back a bit and asking why the HELL does the reader have a Deathclaw.😂 Only for said reader to give their pet Deathclaw some affectionate horn scratches and reply

“My wasteland baby! Isn’t he adorable?”

Bonus if said Wasteland baby still has some flesh hanging from their mouth having eaten a raider not too long ago.

@odditycircus-2002 this was a fantastic Lil prompt to see after the angst I've been typing up. Thank you so much! ❤️ I hope I did this justice!

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 14

Masterlist

Warnings: blood and violence drug use too

It's been a couple of years since you and Cooper had mosied up to the Commonwealth, and with Dusty now apart of the family, you thought it was high time that you introduce the juvenile to the stationary member of your group. The deathclaw stood taller than you now but was definitely still considered young by deathclaw standards. Plus, you'd been missing John lately, and it would be good to see him again.

The beast trotted behind you, his nose close to the ground as he cattalogged the new scents around him. Cooper followed just past Dusty, his rifle out, and ready for anything that might want to lose a fight. However, it turned out that very few people wanted to tangle with a ghoul of his reputation who had a deathclaw as a pet, young or not.

"I doubt Goodneighbor will be too happy with me if we come waltzing in with Dusty. Can you stay out here with him while I go get John?" You ask your ghoulish companion once the gate to Goodneighbor appeared around the corner. Someone must have recently cleared out the usual super mutants that hung around, for it was relatively safe in the city this evening.

Cooper sighs dramatically and rolled his eyes, though you could see a smirk pulling at his lips, "Don't make me wait too long, Sugar. Might go wonderin' off without you."

You scoff, "You wouldn't."

Cooper smirks right back and leans in, "Try me, smoothskin."

You search his golden gaze, and then your lips curl up in an amused, smug grin, "Dusty wouldn't let you."

The ghoul opens his mouth to protest, only to fall silent, lips tugging down into a small frown. Shit. He knows you're right about that one. Dusty would follow you to the ends of hell if you let the juvenile. He scoffs and breaks the staring contest, "Whatever, you win."

You smile in victory and then step in front of Dusty. The deathclaw coos and grunts at you, hunching down to rub the bottom of his jaw along your shoulder and cheek, "Awe. Yeah, I'll be right back, sweetie. Be good for Coop, okay?"

Dusty is smart enough to know what you're saying but whines all the same when you press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose and then disappear behind the red door. He swings his massive head around and eyes Cooper, who rolls his eyes at the baby's behavior.

"Don't look at me like that. You heard her."

The beast grunts and flops on the road, a displeased growl rumbling up and out of him. Dusty didn't like it when he couldn't scent you or feel you. His eyesight was terrible, so it left him to rely on his other, hightened scenses to track his human. A deeper, more vicious growl echos in the air when he sniffs deeply and catches the foul smell of the big lumbering mutants. They were close.

You darted through Goodneighbor, waving to Daisy and K-L-E-0, who waved back at you. As much as you wanted to stop and chat, you needed to hurry. You jank open the door to the old state house and lope up the stairs, stopping at the top floor and grinning when you catch sight of Hancock lounging on his couch, feet kicked up on the table and an inhaler of jet in his hand.

"Well, well. I come all this way, and this is the kinda welcome I get."

John jerks up on the couch, black eyes going wide as he turns and looks at you. He shoves himself off the couch and closes the distance, grabbing you by the jaw to swing you in for a kiss full of longing. You kiss the mayor back, holding tight to his red overcoat.

Your face is flushed by the time John breaks the kiss, resting his brow against your own as he takes in your lovely features. There are a couple more lines on your face and a new scar across your nose, but you're just as beautiful as the day he last saw you.

"If I'd known you were coming around, I would have had the whole town throw a party," Hancock quips with a dry laugh and then kisses you again, just cause he could, "Fuck. I missed you, Sunshine."

You hum and hold John tight, burring your face in his chest with a happy little grin, "Mhmm. I missed you too, Hancock."

The ghoul pulls away from you to take you in again. John needed to make sure that you weren't some kind of jet induced fever dream, but no. You were here in his house, with him. His hands trailed from your sides to cup your ass, and Hancock leaned down to press kisses to the collom of your throat.

"How about you show me how much you missed me then, Sunshine."

You selfishly enjoyed the attention for a moment before pulling away from him with a guilty smirk. John narrows his eyes down at you, curious.

"I need to show you something, and you've got to promise me you won't freak out," you say, and you're already tugging at his arm, leading him to the spiral staircase and out of the state house. You don't give Hancock time to process, you wanted this to he a surprise.

Outside the gate, Cooper sneers in disgust as he wipes the sole of his boot on the asphalt not stained in super mutant blood. A trio of them had attacked not a minute after you disappeared inside of Goodneighbor, leaving the ghoul and the half grown dealthclaw to defend themselves.

Not that it was a very hard fight, mind you. Cooper was well versed in violence, and Dusty wasn't a pushover either. He is shouldering his rifle when the door to the settlement opens up, and you and Hancock come waltzing out, all smiles.

"'Bout fuckin' time you showed up, smoothskin. Left me and Dusty here to clean up the big greenies," Cooper snarks at you and gives Hancock a mean grin, all teeth and hunger, "Nice to see you again, Mayor."

John hits the brake, stopping in his tracks and you with him. You grunt at the suddenness of it and turn around to look at him with a cocked brow. The ghoul stares at Dusty with a look of fear, his black eyes wide as he reaches for the shotgun he stupidity left behind in his room.

"Sunshine, that's a deathclaw," He spits, and back peddles, but you let go, allowing him to keep his distance from the golden scaled 6 foot tall deathclaw that feasts on the body of a downed super mutant. His face and entire front are soaked in gore, and the sounds he makes are enough to turn anyone's stomach as he enjoys his meal.

"Can't leave you alone for five minutes, can I?" You quip, and Dusty perks up at the sound of your voice. He raises his head, his horns are about halfway down his face now, around eye level. The deathclaw swings around and makes a soft cooing sound when he picks up your scent and sees the blurry outline of your figure. He lopes forward, dropping to his front claws, and you grab his jaws when he gets close enough, grinning down at him.

"You're such a good boy, Dusty. I'm glad you got a snack," you say and scratch the soft scales of his throat, "I've got someone I want you to meet."

He recognizes that phase. You have used it a couple of times before with other humans that we weren't allowed to eat. Dusty's focused on the red blob behind you. His human points to the figure, and he breathes it deeply, taking in the scent of acidic chems and warm radiation that the other ghoul carries. The deathclaw memorizes it and stores it into the cattalog of "do not eat."

Hancock is frozen the entire time, and Cooper laughs at the other ghoul, breaking the mayor out of his spell, "What's wrong, John? Scared?"

The mayor just tosses his arms at the frigging beast of death, all snuggled up to the smoothskin and snarked right back, "How about you tell me just what the hell's going on, Cowboy?"

Cooper does just that, explaining how you found him and John really begins think this is really a fever dream like he'd thought before, when there is a loud snuffle in front of him, and he is faced with the gruesome visage of the juvenile deathclaw.

You smile at him, "Trust me, John. It's fine, I promise," you murmur, and John must be crazy because he does. Hancock takes a trembling breath and faces the beast.

"Dusty, this is John Hancock. John, this is Dusty."

[velvetcloxds]

Also a really cute drabble/dialogue idea would be sharing random bits of knowledge with Spencer Reid because that boy knows everything and he loves sharing random facts with people, so I think it would be fun for someone to do the same with him. There are so many ways that conversation could go, so it would be such a fun idea to write!!

SPEAK NOW | S.R.

word count: 0.4k

warnings: I think this man knows everything, except the latest celebrity gossip and I really want to talk to him and his big brain about taylor swift

"You don't understand, Spence," you sighed in faux exasperation and he raised a brow, biting back an intrigued smirk when you crossed your legs, bracing yourself on the two-seater of the jet by placing a gentle hand on his knee. "Taylor announced that she's releasing her Speak Now album again."

"That's the one where she's wearing the purple dress, right?" he knew it was, he also knew it would earn him bonus points for remembering and the happiest little smile as you nodded in excitement.

"It is! It's also the one that has songs for both Taylor Lautner and John Meyer on them," you had your phone ready, excitedly showing him some weirdly edited photo with Taylor S in the middle of the two men, a little halo drawn over Taylor L and red horns drawn on John, it was entirely too silly to be such a big part of your day. "And Taylor being the unproblematic king that he is said that he was excited about the release but was praying for John," you scoffed, eyes practically sparkling as you waited for some sort of reaction.

"Has John said anything yet?"

"John knows better than to have an opinion out loud," the little breath that Spencer offered you was about as close to a laugh as you'd get from him this late.

"Have we listened to this album yet?" you hadn't, he knew and he was extremely pleased with himself when you moved even closer to him, very quickly settling against his side with your head on his shoulder so it would be easier to share your earphones with him.

"You might not like it that much, you know, it's not the same style as Folklore and Evermore."

"I don't mind," and he didn't, not one bit because he knew he'd be too busy watching you react to every song, whispering along to the words under your breath, the purest little obsession in the world he thought, him with you and you with Taylor Swift. He made a little mental note to figure out just who the hell Taylor Lautner and John Meyer is.

[ladylaviniya]

The Negatives of Shooting People

Chapter 2 || MasterList || Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: A new job creates a new problem for August who decides he needs to remind you of his power. You let Lloyd inside, and he has an offer to make.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Masturbation, Referenced Non-Con Events, Implied Illegal Weapon Arms Trading, Threats, Manipulation, Stalking Journalism.

Pairing: Kingpin!August Walker X F!reader

Word Count: 9.4k

Author Notes: in my mind and casting, Jude Driver is played by Adam Driver. Wesley Gibson is played by James McAvoy. Brandon Sullivan is played by Michael Fassbender. Katarina Vikander is played by Alicia Vikander.

Inspiring Song: "Woman." by Ke$ha.

10:23am Thursday 8th August 2024, Brisbane CBD.

“These photos Miss Y/L/N, they’re magnificent. I haven’t seen quality this good since…well…never really…When can you start?”

You grinned, sitting across from the head editor of one of the smaller local newpapers.

You knew you had to find a job quickly…you were sick of the employment agency and their unhelpful attitude. You knew if you were going to remain safe and take down the billionaire asshole, you needed to be the best version of yourself.

It had been a three days since you first met that monster... August Walker. And he had seemingly invaded your every thought. He was there in the back and front of your mind haunting and taunting you with his smirking lips and roguishly deep voice.

The gentleman who sat in front of you had no idea. That was something you were okay with, how could anyone know? No one knew. You hadn’t called or replied to any text messages Lloyd had sent.

You made a resume portfolio of your best photos you’d taken since your first camera your dad ever bought you. Both Polaroid and electronic. You still hadn’t forgotten that August had stolen one of your father’s cameras from the day he forced you to cum on the recliner chair.

You knew you were inexperienced in journalism…but your photography was a master skill unlike any other.

Your successful interview, you put it up to a great sense of confidence, as well.

“Right now if you’ll have me,” you winked. He was an older man of an older generation. Clearly he knew and was a deep fan of Australian banter that borderlines the aesthetics of flirtation. You were a young woman and he was an older man, the math was simple. Bat your lashes, pretend to be coy and then slide in with a sarcastic remark or sexual innuendo.

He laughed and leant over his desk. You shook your new bosses hand.

He liked that very much. ‘Of course he would, he’s practically old enough to be someone’s perverted uncle.’

“Oh most definitely…” he said biting his bottom lip, he was milking the banter.

He was a handsome even for a classic perverted elder fellow. John Luther was a grey fox so the ladies might say. You were sure that from now on never to truly trust a man…so when he winked back and looked down your shirt- at your chest, you smiled wider, ‘predictable men…he is going to be easy to manipulate…’

You had to thank August one day…if he hadn’t hurt and humiliated you the way he did…you would never have felt the rage of all women and the desire to use your assets to get what you wanted in this Man’s World.

You sat back a lit and lifted your chest as you gave a big happy sigh while watching Mr Luther continuously ogle your chest.

It sent a shiver even down your spine thinking about it…entering a villainess era…a femme fatale story….a tale of revenge and justice.

“I admire a woman with confidence,” he said sucking his teeth, his right hand slide down beneath his desk out of view. You had half a mind to assume he was palming his dick in his trousers.

“So how about I assign you your first assignment? See how you go? I’ll even let you choose…”

“Choose?” you asked with a faux coyness, fluttering your lashes.

“Well, we have a very interesting story idea in regards to the Woolloongabba Doggy Day care that just moved to East Brisbane, rumour has it that the business is understaffed for the amount of dogs they keep in care. And they only use half of the required sanitization required. A spread of kennel cough and many dogs having their ears ripped off by other larger dogs belonging to rich clients the owner of the doggy day care refuses to lose business towards.”

Oh dear, you noted, that sounded tragic….it’s a good thing you never had a pet as a kid. It would hurt too much to be in that position. Hearing a pet dog had its ear ripped off by savage untrained dogs.

“...And the other case?” You sweetly chirped.

His smile fell, “There’s a certain gentleman that’s running around allegedly smuggling drugs and arm deals…” he repeated, “’Allegedly’…”

He rolled back in his chair to reach for a folder on his bookshelf, flicking through it.

Your craning neck had time to catch the outline of his prick beneath his pants. ‘Oh yes...this man is putty in my hands.’ When he swivelled back, you dashed your eyes back to his desk trinkets and smiled at him.

“A bloke named August Walker selling to or buying from an old money American philanthropist Brandon Sullivan…”

‘No fucking way’….just your luck…

You were going to fucking take it no matter what….

Luther grimaced, “It’s a big task so I won’t judge you for not taking it. I’m just hoping to catch the sons of bitches at it. It would be a huge story for media not even those wankers at seven, nine or ten news could think to report.”

You reached over his desk to steal his pen and stick note pad. You took down the name he mentioned on a sticky note- Brandon Sullivan...you made sure to memorise it well.

“How about we even make those conniving morons at sky news jealous, sir?” You smirked and watched as the rockets soared in his eyes with his white tooth grin.

He laughed hard.

He wiped his hand down his chin, “I love a girl with ambition Miss Y/L/N. I’m sure you won’t disappoint me! The dead line for photos is in a week, he’s having some soiree on next Friday or something so it’s got to be before then because you’re never gonna be able to enter those clubs, chicky. Respectfully.”

You smile and shake his hand again, “Mr Luther, I swear…I’ll give you the best goddamn shots you’ve ever seen of that criminal.”

Now your man hunt had truly commenced, you smiled to yourself. Who knew that revenge could come so easily and quickly…

Luther gave you your own cubicle to work in. A place to hang and edit your photos. A place to file your evidence. He may have mentioned that the work they did in his agency was on par with the police but by no means legally police work. So if the cops arrived, you stayed hidden and kept your fucking mouth shut....

You had a job and began researching the bastards name again on your laptop, compiling the sources from Google and the notes from Luther’s folder files.

You discovered the following about August J. Walker.

He was born in New Jersey. He was twice your age and almost as old as your father. He had a plethora of connections in businesses from alcohol distillery to Chinese restaurant vendings. Actually you were confident that a restaurant he help partnership over had a familiar logo. You tapped your lip and wondered briefly if your father ever delivered there as a truck driver.

August was a fan of European and Asian based foods and sold it at his clubs. He owned over fifteen around the world. One of his biggest in Australia was The Lions Lounge, it was on the edge of Fortitude Valley. It was for the richest social elites of the country. The price of food alone was almost your weeks rent.

On the website of his club you could see information regarding the tightship of his security. It seemed supreme so there wasn’t a chance of you going to his club without a fat purse and invitation.

A party was coming up, a celebration for the ten year anniversary of its opening. A soiree with a “The roaring 1920s.” Theme. You scoffed at the cliché.

It was exclusively invite only, it was only on the website so that those who received a invitation could reply a rsvp. And with you fresh out of luck of an invite like Luther even said, there was little to no chance of clawing your way inside.

So...that’s when you had to resort to extra creativity. You held up the sticky note and smiled.

09:07am Wednesday 14th August 2024, Robertson Brisbane.

August Walker was a man with a craving to remain in power. He had fought tooth and nail to get where he was and for now he felt incredibly comfortable…he had enough money to buy the fucking country...he had the power to make politicians kneel and kiss his shoes if he demanded it. To the police, with his legal team, he was currently untouchable.

He could literally have any woman he wanted…but he wanted you. Since that night he first saw your photo, he starved. He had given you time to mourn. Now you were alone and he righteously believed you needed him.

Yet to his surprised pleasure, he liked the fight and push you tried to dish out on him. Your guts to go to the police sent blood to his cock. He hadn’t expected it. He believed you’d roll over and cry only. He never predicted you’d immediately leave the apartment before he could wish you a good morning or afternoon after leaving you drugged up. He snooped for hours in your father’s bedroom and yours. He’d flicked through your old school reports and photos. He tried tidying your mess and clutter, washing your vomit covered duvet and even had cigarette to pass the time.

So when he received that call from the police requesting his presence, instead of anger, he felt surprise. Not many could surprise him. But you did...

He pushed away from his desk and rubbed his eyes chuckling,  you were definitely a tasty little thing.

It made his dick hard when he remembered you crying beneath him. He loved to fantasise your pathetic excuses and spitfire words. He only wished you’d push the boundary more. The more you fought, the sweeter the submission.

He pulled out his ‘other’ phone. His ‘business’ phone. The phone no police would ever know or see. He swiped his thumb across the screen and groaned at the sweet nude thing he took photos of the night you’d both met. Oh how pitifully adorable you were with your desperate pleas and confusion as the pill quickly broke down into your blood stream.

He wished he had a video of it. How he teased your phone away from you. How he mocked you. Half of it he imagined you probably didn’t remember. After all it wasn’t long that you were totally out of it, limp and softly snoring.

He liked how much control he had over you. Laying the strips over your hairy body and tearing it away to be baby smooth as he liked it. How delicate you looked as he rubbed the baby oil into your skin to settle any potential irritation. Perhaps it was sick of him to prefer you like this. He sighed, licking his bottom lip, staring at the photo he took of your freshly waxed pussy.

He had done sicker things to other people. But you were someone who didn’t deserve this. That is where the guilt lied. You didn’t deserve this and August Walker fucking new it deep in his bones.

He wasn’t shy of hurting innocence but your situation was different. This was personal.

So really could he hold it against you for going to the police? No... And besides...his false alibi had been solid... especially after the rape kit evidence had been tampered with, concluding as inconclusive...

Something about the thought of making you submit but never fully breaking, constantly challenging him- turned him on so much, he found it impossible to work. He slapped his phone down and chewed the inside of his cheek while he considered calling up Natalie, one of his go to escorts. His payable whores. She was expensive but she knew how to suck him off to completion quickly and he wanted to focus on work and finalising the details of his party in two days, not on you.

As fate would have it….he wouldn’t have a choice…the phone rang on his desk.

He pressed the reviewer to his ear and turned to look out the window.

“Walker.”

“It’s Gibson.”

He smiled and leaned back in his rolling chair, “Ah Wesley, yes, how are you mate?”

“You’ve got a little problem, sir,” he heard his public relation specialist sigh, “A tail.”

“Oh?”

“I’m sending the email now,” the click clack typing of the keyboard echoed in the headset Wesley wore,” It seems the paper has started to find better journalists…”

The email notification came in quickly. The ping from his monitor forced August to spin around in his chair. He pursed his lips and scrolled to click the link.

He hovered the mouse arrow down and noticed the collection of photos taken of him in the high class restaurants talking with a old underworld buddy of his. Some of the images however were incredibly exposing. His hand was shaking Brandons in one when he made a export deal with him, another photo showed August’s fingers touching a contract, his eyes looking at a phone Brandon was holding with images of guns. This was not good at all…

“What the fuck…” his hand pressed to his lips, he mused, “The photographer was smart, he knows how to pick a decent angle, Jesus what camera took this?” He clicked another photo, “These details…you can practically see every pore on Brandon’s bloody face…”

His mouth felt dry. He knew he needed to hire Natalie’s services now, the stressed building up had him tense. His erection had vanished, now it was a matter of pain in his shoulders and back.

He scrolled further and stared at the headlines jumping out. “Playboy or Pathological Criminal.”, “Party King or King Pin.”, “Australia’s own insider terrorist.”

His eyes widened at seeing the publishing office. John Fucking Luther & Co. News.

His jaw cracked with the tightness he clenched. No. He didn’t have time for this shit.

“She, sir,” The lackey corrected, “Newest of Luther’s flock. His word usually isn’t credible but this? This is going to be hard, expensive press to erase or cover up. Other news outlets are fighting over the rites.”

She...

He picked up a pen and clicked the button. Why was it even that important.

She...

She? His eyes sharpened. He looked closer at the photos on his screen. Something about the photo style reminded him of something earlier he had seen the previous week. So many….on a wall…beside a bed…filled with a captivating woman he defiled…but surely not you? Surely not you...

“What did you say?”

“Sir the cost to-”

He shook his head and sighed into the phone, cutting of the agent, “No, no, I meant the photographer. You said ‘she’? Luther? Are you sure this is real? His lot are the worst, always blurry or grainy if they’re lucky…who the fuck is this new photographer or editor or whoever the fuck is getting these images.”

“We can only assume,” Wesley mumbled, “You’ve had this little thing on your tail for the passed few days, she tries to be sneaky we’ve noted. We didn’t expect her to release decent pictures…we followed her back to the Luther office. The angles fit the locations we have caught her in.”

His thumb pressed hard against the pen.

“Show me this bitch,” he growled under his breath.

Another email ping and a link later, your face filled the computer screen. Your eyes burned him right back…you were in a few photos. Some where you hid among a roof top, another you were hiding in a corner at the restaurant, and finally one where you were just in a park looking down at your camera probably going over the shots you’d taken.

“Want us to deal with her, sir?” he suddenly heard Wesley ask. Deal with her...Destroy her reputation...beat her up…sell her…or kill her....no…no...not his new puppy.

He blinked with bewilderment and hummed, “No...” He cleared his throat, “No, no thankyou, Wesley. I know this kid; don’t worry…” he smirked, “This is just a simple misunderstanding…bit of…play. Trust me.”

Oh how he could’ve whipped the skin from your back raw for this if you were anyone else...

“Sir, if you can’t get her to stop, if she’s going to keep doing this…” Gibson warned, “Anything more in depth- you’ll wind up in court or prison at the worst, the pigs aren’t taking the pay like they used to…”

August shook his head and sighed, “It wouldn’t be the first time Wesley. Ignore her. I’ll deal with it. She’s my responsibility.”

His public relations officer seemed to pause for a moment. As if he had something else to say but he knew better than to total talk back to August Walker.

“Alright sir, have a good evening,” August heard before he slapped the phone, hanging up.

He scooted closer to the screen and scrolled back at the photos you’d taken. He bit his lip and chuckled, shaking his head at your profiling photo, “You little-...you want to play this game? Fine, now it’s my turn.”

He began dialling up a new phone number. He held it back up to his ear and waited for the receiver to pick up.

“Jude mate, I’m gonna need you to develop some photos for me...oh yes,” he replied pinching the pen in his hand, “Red room style.”

06:19pm Wednesday 14th August 2024, Woolloongabba, Brisbane.

“Who needs a man? Huh!” You said to yourself testing out the new bolts and chain locks you installed on the front door. They rattled and locked. They didn’t budge when you jiggled the handle and pulled. You still had three more you planned to drill in.

You wiped the sweat off your forehead and grinned proudly. This is something your dad should have taught you how to do. Thankfully with the help of a YouTube tutorial and a bit of bravery you managed to take full control and ownership of your front door.

If your new landlord wanted to charge you for damages to his door, so be it, as long as this kept you protected from him while you slept at night that was all that mattered. He’d either have to pick every complicated lock, guess or, he’d have to hire the damn firefighting crew to use a battering ram.

When you opened the door again to test it a second time, a squeak of surprised popped from your lips. You clenched your dad’s power tool tightly.

A man in a black suit and black sunglasses stood outside the door with an large yellow envelope in his hand. He held it out to you silently. He looked ominous and familiar, he wore leather gloves…your eye widened, he was August’s driver.

You glanced between him and his hands. Every second was a risk you weren’t sure you could keep taking. You hesitantly pinched the bottom of his flat package and he let go. He pulled the edge of his sunglasses down his face, looking at the plethora of door locks.

‘What was his name again? Judea, Judas?’

He said quietly, “It might be better if you open it inside...” his eyes glanced at the door again before smirking, “Nice locks...pretty crappy if you think it’s going to stop him though.”

‘Him...August Walker...’

You stood still in shock. He gracefully spun on his heel and left. Your tongue caught in your throat…what the fuck was this?

The package was as thick as your hand.

You had to know it was from August…I mean who else could it be from? Especially since you speculated it was his driver that delivered it…especially since there was a massive cursive ‘A.J.W’ on the tab of the envelope.

You held your breath and walked hurriedly backwards inside.

Your teeth caught your upper lip. You slammed the door shut and locked all the locks before going to the couch, disposing the drill on the coffee table, and tearing open the envelope.

You pinched the top wide open and hovered your eyes inside. There was a white papery page ripped out from a note book. You pulled it out and unfolded it to read his handwritten warning.

“Careful Puppy, you’re lucky my men didn’t bite when they sniffed you out, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I think you need a break from your little hobby. So I’m going to remind you...I have copies of these. Scratch me again and I’ll bite back. Stay down or I will put you down.”

Your mouth became dry as your eyes raced over that one last line again.

‘Stay down or I will put you down.’

When you ‘put down’ an animal, it usually means death…your insides grew cold. You were confident this was a strict warning, not a threat but a promise, August walker was telling you to stop investigating or he would kill you…

Your hands shook uncontrollably. You wanted them to stop. Your body felt the reeling anxiety. You dumped the rest of the envelope over the counter. All the content spilled across the entire floor. A camera came clattering out. Your father’s camera in fact.

Inside were photos of you. A photo of you working in the editor office. A photo of you walking in the deli section at the underground Woolworths grocery store and photos of you sitting at the Queen street bus station, even the bus numbers showed up. The bus 200 via Carindale. Then at the bottom of the spread out deck of photos were the shots from the night he forced you to cum on the recliner and the night he had drugged you, naked on his bed.

Your teeth clenched hard.

You felt your eyes grow hot quickly with tears. You didn’t like how pathetic and helpless you appeared, covered in tape, and totally lost in the bliss of his sexual torture. You didn’t realise how sweaty it had made you until noticing the intense wet shimmer over your body in the photo, the hot light of the camera shone reflectively from your skin.

You closed your eyes and choked on a sob. He made his point loud and clear but it wasn’t fair. Why could he get away with all of this? You wanted to tear all the photos up one by one until they were tiny papers the size of your pinky nail.

But they sat in a piled collection on your coffee table.

Your hand cupped your mouth as you fought your wails. You clenched your teeth and stomped your foot.

You kept rereading his note. Memorising his handwriting. His Y’s had a straight tail that didn’t curve upward. It made you hate him twice as much as irrational that detail was.

August hadn’t come back since then. He had not made any personal contact since he cornered you in your father’s bedroom. It wasn’t the last time you saw him though…you saw him almost daily, but you confidently were sure he never saw you until now. You were gathering all the evidence possible to put him in the doghouse...

You pressed yourself against the wall and slid down it on your back until your bottom hit the floor.

Now what would you do? Take photos and write about abused animals instead? Always worrying about August coming into your home to take his revenge for the humiliation and defamation you brought to his name?

You settled your hands into your lap. Your heart was pounding. You could hear every awful thud.

Your phone came to life. Lloyds number ran across your screen.

‘Oh god, Lloyd. Sweet, wonderful Lloyd. Maybe he could help me.’

Hitting the green button, you picked up the phone and cleared your throat, “Hey, how are you?”

His voice was a cool balm, “I’m getting on alright. I thought I’d call and check up on you. You haven’t been very chatty over text is all. I still think you should move Y/N.”

Lloyd kept you as updated as he could. He said he interviewed August a few days ago and the excuse was laughable. August had lied about being at his club during the time he had been with you. He had staff members who could vouch for him, Lloyd suggested they’d been paid off and supposedly security footage, all which Lloyd assured must’ve been edited. It was comforting knowing out of everyone, Lloyd stayed true in his belief that you were a victim.

Another tear rolled down your face, your voice became shaky, “Yea...I think you’re right. Lloyd...things have been happening...and...can you- can you just come over please?”

You were breaking down hard and couldn’t stop the wave of anguish coming over you. The detective was compassionate and said softly, “Of course. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

When the phone disconnected you rubbed your face and flared your nostrils. Seeing the photos made you feel dirty, unclean. You decided a quick shower before Lloyd arrived might help you relax and calm down from the absolute panic attack creeping under your skin. You stood under the hot spray and tried to control your breathing.

And under the water your thoughts persisted to race. A particular question shot through you.

‘Why would he even send those to me?’ Your eyes shut. ‘Why’? If you were just some women, he liked to fuck and humiliate... ‘Then why didn’t he just come in and do it in person?’

It was like a pin had dropped. Your eyes flashed wide open, and you turned off the water. You scrubbed your face and got out of the shower, rushing to put your pyjamas on. You almost slipped on the tiles and hard wood.

You crashed to your knees at the coffee table and spread the photos around trying to find that one.

The one where you were sitting inside the editor building at your cubicle. It had been taken from a low angle on the street. A small laugh escaped you. If he sent you an image of you at the office he knew where you worked, and who you worked for…he had read your articles...a light laugh escaped your parting lips. Tears dripped from your eyes, not from grief or fear, oh no, it was relief. Now it made sense.

'Of course!' August had read your articles...and they- you chuckled; they frightened him!!! Yes, maybe not to the extent of full fear, but enough that he felt it fit and necessary to send these too you. He felt threatened. The articles were piling up on speculation against him now in the paper. You were walking a thin line between defamation and creative liberties in alleged speculations, but Mr Luther assured it was legal in the laws of journalism and gossip.

If August had copies of your lewd rape photos, if he published them…you didn’t care...what was the point in caring about that?

You knew humans could be animals. It didn’t matter what was seen. Anyone can masturbate to anything, even just a selfie – so an image of you cumming on the recliner chair was really nothing at the end of the day…sure you might lose your job but the confidence to get you there would be used in the future again. And it would be all worth it just to watch the cuffs slap over August’s wrist. Because even if he’d never go away, locked up for your abuse, you could at least drag him further down with as many criminal activity charges as possible.

You glanced at the note he wrote…maybe he didn’t even write this. If he really wanted you dead, you were sure you would be. This wasn’t a threat, this was a game. He was toying with you, clearly trying to scare you into stopping any investigations of his hidden underground work.

Little did he know, he had no idea that your rage and hunger for revenge was greater than your fear of him.

You pinched a photo to the light and smirked. If only a week ago, this poor defenceless girl knew how her life would change for good...her eyes the mirror of yours. You slapped it flat in the table and pinched your eyes. August was definitely no talent in taking photos.

You smiled recalling how Luther reacted to the first photo you brought him the third day of working...

02:36pm Thursday 8th August 2024, Brisbane CBD.

On the sticky note you’d written down a name Mr Luther had shared. You looked up that name, Brandon Sullivan, with deep dive searches and found very little of him…however he did have a single photo up on his Facebook, he was holding a gorgeous woman.

Once you had reversed search the woman’s face, Katarina Vikander, you could have peed with excitement. She was some Swedish ballet dancer and super model. She was Brandons girlfriend. And she was happy to share a dozen photos over all her social media platforms…and yes, Brandon clearly wasn’t a fan of his personal paparazzi, but there were hiccups in his cover ups.

Katarina had taken a selfie on a balcony; her sunglasses reflected her phone and Brandon coming out of their hotel bathroom.

Behind Katarina was a marina in the background. That area was very rich and popular and easy to find. You recognised the area only by chance. The were staying at the JW Marriot Gold Coast Resort and Spa. You could see the JW Marriot logo on a bath robe in a previous photo while she wore a creamy face mask with cucumber slices over her eyes.

Katarina seemed to have this obsession with a Americana aesthetic, her favourite artist was in her saved Instagram stories, Lana del Rey.

The caption of her post with Brandon hidden in the background under a broad brim hat said, “Sunny and happy with my love, he doesn’t like the seafood here, he wants ‘real truffles.’ **eyeroll emoji**”

You remembered how you sat back after seeing that and searched every restaurant in the area of the Gold Coast region and only one sold authentic truffle dishes…men are fickle and usually won’t try new things…he was clearly a man set in his ways if he wouldn’t let her post photos of him. or at least that was your theory and assumption about the almost non-existent Brandon Sullivan.

You went back and searched August. He had a decent amount of information, he was very private however, no named girlfriends or family. He was very business oriented….and what did you know? Two years ago on his LinkedIn profile you could see August had been at the opening of the same little truffle restaurant nearby where Katrina and Brandon were staying. You scrolled.

‘Looks like he was or still is an investor.’

It wasn’t solid evidence, and you didn’t know if August would be there to meet with them…so all it took, was a simple phone call…and the great skill of confidence with a stride of lying.

As the phone dialed, you selected a fake name. Your co-worker had a F.R.I.E.N.D.S coffee mug, and you stared at the dark drink stain…it’s dark colour making a perfect name.

When a staff member of the restaurant answered you hurriedly got through your plotted lie, “Hello? Yes, my name is…Jennifer Brown, I’m Mr August Walkers new assistant…listen his last employee was quite begrudged and threw out all the known appointments Mr Walker was to attend in the next three months. I’m pretty sure he has a table booked for your restaurant?”

The administrator paused. You hoped he wouldn’t ask you to repeat yourself or question you further, so you sarcastically joked, “He will murder me if I can’t find out, it’s very important.”

You prayed he’d bite the banter.

The administration clerk had a boyish tone, “Of course! Would you like me to look up the time and date of his reservation?”

You smirked and held back a cackle, you feigned a sweet joyful cry, “I would be grateful if you could be a dear, thank you so much!”

And that was how you found out the schedule and exact location of August Walker and his criminal associate.

09:45am Friday 9th August 2024, Coomera, Gold Coast.

Getting inside the restaurant wasn’t too hard. It had an open-door area with French doors. You made sure to wear a large sun hat and a plain dress. Your dad owned a small camera, about the size of an apple. You put it on a timer and leant to the floor, aiming the view finder at their table.

The entire time you swore you were sweating bullets. If August had seen you and confronted you, you probably would be chained to a pipe laying naked on a dirty mattress…maybe with those missing women you heard about on the news, Rachel, Stephanie, and Alison.

‘Why didn’t he keep me then? We did he return me back home? Did he kill those other girls?’ the more you thought too deeply on the topic, it made your skin crawl.

You clenched one of the forks, staring at the kingpin in the reflection. He looked to smug for a man that got off on harming women. You wished you could stab out his eyes with the prongs. And when the waiter came around to ask what you wanted to order, you held up the fork and requested a new one, apologising for “dropping it”.

You determined the camera had taken enough footage. You knew you’d need to make your escape when the waiter left to find you a new fork. Afterall- who can afford to pay for a cut of salmon with rocket leaves and white sauce for a hundred and thirteen fucking dollars?

You went straight home on the train and bus. You developed the photos in the bathroom sink. Hanging it up on the shower rails to set.

Those were the first photos you gave Mr. Luther.

The other times you took photos of Brandon and August were harder, a little more risky.

06:23am Saturday 10th August 2024, Coomera, Gold Coast.

You had staked outside of the hotel where Brandon stayed. Waiting across the street in a side street. It was cold and miserable. But you knew August would be down here. Darling Katarina had posted a photo of her shoes in an elevator, beside her feet were Brandons shoes, but his had a shine. You could see the blur of Augusts moustached face. Maybe it was a reach, except when the caption said, “Lions Lounge anyone? Don’t my heels look incredible! **love heart eyes emoji**”

You were dressed in rags, you clenched a juul stick you bought that morning, gagging on the watermelon flavour while you practiced your “Eshay” accent. You stared up at the windows trying to guess which room the three were in with the help of the ex-ballerinas photos.

A month ago, you would’ve thought doing something like this was insane and frankly unhealthy. But you a month ago had not been humiliated and manipulated, God knows what a woman will do once you’ve pissed her off…was it obsession? Most definitely, for revenge, for justice, for all the girls who fell for August and harmed by his reputation.

You waited…and you were right. Brandon and August walking out together. The sweet young woman was clinging to Brandon’s side with a wide girlish smile and love heart shaped sunglasses. Funnily enough, the car that picked them up just so happened to be driven by the same dark headed driver in the same black car that August took you in. You took a snapshot of the license plate and watched it drive through the somewhat slow traffic down the street. You walked and walked, keeping your eyes set on the license plate. While traffic rolled, you turned and noted there were a few empty taxis.

You took off the jumper that you cut a bunch of holes in and dumped it in a garbage bin before bending down and tapping on one of the taxi windows.

“Hey! Are you available to drive me?” You called to one of the taxi drivers that hadn’t noticed you until that second...his eyes widened with surprise before nodding, “quickly, traffic is slow, hop in!”

You slid directly into the passenger side, which on a normal day you’d never dare.

But today wasn’t a normal day. You sat up in your seat and scrolled the area with your eyes.

“So where are we headed today, ma’am?” The driver asked.

You pointed ahead with a cheeky smile, “See that black car? The fancy one.”

“The tesla?” He asked.

“My friends are in that car, so please follow it. They know the way.”

He peered at you curiously, you knew it was stupid. If you had friends rich enough for a tesla, they’d never leave you to find a taxi. But hey…money is money, the driver wouldn’t argue. He started the timer and to your satisfaction traffic picked up. When they zoomed through the street the taxi tried to keep up. They were driving to a quieter street with Western Europeanised cafe’s.

As they stopped and hoped out you quickly requested to the driver, “Do you mind going around the corner? I’m a little embarrassed.”

God, you hated to say it but you had to play the suddenly snobby cunt.

He didn’t care either way to your relief and parked around the corner, metres away from the two men.

You paid the driver handsomely with cash you managed to find in your old piggy bank back home and slid out of the cab. Your face carefully looked around the corner and you skirted back. August, Brandon and Katarina had decided to sit outside in the warm morning sunlight. It was just your luck! Quickly, you crossed the street away from the cafe. The more distance the better.

To your luck it was a block of units across from the cafe. You walked around the building and kept your head down. You came up behind in an alley and smiled at the long spiral stairs that went up to the roof top. The adrenaline extinguished all fear of heights and pushed you up until you stood out on a flat roof. You crossed the way and looked over the side.

‘Fuck’, you thought to yourself. ‘Would a police officer ever do this? Would Lloyd ever have the guts to do this?’

Probably not, there was lots of red tape involved in police investigations...but you were just a reporter...You were a photographic investigator and you amazed yourself at the lengths you were taking. You were eager to get these shots. This evidence.

You saw the pair of businessmen receiving a cup of tea and breakfast meals from the waitress. Getting down onto your tummy, you grabbed your camera and leant over the ledge to zoom in on the two.

The pumping blood roaring in your vein filled you with a mixture of fear, excitement and surprisingly…arousal.

Those were the photos that made it to the papers first.

06:35pm Wednesday 14th August 2024, Woolloongabba Brisbane.

As you reminisced on the evidential demise of August Walker, a knock at the door designed a bigger grin across your face. Lloyd had arrived. And no longer standing in a fit of sobs you welcome him cheerfully at the door.

He was wearing a black turtleneck and black slacks, totally out of uniform. Below his eye was a reddish spot. It was shining against his pale face. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was a bruise.

‘Many police are brutal and cruel but there’s no way Lloyd is one. He isn’t one of those cops...he must’ve been attacked by some bogan eshay or crackhead.’

His smile turned your knees to warm jelly. You felt shy like some first year highschooler being noticed by the seniors. He just had this glow around him.

“Hi Lloyd.”

“Hello there,” he said softly, his head cocked to the side, “Do you mind letting me in?” He asked.

‘Oh right.’

“Come- come in.”

You felt your face grow warm. You opened the door wider and looked out and down the hall. You held your breath and stood aside. The tall man slid passed you inside to your lounge room.

You took a massive breath in and exhaled. No one was waiting behind a corner or ready to catch you with the officer. You knew there were no security cameras and you doubted August would ever add any with his reputation.

Lloyd removed his leather shoes and placed them beside the door. His black socks glided over the hardwood.

You bit your lip…you looked back at the coffee table and quickly shut the door, bolting the locks after the detective entered your flat.

If August knew you were letting a detective inside, continuing to talk to one he could-…’Well, hold on...how would he know? He wouldn’t.’

“Woah, locked me in, what are you doing?” Lloyd gasped as he glanced over the metal mechanisms of your door. His eyes widened when you twisted the locks and shifted the small chains.

“I just...um. August Walker.... he’s kinda now...my new landlord and he probably will be getting keys soon and I....” your breath wavered. You paused and took a deep breath, “I needed to talk to you privately in person I think....”

His eyes didn’t grow any wider, but his pupils shrank. He pinched his dark pink lips. Sucking his teeth loudly he nodded slowly.

“That’s definitely a pickle you’ve been put into then, huh?”

You nodded back, pressing yourself against the door, sighing softly, “That’s not even the half of it Lloyd...”

His eyes raked up and down your body in surprise. You weren’t wearing your bra and your nipples were rock hard. Your pyjama bottoms were very short and little did you realise how much they were riding up your thighs.

You walked around him timidly to the coffee table.

“I got a new job, as a photographer journalist, no real experience required just my luck honestly,” you awkwardly laughed, “August um, he’s supposedly up to no good and I thought I could have a jab at him from a professional angle…”

You sat yourself in the recliner, while you invited him to sit opposite of you on the couch where he’d be able to properly look at all the photos.

He looked frightfully tired. His hair was dishevelled, and his shirt was stain with sweat. He had a nasty purple bruise on his knuckles that also matched the one under his eye.

You lifted your knees to your chest and worried about how much trouble this man was getting into as well as you. You wondered if it was like television shows where detectives mostly focus on the darkside of the force.

You gestured to the photos. You weren’t sure how he would react. He sat on the couch and peered across the coffee table, glancing over the images. It took him a few seconds before a gasp of shock ripped from his throat.

You tapped on the photos where you’d been stalked and seen taking photos of August, “Well, it shows he’s not one to have his photos taken...”

He was shaking his head. He couldn’t stop staring at the nude photos. And for a few seconds you relived that feeling of embarrassed humiliation.

You could see how his throat bobbed and his eyes flutter.

He leant forward on his knees and licked his lips.

“I...and here I had called you to check up on you and I was going to ask you for help Y/N, but god I don’t know if that’s gonna work now,” he sighed.

The detective ran a finger across your face in the lewd photos.

Your eyes narrowed, “Wh-what do you mean?”

There was a lengthy pause.

He chewed the inside of his cheek before asking, “How much do you hate what August did to you?”

You didn’t hesitate, “I’d kill him for what he’s done if I knew I wouldn’t go to prison…” you briefly looked down, “He…he came back like you said...”

Lloyd eyes glanced down too and he sighed, “Thought as much…let me guess…he threatened you?”

Your eyes fluttered closed, August had done more than just threaten you.

You nodded slowly, “He…he did…but he…is possessive, he kept saying I was his and I belong to him.” You pointed to the photo of you taped up on the recliner.

His brows pressed together, his eyes saddened. He clear his throat, “How long ago was that?”

Your mouth grew dry. You felt embarrassed telling Lloyd.

“The day of the report, after you brought me home.”

His eyes widened, his hand rubbed his parted lips, “So he ugh…he was here already?”

You nodded again, “The call you made… he was standing right here with a knife in his hand.”

“That’s why you have those deadbolts huh?” The officer rubbed his eyes and groaned, “Fuck. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call me after he left? I could’ve moved you, you could’ve stayed with me at least until I could put you into witness protection. Fuck!”

His swearing sent a shiver down your spine.

Your looked at your feet, you knew he wasn’t victim blaming, he just didn’t understand. You told Lloyd everything…confessed like he was your priest. You told him what August did with the vibrator despite it bringing you to tears again. You told him he was the new landlord and that’s why you installed the extra locks. You told him about your new job and you told him about the photos and how you were going to help however you could to put the bastard away.

You sat off the recliner and slid the photos back into the envelope.

“You’re very brave Y/N,” Lloyd whispered, he reached out and laid his warm hand on top of yours.

Your belly felt warm at the praise. You let him hold your fingers in his and rubbed his thumb over your skin. You stared at his blonde moustache and those bright clue eyes of his. You imagined his mouth scratching your lip if you only leant in closer...he was still as handsome as the day he patiently listened to you in the report.

Lloyd smiled softly.

God if you were a cat you would’ve been feral and in heat with how creative your imagination was getting.

Your eyes fluttered as your entire body warmed up.

“Y-You said you needed help with something?”

He smirked, letting go of your hand.

He claimed, “After what you’ve told me I’m confident you can do it...but you might not like it…”

“Try me,” you huffed, falling victim to his contagious grin.

“I have two tickets to August’s little Soiree at his club The Lions Lounge,” He started off, “My other sources have confirmed there is going to be some form of arms deal with some unsavoury company, illegal, unregistered weapons. August Walker is very good at knowing the law and requesting a warrant… but the sources I have are not substantial to the board to guarantee a warrant by that night and by that time Walker would’ve moved the weapons and sold them in a different location.”

You pieced it bit by bit.

“So you need to get inside the party, find the deal going down and bust them?”

“Exactly, that’s right! However the moment a single man waltzes to the front door it looks suspicious. I need a lady on the arm…and better yet…I need a distraction for Walker, if he sees me head on, I could be as good a shark chow.”

Your eyes lit up, it didn’t take a genius to realise he meant you. You would be the distraction. And you’d be damned before you put yourself in real danger again especially after the threat August had given you...your photos were taken in public, this would be in private. Anything could happen to you.

“No… that is too dangerous, Lloyd,” You stood up and paced the floor in front of Lloyd who was now also rising to follow you in your pacing. You walked around your kitchen and Lloyd put his hands on the bench beside you.

“Y/N…” he bent close in a whisper. You wouldn’t look at the detective. Fear was buzzing inside of you. You felt stupid about saying you’d do anything to take August Walker down now. You really wanted to just humiliate the man and call him up in prison one day and rub it in his face. But this? This was a game of cat and mouse and you didn’t want to be backed up into a corner again.

“I wouldn’t be asking you if this unless I had to...”

You bit back the whimper in your throat as Lloyd touched your shoulder gently.

“He let you live…he has a soft spot for you.”

‘He threatened to put me down.’

He turned you around and squeezed your arms while he pitched the plan, “What’ll happen is we enter the club, I find the dealers and you find Walker because he will be hosting the party, he will want to know why you’re there and you are going to tell him that…you wanted to see him.”

You rubbed your eyes angrily, “Why the fuck would I want to see him?!” your fingers felt moist, you’d been compelled to tears.

The kind eyed detective sucked his teeth, “I don’t know, make it up. Kiss him. Men don’t care about a thing once a pretty thing is kissing them.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. No, this wasn’t the Lloyd you had imagined.

“Oh,” you chuckled sourly, “So you’re pimping me out then?”

He gave you a dumbfounded look, “Call it whatever you want…you’ll be paid good money for your service and he’ll be arrested, in prison, unable to touch you. You can run away and move to wherever you want then.”

Your breath was shaky as you dared to ask, “How much?”

His left brow rose.

“How much would I be paid by the Queensland police or Australian defence department or whoever this is through?”

He sighed and gently laid a hand on your shoulder, “Around fifteen grand.”

Your breath escaped you. From near negatives to fifteen grand overnight? That much? For this job?! You were stunned…not sure if it was worth your life…but if it meant he only humiliate you one more time and you walked away with that much money…you’d do it.

You shook your head, “Fine, it’s this Friday night yea? His club is high-class and I don’t have clothes for that type of event.”

The tall man stood back and chuckled as he tug into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet. He pinched a wad of cash and slapped it in the benchtop. Your eyes widened, holy fuck it was a month or two in rent alone…

“Go buy some. But you have got to be ready. At Seven o’clock I’ll pick you up an hour before the event and we can refresh what we know before we line up.”

You glanced between him and the money and nodded….”Alright, let’s…let’s do this.”

He laughed and clapped his hand excitedly, he leant in and gave you a fat kiss on the cheek. Nothing romantic, just pure joy.

“Thankyou so much Y/N you are going to be hailed a hero, a legend in my books!” He marched back to the couch and grabbed his blazer.

“You are a special person and I’m honoured to have met you! Really honoured!” He said as he unlocked all your bolts. He swung the door open and slammed it behind him.

You sighed and fell back against your cold fridge.

You weren’t sure you could pull this off….but as your eyes looked over the cash, the corner of your lips lifted.

You shut your eyes and sighed…all that money, it made your blood pulse. You returned to the lounge room and sat in the recliner. You laid back, staring at the ceiling. Your hands crawled down, passed the waist band of your pyjama shorts and underwear. You touched yourself and sighed.

Your fingers rubbed delicately against your clit while you leant against the kitchen bench.

You tried to imagine someone...Lloyd…the detective. He had a warmth his face. Lloyd would never rape you though, he was good, he was honest…

You moaned softly, imagining his warm hands groping your skin and his lips kissing your skin.

Fingering yourself, in and out, in and out.

You were imagining Lloyd speaking to you. He was currently the most attractive man you’d made contact with in weeks...other than August who essentially raped you.

What kind words would Lloyd say? “I washed our clothes, finished the dishes, now come here and let me fuck you.” ‘Oh yea that’s fucking hot.’

You imagined he would be gentle and soft before using more strength in his hips. His lips would be soft and hot. He would protect you and play sexy policeman. You might not have been a fan of the justice system but you were confident Lloyd would fill in a police uniform very well.

So why did your body start to dry up?

You didn’t know what you were doing wrong. You were riding your fingers and teasing your clit…why couldn’t you cum? You felt weird doing this now. It was strange to think before you met August you could cum very easily, after your dad- well you hadn’t touched yourself because you weren’t thinking about sex for a while until the millionaire stepped into your life.

After the third time of unsuccessful release, you punched the arm of the chair and started searching sex toys on your phone.

You weren’t totally sure if the prices were worth it for a piece of painted pink silicone. And there were strange shapes you were amazed were even designed to fit into a human….‘a whole fist? Surely that’s satire,’ you thought, ‘it shouldn’t be possible. It would be like reverse birth?’

You settled on buying a “rabbit dildo with thrusting pleasure.” You rolled your eyes at the name. You slapped your phone down and sighed, rubbing your eyes.

The hour was late.

Your first paycheck would be coming in soon. It was the smell of a small victory.

10:33am Friday 16th August 2024, Queen Street Westfield Shopping centre, Brisbane.

“What should I wear…” you hummed as you flipped through the dresses. Some of these dresses cost the amount of a new iPhone. You bit your lip. ‘Maybe I can return them tomorrow and give Lloyd his money back?’

A sales clerk came up, “Need some help?” She was blonde, curvy and tall. A supermodel compared to your body. You blushed.

“I’m looking to wear something to one of the high end clubs like The Lion Lounge, he’s having a nineteen twenties theme soiree this evening?”

Her lips widened, “Well, we do have many suitable gowns and even pantsuits for that social class, what designer were you thinking?”

You balked and worried that she would see you sweat, “Oh…I um…I’ll be super frank…I have not a clue what I’m doing…it is my first time to something so spectacular.”

The clerk’s eyes softened, her lips pursed, “Well! Let me help you then! These gowns you’re looking at are definitely not old twenties glam worthy! Right this way!”

Your cheeks buzzed as you were led into a dressing room and made to try on multiple styles, designers and colours of dresses.

She asked if you were getting your nails done and gasped when you said you hadn’t thought about it.

She was like a fairy godmother. She went the extra mile to call up the other stores in the mall to book appointments. You hadn’t felt so pretty ever in your life until then

She appeared stunned by the cash you laid on her counter.

Your nails were french tips with a holographic clear coat. You received a quick arm and leg wax and eyebrow shaping. The makeup matched the entire outfit. Your dress clung to your best assets and shaped your body with a clutch purse and low heels to match. Your hair was gelled and hairsprayed down into finger waves. And a lather of pearls circled around your throat and wrists.

The long finger of your dress tickled your calfs down to your small kitten heels.

You looked incredible, it took your breath away to see the glow up….

Lloyd thought so too.

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[fernthewhimsical]

Fern's Cernunnos Masterpost

Part 1: Names and intro Part 2: Aspects Part 3: Correspondences, how to honour, and prayers

Sources:

Cernunnos wikipedia page Cernunnos: Looking a Different Way - David Fickett-Wilbar Cernunnos: Origin and Transformation of a Celtic Divinity - P. Bober Not your Mother's Horned God: the Cernunnos Primer - Jess South Cernunnos; an in depth look - Jo Forest

Horns of Power - Sorita d'Este In Search of Herne the Hunter - Eric L. Finch Hoofprints in the Wildwood - Richard Derks Masks of Misrule: the Horned God, his cult in Europe - Nigel Jackson the Horned God of the Witches - Jason Mankey Celtic Culture: a historic encyclopedia - John T. Koch Gods of the Celts - Miranda Green

[thebeesareback]

Where to find multiple people from Taskmaster outside of the show

Baddiel and Skinner Unplanned: David Baddiel, Frank Skinner

Big Fat Quiz of the Year/Big Fat Quiz of Everything: Mawaan Rizwan, Judi Love, Noel Fielding, Dara O'Briain, Sarah Millican, Jo Brand, Romesh Ranganathan, Asim Chaudhry, Rose Matafeo, Mel Giedroyc

The Cleaner: Greg Davis, Asim Chaudhry, Sian Gibson

Cuckoo: Greg Davis, Asim Chaudhry

Doctor Who: Mawaan Rizwan, Ardal O'Hanlon

The Inbetweeners: Greg Davis, Joe Thomas, Susan Wokoma

Eight out of Ten Cats/ Eight out of 10 Cats does Countdown: Josh Widdicombe, Roisin Conaty, Romesh Ranganathan, Katherine Ryan, Richard Osman, Joe Wilkinson, Paul Chowdhry, Rob Beckett, Sara Pascoe, Lolly Adefope, Aisling Bea, Nish Kumar, Alice Levine, Liza Tarbuck, Jessica Knappett, Phil Wang, David Baddiel, Rose Matafeo, Daisy May Cooper, Johnny Vegas, Lee Mack, Morgana Robinson, Chris Ramsey, Judi Love, Sophie Duker, Fern Brady, John Kearns, Sam Campbell

Frankie Boyle's New World Order: Frankie Boyle, Sara Pascoe, Nish Kumar, Desiree Burch, Fern Brady

Feel Good: Mae Martin, Charlotte Ritchie

Fresh Meat: Joe Thomas, Charlotte Ritchie, Rob Beckett

Ghosts: Lolly Adefope, Charlotte Ritchie, Jessica Knappett, Katy Wix, Bridget Christie, Keill Smith-Bynoe

The Great British Bakeoff: Rob Beckett, James Acastar, Sue Perkins, Mel Gierdroyc

Hypothetical: James Acaster, Josh Widdicombe, Roisin Conaty, Liza Tarbuck, Phil Wang, Lou Sanders, Rose Matafeo, Guz Khan, Victoria Cohen Mitchell, Judi Love, Dara O'Briain

Have I Got News for You: Roisin Conaty, Dave Gorman, Mel Giedroyc, Nish Kumar, Alice Levine, Liza Tarbuck, Phil Wang, Jo Brand, Richard Herring, Desiree Burch, Munya Chawawa, Sarah Millican, Ivo Graham, Julian Clary, Lucy Beaumont

Off Menu Podcast: James Acaster (host), Ed Gamble (host), Greg Davis, Nish Kumar, Alex Horne, Dara O'Briain, Katherine Ryan, Joe Thomas, Joe Lycett, Lolly Adefope, Bob Mortimer, Jamali Maddix, Morgana Robinson, Bridget Christie, John Kearns, Keill Smith-Bynoe, Mae Martin

Outnumbered: Hugh Dennis, Katy Wix, Lee Mack

Late Night Lycett: Joe Lycett (host), Katherine Ryan, Daisy May Cooper

The Last Leg: Josh Widdicombe (host), Romesh Ranganathan, Lolly Adefope, Jessica Knappett, Johnny Vegas, Sophie Duker, Lucy Beaumont, Jo Brand, Frank Skinner, Joe Thomas, Katherine Ryan, Greg Davis, Russell Howard, Roisin Conaty, Aisling Bea, Joe Lycett, Victoria Cohen Mitchell, James Acaster, Sally Phillips, Nish Kumar, Alex Horne, Kerry Godliman, Phil Wang, Jamali Maddix, Guz Khan, Desiree Burch, Munya Chawawa, Susan Wokoma, Rose Matafeo, Kiell Smith-Bynoe

Miranda: Joe Wilkinson, Mel Giedroyc, Sally Phillips, Liza Tarbuck, Katy Wix

Mock the Week: Dara O'Briain (host), Hugh Dennis (every episode), Frankie Boyle, Josh Widdicombe, Romesh Ranganathan, Katherine Ryan, Al Murray, Mark Watson, Nish Kumar, Kerry Godliman, Rhod Gilbert, Ed Gamble, Desiree Burch, Chris Ramsey, Sophie Duker, Sarah Millican, Ivo Graham

Man Down: Roisin Connarty, Greg Davis, Mike Wozniak

Not Going Out: Lee Mack, Hugh Dennis, Tim Vine, Katy Wix

Parenting Hell: Josh Widdicombe (host), Rob Beckett (host)

Paul Sinhar's TV Showdown: Paul Sinhar (host), Rob Beckett

QI: Romesh Ranganathan, Katherine Ryan, Richard Osman, Dave Gorman, Sara Pascoe, Hugh Dennis, Lolly Adefope, Aisling Bea, Mark Watson, Nish Kumar, Tim Vine, David Baddiel, Jo Brand, Rose Matafeo, Johnny Vegas, Alan Davis, Desiree Burch, Victoria Cohen Mitchell, Bridget Christie, Dara O'Briain, Ivo Graham, Jenny Eclair, Julian Clary, Sue Perkins

Quickly Kevin, Will He Score?: Josh Widdicombe (host) (busy guy), Ivo Graham

Rob and Romesh vs...: Romesh Ranganathan (host), Rob Becket (host)

Russell Howard's Good News: Russell Howard (host) (obviously), Roisin Conaty, Romesh Ranganathan, Doc Brown, Joe Wilkinson, Aisling Bea, Iain Sterling, Lou Sanders, Ed Gamble, Chris Ramsey

The Russell Howard Hour: Russell Howard (host) (obviously), Paul Chowdhry, Jessica Knappett, Lou Sanders, Desiree Burch

Would I Lie to You: Richard Osman, Bob Mortimer, Phil Wang, Rhod Gilbert, Joe Thomas, Lou Sanders, Sian Gibson, Jo Brand, Katherine Parkinson, Lee Mack, Sarah Kendall, Desiree Burch, Ardal O'Hanlon, Judi Love, Munya Chawawa, Sarah Millican, Lucy Beaumont

Very Modern Quests: Alice Levine, Greg James, Joe Lycett, Phil Wang

Enjoy!

[pendragon-writes]

𝑀𝒲𝟤 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝑀𝓊𝓉𝑒 𝑀𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

An: For the sake of this fic Reader has permanent vocal cord damage.

(Y/n) "Snake" (L/n). Have finally become the new sergeant of Task Force 141 by Captain Prices picking himself. But here's the catch, during your time in the army your vocal cords were completely damaged causing them to be permanently damaged(Leaving you only able to moan(Not in a sexual way you horn dogs))... The reason you got your code name? One of the new privates thought he was the shit and challenged you to a 1v1, in the end, it landed him being choked with your thighs and being constricted like a snake with its prey. Which earned you the name Snake.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

He heard of the task force getting a new sergeant but he was a bit surprised to find out you didn't talk.

At first, he wasn't a big fan of you cause of your code name (it reminds him of his past) he, of course, didn't let that change his opinion of you as a person whatsoever (He understands that these types of code names aren't typically picked by the person themselves but picked by others, plus you had no connection to what his dad did to him). If Price picked you then that had to mean you were good and he trusted the man's judgment.

at first, he struggled a bit with understanding sign language but after a lot of patience, this man is now almost as fluent as you are and now because of it you both sometimes talk together in sign language during missions.

If your native language isn't English and you can speak in your native language in sign language then this man will learn it.

When the two of you talk in sign language in front of people who aren't part of the 141 task force you get some looks but Ghost quickly shuts them up with a glare.

When he does find out the reason for your code name he slightly chuckles but pats you on the back.

"Now we know who the others shouldn't mess with aye?" he would tease you from time to time because of this.

After he heard this story he would follow it up with nicknames relating to your code name.

Some of them are Sir Hiss, Rattlesnake Jake, Sammy(The snake), Sandy (The snake), and so on. (Let me know if you know the references lol).

Def got you something snake related as a birthday gift.

(This part I'm basing off of ahren_comedy on TikTok)

When the two of you went to the park with your dog and he saw you moan to your dog and then return to you he was impressed.

He HAD to try it for himself.

So when your dog went back to doing their business he tried at first to call your dog by name,

"Come here (Dogs name)!"

which clearly didn't work.

So he mimicked your moan and your dog responded he started petting your dog and praising them.

"Who’s a good dog? You are!"

John "Soap" MacTavish

He was super excited, new sergeant on the team? Hell yeah!

Sure he might've been a bit skeptical of you at first but after a little bit he warmed up to you.

When he first met you with the others he was surprised to see you pull out a large notebook and write you're name on it.

He didn't understand why you did it until the Captain explained how you couldn't talk.

He'd get you to try to pull pranks with him and Gaz on the other members.

Would beg you to teach him so he can be in the loop with you and Ghost.

Would draw on the cover of your notebook when he's bored (Or on the corners inside the book).

If you are together and have to talk to other people who don't know sign language he would totally translate on your behalf.

Also calls you snake-related nicknames for a light laugh.

Ju-Ju, Mr. Snake, Kaa, Rattle Shake, Solid Snake, etc.

Has definitely pranked you by placing a snake plush on your chest during you're sleep.

During missions, if the two of you have to be quiet you two would easily talk strategy in sign language.

The type of guy to talk late at night with you through sign language, no matter how dark it is he will try.

Out of the whole task force, he is the one to use the most nicknames on you.

(This part I'm basing off of ahren_comedy on TikTok)

When John first met your dog and saw you shake your beer can and moan he was confused about why your dog left the room.

But when he saw what your dog did he was shocked. How did they know that you wanted another beer?

When he tried using his voice to get a beer all he got was a tilt of the head to the left.

When he copied your moan and did the exact can movement and saw your dog return with a beer he cheered and fist-bumped the air.

Then he praised them.

Captain John Price

This man wasn't surprised in the slightest, if anything he laughed at some of the others' reactions. He saw your file and knew exactly who you were.

He was the one to properly introduce you to the team.

He's the only one who knows how you got your code name but won't tell the others no matter how much they beg him.

He was there during the accident and sometimes blames himself for it.

He's one of the few people who have heard your voice pre-accident.

While he doesn't typically follow up with the nicknames like the others he does sometimes call you one.

When you two are drinking together and if he was drunk and you brought up the story of how you got your code name he would be snorting and laughing loudly, def the type to slap his knee.

If you know morse code he'd definitely talk to you in it.

(This part I'm also basing off of ahren_comedy on TikTok)

When Captain Price saw you moan at your dog and point to the other room and them leaving you alone it definitely surprised him.

When he left for the kitchen and your dog was trying to get his food he pointed to the left and tried to get him to stop.

"Go you muppet go to your owner".

When that didn't work he copied your moan and when your dog listened and went to you he started laughing and explained to you the situation.

[dionysiandevotee]

Dionysus & Prosymnus, Arthur Gillet // Robert Herrick, the Vine // Dionysus and Ampelus, Pascal Queval // Naked Lunch, William S. Burroughs // The Wild Boys: A Book of the Dead, William S. Burroughs // Orchid Club, Blondie // Dionysus and Ampelos, Michael Tole // Naked Lunch, William S. Burroughs // The Wasteland, T. S. Eliot // The Pagan Rabbi, Cynthia Ozick // Nonnus' Dionysiaca, Book 12, trans. John L. Gronbeck-Tedesco // Song of Myself, Walt Whitman // Dionysus & Ampelos, by Bottichilles

💀🌺🏺 Happy Anthesteria 🏺🌺💀

May Ampelus give you the boldness to not only grabs the bull by the horns, grab life by the berries, grab him by the balls.

May Prosymnus remind you of the Queer dead, may your pleasures be shared with those who were denied them on earth

May Pentheus hold your sorrows, your guilt, your shame, your trauma. Let him take it from you.

May Dionysus free you from all ills, and wrap you in the healing ivy of Kissos and Korymbos, uplift you with the joys of Kalamos and Karpos, and refresh you with the wine of life and death.

[whencyclopedia]

Antoine de Chandieu

Antoine de Chandieu (l. 1534-1591) was a French theologian, who played a decisive role in the religious history of the 16th century but remains in the shadow of other French Protestant leaders. Due to his remarkable abilities and contribution to the Reformation in France, Chandieu has been considered the “Silver Horn” between the better-known John Calvin (Gold) and Theodore Beza (Bronze).

Continue reading...

[thatcanadianfangirl]

JJ Maybank// Healing Takes Time pt.3

JJ Maybank X Jade (Booker) Routledge OC

Plot: Jade has a ✨feminine energy✨day with Sarah and Kiara.

Word count: 2.7k+

Content: brother’s best friend, slow burn, underage drinking, foul language.

Disclaimer: the 3rd and final part of healing takes time, it’s not finished but I a year and a half ago and won’t be completing. I really enjoyed writing this but it’s not something I want to continue. I didn’t edited or anything kinda just want this out of my drafts.

{Part One} {Part Two}

———-

Someone laying on the horn in the dirt drive way of the Chateau knocked the relaxation out of my bones. The water lapped at my legs hanging over the dock, my shoulder blades were resting on the rotting wood. I was soaking up the sun cascading over my body and trying to enjoy my workless weekend.

Two car doors slammed shut in the distant and I instantly knew that it wasn't the Twinkie, it had sounds that I associated with home. Soft feminine voices were mumbling and a small smile creeped onto my face.

Sitting up I gathered my worn sneakers, hooking them with one finger each on the same hand. The HMS Pogue danced with the small waves caused by other boats that have passed. Walking up the long L shaped dock water dripped down my calves and imprinted my path onto the wood for thirty minutes.

feet partially dry I managed to shout a mangled greeting as I struggled to slip on my socks. Fumbling with forcing my shoes on, a little too excited to spent the day with them. I hopped off the dock landing wrong. I grained my balance back right before I could knock my teeth out from a brutal wipe out.

"Woah take it easy, Routledge!" Sarah chuckles walking towards me with Kie at her side.

"I don't know what came over me, My body just took over." I say a little sheepish.

It was an overpowering feeling of having female friends, almost like I didn't know what to do with myself. God was it absolutely embarrassing. I always had my brother and he was, most of the time, a good fill in to indulge into girl talk. Although their were some conversations I needed to only share with female friends.

Of course I had acquaintances at Kildare high. They were fun conversations in-between classes to fill in the time, or light gossiping at the boneyard, whenever Kiara pulled me along and she was caught with the boys. they weren't ones I hangout on my own time, it felt like a lot of effort to contain any relationship outside of home and work.

The least I could say was I am starved for female companionship. When Sarah asked us a week ago to go hangout I was ecstatic. The excitement started to stack before I realized and it tipped over causing me to just about snap my ankle in two.

"Honesty. I might be a little euphoric myself." Kiara says, and it stabilized my embarrassment,

"Over here too." Sarah pipes up.

"The aura all three of them bring feels so suffocating at times. I need this day you." She says with mock desperation and lightheartedness dancing in her tone.

"Tell me about it, I have a brother who reeks of that shit," I say with a mouth full of sass, they smile wide holding back fits of laughter.

"I don't mind it." Sarah says with a shrug.

"Absolutely disgusting." I mimic throwing up my bagel and coffee from earlier. "You say that because you haven't lived with the demon for a decade and a half."

"It'll get old fast." Kie says,

"damn right!" I agree enjoying this moment I was sharing with them. Surprised by how easy I fell into conversation with them. Like this was an everyday occurrence, I never wanted this feeling to escape from my fingertips.

"Are you ready?" Sarah questions racking over my attire. I was wearing very worn in short, a blue top and one of John's loose button shirts. It's very beach casual it wasn't too fashion friendly but it wasn't the worst thing I could've worn today.

"Yeah, I'm just going to give John a heads up." I say beginning to approach the house and finding him having a massive cat nap on the porch couch.

Stepping on the porch I slammed the screen door shut, but the bang only managed to halt his loud snored for three seconds. I rolled my eyes knowing this wake up job would take a little work. His entire body stretched along the sofa, his height so tall, the toes of his shoes hung over the arm rest.

One tap against his torn sneaker, "John." My voice holding a vociferous tone in attempt to wake him. But only backfired forcing his snores to become more prominent and stir in his sleep.

what on god's deteriorating earth did this kid do last night to cause him to sleep way into the afternoon? I heard him clamber through the house at three am. very late but at least he made the effort to come home.

"John B!" I hollered right over him.

His body jerked awake and his face held alarm as he sprung to life almost knocking me on my ass in the process. John wiped at his face regaining consciousness. Soon his brown eyes fell into recognition at the sight of me crossing my arms over my chest and eyeing him down with and unamused expression.

"What the Hell is wrong with you, Jade." He said bitterly and aggressively combed his hair back.

"Good Morning to you too sleepy head." I cooed at him as if he were a small child who didn't get what they wanted.

"You're so goddamn annoying." He seethes through his teeth.

"Someone is a little cranky." I mock a pout.

"Why the fuck did you wake me?" He growled grumpily into his palms and I smirk cockily at my suffering brother.

I shrug, "Just wanted to let you know I'm leaving to hang with Kiara and Sarah." I said pointing my thumb over my shoulder. He leans over looking past me and at the two girls resting against the hood of Sarah's SUV. "Hey John B," They snicker in unison.

"Hey." He replied with a rough sleepy voice.

"You're actually hangout with them?" There was a hint of eager happiness wrapped in his tone. I brushed it off and began began battling with the smile that tried to crawl to the surface.

"Me and Kie are alright friends. Sarah just fits in perfectly. And if I'm being honest I need female friends. So I hope you don't mind me stealing yours." I say smugly knowing I'd still hangout with them even if he was fully against it.

"I don't mind one bit." Me says with an ear splitting grin.

"Also I did want to talk to you later." I say not feeling like it was the right time to be bringing it up. Was there ever a right time for it?

"Sure. Anything."

"It's nothing too tremendous." I muster up.

I hope it wasn't because I knew this treasure hunting obsession has gone a little over the edge. I need John to lift the weight off my shoulders a bit. Allow me to breathe and maybe set some money a side for a rainy day. Who Knew how he'd take it, I just have to show him just how desperate I was to have my brother back.

"Okay." he jokes as if I wasn't going to give him an ultimatum.

---

The Surf Shack is an adorable little boutique located in the middle of the island. it wasn't marked as Figure 8 and nor was it part of The Cut. It was centered ground and probably the reason why it's Kie's favourite shop in all of Kildare.

Brand new surf boards lined the back wall, bathing suits towards the left wall and summer clothing to the right. Various string and bulky beaded jewelry Koisks scattered the floor. The theme of the store held a beachy ambiance, it was very soothing and felt familiar.

"What's the colour pallet?" Sarah ask slinging her arm over my shoulder and leaning against me, I become flustered at the close proximity not expecting her to clung on to me like she did.

"Uh.." I stated not really understand the premise of the question.

"Jade it more of a teal or a purple type of person," Kie says after lightly analyzing me and I begin to feel self conscious around them.

Sarah looks at me as if waiting for me to disagree. In all honest I've never had to luxury to pick the colour of my clothing. I purchased whatever fit me and looked at least half decent. So I'm not particularly familiar with my colour pallet.

"I think Kie is right." I pretend like I knew exactly what she meant, but from the look swirling in Sarah's eyes, I knew I failed miserably. I felt absolutely pathetic and began to interrogate my decision to come here with them.

"Lets just take a look around and have a feel for it." Kie says covering up the feeling of awkwardness that started to wedge its self between us.

"Sounds like a good idea." I say relieved, taking myself out of Sarah's grasp and going towards peach-coloured pieces. It didn't take long to find out the price of a single bikini top was far out of my budget. The white tag in my hand from a lime green basic triangle top read $68.

Who in there right mind would pay that much for nipple covers? was this what is was like to not live from pay cheque to pay cheque? because please sign me the fuck up, pronto. God I wonder what it would be like to no look at the price and know I could afford a lousy bikini set.

Looking around I saw Kie and Sarah in different isles sorting through the various styles and colours. I must've been looking like a lost freaking puppy for too long because one of the employees, Henley, walks up to me with a polite smile. She's tall and has perfect blonde hair flowing down her back. Henley definitely was a freaking goddess in her past life, I could tell you that much.

"Is there anything I could help you with?" She says with a mega watt smile, and I gulp nervously hoping she didn't think I was going to tuck this top into my back pocket. I'm not going to lie, it was pretty tempting now that I think about it.

"No, I'm just looking. Thank you for the offer." I say bringing my customer service to life like I knew exactly what I was doing. Caging up the nerves in the process. I could feel the eyes of the Pogues dart to me and I wanted to melted into the floor at the questioning looks.

"Are you sure? Because it looks like you're struggling." She presses and god was it fucking embarrassing. Was it really that hard for her to leave me to my thoughts?

"Hey, Henley, could you help me find a size?" Kie calls,

"Yes of course." She replies instantly. "Will you excuse me?"

"Not a problem." I give her a tight smile. I felt every one of my muscles relax at her retreating back. I could literally kiss the girl for calling the demon off of my spine. Sometimes Kie was an expert at reading my body language and rescued me with a fucking life raft, a good percentage of the time.

I shoved the green top onto the rack again and navigated my way to the clearance section. It crumbled the little ego I had left but it was my own doing for not seeking it out in the first place. I just wanted to feel normal for once and experience something other than The Cut.

The section was more budget friendly but it was less size inclusive. being in this place was like bringing a skate board to the beach. Not the smartest idea but I could make the best of it.

I could feel Sarah come behind me and lay her chin onto my shoulder browsing my selection with me. I oddly enjoyed how touch affection she is, almost like a nice surprise after a tough day.

"I know you probably don't want to hear this, but I could get you one you'll actually like. You've been scouring the rack for five minutes, I can see nothing is catching your eye. It's not a big deal. Think of it as a an early birthday gift."

I can't muster up the words I want to say, because how exactly do I respond to that? Sarah is one of the kindest people I know and I cant possible take advantage of her for a new swimsuit I don't need.

"I appreciate it. Sarah I really do, But I cant ask that." I say in a hushed tone knowing Henley is always keeping an eye on me at all times as she works around the store.

"You're not asking. I'm offering. There's a difference between the two. I've seen how hard you've worked to keep the Chateau alive. You deserve to enjoy something new once in awhile. You're not being selfish, Okay?"

Her tone is soft as she speaks into my ear and I couldn't help the hot tears from sliding down my cheeks. Sarah saw me and still wanted to be here, I felt every emotion I could and they hit me like a semi truck.

Kie had a sixth sense and soon was glued to my hip. Sarah filled her in, as I bite down on my bottom lip forcing the blubbering cries that wanted to escape, at bay.

'Oh Honey." Kie coos fondly and wipes a few tears away but they're soon replaced by fresh ones. "Here." Sarah hands me the keys to her SUV. "Why don't you sit in the car and we'll pick something out of you?" Her voice is sugar and I didn't want to leave her side. But if I didn't leave soon I know it wouldn't take much to have everything in me spilled out.

With a weak nod I mange to take the keys into my grasp almost dropping them at the unexpected weight. I'm a mess and everyone in this place was seeing it first hand. There was no way I would live this down. Hell would freeze over before I ever thought of returning to this shop. That pushy employee, Henley, would recognize me as the one girl from The Cut who broke down in the middle of this god forsaken place.

It felt like the walk of shame as I approached the exit and onto the side walk. With one click on the car fob Sarah's vehicle beeped and flashed as it unlocked. If I didn't have the keys in my hand someone would accuse me of stealing it.

Once I clambered into the backseat I slumped against the leather bench and sobbed into it. everything I was feeling over the last few days had finally rushed out of me in an earthshattering wailing.

---

I wake up disoriented. I'm still wearing day clothes but the moon light from my window is glowing onto my skin. I'm confused and well rested, that was the best fucking sleep I've had in ages. Everything from earlier smashes into my brain like a stone wall, the reason of the best cat nap of my life.

Pent up emotion from John B trying to keep dad alive, The feeling of having friends, and the situation I've found myself in with JJ. It was a lot and I never found the time to really come to terms with it all. I'm glad that everything had left my body. I'm so light that I feel like i'm walking on white fluffy clouds.

A small bag from the Surf Shack had caught my eye, I reach over and snatch it from my nightstand. Pawing at the contents I pull out a gorgeous pastel bikini set, It's either Purple or blue. Hard to in point the colour in the dark room.

Getting off the bed I could hear something else sliding on the paper bag. I stare at it with furrowed eyebrows for a few seconds before I fetch out a necklace. it's a smooth chuck of sea glass with a calico scallop shell thread through thick string.

my heart glows at the gifts they have given me. I swore to myself I'd eventually pay them back. I'm not entirely sure how, but I would.

Flicking the light on I pull the bikini onto my body and it fits perfectly. In the small broken and smudge mirror in the corner of my room, I noted how pretty the colour looked on my skin. I wondered how they knew my correct size.

After wrapping the necklace around my neck I pulled my day clothes back on. With one last glance in the mirror I sauntered out of room in hopes to find the girls responsible for my glow.

[storkmuffin]

VOGUE US March 2024

On His Terms

by Sarah Crompton

With his red cap pulled down over horn-rimmed glasses, Tobias Menzies walks into a London hotel with the wariness of a man who might just be recognized. It's his face that would catch him out, those deep lines running from eyes to chin. "He had those even as a young man," says his friend the theater director Rupert Goold. "It's like someone has taken a knife and carved them. And I feel those lines run deep inside him as well. He's grown into his face like a lot of actors do."

Menzies's smile is warm and his handshake firm, and though he lives not far from here in north London's Crouch End, he is dressed more as a country dweller than a man-about-town, in jeans and blue gilet zipped over a soft mustard-and-red-checked shirt. Only his Grenson trainers, white and red and with flashes of the same yellow, suggest he might belong to an artier milieu.

"I don't get recognized on any intrusive level, but it's not a part of [the job] that I love," he admits as we settle down to talk. "I like to watch people—I don't like them to watch me." I've asked him about the experience he's having at 49—that of a talent stepping into his prime. Blame it on The Crown, in which he played the second incarnation of Prince Philip across two seasons (a role that won him an Emmy), and last year's wry, acclaimed comedy You Hurt My Feelings, in which he starred opposite Julia Louis-Dreyfus ("He's one of the most warm and present actors I've worked with," says its director, Nicole Holofcener). And now, he's appearing in two leading-man roles, as Edwin Stanton, Abraham Lincoln's secretary of war, in Apple TV+'s series Manhunt in March, and he's currently onstage in The Hunt, an adaptation of the 2012 Thomas Vinterberg film directed by Goold, playing at St. Ann's Warehouse in Brooklyn five years after its London premiere.

"I've got to be honest, I really liked it," Menzies says of the status he enjoyed in Manhunt. "Being in the engine room of it and part of the storytelling decisions." The series is part thriller and part history lesson, set over the 12 days following Lincoln's assassination in 1865 as Stanton attempts to track down the president's killer, John Wilkes Booth (it's based on historian James L. Swanson's 2006 bestseller). Episodes skip forward and backward, tracing the story of a tumultuous time and the ideological schisms that caused the Civil War and continued long after it. Stanton, a brilliant lawyer and strategist, is at the center of everything, clashing with Lincoln's successor, President Andrew Johnson, as he attempts to preserve the late president's legacy.

As gripping as any detective story, Manhunt addresses painful facts of America's past: "The implications of losing Lincoln and what that meant for African American people," says showrunner Monica Beletsky, who spent four years developing the project and who has followed Menzies's career since they overlapped as students at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (RADA) in London (she on a stint studying there from the US). "You could argue in a way that the Confederates won the peace," Menzies points out. "What is important about Monica making the show is that she is a person of color, and arguably the big fallout from Lincoln's assassination was that Reconstruction was lost until 100 years later and the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s. Voting rights, land rights—they didn't happen. A lot of the things that African Americans have been fighting so hard for, for so long, were on Stanton's agenda."

Menzies studied carefully for the role ("He prepares months in advance," says Beletsky), working to find Stanton's voice and make his accent seem effortless, but also reading widely about the Civil War and its aftermath. Doris Kearns Goodwin's classic history Team of Rivals was a particularly rich source: "It takes you into this very disparate group Lincoln collected around him," Menzies says. "There was such a diversity of opinion and a lot of antagonism, but that was part of the power of it." Menzies also studied Gregory Peck's towering performance as Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird. "I was thinking of those archetypes that American literature and film are full of," he says. "Because it's such a whirlwind story with so many different characters floating through it—so you need a moral compass."

The key to the character became a combination of "stoicism and radicalism," Menzies says—and as an actor, he's exceptionally good at playing men who are fighting such opposing impulses, with strong currents of feeling running beneath an impassive surface. "He is one of those rare actors who does a lot with silence," Beletsky says. "He makes you believe you can feel what he is thinking, and he can do those things without saying a word."

Goold, who has directed Menzies many times onstage—including as Hamlet, as Valentine in Tom Stoppard's Arcadia, and as Edgar in King Lear—thinks this quality has become stronger as Menzies has grown older. "He's got this wonderful physical expressiveness, but there's a slightly remote quality to him, I suppose," Goold says. "The quality I find really compelling in him is his committed curiosity. It's quite rare, especially for British actors, to keep their craft developing, to become more rigorous and investigative, and I think Tobias is an outlier on that."

Menzies is attracted to roles that conceal depths. "There is a certain magic about that. Part of the maths is that there is more on the inside than on the outside"

Their most recent collaboration is The Hunt, a haunting story in which a small-town teacher becomes ostracized when a six-year-old child accuses him of abuse. Menzies will be reprising his devastatingly observed performance from the play's 2019 London premiere. "When we put it on, we felt it to be about false accusations and the way that cancel culture was creating pariahs," says Goold. "But it is as much about someone who is shut out from their community because they choose to live apart. There is part of Tobias that is like that."

Menzies acknowledges that he is attracted to roles that conceal depths. "It's partly a taste thing," he says. "I like the kind of acting where I can't see the performance, I can't see how it is happening. There is a certain magic about that. Part of the maths is that there is more on the inside than on the outside, there's a kind of mystery there."

Menzies was born in London, his father a radio producer for the BBC, but after his parents separated when he was six, he lived with his mother, a drama teacher, and his brother in Kent. On their regular cultural outings, he was inspired by contemporary dance and the experimental theater companies he saw: Pina Bausch, Complicité, Shared Experience, Cheek by Jowl. "I was interested in companies that were making their own work," he says, "and I tried to go to train with [the radical movement coach] Jacques Lecoq in Paris; but I didn't have the money for that, so I went to RADA."

He never dreamed of being a famous actor. "My obsession as a kid was tennis," he says, with a grin. He was good enough to be on the fringes of the team for the county of Kent but gave it up when he realized he would never be truly first-class. He stopped playing for a long time. "Periodically I would pick up a racket and try to play a bit, and my game had completely fallen apart and it made me so angry. It was so frustrating. A few years ago I thought, Let's start again, do my 10,000 hours, and let's fix it." He approached the task with "monomaniacal" intent, working for a year on his forehand, and a year on his backhand, then adding his serve. Now he plays three times a week at a local tennis club, either with a coach or taking on other members in clay court matches. "I'm pretty obsessive about it," he says. "I just find it fascinating. It is such a mental game—a very interesting microcosm of one's brain."

His hero is Novak Djokovic. "He has less natural flair than Nadal or Federer but there is an epic quality to his tennis. He is able to endure and suffer, and so he can do it all in some way. There is a sort of purity to what he is doing. I think only if you have struggled with tennis do you realize that even though it looks plain, what's going on, the footwork, the ability to get to that ball and then hit it—it's just rather remarkable."

Menzies admits that his attitude to life mirrors his tennis. "I am probably on the methodical end of things, yeah," he says, with another low laugh. I ask about his film roles, which have been getting bigger and richer of late. He loved filming in New York with Holofcener on You Hurt My Feelings—"It was definitely bucket list"—and is currently appearing alongside Brad Pitt in the as-yet-untitled Formula 1 drama directed by Joseph Kosinski, which is filming scenes at Grand Prix around the world.

Before the actors' strike interrupted production, they had shot two scenes at Silverstone in the UK. "It was bonkers because we are in amongst everything else. So we did this scene on the grid before the race and the grid is live: real drivers, real cars, celebrities wandering around." He pauses, then adds: "It was like theater on steroids—really, really fun." He has nothing but praise for Pitt—"a lovely, lovely person, very collaborative, very nice to act with, and supersmart"—but working with him brought Menzies face-to-face with a level of fame that he doesn't aspire to. "How does he go out? It is very constraining to have that level of visibility."

Partly from a desire to preserve his anonymity as much as he can, Menzies took an early decision never to talk about his private life. "Is that old-fashioned of me?" he asks. "I'm going to stick to my guns. It's partly natural shyness on my part. But to be a bit more grandiose about it, the idea of celebrity moving into the arts and acting does have an effect on how we watch."

Through it all Menzies is genial and engaged, asking a lot of questions, yet there is something formal about him too. This is someone who is deeply serious about acting, pursuing projects that interest him and then immersing himself in them. I ask if being able to choose work of quality and interest is part of this new level of success, and Menzies says that it has come at a good time. "The question for me would have been whether as a younger person I would have handled it very well," he tells me. "I just think at some base level, it has taken me time to get really good." He laughs gently. "If I'd had a lot of exposure early on, I don't think I'd have been ready. I know I am a lot better now than I was 10 years ago. Acting keeps you very humble because you never quite know day-to-day. You can do all the work in the world and try the best you can, and sometimes it just lifts off and sometimes it doesn't."

[bloomstruck]

How I Would Fare in Fighting Against the Cast of IAPTBAP

the title folks. i'm over-confident and i'm sure my fiance is gonna see this like "you can't fight at all" but i once downed a man in a parking lot and i will keep up that energy did this in order of appearance (mostly)

MC — Now why tf would I wanna fight the baddest bitch there is? Before Beau's tale, I might be able to win. Afterwards, she'd probably win. But it's okay, I'm not gonna fight her anyways. WINNER: No one

Aurelio — I would win 100%. I don't have really any reasoning, just that I'm confident. The issue here is, again, I wouldn't want to fight him. Too precious. WINNER: Me

Winter White — He tried to pick MC up and couldn't handle her weight lmao he's kinda weak. I also have weak arms but I have really strong leg muscles and flexibility to kick him in the face. He's my fave but irl I would want to fight him. So creepy. WINNER: Me

Eli — I think he's too nice to beat me up without a really good reason. With that said, if I picked a fight with him, I wouldn't win. He's really nice though so I don't want to pick a fight with him. He's had it rough, why would I add onto that 😭 WINNER: Eli?

Arien — This... Is hard. Technically, Arien bests me in physical strength. He would totally end me if he wasn't a lil' bitchbaby. He's also masochistic so I'm afraid he'd let me get a couple hits in and then I wouldn't want to fight and I'd run away crying. With that said, I really don't like Arien... But is it worth it? Is it worth it? WINNER: . . . Arien???? Maybe???????

Beau — OKAY, he might be able to outsmart me. Not to toot my own horn, I'm pretty smart myself, but if Beau is Sherlock Holmes, I am John Watson (I mean, in intelligence wise, not referencing their relationship at all). He's a genius. With that said, he's also a twink and a bookworm and I have leg muscles for days from soccer and dancing. A couple of well-placed kicks and he's not standing back up. WINNER: Most likely me.

Jasmir — Now why tf am I gonna put a target on my back like that 🤨 The people around Jasmir are batshit nuts. WINNER: Jasmir (by default)

Espen — Depends. If Espen is allowed his ice powers, how tf am I supposed to compete with that? If it's just fists tho and he gets no powers, I'm pretty confident I could win this fight. When's the last time this man went outside to touch grass? Exactly. WINNER: Circumstantial

Anton — Anton might win if only because I'd chicken out and wouldn't be able to fight him. Not out of fear, but he's just... gestures vaguely. He's sweet. WINNER: Anton (by default)

Tyrian — Nah I ain't winning this one y'all. First off, Tyrian is so nice, he works hard, and is a great cook... Why am I gonna challenge him to a fight? If we did fight, for whatever reason though, he would win. And I would let him. He could punch me and I'd thank him. (Please don't though because I'll also cry). WINNER: Tyrian

Charlie — I think I could take him on. IDK why though but punching him feels kind of homophobic, plus I'd have to deal with Tyrian and Charlie's father so... Nah, no thanks WINNER: Me? Maybe?

Rampion — I'm... Not sure. I'm going to say Rampion is gonna win this one, especially if he has a frying pan. WINNER: Probably Rampion

Sen — HAHAHAHAHA. The moment Sen shows even a teensy bit of hostility towards me, I'm fucking BOLTING. This man could snap me in half like a fucking glow stick. Like he's breaking some pasta noodles to fit into a pot. I'm taking this L, there's no way I could fuckin win THAT fight. Fuck that. WINNER: SEN

Alistair — I'm fairly confident I could win against Alistair but it'd be a really dirty fight. He strikes me as the type to scratch and pull hair and do petty shit. But it's okay! I do too, and the difference is is that half the time I do my nails stiletto style so you better watch out babygirl. The only way Alistair would win is if he makes me cry before we fight. Which is definitely possible. WINNER: Physically, me. Verbally, Alistair.

Rojo — why would I fight such a bean 😭 (also, rojo could wreck my shit) WINNER: Rojo

Miriam — Now this feels REALLY homophobic, how tf am I gonna fight her. Why would I do that? Why would I try to fight her? I wanna be besties with her. If we fought, I would let her win hands down. WINNER: Miriam

[reddeadreference]

A Better World, A New Friend

This post includes the hunting requests, Ms. Hobb’s letter, as well as her gift, and the results of that gift.

(Note: Hunting Requests 1-4 can be completed anytime before the epilogue but Request 5 can only be done in the epilogue and “items” do not carry over.)

-Warning! This post contains spoilers for the epilogue!-

Requests

You can find the first poster request in Valentine Station. Once you deliver it you’ll get the second automatically upon receiving payment.

HUNTING REQUEST 1 (Valentine)

Perfect Squirrel Carcass

Perfect Rabbit Carcass

HUNTING REQUEST 2 (Strawberry)

Perfect Cardinal Carcass

Perfect Rat Carcass

Perfect Woodpecker Carcass

HUNTING REQUEST 3 (Rhodes)

Perfect Chipmunk Carcass

Perfect Oriole Carcass

Perfect Robin Carcass

Perfect Opossum Carcass

HUNTING REQUEST 4 (Saint Denis)

Perfect Sparrow Carcass

Perfect Songbird Carcass

Perfect Toad Carcass

Perfect Bullfrog Carcass

Perfect Skunk Carcass

HUNTING REQUEST 5 (Van Horn Trading Post)

(Can only be completed by John in the epilogue)

Perfect Waxwing Carcass

Perfect Bat Carcass

Perfect Blue Jay Carcass

Perfect Crow Carcass

Perfect Beaver Carcass

Once all of the requests are complete John will get a letter from Ms Hobbs inviting him to visit and you’ll get to see her art.

Invitation from Ms. Hobbs

Mister Marston,

My dear, I am delighted, absolutely delighted at the lovely friends you have sent me. Together we have made art! Life as art!

I strive to make happiness frozen in time, and you have surely made me happy with the animals you have gathered.

You must come visit and see the world we have made together. I will introduce you to Percival. I am sure you will love him. Do you play cards? My friends adore it. Oh, I'm getting ahead of myself!

I'm just north east of Strawberry, between the town and Monto's Rest. 

Sincerely,

Ms. L. Hobbs

She’ll take you down to the basement where all the displays are. (All those photos are in the post for her house)

(This is Percival.)

 She’ll gift you a Squirrel Statue dressed like John (hat and vest... don’t know how she knew.)

When you bring it home (if it’s after you’ve finished all story missions) you can place it above the fireplace

... Abigail is less than thrilled about it.

“It’s art.”

Leave the ranch and you’ll come home to find John Squirrelston is missing, hidden by Abigail who hides him in 6 different places each time you put him back on the mantel.

. This happens several times:

Locations Abigail hides the statue:

Chest in John's Bedroom

Chimney in John's Bedroom

Chest in Uncle's Room

Wheelbarrow in the sheep pen

Chest in the barn

On top of Mount Shann

[tmbgareok]

amazing show tonight! very sad to hear that john l. makes flans exit via the tour bus tailpipe though. 😢 JF you should join the horns’ collective-bargaining unit, maybe he’d treat you a little better

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