#Tom definitely has the range and he's VERY attractive

[sweetestpopcorn]

Do you think tom hiddleston can play Daemon?

I mean:

[yerpenachams]

JJBA Protagonist Abilities

I'm really inspired by 'Jojo's Bizarre Adventure,' because stands are an excellent way to go about avoiding power creep and creating versatile but limited power sets. Probably my favorite plot point in Part 8 is that the Rock Humans have more predatory and devastating, but situational stands, compared to most other antagonists in the series.

However, Araki doesn't go as far as he could with the protagonist's abilities. Giorno's is a little too versatile, while still being strong (although you could say this fits thematically with him being the son of Dio, whose stand is also 'unfair'). Jotaro's stand is obviously very basic, but that's acceptable since it's from the first part with stands. That leaves Crazy Diamond, Stone Free, Tusk, Soft & Wet, and November Rain.

I was super excited about the reveal of November Rain, because it really seemed like a mook stand that just happened to be used by a main character. To me, this fit really well with the themes of Part 9, since Jodio believes that he's a psychopath doomed to struggle with human connection; he doesn't view himself as a hero. Of course, in more recent chapters, November Rain has been established as a pretty versatile stand, although it's still a bit more specific than any of the previous main character stands (in my opinion).

Crazy Diamond has a very neat and clean powerset; healing and repairing objects. This may seem simple, but has a variety of applications in Part 4. Stone Free essentially just allows Jolyne to stretch herself, fit through tight spaces and go "long-range" at the cost of vulnerability; it basically just improves hand-to-hand combat, but it's still a pretty good stand.

Tusk is a stand that really makes a point of "harnessing a force of nature." Gold Experience gives Giorno control over biology, but Tusk gives Johnny control over rotation, including allowing him to create black holes. Objectively, it's probably the best idea for a main character stand so far in a series about the power of fate. However, I've read some convincing fan theories about November Rain, I love the way that Crazy Diamond is used in certain fights in Part 4... and I think that Soft & Wet had a lot of potential.

I actually love Part 8, and it's kind of necessary for Josuke to have a "bullshit stand" when a lot of his opponents use devasting and/or long-range and/or automatic stands (of the Rock Humans, Aisho Dainenjiyama, Dolomite, Poor Tom and Satoru Akefu/Toru all have automatic stands). In addition to Doobie Wah!, Blue Hawaii, Ozone Baby and Wonder of U, Tamaki Damo's Vitamin C and Yotsuyu Yagiyama's I Am a Rock both have features of automatic stands. Once infected, victims of Vitamin C are doomed as long as they're in its range. I Am a Rock attracts objects to people's bodies automatically, although Yotsuyu is at risk since he has to touch people to activate his stand. For Vitamin C, I Am a Rock and Brain Storm, calling them 'automatic' is varying degrees of a stretch, but I definitely think Doctor Wu and the Schott Keys are the only Rock Human stands that have no automatic elements (although Doctor Wu clearly has a different-functioning brain to control all the different parts of his body in the way he does). That's a count of seven automatic stands to three non-automatic, and Brain Storm and Schott Key No. 2 have very small automatic features, since they are diseases. One could argue that, if Green Day functions automatically, then so do Brain Storm and Schott Key No. 2.

Of course, there are non-Rock Human stands that are automatic in Part 8. This in particular includes Kei Nijimura's Born This Way. California King Bed also takes memories automatically, although only when Josuke breaks a rule. That's excluding Yasuho Hirose's Paisley Park and Norisuke Higashikata's King Nothing, which are automatic stands used by allies of Josuke.

I just really enjoy talking about my theory/"observation" that the Rock Human stands are especially predatory, aggressive and unfair because they're a solitary species of humanoid with low to no empathy.

Regardless, Gappy's Soft and Wet is a very interesting stand that's hard to write for. It can "plunder," absorb, steal basically whatever Josuke wants... from physical objects to abstract concepts. He can place himself inside a bubble, mediate air pressure, steal friction from a floor or eyesight from a human being.

I basically came up with this list of Jojo protagonist abilities to make myself feel a bit better while I devise abilities for my own protagonists.

[gemsofthegalaxy]

Okay looking thru a couple definitions of twink, quickly, these were the most common things: "young, slim to average build, hairless, youthful looking, gay, attractive to men, bottom". One also said "likes older, bigger men". There's also some that say "dumb", which.. mean? lol, and "fashionable"

Lets go through this, shall we?

Age: Maybe. Technically we dont know Greg's age in canon (ive seen 26 on an alleged casting call, i'd believe between 26-29) and some definitions of twink put the range like "late teen to 22 years old" which he almost definitely is above.

Build: Yes. Greg is, like, average build i think? obviously he's not Big, not fat by any means, but he's also not rail thin imo, esp not by s3/s4 (which makes sense as most people gain a little weight as they age and this show has been in production for years. I personally like him being soft around the middle)

Hairless: No. The one time we see him swimming he is clearly not hairless. I thank not only god but jesus for this, personally. to some it may disqualify him for twinkishness

Youthful: Yes. He is youthful looking, fairly babyfaced even by the end when his actor is like mid 30s (this isnt Old mind you but, his features are very round and young looking).

Gay: Yes. Clearly he is gay.

Attractive to Men: Yes. At least, seems to be attractive, specifically to Tom, but, also Matsson.

Bottom: Yes. I believe in my heart he is a bottom.

Into Older, Bigger Men: Maybe. I think, personally, he is into Tom, and perhaps caretaker types, daddies. Tom is soft-yet-strong, and also has chest hair (thank the lord)

Dumb: Yes. He is kinda dumb, more gullible than anything, tbh, though he also has his strengths.

Fashionable: Maybe. Hard to tell. Once his suits are tailored he's doing better, but he also only really gets to wear suits, as expected of him, we don't see very many of his own fashion choices and when we do they're like. Fine

This is my expanded take on the matter. To me, he is twink-adjacent and it is Funny to call him a twink. More generic definitions I think he fits into but he aint realllyyy hairless and while he's youthful looking, he is going to age out if he hasn't already.

Thank you for coming to my tedtalk. Or sorry you read all this lmao

[sauntervaguelydown]

From Feather Unpacks the Hobbit (ep 6):

"Which brings us to Beorn, and their time with Beorn. 

Beorn is a problem. Beorn is one of those things that sticks in the easy understanding that the texts do lay out to us in a way not dissimilar to Tom Bombadil, where it's not immediately or transparently explained how he fits into the world as we understand it - especially as The Silmarillion explains it to us. 

Beorn is described by Gandalf (or at least by Narrator Bilbo speaking through Gandalf) thusly: 

He is a skin-changer. He changes his skin: sometimes he is a huge black bear, sometimes he is a great strong black-haired man with huge arms and a great beard. I cannot tell you much more, though that ought to be enough. Some say that he is a bear descended from the great and ancient bears of the mountains that lived there before the giants came. Others say that he is a man descended from the first men who lived before Smaug or the other dragons came into this part of the world, and before the goblins came into the hills out of the North. I cannot say, though I fancy the last is the true tale. He is not the sort of person to ask questions of.

At any rate he is under no enchantment but his own. He lives in an oak-wood and has a great wooden house; and as a man he keeps cattle and horses which are nearly as marvellous as himself. They work for him and talk to him. He does not eat them; neither does he hunt or eat wild animals. He keeps hives and hives of great fierce bees, and lives most on cream and honey. As a bear he ranges far and wide. I once saw him sitting all alone on the top of the Carrock at night watching the moon sinking towards the Misty Mountains, and I heard him growl in the tongue of bears: "The day will come when they will perish and I shall go back!" That is why I believe he once came from the mountains himself.

Now there are a few other things we know about Beorn, and one specifically is that is he mortal (or at least that other people thought that he died at some point): his son is the lord of the Beornings by the War of the Ring, and there are reputed to be at least several other skin-changers in the lot of them, so presumably at some point Beorn sired children, and he's not around by the War of the Ring. 

[...]

One possibility is that Beorn himself is one of these Maiar. It would explain his ability to change his shape; it would also explain why he brooded resentfully over the idea of having lost the Misty Mountains to the orcs, and so on. However, given that Grimbeorn his son is explicitly and continually identified as his son, this would require either that this be untrue (and that stories of the Beorning skin-changers also be untrue) and Grimbeorn be somehow adoptive, or it would require that a Maia sired a child with an Atani [human] woman in the midst of the Third Age, which feels a bit off. He'd also have to be both willing to muck around as much as he did, and where he was living, and yet not have attracted Sauron's hostile attention, which seems unlikely. If this were the case, presumably either he did fall afoul of Sauron at some point, or he went off whenever his son got old enough. 

That one also feels a bit off because I feel like it would be hard for even huge numbers of orcs to run a Maia who still has access to a bear-shape off his patch. But it's a possibility. 

However, the more suggestive and compelling possibility to me is that despite the Eldarin claims, Melian was not in fact the only Maia ever to fall for, or procreate with, one of the Children [elves and humans]. 

That she was by far the most powerful, definitely, and I suspect that the occasion for any other would have to be just about as remarkable and spectacular. But I don't think it's beyond possibility that once upon a time, a Maia of Yavanna or Oromë living somewhere in the mountains - very possibly as a bear, but maybe mostly as something else - encountered an Atane at least close to being as special as Beren was, or equivalent to Elu Thingol but mortal, and had a child with him, and that as a result much like the lineage of Elros keeps throwing up these astonishing healers and people who can have a power-level wrestling match with Sauron via palantír and win, there's this other lineage that keeps throwing up Atani who can change their skin - and, as it happens, talk to animals. 

Given that Oromë was a hunter, Beorn's specific avoidance of eating meat and his tendency towards cultivation with his home suggests to me that his lineage comes from Yavanna, which would also contribute to his inclination to like Radagast (who is himself one of Yavanna's Maiar). It would also help explain his a priori dislike of the Khazâd, as Khazâd due to Aulë's not telling his wife about them lack certain harmonics that would make them resonate with living things rather than things-of-craft, and that sets up a tension. 

On the other hand he has a lot of hounds, and Oromë and hounds are a very strong association. 

That's all speculation; we have no real answer. But it's a possibility that makes sense to me, and sometimes speculation is fun. "

[mxgilray]

Loki Season 1 Thoughts

Overall, I really liked this series. It has some issues without question, but I sincerely don't think it's the dumpster fire so many viewers on this site treat it as. Did it go how I expected? Not at all? Did I enjoy the heck out of it and look forward to it every Wednesday? Hell yeah!

Loki's Good Guy Personality

A big complaint many have had with it is how much Loki's demeanor has changed and how his emotional growth feels rushed or his personality is ooc. Truth is, he saw his entire future, saw what his angry, power hungry, I-work-alone persona would get him in the end, and it snapped him back to reality. He has always been shown to be quite emotional and craving attention and lacking in self assurance, it's just in the past movies he's masked it with violence and fake narcissism, and he's always been a secondary character so his perspective is rarely shown. But if you really pay attention it's obvious he isn't truly villainous; we all know that, it's largely why he has such a huge fan base.

Right after meeting Mobius, Loki got an infodump of his future, saw his parents both die, found out that free will means jack shit, and learned he's absolutely powerless in this realm. On top of that, this is 2012 Loki, fresh off of being under Thanos' control, suddenly being shown that the guy who controlled him is going to end up killing him. Frankly,, I think it all broke Loki. He was too shook up by it all and by the sheer helplessness he found himself in at the TVA that he let all his barriers down momentarily. Just long enough for him to open up to Mobius about his motivation and his lack of self confidence. And you know what I bet? Loki felt relieved after talking to Mobius. A weight was lifted, because he bore his heart to someone and wasn't rejected or laughed at or treated like a psycho. And after letting his walls down fully, Loki didn't feel the need to put all of them back up. He stayed guarded around other people, but he didn't need to pretend around Mobius. Mobius has seen under the mask, so Loki doesn't feel pressure to perform as an all knowing, all powerful God around Mobius. That freedom is life changing.

People who gravitate towards broken, pseudo-villain characters do so because we relate to their internal conflict, their mental illness, their need to fake it around everyone close to them. Their turmoil and depression and self destructive behavior are familiar and we see ourselves reflected in their actions. Now, when a person really truly let's their guard down, drops all their layers of facade, and embraces themself, they tend to change demeanor and even personality pretty drastically. It's jarring in real life, so of course when it happens to a fictional character who you usually relate to it is going to be jarring, maybe even more so because it feels like a change you yourself would never go through. I know this sounds bad and people might get at me for it, but...

I believe the issue here is that a large part of Loki's fan base doesn't want him to get better. They don't want him to move past his mental illness, to learn how to cope with anger and disappointment in healthier ways, to be happy. They like his damaged persona, they like the internal conflict. Maybe it's because they're still at that low place themself and feel like a relatable character is getting taken away from them, maybe it's because they don't understand how much being at peace with yourself can alter a person and to them it feels like he's been changed too much. To those of us mostly on the up and up from battling depression and mental illness, it's comforting to see Loki getting a chance to be genuinely happy and accepting of himself.

Sylki and Lokius

First things first, I'm not anti anything. Ship what you want, idc. Personally, I do not see the Sylki dynamic as romantic, but I get why people read it that way. I thought the series did a good job of showing unrequited love, namely Loki falling for Sylvie and Sylvie feeling zero romance towards him. This was aware of his attraction and in the end used it as a distraction so she could get the upper hand. The show played up the potential romance because we are viewing things from Loki's perspective and he's become smitten as a kitten. I do think in the long run they'll have a more sibling-like dynamic, one Loki realizes that you can feel extreme love and care for a person without it being romantic. I enjoyed how the show explored their relationship, though I do wish they hadn't had every character under the sun mention their moment on Lamentis-1 like it was some big deal to bond with someone you're about to die with.

I'm bitter towards the development of Lokius. It had a strong start in the beginning, and in ep 5 had some potential reignited, but then they had Mobius not know who Loki is at the end. I'm still hoping they're playing the long game with this ship and that it'll come to fruition partway through season 2. The chemistry is there, and Mobius knows Loki very intimately and isn't put off by his past. Loki also feels much more at ease around Mobius than he does around Sylvie. It's the comfort of a deep loving bond with Mobius verses the nervousness of a new crush that he feels for Sylvie.

I don't think Loki is quite aware of his feelings for Mobius, simply because it's based in friendship and mutual respect and isn't a hot and heavy lust. Plus, as soon as he was away from Mobius he was thrown into a near death experience with Sylvie and developed a surface crush during their heart to heart. Since Loki's still figuring out what genuine feelings are beyond anger and sadness, he sees the simplistic crush he has on Sylvie as love and the intimate bond he's been forming with Mobius as friendship. He doesn't understand his own feelings yet, but I think he'll figure it out next season. I mean, he was probably already rethinking his feelings for her after she kissed and betrayed him, mentally kicking himself for expecting her to not pull a Loki betrayal like he would've in the past.

The Time Variance Authority

I really like the concept of the TVA, the structure of it, the methods they use, the deeply fucked way they recruit employees, the cult like motto, shady Miss Minutes who is definitely playing her own long game, and the blind acceptance TVA agents have of the Time Keepers' will. It's all very well done... until your dig into the core, aka He Who Remains. They built up the idea that the Time Keepers created the TVA to prevent a multiverse war and that they created agents to enforce their will. Then the creating agents turned out to be fake, the Time Keepers were fake, I expected the reason for the TVA's existence to be fake to. It felt too simple to have it genuinely exist just to keep the multiverse in check. Why the anonymity, unless it's to keep from having agents target and prune versions of himself which.. songs like a decent solution. HWR made it sound as though the multiverse war was just a bunch of versions of himself screwing shit up, so why isn't the TVA's focus on eradicating every other variant of this guy? Sounds a lot easier and nicer than fucking with the free will of every other living being. So either Marvel made a bad call when choosing what HWR's motive was for creating the TVA, or he was lying about it all to cover up something sinister.

Overall Storyline

I'm fairly happy with the plot as a whole. There were some pacing issues and I think a few missed chances for deeper conversations between various characters. While I enjoyed the Loki variants, I honestly would've been happier seeing Tom playing most the variants (except Kid Loki and Classic Loki since they are clearly different age ranges). If there is supposed to be one sacred timeline, it seems off to me that Lokis would be allowed to vary so extremely without it causing a nexus event(an alligator, whose nexus wasn't that he's an animal who obviously can't do any magic much less command Thanos' army, but that he ate someone's cat) and not just in appearance but in life path (ie boastful Loki collected all the infinity stones but it wasn't till he had 6 that he caused a nexus event even though him gaining control of the Soul, Power, and Time stones should've each caused nexus events since on the sacred timeline he never interacts with those 3 and taking any one of them would've fucked up a lot of other timeline parts)

I love the display of Lokis raw power, and 2012 Loki coming to the realization that he's way more powerful than he ever thought. And it wasn't just Classic Loki who spent thousands of years alone honing his skills, 2012 Loki reversed time on a goddamn falling building! I also liked the small magic, the fireworks, the tablecloth blanket, Loki yanking Sylvie away from HWR with just magic.

As someone who is both bisexual and genderfluid, I would've really loved more concrete representation. The comment about there never being another female Loki hit me in the gut; it undermined the Easter egg "Sex: Fluid" on Loki's TVA file. With how big a deal Sylvie being female was made out to be throughout the season, I expected her gender to play a key role in taking down the head of the TVA, like it was foretold that only a female Loki could end it all or some shit.

I don't mind the idea of Loki finding love in a straight passing relationship. I don't even mind the selfcest all that much. It just feels so obvious to me that Sylvie is written as not having any romantic inclination towards Loki, while Mobius is clearly written as falling in love with someone he shouldn't and trying to maintain an heir of professionalism to keep from wrecking his bond with Loki. I really really hope they come through on season 2 and give Lokius the canon relationship and proper representation they deserve.

Mmkay I thinks that's all the thoughts I've got right now. If you've been feeling cheated or clowned by how things went this season, maybe my perspective of things can help ease your pain.

[curligurl0896]

So getting to read @thejakeformerlyknownasprince 's FMA AU reminded me of my own ideas for a FMA/Animorphs fic. A crossover, in this case, a Megamorphs of sorts (complete with rotating narration) because I really want an excuse to have the Animorphs interact with the characters of the FMA universe. I don't have enough ideas worked out to confidently write a whole fanfic yet, so I think I'll just share some of my ideas so that at least they don't stay inside my head forever like the vast majority of ideas that I either never finish enough to post it or just never get around to at all, especially when my brain is always generating new plot bunnies instead of focusing on developing the ones I already have, it's so distracting lol

(Also maybe y'all could give some suggestions if you wanna, I'd definitely appreciate it lol)

Anyway, here it is:

First off, the answer as to how exactly the Animorphs end up in the FMA universe: I was kicking around a few ideas for this, and was originally thinking something along the lines of like, a freak accident that somehow results in them ending up in front of the Gate of Truth, but I think a better idea would be for an alchemist (or perhaps even several alchemists) to end up in the Aniverse, get Yeerkified, and the Yeerk (or Yeerks, as it may be), intrigued by the memories and knowledge of an alternate Earth where you can manipulate matter and shape it according to your will with nothing more than a well drawn chalk circle (or even less than that if you've been through the Gate, as the Yeerk(s) will eventually discover), lured in by the idea of a legendary object that supposedly can be used to circumvent a pesky little law known as Equivalent Exchange, decides to pull something of a "Tom's Yeerk and his Yeerk buddies a la book 52" deciding to start their own colony in the FMAverse where they won't have to answer to the Council of Thirteen or the Visserarchy (well, at least the ones higher ranked than the Yeerk in charge, who, I imagine, would have to be a Sub-Visser at the very least to have the power to arrange all this) in addition to being able to use alchemy, which, much like the morphing power, can be used for a massive variety of things, ranging from merely convenient to pretty damn useful in a pinch to OP as fuck to even just downright terrifying.

It takes a lot of time and meticulous planning, of course, as they have to find a way to transport the Yeerks, their ship, and all the other stuff they'll need to thrive over there through the Gate and into the FMAverse-- all while in a universe where alchemy flat out doesn't work. The Yeerks have to figure out how to get around that issue, and it takes at least a year of research and using their new hosts' alchemical knowledge to work out a solution, but they work it out, and soon enough they get everything set up and ready to go. At some point, the Chee find out about this secret unknown project going on, inform the Animorphs about it, and Jake decides that they should at least check it out on the off chance that it's something big.

That's where the story officially starts: with our team of traumatized teenage shapeshifters at the location where this thing is being set up (haven't figured out the where yet). They've spent the past several days spying on these Yeerks, but still aren't sure what exactly is going on-- they keep talking about opening a gate-- and aren't sure if it's worth it. Marco's convinced the whole thing is ridiculous, especially after overhearing a human Controller mention something about a "Philosopher's Stone" ("What is this, Harry Potter? Are they gonna wave wooden sticks around and yell in Latin?") . Rachel is bored at this point, and just wants to kick ass and call it a day-- they were probably up to no good anyway. Cassie isn't particularly keen on the asskicking part, but she's been having a bad feeling about all this that she can't shake, and Tobias agrees that something fishy is going on and says they should wait a few days-- after all, from what they've gleaned, whatever plans these Yeerks had would be set in motion very soon. Ax, being Ax, declares as usual that he'll just go along with whatever Prince Jake orders, though when Jake presses him about his opinion, he just says he isn't sure what to make of it. In the end, they keep it up for a couple more days, and sure enough, the time comes for the Yeerks to "open the gate", whatever that means.

After all the time they'd spent spying on the Yeerks, it is conveniently now, when the Yeerks are about to do their thing, that they're discovered. It quickly turns into a fight, and the Animorphs attempt to bail as they're soon overwhelmed-- and then the Gate is opened.

None of them had any idea what to expect next. They certainly weren't expecting the blue lightning that erupted around them in a massive circle, seeming to originate from the curving lines that had been so painstakingly carved into the floor. They aren't expecting the atmosphere to turn dark and purple and creepy, or for a giant grey eye to suddenly appear beneath them, or for wavy black tentacle arms to come out of that eye. And they definitely were NOT expecting to abruptly find themselves in the white void of Zerospace.

Only they aren't in Z-space, exactly. Surrounded by it, sure, but somehow they stand there, as if on solid ground, surrounded by the eerie blankness that had once nearly suffocated them to death.

Each Animorph is utterly alone, with nothing and no one else in sight. That is, until they hear a voice, one that sounds like several voices speaking in unison, and suddenly they see a figure-- or, more accurately, an outline of a figure, with only shadows to mark where the figure ended and the void began. The figure is shaped like a human in all but Ax and Tobias's case: the figure Ax sees is shaped like an Andalite, and Tobias's version takes the form of a bird.

Truth gives the whole "I am God, I am the world, and I am also you" speech, then informs them they can't pass through the Gate without payment. Suddenly, there's a huge gateway where previously there was nothing. Truth is unconcerned with the fact that these "A-ni-morphs" have zero clue what's going on-- it simply takes the required toll and sends them on their way.

Except the toll is literal body parts-- which, even then, isn't usually a big deal for an Animorph, but in this case it absolutely is a big deal, because, as they'll soon discover, there's no way they're going to just replace their lost limbs through morphing. It's expressly forbidden for one to simply have nice things in this universe; in other words, Truth isn't letting them off the hook that easily.

The discovery that they're not able to replace their lost body parts through morphing is especially horrifying to Ax, because, well, y'know... book 40. The one that every Ax fan, and really anyone who otherwise genuinely enjoys Ax's character, would like to pretend never fucking happened.

In fact, given Truth's precedent for irony when extracting payment from people who've opened/been through the Gate in the series, I have no doubt in my mind that Ax would end up suffering the exact same fate as Mertil. Andalites, after all, place high value on their tail blades, especially the warriors; it's their number one go-to weapon when shit hits the fan. Ax himself is such a warrior, in fact it's a huge part of who he is as a person. Needless to say I think yeeting Ax's tail blade would be the exact kind of twisted irony that Truth would employ.

He gets over himself eventually-- well, sort of. However, it takes him a long time to truly come to terms with it-- instead of accepting that the attitudes he'd been taught his whole life regarding those who aren't fully able-bodied are actually shit, I feel like he'd be more likely to double down on them, internalizing them, and actually go into full-on self loathing as a result.

He holds his metaphorical tongue, though, upon seeing that Tobias has suffered a payment that is arguably far more cruelly ironic-- given that Tobias is a bird, given that his initial attraction to the morph that eventually became his default body came from the sense of freedom and escapism only provided through flying, I think it's fairly obvious what Truth would take: his wings.

As for the others: Rachel has lost her arm (for basically the same reason Ed did), Cassie loses her hands (which she uses to, you know, help injured animals and stuff), and as for Jake... well, it was a bit of a struggle, the best I could come up with is the idea of him going blind much like Mustang did after being forced to open the Gate (though maybe not for the same reason, though... idk. If anyone has any better suggestions, please let me know lol, I couldn't think of any solid ideas for what body part would be ironic for Jake to lose). Marco is the only one who doesn't lose any outwardly visible body parts-- what he loses is his voice.

At some point, they are discovered, taken into custody by the Amestrian military, and eventually they end up in Colonel Mustang's office. Mustang listens to their story with a massive dose of skepticism. He isn't sure what to make of these bizarre barefoot children, nor their claims of fighting bodysnatching slugs from outer space by turning into animals, nor their wingless pet hawk, nor... well, he could only assume the other creature was some sort of chimera, although he had zero clue what animals could have possibly been used to make something with blue fur and extra eyes.

At this point, they're about to do a morphing demonstration to prove to the Colonel that they aren't completely batshit, when suddenly the door is slammed open, and a teenage boy with blond hair and sharp golden eyes comes sauntering in, accompanied by a hulking giant covered head to toe in a suit of armor.

The boy immediately starts shouting at Mustang, calling him a bastard and accusing him of wasting his time, to which Mustang responds by merely rolling his eyes and sighing, as if this sort of thing happens all the time (spoiler alert: it does). After a moment, the kid stops as he takes notice of the other kids standing in the room.

"So," he says, calmly, as if he wasn't yelling at his superior just a moment ago, "what's the deal with these fuckers?"

The casual use of the kind of language that would have surely landed them in hot water back home was quite shocking, but they don't comment on it. Instead, Rachel says, in a voice sweet as honey, "Oh, look, Marco. He's just as short as you are."

Before Marco could turn to glare daggers at her (come on, it wasn't like he could argue back in that moment), the boy goes absolutely ballistic, and the armored guy has to physically restrain him as he screams obscenities at Rachel ("The fuck did you just call me, you freakishly oversized bitch? I'll show you too-fucking-short-to-fucking-sit-at-the-fucking-table-without-a-fucking-booster-seat! Call me short one more fucking time, I fucking dare you to! You think I give a shit that you're a girl? I'll fuck that pretty face of yours right up, just you fucking wait--")

"Brother!" The armored guy cries. "Calm down!" Then, to the Animorphs: "I'm sorry about my brother's behavior. He's, um, a bit sensitive about his height."

"A bit sensitive" is the understatement of the century, but none of the Animorphs call him out on it. They're too dumbfounded by the sound of his voice, which sounds sweet, innocent, and, despite his size, sounds like it belonged to a boy no more than nine or ten years old.

And that's where I'm going to leave it for now, since I've spent way too long on this post already. I have a few other ideas, but mostly in bits and pieces, not really any more comprehensive plot points beyond this point. Please do let me know what you think!

[let-this-ship-sink-already]

at first, i genuinely thought you believed that them dating was a pr stunt, but the fact that with every new post of tom and z together you get more hostile towards z is VERY telling. personally, i don’t think all tom stans have to be stans of z and vice versa, but you being rude to her all of sudden with more and more pictures of them together dropping really shows that you’re rly just projecting yourself as tom’s s/o.

and you could’ve gotten away with this whole “oh it’s just a pr stunt” but the moment you started attacking z’s credibility and capabilities when more pictures of them dropped, you showed how you ACTUALLY felt about the situation.

i’m not too fond of z as i used to be to be completely honest, but being vile towards someone bc they’re dating your fav is VERY childish. please just rethink the stuff that you post.

Sorry, the only bullshit, out of all the bullshit you just said, that I will address is: I project myself as Tom’s significant other? 🤡🤡🤡

Yes, I am a fan of Tom‘s work, yes, I was disappointed seeing him indulge in such a PR stunt. Yes, I do see now, that he‘s not the guy, I thought he was, he‘s „Hollywood“ now. The only reason I am interested in the slightest in Tom Holland is his work. I’m not attracted to him in any way - physically, emotionally (lol), absolutely no single way. I don’t care about what or who he does in his free time, but this PR stunt, is just EMBARRASSING to look at. And yes, I will continue to make fun of it. I wish I could look at these pictures and see a legit couple, but all I see are two people, who are awkward as fuck together and they are definitely not dating/fucking. They are using you and you let them. It’s entertaining to watch.

I also address this: I’m being vile towards Zendaya for dating Tom?

First of all - I am not being vile. I criticize her acting and her establishment in the industry. How is that linked to “I’m vile because she’s dating Tom?” People, and I know they are Zendaya stans, come to me, saying bullshit like “Zendaya is a woke queen, she’s an established and respected actress, she’s pushing for an Oscar.”, KNOWING that that has never been and never will be my opinion. They know, saying stuff like that pisses me off, because there are thousands of actresses out there, who’d actually deserve what Zendaya has and they never get any recognition. (e.g Laura in SM Homecoming - Zendaya was being promoted as the main female character, while Laura had way more acting range, than Zendaya ever will)

And yes, I admit, I let people push me into saying more and more about how I don’t agree with Zendaya stans, I get meaner and meaner and the only reason I keep doing that is: I love riling up people like you. It’s actually pathetic, how you try to accuse me of racism, just because I don’t kiss your favorite’s ass. If you wanna fight racism, (where it actually takes place) don’t start with a biracial millionaire, who doesn’t give a fuck what an Internet troll like me says about her.

[peakyxtommy]

Last First Birthdays

Summary: Tommy & you celebrating your last child’s first birthday. You’re sad that the kids are growing up. Tommy provides a listening ear. 

Warnings: All Pure Fluff, slight mention of birth/pre-term labor. 

A/N: I am not a doctor, but did do some research. Enjoy, I loved writing this. Soft Tommy & Tommy with kids is my forever weakness. 

Word Count: 2.4K 

Today was a special day. Your last born was having his first birthday today. Attius James Shelby.

“Look at the birthday boy.” You coo, your fingers patting your son’s stomach as he releases a small squeal, happy to see your face. He had just awoken from his pre-party nap.

You dressed him in his 1st birthday onesie, khaki shorts, and clipped his pacifier to his top, which would come in handy later. His little blue orbs stare into your eyes, as you stand him up on his changing table, before lifting him into your arms.

“Let’s go find your dad and siblings.” You peck his forehead, brushing your hand over his brown curly locks. You walk down the stairs, to see the hustle and bustle of the last minute platters of food and drinks being placed. 

You walk into the living room to see Henry, your eldest son reading a book on the couch. Lydia, your second child with cards in her hands, slapping one down against the carpet. While Tom sits on the floor with Maeve, your third child, assisting her while laughing at something she says.

“Who’s ready for the birthday boy?” You speak gaining their attention.

“Me! I can’t wait for cake.” Lydia screams with excitement causing Maeve to scrunch her face up in annoyance at her sister.

“I am going to play with Jonas. He’s bringing his new card game over.” Henry responds, closing his book.

“Mummy we sing for Atty, right.” Maeve asks, calling her brother by his nickname, not able to pronounce his full name.

“Yes we will sing and have one slice of cake each. I will be watching.” You wag your finger playfully at Lydia. All the while your husband sits with a smirk on his face, his eyes fully enticed with yours. The doorbell rings, causing the kids to scramble to greet their family and poor Tom left with cleaning up the card game, but it wasn’t new to him with a house with four kids.

“Looks like you need some help Mr. Shelby. Bones of yours are getting old.” You tease, earning an eye roll, as he leans himself gently into you, as your free hand helps him off the floor.  

“Keep it up while it lasts, you are right behind me.” He chuckles pulling you into his side. “You look lovely, dress suits you well. Always a beaut.”

“Why thank you, my love.” Your lips press against his cheek.

“Let’s go birthday lad, we have to spend time with our crazy family.” You laugh as he takes your son from your arms, fingers entwined with yours as you make your way to the backyard. - The party was a smash. It was an overall great day with your’s and Tommy’s family and a few close friends. You hoped Tom was able to get Lydia to bed because she had a sweet tooth almost as bad as you, knowing someone gave that girl a second piece of cake (John), which was more unnecessary sugar the girl needed in her system, hoping she wouldn’t have a stomach ache from all the treats today.

Atticus enjoyed being passed around, trying cake for the first time, and being more interested in the wrapping paper than the presents. You took enough photos to last a lifetime.  

As you rock your son asleep in his rocker you mind couldn’t help but think back to what a year it had really been since he was brought into the world, a miracle really. You couldn’t take your eyes off the photos you would switch out periodically (as you took new ones) around his bedroom. Keeping the same ones you took of him when he was just born, when he arrived home, family photos throughout the year. The images floating in your head. The memories forever imprinted in your mind.

He was born eight weeks early in September.This pregnancy came as a surprise as you and Tommy weren’t expecting to have any more as your hands were full with three kids already. You both weren’t getting any younger. 

When you told your husband the news, he took it in stride, telling you how excited he was, despite the chaos of his world around you. All your pregnancies so far were a breeze but this one was stressful. Tommy tried his best to be home, get extra help around the home with the children, and get your older two children to be more helpful when possible.

Your water broke 8 weeks early and you had to have an emergency c-section. Tom was by your side through it all panicking on the inside but putting a brave front on for you. He wheeled you to the NICU to see your small infant son with tubes hooked up to him. Learning how to connect with him through the two small holes of the incubator. That was the start of a journey, for the family.

It definitely put a strain on your marriage of having Tommy balance work, the kids, and taking time visiting the hospital and helping you recover. Both your families provided as much support as possible. The car ride home was nerve wracking having to remember all this information and doing this without the help of the nurses.

Atticus settled in pretty quick to the environment and his siblings who would come to say goodnight to their little brother. It would be hard to sleep during the night with either one of always getting up to check on him, even if he was just sleeping peacefully. He was a little behind his milestones which was to be expected but each step of the way was worth it. He was growing healthily, was able to say little phrases, and was getting closer to walking. He was the calmest out of all your children and easy going.

Your heart was happy to celebrate his first birthday. All your children’s birthdays made you emotional, as you knew they weren’t going to stay young - little - forever. As much as you both wanted them to. This one was the last first birthday you were going to celebrate, as you weren’t planning on having anymore children. Atticus like the rest of your kids were going to grow on their way to independence and need you less and less. You knew you had to let them find their way in this beautiful but cruel world.

“Knew I'd find you in here.” His voice brings comfort to your heart as he whispers to you in the dim lighting across the room, opening the door, just leaving it cracked a bit.

“The rest of the crew are finally to bed and remind me to slap John on the back of his head the next time I spot him for giving Lydia a second piece of cake.” His head shakes with a roll of the eyes as he paces across the floor, to take half a seat on the arm of the rocking chair. You can’t help the smile that plays on your lips.

“Those two are as thick as thieves, poor lad can never say no to her. Spoils her rotten, like the rest of your siblings do to all our kids.” You reply knowing all the Shelby siblings loved all your children equally, each one having similarities to them all, but knew which children brought a weakness or were closer to their uncles/aunt.

It’s quiet for a moment, just the two of you, staring at your sleeping son in your arms. “You know he’s not going anywhere, none of them are. They’re always going to need you, need us. Hell, even I'll need you when I'm old and grey.” His lips peck the top of your head, fingers squeezing your shoulder with gentle reassurance.

He knew you like the back of his hand. His words rang true in your mind and heart, knowing this wasn’t the first time he found you in this spot, with the same thoughts, that come along with parenthood.

You wanted old and grey with Tom, you wanted to believe in it, even though you both knew it wasn’t promised not in his world especially. You were blessed with him thus far, this man aged like fine wine the older he got. You could tell he was getting older in trying to keep up with the energy of the kids, the glasses you adored, and the crow’s feet that was starting to make an appearance.

“I know, just working myself up over the small things. I know we don’t have to worry but I do. Just want to make sure everything will go right. Henry is going to be a teen soon, that boy is too smart for his own good. Lydia is just as stubborn as you are and free-spirited but reminds me of you. Maeve is sweet and our little helper, she’s only just started preschool. Both of them wrapped around your finger in different ways.

I accepted it then in my mind after Maeve but then Atticus came along. I think about the what if’s of that day, the weeks passed, but then I'm reminded of today. How it all feels right and complete. It all goes by so fast, I just want to hold on to this moment, ya know.”

He listens to your continuous thought, walking through it as you speak your mind. You were a deep thinker and took everything to heart because you cared so much. It was the little things that added up. That made life sweeter than the grand things. That was one of the things he loved the most about you, the thing that attracted him from the very beginning of your relationship. He doesn’t miss the quiet tears that release gently out your eyes, the smallness of your wet voice.

He knows what you mean because he has the same thoughts, even though he doesn’t always share them. He has enough nerves for his lifetime and lines in his forehead to prove it.

Henry the eldest reminded him of the earlier years of your relationship. Young, in love, just starting out. The excitement of your first born. He knew after Henry was born, he would do everything in his power to stay alive. He was smart, a leader, and enjoyed spending time with his cousins. He was a younger version of himself, but better. He was glad for it.

Lydia came a few years later and she took his heart when his blue eyes met her brown ones. She was a handful from the start (she was definitely his daughter). She reminded him of Ada in her sass and the mouth on her but also John as she was the child that brought the most laughter and entertainment to the family as she was extroverted. They would enjoy being silly together and tease you to no end.

Maeve was like you in all ways, sweet, loving, and ready to help the best way a 4 year old can. She was a shy girl but was definitely a daddy’s girl. Always searching for him when he was away or would try to sweet talk her way to stay up to see him before bed or read her an extra story. Would make herself comfortable in his home office to play with her toys or find a way to sit on his lap as he did paperwork. She would always ask him the sweetest of things or most serious things, trusting whatever answer left his mouth. He had the hardest time telling her no.

Atticus came as a surprise but in the best of ways. His birth changed something within him. Thomas Shelby wasn’t a religious man by any means, but when he watched his son get wheeled away by the nurses and was watching him through the big glass window the first few hours of his life, he prayed hard for the first time, in a long time, since he was 18. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing a child, let alone losing you.

He remembers your tears as he wheeled you to meet your son for the first time. Him reassuring you and himself, that it was all going to be okay. It was this child that made him slow down the most and rethink his priorities, putting them in check once again. These past two years were hard business and family wise. Managing the logistics of expanding and meetings, risky deals/death threats, raising 4 kids, with two under the age of 5 and in need of constant attention.

Handling the nerves of it all, your/his moods, and the tiffs you both would get in due to sleep deprivation, late nights working, stubbornness on both ends, or just not having a minute alone together or for intimacy. Moments like these, in the quiet night of his home with you and the children at peace made it worth every minute of the day. Made him want to be around even longer, even though it wasn’t necessarily promised.  

“I do too love, I know.” His fingers brush the sleeping infant’s cheeks, watching as he snuggles subconsciously closer in your arms. He knew he didn’t have to say much because in that small phrase communicated all you needed to know, to hear. The both you could read one another like a book where it speaks for itself.

“Come let’s get to bed.” He hums, blue eyes shimmering with affection, as his lips turn upward in one of your favorite smiles, reserved just for you. His soft lips press against yours lightly into just a small peck. The pads of his soft fingers, brushing against your wet cheeks to collect this remainder of the tears. He stands to his feet, holding the chair still as you get up to place your son into his crib.

“Goodnight, sweet Atticus. We love you.” You whisper, feeling the warmth of Tommy wrap around your frame, chin resting on your shoulder, fingers tangling together, bands touching as you both stare down at your sleeping son.

You knew that everything was going to be okay. Even though you weren’t going to be celebrating anymore first birthdays in your household, you knew every birthday after would still be as special as the last one. You always made sure of it as you loved celebrating birthdays as much as holidays. You had all you needed within yourself, the man you loved dearly, and the four sleeping children you called your own.  

[innittowinit]

Clair de Lune, L. 32

Summary:

Tommy has a nightmare about Wilbur's death and Ghostbur comforts him

YOOO just to be clear this is an AU that was created before cannon ghostbur and schlatt so all you need to know for this fic is that Wilbur is a ghost that haunts the sleepy bois, he's from the 1700's or something and he was murdered.

Not tagged MCD as a warning because Wil is technically still a character but his death is described a bit so stay safe!

Word count: 1536

Google doc with more info on this au

AO3

The air was bitter and cold, cracks in the walls seethed with a breeze that never seemed to go away, it helped in the summer months when the homes felt like a sauna but on a late December evening like tonight, all it did was remind the townsfolk that they weren’t nearly as wealthy as those who wouldn’t be worrying about this.

After having served his time, on account of slandering a wealthy businessman in a song, he had made the decision to invite the gentleman over to have dinner and hopefully reconcile. Bad blood was never a good thing to have with someone, especially not the rich, and even if the intent was not to suddenly become good friends, Wilbur still felt it was important to be civil with him. While the point of his song had been to humour the situation, he still recognised that it had offended the man to the point of wanting legal action to be made.

Unfortunately Wil had been the only one to feel this way.

He had placed down his own food first before going back to the kitchen to get the gentleman’s meal. In hindsight this had been a horrible decision, giving an easy way for him to spike his food with no witnesses at all. That had definitely been easier than planned, perhaps Wil was just too trusting. He had just assumed that now that he had been punished all resentment had faded into what was a potential reconciliation.

The poison hadn’t taken long to fall into place, half way through the dinner Wil would start coughing, only for that to turn into long, breathless gasp, until eventually he was left scraping at his neck trying to grasp for some air as if it were a privilege.

The man watched with humour as Wil suffered, tears streaming down his face as he focused every inch of his energy into his breathing, not fully able to comprehend what was happening until a knife was pressed against his neck, blade cold and sharp as a swift swipe let out all the pressure in his body and left him to fall to the floor.

------ ------

Tommy swung up in bed, arms flailing around the blankets, as if he was searching for physical evidence that Wilbur was okay. Heart pounding and sweat glazing his forehead, he spun his head around the room, as if he was scanning for either Wilbur or the scumbag who had killed him. Knowing Wil was a ghost hurt. Even though they could still communicate through a range of media, even though he could still physically hug him if he possessed someone, it wasn’t the same. He knew Wilbur had been hurt and that just didn’t feel right. He didn’t want to accept that the Ghost who they had lovingly welcomed into the family was hurt by someone, he loved him too much to really accept that as a reality.

It took a solid ten minutes before he calmed down from his frenzy, left just to breathe heavily, rested against the bed frame as if he had just run a marathon.

Despite the fact that he had never known Wilbur in life, since he had learned of his tragic demise, he hadn’t been able to get the horrible thoughts out of his mind, it was like a curse. Wilbur was like a big brother to him, even if he wasn’t exactly alive they could speak easily through spirit boxes and voice recorders and when he was too tired to try and manipulate radio waves, he would sometimes knock things off of counters and shelves to make his presence known.

Learning guitar from a ghost had been surprisingly easy, he had a video tutorial of some song playing and every now and then Wil would pause the video to talk through the spirit box, sometimes giving tips and other times just straight up teasing Tommy for being bad at playing the guitar.

Wiping his teary eyes, trying to remind himself that even though Wilbur was dead, even though he had gone through something bad, he was still there (Not even in those ‘he’s with us in spirit’ facebook post kind of ways, Wilbur had been haunting them, he was quite literally still around) he reached for the spirit box, switching it on and leaning back in his bed as relief washed over him.

There was something about knowing that Wil could freely talk through that, that comforted him. It reminded him that Wil was okay, he had been poisoned, he had been stabbed, but he was okay.

“Wilbur?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes, waiting for the ghost to make his presence known.

Every now and then Wil would go off to mess with Minx or the lunch club, during the night, paired with Schlatt of course, Tommy hoped to God that tonight wasn’t one of those nights.

“Nightmare?” The box spoke back at him, he nodded.

It was hard to talk to the spirit box sometimes, Wil could only talk in a couple words with that, that’s why they had started the family tradition of Wilbur possessing one of them each Friday so they could have some actual time with him instead of mainly one sided conversations.

Today wasn’t a Friday but Tommy wished it was.

“Techno.. Techno won't mind if you use his body.. You can still take control when he’s sleeping right? I just need to hear you talk for real..”

By now, Tommy was sitting upright in his bed, knees pulled up into his chest. They’d been through this exact situation so many time’s that Tommy had even set up a mirror near his bed since sometimes Wilbur showed up in them, He wasn’t showing up today though.

“Yeah. Wait.”

As always, the spirit box was choppy and left room for interpretation as Tommy nodded and tried to think about anything other than the frightening thoughts of death in his head. Tomorrow was a Week-day, that’s why he’d chosen Techno, he would no doubt be pissed that he had missed a chunk of sleep but being sleepy at school had far fewer consequences than being sleepy at work, which would happen if Tommy asked Wil to possess Phil.

After a while of Tommy staring at his ceiling, ‘Techno’ peeked his head into the door and walked over to Tommy’s bed, sitting down next to him.

“It’s Wilbur, you know that right?” Wil smiled, Techno’s glasses -which Wil still needed to wear while possessing him- glinting against the moonlight.

Nodding, Tommy leant his head onto Wilbur’s shoulder, hands wrapping around him and squeezing with as much force as he could muster.

“I shouldn’t miss you this much. I didn’t even know you. Wil, it must have hurt so much”

Wilbur just nodded and stroked his hair as he whispered reassurances and kind words, there was no certain way to fix this, the fact of the matter that Wilbur had died and he probably shouldn’t have let a 16 year old know the fully gruesome details of his death but that being said it was all readily available online and sure enough he would have eventually found out anyway. Wilbur much preferred being the one to tell him himself rather than him reading a blog post made by a teenager that was probably way too into true crime to accurately report what happened.

He supposed what attracted those kinds of people was that he had led a fairly eccentric life, only to be killed and the killer to never be caught.

Wil had always thought his killer to be obvious but the justice system had not been very good in those days, in many ways it still wasn’t very good.

“It did hurt Tommy. I was so scared that was going to be the end of everything but y’know what? If I hadn’t died like that, I might not have ever met you or Phil or Techno. If I had died up in some other city, since I did like to travel a lot, I might have never thought to mess with you guys. If that hadn’t happened I wouldn’t have the family I have now”

“But you hur-”

“That was hundreds of years ago Toms, I hardly remember it”

Liar. He thought about it every time he saw people using cleaning chemicals or cooking with knives.

“Tommy you’re a good kid. You’re empathetic, that’s really good, but you can only die once and that’s never going to happen to me again, okay?”

Tommy nodded into his chest

“Do you wanna watch that movie you like? I know I can’t really fix how you feel about what happened but sometimes a distraction helps” “Up’s good. Let’s watch Up”

Ironically, Tommy had fallen asleep right after the wife died but Wil hoped that would give him some closure since it was a very nice film. Not wanting to wake the boy, after him already having such a rough night, he didn’t bother taking Techno back to his own room, leaving his body to sleep next to Tommy as he watched the rest of the movie alone.

-----

“Why the fuck am I in your bed?”

“...I had a nightmare?”

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: What kind of Man (Keanu x Reader x Tom)

Summary: Tom was kind and funny and sweet. He was perfect for you. But he wasn’t what you wanted.

Paring: Keanu x F!Reader; One sided Tom Hiddleston x F!Reader

Author’s notes: This oneshot was written based on these two asks: ould you please write a smut fic where Keanu is a friend of the reader (he  actually loves her) and he visits her at home but there’s a British man in his mid-30s that is friend of the girl but he also seems interested in her and Keanu notices it and once the British man leaves Keanu seduces reader and both end up having sex? |  An A/U  smut fanfic of Keanu in love with the reader and Tom Hiddleston loving her too (both are friends of hers) but Keanu gets jealous in Tom’s presence and when he’s away, K seduces reader and has the most incredible sex with her to prove he’s better than Tom. I’m never very good at writing love triangles, but I hope you like it, nonnies.

Wordcount: 3395

Warnings: mention or alcohol; smut

You brushed off inexistent lint from your dress as you surveyed the last details of the small gathering you’d be having for your friends. You didn’t know why you were so nervous; it was just a late celebration for your birthday since you hadn’t been able to enjoy the actual date due to working.

You didn’t really mind because you loved your work. Getting to be a coloring technician and offering your contribution to so many amazing movies and shows wasn’t something you ever expected to do in your life, but you definitely happy that you trailed that path. You got to meet so many amazing people but without the hassle of being famous. It was quite perfect really.

Surveying the catering table, you fixed one of the napkins that were slightly out of place and chuckled at yourself. Why were you so nervous? It was just some of your closest friends. They had been here when you hadn’t cleaned in weeks. They wouldn’t mind if something wasn’t perfect. They would even notice really. Still, you could never manage to settle, not until everything was perfect. One of the last remains of your mother’s strict education, you were sure. Some things were harder to shake it off.

When you were satisfied that everything was exactly how you envisioned, you went into your room to finish getting ready, knowing your guests would be arriving soon. You chose a comfortable, wrap dress. Thin and loose to help you through the summer heatwave, but still beautiful and elegant for the events of the night. You slipped your feet in the kitty heels you’d be wearing just as the doorbell rang signaling the arrival of your first guest.

Soon enough your living room was filled with people, talking and chuckling together, each with a glass of sparkling wine in their hands. Soft mood music played in the background while you traveled through groups, talking with everyone, making sure their glasses were filled and aperitives were available before you sneaked out to the kitchen. You loved to have people over, but this hostess thing could be very exhausting.

Leaning against the counter, you sipped your wine, the first glass you managed for the night and popped an hors d’oeuvre in your mouth, suddenly aware of how hungry you were.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Tom said made you look over with a wide smile as you moved closer, letting him draw you into a hug.

“Tom! I didn’t think you’d be able to make it!”

“And miss a chance to see you? Never.” He grinned at you, those baby blue eyes sparkling with amusement as he held you close, hands in your waist. “You look gorgeous as always.”

His words made you giggle like a schoolgirl and you hated. Tom was the only one who could do that. It had to do with the smooth, almost velvety quality of his baritone that never failed to make your knees weak.

The two of you met a few years ago when you worked with Guillermo del Toro in Crimson Peak. You usually didn’t meet actors and actresses in a production, but Guillermo asked you to be close by during shooting to consult with the DP. He was searching for a very specific look for his movie and he wanted your eye for color. Since you were around set a lot, you ended up meeting all the cast and crew. You and Tom quickly struck a friendship that remained long after the movie was done.  

“Now, tell me, darling, what have you been up to?” he leaned against the counter, wine glass in hands as he peered at your through his long dark blonde lashes. His hair slicked back, curls perfectly controlled for once and you mimicked his stand, your body facing his as you described the latest movie that you just finished coloring.

You got entailed in conversation with Tom, unabashedly neglecting all of your other guests in favor of him, unable to ignore the subtle attraction you felt. As far as you could tell, however, it wasn’t like any of them seemed to mind. They had each other to keep themselves occupied and plenty of food and drinks.

It wasn’t until the party was winding down, when most guests had left, leaving only yourself, Tom and a handful of other people that you heard a familiar deep voice saying your name that let your gaze wander away from Tom.

You weren’t expecting to see Keanu here. Sure, you invited him, but you knew he was filming a new project and would probably be exhausted. It was most of a hopeful thing and as the night went on without a sign of him, you just assumed he wouldn’t make it. But here he was and as your eyes met, you felt that familiar flutter in your belly.

How he looked so dashing in a simple t-shirt topped with a well-fitted blazer and jeans you didn’t know, but as he approached you and Tom, steps sure, hands in his pocket, you have to fight the urge to picture him without anything.

“I wasn’t sure you’d make it,” you commented, hugging him tightly. Enjoying the wood scent of his cologne and the heat of his body.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, his mouth right next to your ear and you shuddered slightly. And if the hug lingered a little longer than necessary, no one would mention it. “I’m just sorry I’m so late.”

“It’s fine,” you said, finally letting go of him. Keanu already knew most of your friends. You had worked together during post-production for Man of Tai Chi and grew quite close, but you were almost sure he didn’t know Tom. Not in person at least.

“Hello,” Keanu greeted as his gaze met Tom’s.

“It’s an honor.” Tom shook his hand, but his smile seemed strangely cool.

“Likewise,” the other man said with that a serene look as he took a seat next to you and you were suddenly sandwiched between two very handsome men. Not a bad birthday present.

“Wine, Ke?”

“No, thank you, I’m driving tonight.”

Keanu took a glass of water, his gaze lingering on you a moment and you shifted slightly under his gaze until you felt Tom’s arm coming around your shoulders, warm and comforting and you smiled in thanks at his accommodation before you let your attention drift back to the conversation.

However, it was quite hard to focus on what was being said when on one hand, you could feel the heat of Tom’s body against you. His long, elegant fingers drawing patterns on your shoulder. On the other, Keanu’s mere presence seemed to radiate through you. His scent still on your nose, your body responding every time he spoke.

It felt like ages until everyone else left, leaving only you, Keanu and Tom behind. You didn’t know if that was for the worst or better, because now the attention of both of these gorgeous men was solemnly on you and you felt like squirming, your brain struggling to process why you felt like it everything was so weird.

The three of you cleaned up most of the mess and as you stood in the kitchen with them, you noticed they were just looking at each other and the air felt tense and thick around you. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was it, but you shifted awkwardly on your feet.

“I should get going,” Tom said, surprising you. He was always the last one to leave. More often than not he would even stay in your guest bedroom.

“Sure?” you asked, and Tom smiled at you, though a little sadly as he nodded.

“Yes.” His gaze shifted to Keanu. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’ll walk you,” you said once the tension set again. The two of you made your way to the front door in silence. “I had the guest room ready for you.”

“Thank you, darling,” he said, kissing your cheek. “But I have a feeling you’ll be needing your privacy.”

Tom pulled back from you, his gaze moving past your shoulder and when you looked behind yourself, Keanu was watching the two of you.

“It’s not…” you started, embarrassed. “We’re just friends.”

“He doesn’t want to be just friends,” Tom said, his gaze returning to you. “Neither do you.”

“Tom…” his name came out of your lips in a low, soft tone. You didn’t know why you felt this guilty. It wasn’t like you and Tom had anything going on. Maybe there could have been once, but not anymore. You were just great friends.

“Good night, darling.” There it was again, the little sad smile and with one final kiss to your cheek, he walked away.  

You remained there for a moment longer, your hand pressed against the smooth wood of your front door as Tom’s words kept running through your head. Was he right? Turning slowly, you found Keanu standing right behind you and the sight made you jump a small laugh bubbling from your chest.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s ok.” You smiled at him, hand in your chest, your heart thundering. “Just make some noise, will you? Maybe I should tie a bell on your wrist or something.”

“Maybe,” he chuckled, covering his mouth slightly and your heart swoon. How was he this adorable?

“Ke…” you hesitated, wringing your hands together nervously as you looked at him. “I, uh…. Are you going?”

“If you want me to,” he replied softly, meeting your eyes and you smiled.

“I don’t.”

“Good.”

He stared at you for a long time and you fought the urge to squirm. There was something in his eyes like he was looking deep inside you, unraveling your deepest secrets and you felt exhilarated and terrified. What could he see there? Could he see how much you wanted him? Did you want him to see it?

“He loves you, you know?” Keanu said finally breaking the quiet and started a little. “Tom.”

Your first impulse was to say no. To laugh it off because that was what you always did. You loved Tom and everyone knew that. You just didn’t love him like that. And he couldn’t love you like that. But right now, under Keanu’s heavy gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny it.

“I know,” you sighed. “But I don’t.”

“Why not?”

You’ve asked yourself that same question more times you could count. Tom was funny and charming, the perfect gentleman. He adored you and was closer in age to you, but something was missing there. That spark. As cheesy as it sounded.

Your heart didn’t leap in your chest when you saw Tom. Not like it did as soon as your eyes laid on Keanu. You were excited to see him of course, he was a dear friend, but you counted the seconds to see Keanu, eager to be close to him and talk to him. To feel his arms around you, cradling you close, surrounding you with his scent and warmth…

“He’s not you,” you confessed quietly, and Keanu smiled. It was just a quick tilt of lips, before his mouth descended over yours, soft and gentle, but full of promises.

You anchored yourself with your hands on his shoulders as you felt your legs suddenly weak, boneless. Your entire world reduced to the feel of his lips on yours, the taste of him, the feel of his beard against your skin. Everything you craved for so long.

You backed away, tugging Keanu with you, until your back was at the door, supporting you as much as his hands on your hips. His thumb rubbed circles against the soft fabric over your hipbone and desperation burned in your guts. You wanted to feel his hands on your bare skin.

Pulling away from his lips so you could meet Keanu’s eyes, you noticed the rings of brown usually so warm were darkened by his need for you. Your shaky fingers moved to the knot of your dress, undoing it quickly and letting the dress fall open, framing your body and the purple lingerie you had on.

His gaze devoured you as he very gently pushed the edges of the dress aside until it slipped from your shoulders and pooled on the floor behind you. You wished he would do anything besides just looking. His intense eyes made you feel beautiful, but it also allowed insecurity to grow in your chest. What if he didn’t like what he saw?

Keanu’s hands finally returned to you, rough callouses from a lifetime of motorcycles, basses, and guns catching on the silkiness of your skin, making goosebumps rise on your arms as he caressed them gently, moving down to your hips and thighs. His lips met your neck for wet kisses and teasing nips that had your arching towards him, soft little gasps filtering through your mouth.

You brought your own hands under his shirt, exploring the broad, strong back, nails scratching slightly, making him hiss. His grip tightened a little in response, his mouth sucking harder on your collarbone, sparking pleasure and making wetness gather between your legs.

“Ke…” your voice was needy as he sucked your nipple through the lace of your bra. You arched towards his mouth, fingers threading through his hair. “Maybe we should take this to the bedroom,” you suggested. “Or at least the couch.”

“Yeah.” His voice was almost rumble and with a final kiss to your breast, Keanu straightened up, looking at you. “Lead the way.”

You made a path to your bedroom, walking a couple of steps in front of him, making sure to put an extra sway in your step so Keanu could enjoy the view of your ass.

The second the two of you crossed the threshold, you felt him arms surrounding you, his bare chest warm against your back and you had no idea when he took his shirt off, but you were very glad he did.

His lips connected to your neck again, his hands cupping and massaging your breasts and you pushed back against his erection, still confined in his jeans, pressing against your lower back. Hot arousal spread through your body and you turned around in his arms, finding his mouth again while your hands worked on the button of his pants.

“You’re sure?” Keanu whispered as you kissed down his neck. “We can slow down. We can…”

“No,” you said firmly, lowering yourself to your knees in front of him as you pulled his zipper down and pulled his cock free. “I want you right now.”

Licking your lips, you moved closer, letting your tongue taste him and feel the smooth and hot skin. Keanu moaned softly above you, his hand coming to your hair, pushing it away from your face and when you glanced up, his eyes were on you.

You made sure to put on a show for him, taking him deeper into your mouth, lips wrapping tightly around his thick length, tongue flat against the underside vein as you bobbed your head, pushing as much of him you could take, before pulling away with a small pop and starting all over again. Tongue swirling the tip of his cock, gathering the precum hungrily so you could taste the salty bitterness of him.

“Fuck! Stop,” Keanu asked, tugging on your hair softly until you pulled away and smirked at him, at his hooded eyes and heaving chest. “Come here.”

He pulled you up, catching your lips again, this time his kiss was rougher, almost bruising and you loved it. Just like you loved the way his hands touched all over, teasing and toying with you, keeping you on edge.

Keanu guided you to lay on your back, his lips trailing down your body, tongue hot and teeth sharp as he explored and discovered all the spots that made you writhe and moan for him until you were lost in ecstasy and begging him to touch you where you needed him the most.

When he finally reached his destination, you nearly shouted at the way he sucked you through the lace of your panties, the fabric offering a very welcome texture to his wicked tongue that licked and pressed against your clit.

Only when your panties were completely soaked Keanu pulled them off, exposing you to the cool air of the room and you shivered, until his mouth connected to your clit again, two of his fingers pressing inside you, crocking up as he rubbed your g-spot and making you moan at the shot of pleasure.

“You’re so responsive,” he marveled. “I love it.”

“Not more than I do.” Your chuckle turned into a moan as he hummed against you, the vibrations making you arch, hands coming to his hair to pull him closer. “Right there. Don’t stop. I’m gonna…”

You whined when he did stop and looked at you with a lazy smirk.

“I wanna feel you coming around my cock,” Keanu declared, standing up and yanking his pants off, along with his boxers. He caught your legs and pulled you towards him until half of your ass was out of bed, your feet behind his back, heels on his ass.

He rubbed the tip of his cock over your folds teasingly before he pushed inside you so slowly that you felt the urge to try and move to speed things along, but you had no leverage to do so. You were at Keanu’s mercy and it was exciting and strange. You rarely gave up control during sex.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he grunted breathlessly, his hair curtaining his eyes for a moment. “It feels perfect.”

“Yeah.” You focused on the sweet burn of him stretching you, the texture of his cock rubbing your walls, making that knot of pleasure increase inside you.

Keanu only stopped when he was fully sheathed in you, resting his forehead against your chest as both of you adjusted to how your union felt.

“Ke, I need you to move,” you asked, desperate to feel more of him. “Fuck me.”

He grinned at you, large hands tightening around your thighs, keeping them spread for him as he started to move, slowly at first, grinding into you. But eventually picking up speed, his thrusts getting harder, making you grab at the edge of the mattress so as not to slide upwards on the bed, your breasts bouncing with the force of his movements.

Desperate cries fell from your lips as pleasure overtook you and all you could focus on was the sensations in your body. The deep heat spreading from your center to the rest of your body, making all of your nerve-ends tingle. The smell of your sweat mingled with Keanu’s. The taste of yourself on his lips as he bent over to kiss you, tongue plundering into your mouth as hard as his cock was doing to your cunt.

Soon, you were reaching between your bodies, rubbing your clit, chasing the peek of your pleasure, feeling Keanu losing his own rhythm as his thrusts became sloppy, his groans louder until he stilled above you, fingers digging almost painfully on your thighs as he came inside you.

He took only a couple of seconds to breathe before he was pushing your hand away, taking charge of working your clit, his other hand coming to play with your nipple, pinching lightly and making you buckle and mewl.

“Come on, baby, I wanna see you coming all over my cock,” he coaxed, this thumb applying the perfect amount of pressure, rubbing hard and fast and your orgasm took you by surprise, making you cry out and claw at his strong biceps, body shaking as you squeezed around him. “That’s it. Fuck! You feel so good.”

Keanu kissed your belly and chest, whispering sweet nothings against your skin until you calmed down, your body finally sated, mind dazed with pleasure.

“That was amazing,” you grinned sleepily at him and Keanu smiled back, kissing you softly.

“It was perfect. You’re perfect,” he said, pushing your hair away from your face. “Can I stay?”

“I wasn’t planning on letting you leave,” you replied, smiling at him. Knowing you made the right choice tonight.

 xxx

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[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Congrats on 750 and thanks so much for doing this! Can I please request “4. I need to know that you can trust me. Please.” for Tom? Angst to fluff with maybe a dash of smut at the end? I could see either Tom or the OFC say this under different circumstances, but I would leave that choice up to you! Thanks again and also thank you for creating such a wonderful blog:)

Thank you so much for sending this request! I will admit that this is incredibly long at 3.4k words and it 100% got away from me to take on a life of its own. As it stands, I couldn’t make any smut work in it, but I do hope that you enjoy it nonetheless!

Thank you to @vodka-and-some-sass who gave me some very helpful insight on this fic! It wouldn’t be what it is without you!

Warning: language!

Five Stars

“Ben, I can’t. I’m sorry, but I’m swamped working on the cues for-”

“Too busy to pop into our Ugly Sweater party? Nonsense! You must come. It has been ages since we’ve seen you.”

You made a noncommittal grunt, scouring the thoroughly marked script in front of you, ignoring the pixelated face giving you a very stern glare from the screen beside it.

“It starts at eight. Sophie will be so pleased to know you’re coming.”

The screen went blank after his unceremonious goodbye. You rolled your eyes before pulling the pencil from behind your ear to make another note. Ben was a force of nature, had been since you’d met him starting out in theatre, and it was easier just to go along with whatever he wanted whenever he got an idea into his head. Maybe a few hours of fun might do your exhausted mind a bit of good. Clear the clutter and whatnot. What could it hurt?

~

What was the line between a sweater being so ugly it was awesome and just being embarrassingly terrible?

You were sure you had crossed that line with the getup you were wearing, but there wasn’t time to change as you had already knocked on the door to the Cumberbatch house. You were swept inside from the soft snowfall into a pair of long, lanky arms and crushed against an almost skeletal body.

“It’s been so long! Come on, Sophie can open the wine you’ve brought, and then I need to introduce you to some new friends.”

You followed along without getting much of a word in edge-wise, nursing a glass of red wine thrust into your hand by Sophie before you made the rounds at Ben’s side. Names and faces went in one ear and out the other. Hands were shaken, cheeks of old friends were kissed, and small talk was made. The cheery Christmas music in the background and the slight buzz of alcohol in your system helped to loosen you up, and soon you were sitting on the arm of a couch, contentedly people watching when Ben confidently strode up to you, ushering along someone behind him.

“You look positively bored out of your skull, and I have just the solution. I’d like you to meet Tom,” he said with a grin and a flourish, stepping out of the way to present ‘Tom’.

“Tom Hiddleston,” he said, the familiar face sheepish as he held out a hand for you to shake. “Ben has regaled me with great tales of your running around together years and years ago.”

His hand was warm when you took it, smooth and firm and completely enveloping yours with the length of his thin fingers. “I’m sure they’re highly edited versions of what truly happened, all spun to put him in a more attractive light.”

“On the contrary,” he smiled, running his hand through the auburn locks curling behind his ears before shoving his hand into the pocket of his dark jeans, “they were tailored to do so for yourself. Perhaps you can tell enlighten me with your perspective?”

And that was how you spent the evening chatting with Tom Hiddleston. You had known that he and Ben were close friends, he’d been mentioned in passing before, but it was one thing to hear about ‘Tom flying to the States to work on a film’ and another to have the full force of Tom Hiddleston and his breathtaking rapt attention clothed in a gaudy Christmas sweater directed at you from close range. It was secretly thrilling to hold the focus of someone so beautiful, to watch his eyes sparkle and mouth pull back into a grin at your jokes and anecdotes. His hands spun tales in the space between you, as expressive and vibrant as his many impassioned tangents. You couldn’t deny the twist of butterflies in your stomach when his hand settled onto the middle of your back and his head craned down to better hear your point over a sudden burst of laughter from the other party guests.

But the night couldn’t last forever, and the glass of spiked eggnog Ben had slipped into your hand was in cahoots with the late hour to make you drowsy. Your poor attempt at stifling a yawn behind your hand did not go unnoticed by the keen blue eyes that hadn’t left you since you’d been introduced what felt like an eternity ago.

“Perhaps we should call it a night,” Tom offered, standing up and stretching languidly. It was pure force of will that kept your eyes from lingering on the peek of pale skin at his hip revealed by the gaudy red bottom of his sweater riding up from the innocent movement.

You slipped your phone out of your pocket, nodding in agreement. “You’re probably right. I’ve been working myself to the bone. I’ll just call an Uber and then make the rounds.”

His hand closed over your phone, pushing it gently down to your side. “I was about to leave. Allow me to give you a ride, in payment for monopolizing so much of your time?”

How could you say no to such an earnest face? With his brows lifted into a hopeful smile, you were hooked. “Let me say goodbye?”

You left Tom to wind your way through the mingling crowd, the music and murmuring having leveled off to more intimate levels as the evening wore on. It was easy to find Ben stationed in the kitchen, packing away the leftover finger foods.

“Heading out?” he asked when you handed him a cheese platter, glancing around you before turning to the open refrigerator once more. “Sophie wanted to say goodnight before she went up to bed, but she couldn’t find you.”

Their home wasn’t that big, but you let it slide with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. You carefully put your empty glass into the overloaded sink. “Yeah. It’s getting late, and Tom offered to give me a lift back to mine.”

“Oh, Tom?” The interest on his overly expressive face was impossible to miss. “Hit it off, did you?”

You swatted at his chest before pulling him into a quick hug. “Oh hush, you. You’re about as subtle as a slap to the face. He’s nice. Come say goodbye, you meddling fool.”

He acted overly offended, hands clutching his chest as he led you back toward the front door where Tom was waiting, already buttoned into his black pea coat. “Meddle? Me? Never!”

Tom’s answering chuckle was filled with warmth as he pulled your coat from your hands, helping you into it without any fuss. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, but I’m inclined to side with the lady. You are far too meddlesome for your own good, Ben.”

“Would it be considered meddling to inform you both that you’re stationed underneath the mistletoe?” Ben asked, a devious smile on his face as he pointed above your heads.

Sure enough, he had cheekily planted that festive decoration right above the front door. Heat flooded your cheeks when you dropped your gaze down to Tom and shoved your hands into your coat pockets awkwardly. “That bastard.”

He shifted just a breath closer to you, so the masculine scented warmth of his body fought against the chill seeping through the front door at your side. “It is tradition. May I?”

When you quickly nodded your silent reply, his hand came up to cradle your cheek facing the room, permitting you a bit of privacy. As soon as your lashes fluttered against your cheeks did he kiss you, a quick, almost chaste brush of his lips, leaving you with just the barest taste of the chocolate he sampled earlier. It wasn’t enough.

You ignored the inferno set inside of you at the simple action and opened your eyes, startled to see Tom still so close to you. His breath fanned across your face, sweet and quick, and his thumb stroked your cheek softly before he released you from the captivating spell of his blown light-blue eyes.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, adjusting the collar of his jacket up around his neck, shooting Ben one last glance. “Thank you for inviting us to the party this evening. I’ll get in touch soon.”

You waved your goodbye before following him outside, mind trying to wrap around being included in Tom’s farewell to your mutual friend. It was surely nothing, as was the way that his hand lighted on your lower back to assist you into the car. You were exhausted. That had to explain why you were so tongue-tied and nervous for the entire drive back to your home.

“That’s me,” you gestured to the side of the road, sitting up straighter in the soft leather seat.

He pulled to a slow and careful stop on the curb. The tense silence that filled the small space threatened to choke you, but you couldn’t make yourself reach for the door. Doing so would be a definite cap on the evening. The spell would be broken and you would go back to the mundanity of daily life without the captivated ear of a handsome gentleman.

Tom broke your sorrowful train of thought, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Allow me to walk you to the door.”

In the spare seconds that you had to compose yourself, all you managed to do was thoroughly inspect a smudge on his rear-view mirror. Cold rushed into the haven of his car when he opened the door, drawing you out by the guidance of his gentle hand. He followed you to the door, towering above you and ducking his shoulders against the frigid breeze that ruffled your hair.

“Thanks for the ride.” You fidgeted with the keys in your hands, worrying the worn metal. “It was much more pleasant than an Uber ride, that’s for sure.” So smooth.

“Will you give me five stars?”

The joke gave you enough confidence to lift your face to his. You startled slightly at how close he was, the fog from your breath swirling together to mix with the scattered snowfall. The tenderness in his gaze made your heart race in your chest. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips against the wind, and the darkness that flooded his pale blue eyes made your breath catch in your throat. Snowflakes caught on his light lashes and tinted his now rosy cheeks. You heard yourself ask, “What have you done to earn them?”

Uncertainty flashed across his face for the briefest of moments before determination ticked in his temple. He stilled the clink of your keys with his hand over yours, using the contact to shift that much closer to you. Hope and the desire that clenched in your stomach bid you to tilt your pouted mouth up to him in offering. He accepted, giving you a warm, gentle kiss that warmed you from the top of your head to the tips of your curled toes. The sensitive skin around your mouth tickled from the rasp of his short beard, wholly masculine and surprisingly soft.

“Goodnight, darling. I’ll call you in the morning.”

He stayed on your doorstep until you fumbled the keys into the lock with trembling fingers. The last thing visible through the slowly tightening crack in the closing door was his kind smile crinkling around his eyes, bright and full of promise just for you.

If he called the next morning, which would be impossible because you had forgotten to give him your number like a pining idiot, you wouldn’t have been able to tell. You woke to your phone blaring out your ringtone nonstop. It had vibrated itself right off of the bedside table onto the floor so you had to practically fall out of bed to silence it. As soon as you did, another call came through from an unknown number, followed by several texts and emails in quick succession.

“What the?” Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you leaned back against the side of your bed, opening your texts because you were definitely not alert enough to speak to a living person yet.

’ARE YOU DATING TOM HIDDLESTON?!?!’

‘Was that you in the papers with Tom Hiddleston?’

Practically every person under the sun that you had ever come in contact with had sent you a message or called you, flooding your phone with notifications you were instantly too overwhelmed to handle.

You grabbed a change of clothes, answering the phone on the next ring and shoving it into your ear, not even caring who had called as you gathered your things for a shower.

“Are you alright?”

Ben. “What in the ever-loving fuck is going on?”

“I sent you a picture taken by the paparazzi yesterday. It’s all over the gossip magazines and websites. I haven’t been able to get a hold of Tom. I assume he’s been tied up with Luke all morning. Are you alright?”

You didn’t answer him, tossing your clothes onto the bathroom sink so you could flip through your overload of messages to find what Ben was talking about. There, on the front of some tawdry magazine, was a slightly grainy picture of you and Tom from the previous evening. There was no mistaking it. There you were, locking lips with the internet’s perpetually single boyfriend.

Shit. You placed the phone on top of your clothes, hitting the speakerphone so you could turn on the water for the shower. “Nothing happened, Ben.”

“I know that, you know that, and Tom knows that. But the world doesn’t, and several hundred-thousand opinions hold more weight than the truth in this instance.”

Hitting your head repeatedly against the tiled bathroom wall was suddenly far more appealing than the current conversation. “I can’t deal with this right now. I’m going to take a shower. Thanks for checking in, Ben.”

Hair damp and decked out in your softest lounge clothes, you had foolishly expected that the situation would somehow magically improve. But it only seemed to worsen upon leaving the sanctuary of your bedroom. When you peeked out from behind your curtains to see what all the shouting that you heard was about, dozens of men with cameras bigger than your face were visible across the street. They perked up at the movement and their huge black lenses all turned in your direction.

You were trapped. Grumbling, you turned on your heel to retreat to your room when loud knocks pounded straight into your skull, making you practically jump out of your skin with shock.

“Who is it?” you called, pressing your ear against the front door. Who would brave the field of paparazzi to visit you?

“It’s me! Please, let me in,” Tom called.

You hurried over and ushered him in before closing the door against the blinding flashes shot in your direction, blinking the spots from your eyes.

He held his hands out in front of him, palms up. “I apologize for showing up without an invitation, but I didn’t have your number, and I was concerned.”

You crossed your arms over your chest to hide the trembling in your limbs at the sudden spotlight thrust upon you, shrugging your shoulders in what wasn’t exactly a convincing act of nonchalance. Desperate to hide from his earnest, ever-observant stare, you went into the kitchen and set the kettle on the burner. “It’s fine, I’m fine. It’s whatever.”

His heavy footsteps matched the roaring pulse in your ears as his long legs quickly closed the distance between you. He carefully took your hand in between both of his, turning you to face him. “You aren’t fine.”

“No, I’m damn well not fine,” you huffed, pinching your nose with your free hand. You dropped your chin onto your chest, closing your eyes as you fought the anxiety gripping your lungs like a vice. “I woke up this morning to my phone blowing up because of a stolen picture with you. I’m sure half of the internet hates me because they think we’re this serious thing now, and any illusion of privacy that I had is dwindling by the second as they try to figure out who the heck I am to either crucify me or congratulate me. It’s just…”

He released your arm to curl his fingers underneath your jaw, lifting your gaze from the burgundy cable-knit jumper covering his chest. The genuine concern that creased his brow and tugged on the corners of his mouth would be your undoing if you allowed yourself the weakness. “It is quite the ordeal, and you didn’t ask for this aspect of our relationship.”

“There isn’t any relationship at all! It was only a kiss. Well, two, but still. It would be one thing if there was,” you paused, allowing yourself the luxury of fully savoring his electrifying touch before pulling your face out of his featherlight hold, “but there isn’t.”

His hand scrubbed over the whiskers muddying his razor sharp jawline before falling to ghost over the curve of your hip. “If there was, what?”

You didn’t know what you were saying, what you had just said and alluded to. Your thoughts were a blur and you couldn’t discern whether you wanted to hide from him or into him. Quickly replaying what you had blurted out in your distracted state, you sighed heavily, the weight of what could not be dragged down your shoulders. What would it hurt to say what had been lingering on your mind all morning? “If there was something between us, maybe all the scrutiny would be worth it. If we were together, and I didn’t have to face them alone. If there was a reason behind terrifying men shouting awful things at me outside of my home. As it is, I’m a prisoner in my home for no damned good reason.”

He took a step away from you, arms crossing over his chest. “A consolation prize, then?”

You wanted to slam your fists onto the countertop, scream and tear your hair out at the confusion and frustration of it all. Instead, your hands flailed uselessly in between you. “No! No, not that.”

“Then what?” he asked, silken voice as tight and guarded as the rest of him. Steely blue eyes held you captive as he demanded an explanation.

What did it hurt to admit your fledgling feelings at this point? “Being with you, it wouldn’t be some consolation prize. You aren’t a-a prize to be won, Tom. I like you, okay? It was fun to talk with you last night, and you sure are one heck of a kisser. Five stars, for sure. I just…” you waved your arms at the throng of paparazzi you could faintly hear gathered outside. “That’s a lot to take on, especially for someone I hardly know.”

His arms fell to his sides and he took a small step toward you. “If it weren’t for the fame, for the fans and the celebrity and the madness of it all, would you hesitate?”

“Not for a second,” you answered instantly. The answer came from deep within you with no thought.

“Well, then…” His hands came up on either side of your face, cupping your jaw. He moved with absolute care, slow and steady with plenty of time for you to stop him at any point. First his forehead rested lightly against you, then his nose nudged along your cheek, and finally his mouth slanted over yours in a kiss so full of passion and intensity that your knees buckled. He held you upright between his body and the counter behind you, hands splayed over your sides and fingertips molded to the soft flesh of your waist.

He tucked your head beneath his chin, nuzzling his cheek into your damp hair. “Give us a chance? Give this a chance.”

You dug your fingertips into the worn wool of his jumper, inhaling the dark and soothing scent of his cologne from your nose pressed into his chest. “Tom…”

“I will handle this, I promise,” he assured you, reaching up to cup the back of your neck, holding you to him. “I need to know you can trust me. Please.”

The tension slowly left your shoulders at the caress of his hand down your spine. You melted into him. “Ben is going to be insufferable when he hears,” you said, doing your best to keep the happiness from your voice, but you were no award-winning actor.

“Let him,” he growled, hooking his thumbs underneath your chin, tilting your face up to him so he could further prove to you with his pillowy-soft lips and coffee-laced tongue exactly why trusting him would be worth all the sorrow and strife waiting just outside your door.

~~~

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[sinditia]

Rom Howney Ficlet - Little Games

Summary: Hollywood parties are boring so they have a game they like to play to amuse themselves. Tom flaunts his looks and charm under Robert's watchful eye, showing him all that he's learned and all that he'll get at the end of the night.

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 852

Tags: Flirting, Foreplay, Exhibitionism (sorta maybe kinda if you squint), No actual sex, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content

Read it on AO3

--

The party isn't open to the public but the place is packed, wall to wall with actors, directors, musicians, models, powerful people who were varying combinations of wealthy and beautiful. Tom is some ways away speaking to one of them, a girl who looks about his age, but in their business, her actual age could in reality range wildly either way. One thing for sure, she’s attractive, with a body most girls would kill for, almost attractive enough for the likes of Tom.

The young blood looks to be charming the pants off her, all bright-eyes and movie-star smiles. Robert wants to take credit for that. He’s been in the limelight basically all his life, he’s the very definition of charming, and he’s taken somewhat of a mentorship role over the kid. But he knows he can only take partial credit. Tom is just naturally charismatic and outgoing. Sure, he’s watched Robert work for a few years now and he’s picked up on how to enthral and captivate the masses. But this, what’s going on now, with the way he leans ever so slightly into the girl’s space and murmurs something that would probably make her blush a pretty pink if she weren’t wearing so much foundation? Yeah, that’s all Tom.

Robert doesn’t really pay attention to the men he’s sitting with. They’re all too inebriated and distracted by the beautiful women hanging onto them anyway. There’s probably one hanging on to Robert now too, but he’s more interested in watching his little protégé work. It’s a little game they like to play.

The girl Tom’s flirting with tilts her pretty face up to him in something of a challenge, her sharp augmented nose almost brushing with his. Robert watches Tom answer in kind, thin lips shaping into a handsome smirk, saying something to her followed by a gaze brazenly raking down her body. The girl bites her bottom lip playfully and takes his hand, pulling him away from the bar and onto the dance floor. Tom lets her lead, blatantly checking out her ass as he walks behind her. Robert feels a heady mixture of pride and arousal.

Their bodies standing close like that, it’s clear that she’s taller than him, especially in those heels. Tom isn’t super-tall for a movie star, nor massively built. But he has enough toned musculature to display an attractive definition beneath the thin, fitted shirt he’s wearing. He’s beautifully proportioned and so obviously athletic, having often enough shown the world his physicality and what kind of body he’s hiding under those flattering clothes.

Oh and he can dance too. The nightclub is playing some contemporary trap shit with dirty, heavy beats that Tom has no trouble sinking into. The girl’s not bad either, arms around his neck and swaying her hips in a way most white girls can’t. Tom has his hands low on her hips, rocking her with him, easily finding the rhythm of the bass, and guiding her into it.

Robert takes a large swig of the expensive vodka, watching them dance, feeling heat pooling in his stomach. His boy looks gorgeous like this, so confident, comfortable in his body and the way it moves. He can’t wait to have that lithe body moving on his lap just like that.

Tom and his girl get into a filthy grind, moving with the hard, pounding music. Robert couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

And then Tom looks up at him, immediately making eye contact like he’s known this whole time exactly where Robert has been sitting, buzzed and half-hard, hungrily watching his every move. There’s people weaving in and out of their line of sight but their eyes stay connected across the room, like an electric current.

Tom’s grin widens, almost predatory, and his hands slip lower down the girl’s ass, fingers skimming at the hem of her short, short dress, all while keeping his eyes locked onto Robert’s. He’s showing off the power he has over her, how wet she probably already is for him, how she’d probably let him slip into her panties with just the right words and just the right touches. The boy’s a cocky little shit and Robert wants nothing more than to fuck him into oblivion the way the girl probably wants to get fucked by him.

Tom murmurs something in her ear, dark eyes still on Robert, and she turns around, back to his chest, pressing her ass into him. Tom’s hands go back to gripping her hips, grinding her against him the way he likes, letting Robert see what she looks like when she undoubtedly feels his dick rub against her ass through the layers of thin fabric. Her eyes are half-closed, pretty lips slightly open in a pleased sigh. She’s probably imagining Tom taking her home, imagining those hands pulling at her hips just like it is now, imagining him taking her hard and hungry in his bed.

Robert feels a vicious sort of pleasure to know that he’ll be the one taking Tom home, and he’ll be the one doing the taking.

[relaxedmouse]

What motivates Voldemort?

I do not think Voldemort actually cares about wizarding supremacy over Muggles and Muggle-borns. I believe he only adopted the "wizards first" line in order to persuade violent, racist wizards to support him. This is not to say he likes Muggles. Definitely not. But I suspect his true feelings toward them range from mere "dislike" to possibly even "indifference", because the only thing Voldemort truly cares about is himself. All he really desires is to be the most powerful person in the world.

Recently, I watched this YouTube video, which contemplated why the most hated character in the Harry Potter series tends to be Umbridge, rather than Voldemort. How does a schoolteacher inspire more rage and loathing than the Dark Lord? This video basically concluded it’s because “one death is a tragedy and a million is a statistic”. Umbridge's attacks feel more personal. In addition, it was suggested that Voldemort’s anti-Muggle ideology needed to be fleshed out more, because as it stands, we actually don’t learn much about why he wants to form a society where pure blood reigns supreme.

But that's exactly it. The lack of focus on that goal makes me think he doesn't really believe in it.

Half-Blood Prince shows us several scenes from Voldemort’s backstory. Notably, these are very personal moments. We see 11-year-old Tom Riddle discovering he is a wizard, confirming his belief that he is special. We see teenage Voldemort asking Professor Slughorn about Horcruxes. We see a young adult Voldemort searching for unique items to use as Horcruxes. These scenes are all about Voldemort's personality, his selfishness, his arrogance, his quest to become immortal. They remain laser-focused on Voldemort’s personal life - and they don’t pay attention to what he thinks about the wider wizarding world.

He’s not opposed to creating a society where Muggles and Muggle-borns are subjugated. He may even consider it a nice bonus. But I don’t think he craves this world nearly as much as his Death Eaters do. As I said, I think Voldemort exaggerated how much he actually cares about blood status, just to gain the support of prejudiced wizards who do care about it a lot.

One might also consider Salazar Slytherin (who hated Muggle-born students so much that he planted a monster in Hogwarts with the intention to purge them). In addition to attracting Death Eaters, perhaps Voldemort wanted to imitate his ancestor. But I doubt it. Voldemort was so obsessed with his own uniqueness that I doubt he’d want to follow in the footsteps of anybody, even Slytherin. And on that subject - if Voldemort was actually concerned about magical ancestry that much, wouldn’t he have spent more time bragging about his connection to Slytherin? His grandpa, Marvolo Gaunt, couldn’t get through a conversation without mentioning his prestigious parentage. Voldemort, however, is all about “I, Lord Voldemort, am the one who has pushed the boundaries of magic more than anyone else”.

In Deathly Hallows, while Death Eaters are busy taking over the Ministry and hunting Muggle-borns, Voldemort concentrates on two things: Harry and the Elder Wand. Voldemort is intent on removing the greatest threat to himself, and obtaining the ultimate weapon. As always, his own position and power take priority over all else. It probably doesn’t even matter to him what the world is like, as long as he is the supreme and immortal ruler.

[bethgreeneishopeunseen]

hi, so i see that you ship bethyl, and while i see them more of a big brother-sibling relationship, if the show had explored that type of sibling relationship, would it have been satisfactory for you? or would you just have them be together? i always wondered that about bethyl shippers

Hello! This is an interesting question, and I appreciate hearing from the other side of the equation. In regards to your ask, I am speaking for myself, though I wouldn’t be surprised if other Bethylers shared my sentiments.

With how season 5 went, I would happily take any additional Bethyl interactions I could get, though it would ultimately be unsatisfying because everything about the show in seasons 4 and 5 had communicated that Beth and Daryl were being set-up romantically.

I don’t have the time to go into every connotation of romance incorporated into Bethyl, so I will give a brief summary.

In terms of the show, there’s Daryl Dixon quipping, “It’s like a damn romance novel,” when looking at Beth and her boyfriend in the season four premiere. That kind of line screams foreshadowing. The sexual imagery in Still like the phallic knife and snakeskin. The romantic tropes plastered over Still and Alone; like the intimate conversations at night, the bridal carry, all the candlelight at the dinner table. The halted confession of love that had been punctuated with a gentle ‘Oh’. Because how else are we supposed to interpret that scene? I’ve read posts from people who didn’t even want Bethyl who saw it as romantic. Daryl wore Beth’s knife like a token of love for more than a season, and though it disappeared from his person, in 2018 Norman confirmed that Daryl still had it.

There was also the romantic music. Norman Reedus listened to ‘Very Nervous and Love’ while filming Still and had even pitched it as the closing episode song. For Alone, TPTB originally intended to use King of Carrot Flowers (presumably pt. 1) but couldn’t because of licensing issues. KoCF pt. 1 has the lyrics, “And this is the room/One afternoon I knew I could love you,” which summarizes Alone pretty well. (Alone’s other two storylines focused on romantic arcs, so it doesn’t make sense for Bethyl’s to be a random platonic pairing.) Emily ended up singing ‘Be Good’, a song about the fear of ruining a friendship after feelings mutually develop. Later Emily Kinney wrote a song called ‘Last Chance’, which she confirmed was from Beth’s POV. The lyrics describe Still in terms of romance and sexuality.

In addition, most of the show people who have talked about Bethyl talked about it positively and in romantic terms. (Example quotes posted below the cut.) The two links below include my sources and other romantic connotations I didn’t mention.

https://bethgreeneishopeunseen.tumblr.com/tagged/bethyl-is-more-canon-than-romeo-and-juliet

https://bethgreeneishopeunseen.tumblr.com/post/174242960046/bethyl-interview-masterpost

“I think it’s constantly changing, you know. Just like our relationships with each other. You know, I think the more she’s getting to know him, it kind of shifts. So I think that there’s been moments where she saw him just as a protector, and moments where she’s seen him as a team member and moments where she’s seen him almost like, maybe like a brotherly sort of friend kind of thing. And then probably moments too, where she’s been like, ‘Oh, maybe there’s something extra here. Something special’. So I think it’s the whole range of how she views him. I think, like, we’re still exploring that. […] He better find me! He better not forget about me!”

“So in this last episode, you were asking Daryl ‘how do you know there’s— you still think there’s good people out there? Why?’ And then you had a realization. Was it that he knew because of Beth? Do you know what I’m saying?”

Emily Kinney: Yeah, I think she realized how much he cares about her.

“I don’t know, my theory is— I definitely think Beth was having a ro— felt romantically inclined towards Daryl. That’s the way it came across to me, at least.”

Emily Kinney: Yeah, I think there’s realizing that there’s something else there.”

Emily Kinney: WSC Chicago; March 14th, 2014 (x) (x) (x).

-

“As the episode progressed, he saw something in her that was sort of like a little candlelight at the end of a dark tunnel. And she was saying that there are good people left, there are reasons to go on, and don’t give up hope. And I think she was that little glimmer of hope for him. And I think that’s what he was attracted. If he misconstrued those feelings as a possibly like a crush, but that’s even better. But I don’t think he went in there like, “Hey me and you.” I think he kind of like, “There’s something good in you, and I haven’t seen anything good in forever. It’s like being lost in the woods for miles and miles and starving and finding an apple tree with an apple. There’s something good out there and maybe that’s you. And maybe you could show me whatever you know and you can make Daryl have those hopeful feelings too. And I think some people might have interpreted as he thinks you’re cute or he wants to be with you. But I think it’s deeper than that.”

Norman Reedus: GoldDerby; June 12th, 2014 (x) (x) (x).

In the full interview, Bethyl comes up at 6:40. Full transcript here (x).

-

“When they pitched Season 4, they were talking about when the prison goes down and having Daryl and Beth be bunkered together. And it’s interesting because I get to see all the cuts and I see all the edits from the director’s cuts onward. And I loved the scene in the kitchen when they’re talking, and I got the sense that Daryl was starting to kind of fall in love with Beth a little.”

Greg Nicotero; SDCC July 2014 Panel/Interviews-

“It’s a gradual change [Daryl’s arc]. It’s a progression; his relationship with Beth, too. They’re always doing this sort of like chocolate thing: ‘Here, here, it’s delicious. Oh, psych!’ and they take it away…. These characters get harder as it goes on. They have more experience with loss and grief. Everyone’s in fifth gear right now…. You know, Beth was kind like this little flame at the end of a long dark tunnel, and he was getting closer and closer, and it was getting warmer, and then someone blew it out. You know, they took my chocolate again….The whole Daryl and his thing for Beth…I always saw it as if he didn’t understand those feelings. He might have felt them, but he was sorta hopeful; that with those feelings there might have been hope there. Down the line. And it was taken from him. Same as with his brother…taken. Found his family in the prison…taken. I mean, over and over and over again. That happens to all of us.”

Norman Reedus: Horrorhound; (Sept/Oct 2014) p. 8 (x) (x).

-

“Last year, I definitely felt like there was a really special connection between Daryl and Beth that happened. My take on it was that there was a very deep growing connection that could become something more romantic or could become just … you know that was my personal understanding of it. I do feel like Beth has opened up to Daryl in a way that she hasn’t with other people and I do feel like Beth has never been really in love even though you’ve seen her with the two different boyfriends. I don’t think she’s ever been like, ‘grownup in love’ in the way that you feel like someone actually understands you and in sort of that special intimate way. And I do feel like she’s been closer to that with Daryl then with anyone else.”

Emily Kinney: Business Insider; October 9th, 2014 (x).

-

“Kinney says that the song they were originally going to use in the scene was Neutral Milk Hotel’s “King of Carrot Flowers, but the band wasn’t interested in licensing their music. Something Kinney understands. “If you make something, you’re very precious with it,” she says. “I would love to cover that song on my own.” For now, she’s performing “Be Good” in her sets, along with another song Beth has sung on the show, Tom Waits‘ “Hold On.””

Emily Kinney: Radio.com; October 10th, 2014 (x) (x).

“And this is the room, one afternoon I knew I could love you.”

-

“Q: Do you think Beth was fortunate to be kidnapped and ended up in a hospital rather than go to Terminus? Emily: Terminus was awful […] Although she would be with her family and that’s worth a lot, isn’t it? She’d be with Daryl… and her sister.”

Emily Kinney: 5x04′s Talking Dead; November 2nd, 2014 (x).

Norman Reedus: AMA; December 21st, 2014 (x).

-

“That was just devastating, he chased that car all night long until it was daylight and he just couldn’t move anymore.”

“Daryl’s in such… a dark… state of mind, because of he lost Beth.”

Norman Reedus: The Journey so Far; October 2nd, 2016 (x) (x) (x)

-

[dipulb3]

Historic Midway Theatre reopening - On May 14 the Midway Theatre at 108-22 Queens Boulevard in Forest Hills will reopen its doors. Operator Regal Cinemas decided last fall to close 543 theaters due to the pandemic and the Midway was one of them. “...

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/historic-midway-theatre-reopening-on-may-14-the-midway-theatre-at-108-22-queens-boulevard-in-forest-hills-will-reopen-its-doors-operator-regal-cinemas-decided-last-fall-to-close-543-theaters-due-to/

Historic Midway Theatre reopening - On May 14 the Midway Theatre at 108-22 Queens Boulevard in Forest Hills will reopen its doors. Operator Regal Cinemas decided last fall to close 543 theaters due to the pandemic and the Midway was one of them. “...

Joseph Pormigiano in “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” floor performance.

slideshow

On May 14, the Midway Theatre at 108-22 Queens Boulevard in Forest Hills will reopen its doors. Operator Regal Cinemas decided last fall to close 543 theaters due to the pandemic, and the Midway was one of them.

“I thought they were shutting their doors for good, so this is such wonderful news,” said local resident Christina Gennaro. “The history surrounding Forest Hills is what made me want to move here. Movie theaters like the Midway are living history.”

With a largely intact vertical beacon, curved façade, and whimsical circular lobby with a sweeping staircase, the Art Moderne theater is one of the borough’s oldest, operating since 1942.

The Midway was named after the Battle of Midway in World War II. Opening attractions were the U.S. Navy’s Technicolor short “The Battle of Midway,” as well as “The Pied Piper” and “Just Off Broadway.”

Among the celebrities who made appearances were Bob Hope and Lucille Ball, who conducted a meet and greet.

Over time, it transitioned from a single screen to a quad to nine screens. In more recent times, digital advances and recliners were introduced.

“It holds fond memories,” said Jennifer Vega of the theater. “I’ve went there with my parents and siblings in the 1980s, had dates there in the late 1990s and 2000s, and then watched movies with my son.”

The Midway was designed by America’s foremost theater architect, Scotland native Thomas White Lamb, along with consulting architect S. Charles Lee. Today, Tom Andrew Lamb of White Plains is preserving his great-grandfather’s legacy.

“The most compelling reason that the Midway is worthy of preservation is the history that has taken place in this neighborhood theater,” he said. “For almost 80 years, this place has seen first dates, family outings, and solo trips on lonely nights. In our throwaway world, these spaces hold our collective experience and are repositories of memories.”

North Carolina resident Richard Delaney was six when the Midway opened.

“The opening was a big deal, it was like a black-tie event” he recalled. “It was modern Art Deco and completely different from the 1920s theaters.

“The Midway definitely needs to be preserved” Delaney added. “It’s an architectural treasure that was very ahead of its time.”

Over the years, the Midway hosted a range of events, including anniversary galas, benefits, and floor shows.

“My friends and I were the shadow cast of The Rocky Horror Picture Show,” said Joseph Pormigiano. “I played the criminologist in the floor show,”

Marco Zanaletti is an airline employee from Italy. He has had the opportunity to visit Forest Hills on several occasions.

“I noticed the Tudor-style residential buildings and the Art Deco presence in places like the Midway,” he said. “I remember thinking, ‘wow I am in the U.S. and in a real community, not just as a tourist coming to New York shopping along 5th Avenue’ I started to feel a part of New York history around me.”

“The Midway is a landmark in my life,” added Thomas Duffy, whose Midway journey began in 1982 with E.T. “My first date with my longtime partner was at the Midway in 2000, when we saw Down to You. I hope to see a blockbuster or two this summer.”

[conrad-x-odair]

( tom hiddleston, 38, cismale, he / him, (November 18th) Was that CONRAD ODAIR? I heard a rumor they work for the FAUST family, but who knows for sure ? They can be a bit SULLEN & TEMPERAMENTAL, but I also heard they can be CHARISMATIC & HONORABLE. You’ll usually find them at THE PINT in their spare time, when they’re not being an BLACK MARKET GUNSMITH & CARCANOS. You may want to keep an eye on that one !

                       “ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ? ɢᴏᴏᴅ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ꜱᴛᴏᴏᴅ                                      ᴜᴘ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪꜰᴇ”

- B A S I C -

Full Name: Conrad Barthelemy Odair Age: 38 Occupation: Black Market Gunsmith / Arm’s Dealer Frequented Locations: Port of Chicago, Tony’s Guns and Sporting Good, Cook’s Gun Range, Wolves, The Den, The Pint, Faust Manor Gang Affiliation: Faust Gang Role: Carcanos Birthday: November 18th Zodiac: Scorpio Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

- F A M I L Y -

Father: Edmund Odair (deceased) Mother: Ursula Harker-Odair (deceased) Sibling(s): Three younger sisters and a younger brother (22 - 36) Uncle: Patrick Harker (deceased) Children: 2 - Son, Ellis (7) & Daughter, Cora (3) Significant Other: Estranged Wife

- P E R S O N A L I T Y -

(+) Charismatic, Friendly, Amorous, Honorable, Persuasive (-) Pedantic, Neurotic, Temperamental, Resentful, Manipulative

- L I K E S   /   D I S L I K E S - 

Globetrotting / Traveling

Hiking

Thrill Seeker - Reckless Driving (Need For Speed style), Cliff Climbing, B.A.S.E. Jumping, Skydiving, Free Soloing

Going to the gym

Going down to the shooting range

Tinkering with machinery and mechanics

Woodworking

Sketching

Day Drinking

Cooking

- B I O G R A P H Y -

Conrad was born in London, England and spent most of his earlier years there, alongside his four younger siblings and his parents, before eventually being sent to live in Chicago, IL.

His father, Edmund, owned a construction company and his mother, Ursula, was a housewife who also ran a hair salon side business from their home, so they weren’t exactly wealthy but they certainly got by just fine. His father’s company made pretty good money, more than enough to support the family of seven.

That, of course, changed when Conrad was fourteen. His father was tragically killed while on a job, when he accidentally lost his footing and fell from the eighth floor of a hotel he and his crew were in the process of building.

Edmund’s death devastated the family and it’s what inevitably tore them apart. Left with many bills and a lot of debt from her husband’s death and unable to cope with the stress of trying to support herself and her five children on her own meager salary, Ursula sent the oldest three of her children - Conrad and two of his sisters - to America, specifically Chicago, to live with her older brother, Patrick.

Life in America and with his uncle was...interesting and enlightening, to say the least, but by no means was it something he initially welcomed. As a young teenager, fresh of of mourning for his father and having just been shipped away by his mother - leaving him with the feeling of being abandoned by her - Conrad lost it. He developed severe anger, attachment and abandonment issues towards the world around him. He grew extremely close to his sisters, and oddly enough to his insanely strict uncle, but he had a hard time trusting anyone else outside of his now small family unit. He had very few friends and the friends he did have were not great influences.

He became unruly and reckless, daredevilling it through his teen years (and beyond) by chasing thrills and the accompanied adrenalin rush, while steadfastly ignoring all risks to himself and to others. He was a total speed demon and an acrophile (a lover of heights) - so he loved getting into his car and driving as fast as he possibly could, which resulted in a lot of reckless driving charges, and he would climb to the highest points of the city on dares from his friends just to spray paint stupid and immature messages where literally nobody else could see them - just to prove that he could and because he wasn’t afraid.

That wasn’t the only trouble he would get up to, however. He was often getting into fights, rebelling against every sort of authority figure who dared to try and curb his behavior, whilst acting impulsive and breaking many laws behind their backs by committing minor crimes like petty larceny and vandalism.

Conrad became a smug and very smart-assed delinquent and he reveled in it. Even getting arrested a few times and being forced under house arrest for six months and probation for another six, and having to serve community service didn’t deter his behavior - despite his uncle trying to beat some type of sense into his thick skull on many occasions.

It wasn’t until he got his first real job as a dockhand down at the Port of Chicago at 17 (forced upon him by his uncle), where he got introduced to the Faust gang and their illegal smuggling, that he learned to moderately quell his ‘I do what I want, when I want’ attitude. He eventually joined the gang, going through the initiation at 18.

He has been with the Fausts for going on 20 years now. He started out working mainly down at the port helping with loading and unloading shipments, although nowadays, his days as a mere longshoreman were pretty much over.

Sure, he was still heavily involved in the Fausts’ smuggling business, but he is mainly focused on gunsmithing for the Fausts and also selling his work on the black market. 

He designs and hand-crafts all of his guns, and he also does gun repairs and makes custom modifications to them. Most, if not all, of the work he does is extremely illegal.

Conrad learned how to make guns from his uncle, Patrick, who had been an engineer and gunsmith for 40-odd years, having owned his own smithy and artillery repair shop.

Even though Conrad more or less mentored under his uncle when it came to learning the art of craft of firearms, that wasn’t to say that the old man himself was by any means a kind and gentle soul. Patrick Harker was very much an old school 'tough love' kind of guy, who was beyond strict and had no qualms with throwing fists and verbal punches and generally using a heavy hand whenever it came to dealing with his unruly nephew. Patrick had high expectations for Conrad, he saw the potential the young man had and refused to let him get away unpunished with his shitty behavior. He might not have gone about it the best way, but his intentions had certainly been good.

Despite Uncle Patrick’s rough handling and borderline abusive tendencies, Conrad eventually learned to greatly respect and appreciate the old man. He came to realize just how much the man actually cared for him - which turned out to be a lot more than his mother did...and that meant something.

Throughout his early and mid-20′s, Conrad spent most of his time working, honing his craft and of course charming his way through women. 

He was a serial romantic - he loved and laid with more women than he could ever care to admit; the idea of settling down and actually committing to a single person for the rest of his life was something he truly abhorred.

That is, until he met his now estranged wife. He met her while at Faust party and there was just something about her that had him utterly smitten and forgetting all his previous reservations on relationships and long term commitments. The two got married within a year and a half and started a family of their own immediately.

Of course, it didn’t taken them long after their wedding to realize their relationship was perhaps not as healthy and happy as it should have been. Their lust blinded them from seeing just how incompatible they were for each other. With his still lingering attachment issues and terrible temper and her own stubborn and hotheadedness, their fights were often quite explosive. They loved each other, that much was obvious - and their attraction for the other was still intense and unmatched - but their clashing personalities were too volatile.

It was after the birth of their second and last child, Cora, that they finally called it quits. That was three years ago.

- W A N T E D   C O N N E C T I O N S -

Toxic Estranged Wife (and casual hookup) - They’ve been separated or two and a half years. They have a strong love/hate relationship - their fights are often very intense and loud and leave the two of them extremely hurt and angry, and yet it usually ends with them in bed together somehow. Angry sex, passional sex, lust-filled. They do love each other, but at the end of the day their relationship was fueled more by their lust than any other actual feelings. It was definitely not healthy, and so for their children’s sake and also for themselves, they decided to separate. Still married for the time being, but no longer living together.

Younger Sisters / brother - Conrad has three sisters and one younger brother. Two of his sisters (the oldest two - between the ages of 32-35) came with him to Chicago when he was 14, while the youngest sister and his brother (between the ages of 24-28) never left England. Conrad is very close with the first two, but has no real relationship with the youngest siblings.

Flings / One-Nighters

Love Interest(s)

Faust Affiliates 

Rival Gang / Enemies

Drinking Buddies

Best Friends / Friends

ANY AND ALL CONNECTIONS! I’m open and down to do whatever!