#WHO is buying WHOM clothes in the locker room?!?!

[cementcornfield]

I can't tell if jamarr exaggerates his stories to an extreme amount or if joe justhas to constantly tell him to chill haha. but based on tee confirming that jamarr does buy joe clothes ocassionally and he did buy him a chain - im going to say joe just likes privacy lol

ALWAYS THRILLED TO BE ASKED ABOUT UNRELIABLE NARRATOR JA’MARR!!!

more under the cut because literally i could talk about this all day and i don’t need to subject anyone to that. 

Honestly I think it’s a combination of both? Ja’Marr exaggerates, says one thing then immediately another contradicting thing, doesn’t seem to have much of a filter, however you want to categorize it. Which I think is such a funny contrast to Joe - who is (almost) always very careful about how he expresses himself and how he wants to be portrayed. 

The “Ja’Marr Buys Joe Clothes Except No He Doesn’t Except Wait He Definitely Does” saga is probably my favorite thing in the world because what on earth is ANYONE talking about in this situation. Like, first Ja’Marr claims in the GQ interview:

"Joe literally won’t buy his own clothes. He always asks me to shop for him and drop it off at the house.” 

Which is almost definitely an exaggeration. I am sure Joe buys plenty of his own clothes (although loving the idea of Ja’Marr literally filling Joe’s closet with things he thinks he’ll like). 

And then, bringing it up completely unprompted in an interview a week later he says that actually that was “kinda” a lie, and that he hasn’t bought Joe anything but dinner - although now he’ll “have to [buy joe clothes] since that’s out now”. like ?????? First of all just because you “kinda lied” about buying Joe clothes does not mean that you now have to actually buy him clothes? And why did you lie about it in the first place? How badly do you want to buy this man clothes??? 🤨🤨🤨

So we spent the rest of the season completely confused about this story but just kind of accepting that Ja’Marr just says shit sometimes, who knows… and THEN in a groundbreaking (to me) interview with Tee, we learn that actually Ja’Marr has in fact bought Joe clothes: 

“Chase definitely gets Joe right. I’ve seen him buy clothes for Joe multiple times.” 

MULTIPLE TIMES??? and Tee has seen it for himself?? Which at this point means that Ja’Marr has now potentially lied about lying about buying Joe clothes?? For what purpose??? 

I have imagined and talked with beloved mutuals about what could be going on in this situation, presented here with varying levels of realism and hilarity: 

Ja’Marr has never bought Joe clothes and all the receivers are in on a big joke where they’re claiming that Ja’Marr buys Joe clothes just to fuck with him. Because it’s funny and why not.

Ja’Marr hadn’t bought Joe clothes before the interview, but had been planning on doing it and was so excited by the idea that he got ahead of himself and told GQ he was already doing it. And then “since it was out there” he had an excuse to start buying Joe clothes, with Tee as a witness. 

Finally back to the point of your ask (so sorry for all my rambling) and probably the most likely scenario - Ja’Marr tends to exaggerate and Joe tends to value his privacy. 

What I imagine is this, Ja’Marr has probably bought Joe clothes a few times. We already know that he’s bought him grills and he mentioned in a few interviews last season that he had bought Joe some pants. And probably a few more instances we don’t have details on. The man likes fashion and he likes Joe and it seems like he has a gift giving love language! He probably got excited and exaggerated a bit in the GQ interview because again, I’m sure Joe does not “always” ask Ja’Marr to shop for him lmao. And I wonder if the exaggeration is the part that Joe took exception to (if he even did! Joe’s never said anything about any of this! all we have is Ja’Marr’s word which we can NOT trust) - Joe likely doesn’t want the whole world thinking Ja’Marr buys ALL his clothes, he likes fashion too and I’m sure puts a lot of work into those game day outfits, even if Ja’Marr does help out sometimes. Plus he really doesn’t like sharing details about his relationships, even one as public as his friendship with Ja’Marr. (All he says is that he’s one of his best friends and they hang out all the time, Ja’Marr is the one giving details about UFC moves and going to Vegas together and keeping his stuff at his place etc etc). 

Joe likely gave Ja’Marr shit for how he phrased it and honestly sharing it with the world at all. Plus!!! I am always thinking about the timing of the article, coming out right when Joe’s appendix burst. I bet Ja’Marr was worried about his friend, felt bad about sharing some exaggerated details of their relationship, and simply decided to take ALL of it back. Because again, he really seems to only operate in extremes. So to make Joe feel better, instead of just clarifying his quote, he just decided to say ‘nope, sorry, that was a lie, never bought that man clothes in my life 😊' while Tee was probably at his locker listening to the interview like 🤨???

Anyway. that’s WAY TOO MANY words to answer your ask but please know I so appreciated getting it. Any excuse to ramble about these two as you can see!! 

[pillow-anime-talk]

music & vocaloids month ; third day.

synopsis: Being the manager of a six-member male group is not an easy thing. But you definitely wouldn’t trade your job for anything else!

# tags: scenario; manager/idol dynamic; manager!reader; caring!reader; fluff; comedy; mess & chaos; sfw

includes: female reader ft. rock down {vazzrock}

author’s note: manager!au? i’m in.

You sighed softly, rubbing both temples with your hands. The interview on the breakfast show was starting in a few moments, and most of the band were not ready and had the best time teasing each other or simply refusing to cooperate just like Ayumu.

As a experienced manager, you only looked at your smartwatch – five minutes and twenty-three seconds left, which is quite a lot of time, contrary to appearances. You immediately looked at Shou, who was the leader of this whole six-person kindergarten, and then at Gaku, who was by far the most thoughtful and calm of them all.

“... All right, guys. Focus, focus. Ruka, wear a waistcoat and pants. Don’t run around without clothes. You’ll still get sick.” You walked over to the young man, handing him his outfit for the day, then fixed his hair. “When the interview and performance are over, I’ll take you all out for a delicious dinner, so let’s be in tune tonight, shall we?”

“Yes, Y/N-san! Thank you~!” The man’s smile was sincere, and thoughts of food overshadowed his reluctance to appear on TV program.

Then you looked at the blue-haired and previously mentioned Ayumu sitting on an armchair in the corner of the room, to whom you also approached after a short while. Your warm hand adjusted the collar of his light-colored shirt, and moments later with your free hand you handed him his favorite candy bar covered in milk chocolate.

“After the interview, I’ll buy you another one, ‘kay?” You looked at him fondly, and the twenty-six-year-old nodded. Although Tachibana was an introvert and didn’t like crowds of people nor just talking to others, he felt completely safe and understood with you. Plus, he was getting sweets from you, even though you both knew he shouldn’t have eaten them so much.

Reiji and Haruto finished dressing and asked you to judge the outfits. All you said was that they look very good and manly as always, and will definitely attract the attention of the cameras this morning. Such words for the male idol were a kind of boost, so they smiled triumphantly, silently arguing about which one you like more.

“... What do you think about me, lady Y/N?” Shou asked as he spun around and you just giggled. He always called you per lady or miss.

“You definitely look wonderful. I told you that gloves would be perfect for your style.” Another smile appeared on your face and the leader just laughed, thanking you for the compliment. “All right, Gaku. Are you ready too?”

“I guess so, could you just tie a button on the back for me?”

“Yes, of course.” You quickly complied with the request of the tall, dark-haired member of the band, and then tapped him on the shoulder, thus signaling that he was ready.

Perfectly with the man’s thanks, the producer invited the whole ROCK DOWN onto the stage with two couches and a table full of snacks. So you smiled at all six of them, giving both thumbs up. Morning interviews were really important in the culture of jrock or jpop bands, so you wanted everything to go your way.

All six moved towards the exit of the locker room, but before they finally left it, each of them gave you a quick but sweet kiss right on the cheek. Stunned, you just shook your head in amusement and shouted a loud ‘Good luck!’ in their direction.

‘Maybe interviews aren’t so bad after all...?’ All six thought, then greeted the host with a low bow.

previous day ; jiro yamada from buster bros!!! ♡ next day ; meiko

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff/Reader - The One Where You Punch Tony Stark - Part One

Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || AO3 (Complete)

Summary:  When the rumors that you punched Tony Stark in the face spread around your school, some interesting events unfolded. Or enemies to Lovers in high School.

Warnings: 18+; Enemies to Lovers/ Angry Sex/ Underage Sex/ High School AU/ Violence/ Fights/ Inappropriate language.

Words:  19,905K (Complete)

//-//

Sometimes it is just a punch “ - Chapter One

Rumors at your high school were spreading like the plague. No one would really admit to talking about it, but everyone knew they were gossiping. Everything about this place seemed to irritate you deeply, from your stupid and petty classmates, with their idiotic social circles and narcissistic behavior, to the body of psychotics professors who seemed to take pleasure in embarrassing the students.

Fortunately, it was your senior year. You couldn't wait to get out of this place, to get away from this troublesome town.  You let out a grumble when you noticed two teenagers pressed up against your locker. Fucking hell, you thought impatiently as you walked up to them. Then you noticed who they were, and your irritation increased even more.

Golden boy, captain of the soccer team, arrogant pain in the ass, Steve Rogers, was kissing Sharon Carter against her locker. Sharon was a cheerleader, human barbie, and honestly, she used to be a nice girl in elementary school, then you guys grew up and she became an arrogant bitch.

- Really, Rogers, don't you have your own locker? - commented a voice next to you, before you could say anything. It was Natasha, your locker-mate, with whom you had at least three classes together. She was very closed off and didn't let anyone near her, always alone at school. But if you could guess, she was the closest thing you had to a friend in this place. Steve stopped kissing Sharon when he heard Natasha, and throwing his arm around the girl's shoulders, he smiled wryly at Nat.

- Take it easy, Romanoff. We were just making out. - He says, and then adopts a debauched expression. - You know what this is, right?

- Screw you, Rogers. - Natasha says without hesitation, Steve laughs ironically and then his gaze falls on you.

- What are you looking at? - He threatens, you roll your eyes. He then leaves, dragging Sharon through the halls. 

- Fucking idiot. - Nat grumbles when you are alone. You don't really know what to say, so you just stay silent as you open the locker to get your chemistry books. - I heard about Stark's party.

That's the problem with rumors. You didn't look at Nat, but shrugged. 

- What about Stark's party? - You tried to play along, but Nat let out a little giggle.

- Everyone is talking about how you punched him in the face. - She said, turning to you as she leaned against the now closed locker, two notebooks in her hand. You finished picking up your books and turned to her. - I just think it was cool. - You smile awkwardly, looking at the floor. Nat speaks after a moment. - Are you going to the game on Friday?

You blink in surprise at the question.

- I don't like football.

Nat chuckles.

- I'm not going to the game. - She says, and seeing your frown, she adds. - You know the skate rink a little way past the bleachers. I'm meeting some friends there. You can come if you like. - Nat says finally, winking at you before turning away, walking in the opposite direction of the corridor.

 You are very surprised that you have been asked to go out with Natasha Romanoff and the friends you didn't even know she had. Ignoring how awkward the interaction was, you make your way to the classrooms, heading towards the chemistry lab.

Professor Agatha Harkness has been your chemistry teacher since the first grade. She is extremely strict, and demands that her students work hard and cannot stand, or rather absolutely detests, sycophants. You laugh with the memory of the day when Steve Rogers tried to buy a higher grade by bringing her a Teachers' Day gift, and Ms. Harkness simply threw the package in the trash at the front of the room, saying that if he wanted to pass her class, he better study.

You took your place in the last chair, yawning slightly as you sat down. You were startled when your colleague in front, Darcy Lewis, turned in her chair to look at you.

- Can I help you? - you asked.

- I heard that you punched Tony Stark. - She said. - I think it's awesome. Finally someone wiped the pretentious smile off his face.

You smiled wryly. Darcy was one of the smartest girls in the class, and she had never really talked to you before. She returned your smile before turning forward again.

 You were distracted by the landscape outside, but you noticed when the room suddenly fell absolutely silent, and turned your face to find out what had happened. You felt your body tense with the intensity of anger you received in the gaze of Tony Stark, entering the room at that moment, a large purple mark in his left eye. He didn't stare at you for long, taking a seat in one of the front chairs with his friend James Rhodes. Many of the classmates began to whisper about the party, glances running between you and Tony. But the room fell silent as Ms. Harkness entered, and the students began to rush to their seats.

If there was one thing that Harkness hated more than sycophants, it was tardiness, so you weren't surprised that everyone in the room held their breath as they watched the Maximoff twins arrive late to class.

- What an honor the Maximoffs have decided to join my class. - She sneered as they walked to their seats. A few giggles were heard.

Pietro Maximoff was a member of the football team along with Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, and you guessed that's why he gave you an angry look before he sat down. You didn't really know the twins very well, but you knew that everyone knew them. 

While Pietro was extremely popular, and changed girlfriends like he changed clothes, his sister, Wanda Maximoff, was a member of the student council, as well as being the captain of the cheerleading squad. She was ridiculously beautiful, the kind that would bring boys crawling to her door. But you had never seen her date anyone, not that you really paid attention to Wanda anyway.

When Ms. Harkness started class, your mind wandered to lunchtime.

Your week went by too fast, you realized. With the final exam period approaching, you were spending a lot of time studying. Natasha didn't speak to you again all week, and you were beginning to imagine that the invitation to go out was your imagination, but then she smiled at you and told you that she hoped you could make it on Friday, and you just nodded, too surprised to say anything.

The school seemed to get even more unbearable on game days. The players were agitated and noisy, and disrupted all the classes. Also, the cheerleaders seemed to occupy every bathroom you entered, taking over the sinks with their makeup. 

You grumbled when last period finally came around. It was literature with Mrs. Hill, and she was probably the only teacher you liked.

It was hot, and you put your leather jacket on the chair as you stretched your body and raised your arms, lifting your shirt a little. You blushed in surprise as you noticed a girl you didn't know staring at you mischievously, her gaze drifting down to your waist tattoo, which had been visible for a moment.

She continued to stare at you brazenly, biting her lip, and you felt very uncomfortable. 

- Do you need anything? - you asked snidely. The girl was startled, and rolled her eyes in embarrassment, then turned to look away. - What the fuck was that. - you muttered to yourself, as you opened your notebooks.

You heard laughter, and raised your eyes, frowning as you felt your stomach flip at the vision of Wanda Maximoff throwing her head back as she laughed at something her partner said to her as the two of them entered the room. You blinked in confusion at your own reaction, quickly looking away. 

And then your lab partner for two years, Jessica Jones, with whom you had never exchanged a word that was not subject-related sat down next to you and asked how you were doing.

- I'm sorry, what's that? - You asked in surprise, but Jessica smiled.

- What's up with you? - she repeated, causing you to frown.

- Why are you talking to me? - you retorted, and Jessica just shrugged.

- I want to be friends with the girl who punched Tony Stark in the face. - She says simply, and you stare at her for a few seconds, not knowing exactly what to say.

- All right, then. - You say, turning your attention back to your materials. Jessica smiles before adjusting her posture to rest her head on her arms on the table. 

Professor Hill begins her class shortly after, and you reprimand yourself for letting your gaze wander to Wanda and then looking away. What the fuck is the matter with you today?

You were particularly focused on an exercise that didn't seem to make any sense when your classmate in front of you passed you a piece of paper. You looked around, seeing a small commotion, which indicated that the paper had been passed around the room. You frown, opening it.

- Ulala, you have an admirer. - Jessica teased, leaning yours shoulders together to read the paper. On it was simply written "want to make out? girls restroom, second floor". You laughed ruefully. - Are you going to accept?

- I don't even know who sent it. - You comment, looking around, but no one is looking at you. You quickly hide the paper to prevent the teacher from seeing. - Besides, it might just be a joke.

- Maybe. But the whole school is talking about you, so I think you might have suitors. - Jessica commented, writing in her notebook. - Besides, you're hot. It's not like no one notices you.

- Thanks. - You laughed, returning your attention to the exercise.

The class finally came to an end, and Jessica patted you on the shoulder, wishing you a good date even though she knew you weren't going, and you laughed, realizing it was a joke.

You were putting your notebooks away in your locker when school counselor Nicolas Fury approached you.

- Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Could we talk for a moment? - He asks, leading the way to his office. You sigh, knowing exactly what this is about, before nodding in agreement.

In Fury's office, you sit in the armchair opposite his desk, while he assumes his typical thoughtful position.

- I'll be straightforward, Y/N. - he begins. - I heard rumors about you getting involved in a street fight outside of school hours.

- Great choice of words, Fury. - You counter. - Out of school hours, and even off school grounds so I really don't understand why I'm here.

Fury smiles, crossing his legs.

- So you admit you were in a fight? You know as a counselor I need to warn your mother...

 - I admit nothing. - You cut without patience. - It's my word against the other gossips. 

The man lets out a chuckle before continuing.

- I imagine Anthony Stark's black eye was a domestic accident then?

You smile wryly, shrugging your shoulders.

- I think Tony Stark would rather say he hit his face against a wall than admit he got beaten by a girl, so I would put that in your report.

- Please, Y/N. - Fury asks with a serious expression. - If you tell me the reason for the conflict with Mr. Stark, I can find a way to help you.

You laugh, crossing your arms.

- The reason is that Tony Stark is an arrogant jerk who thinks he can do and say whatever he wants without consequences. - You say, and then stand up. - I don't have anything to tell you, and school hours are over. Excuse me, Mr. Fury.

You say before hurrying out of the room, annoyed by all the talk. Leaving the hallways, you roll your eyes at the excitement of your classmates, all of them heading for the soccer field, while the remaining team members in the hallway were applauded and patted on the back as if they were war heroes.

You were happy to remember your date with Nat and her friends as you walked out of the school.

Good thing I brought my jacket, was your first thought as you headed out to the skate park to meet Nat. You could hear the noise from the stands, which must have been packed since everyone in the school seemed to love football.

You had bought some French fries from one of the stalls set up for the game, and walked alone toward the park, around the iron bleachers.

A few minutes later you arrived at the skateboarding rink, observing the small group of people that was there. Nat waved to you as soon as she saw you, and you smiled.

- Hey, you made it. - She remarked as she approached. You waved. She turned to the group. - Guys, this is the girl I told you about, Y/N. 

You waved to everyone, who smiled at you.

- This is Clint, Laura, Thor, Valkyrie and my boyfriend Bruce. - Nat said, introducing everyone. You have never seen them at school. - They are owls.

Oh, that makes sense. You thought. They were all students at the state school that was two blocks away. Their mascot was an owl, and their team was your school's opponent in today's game. That's why they were all here.

You sat down with them, offering them some of the fries you had bought. You smiled as you noticed Nat sitting with Bruce, it was different to see her like this, completely comfortable and smiling openly.

Thor then stood up, a skateboard in his hand.

- Hey, Y/N, want to give it a try? - He suggested and you hesitated. You didn't really know how to skate. But Thor seemed nice and willing to teach you, so you nodded and stood up.

It was fun to learn from him. You laughed about the times you fell on your buttocks, and Thor seemed concerned about checking to see if you were all right. And when you got tired of that, you and he joined the group again, talking about various random things.

You eventually found out that Clint and Laura were already engaged to be married, and intended to move in together after college. You thought Thor and Valkyrie were boyfriend and girlfriend at first, but she commented that she hoped to meet more interesting girls in college. Also, Thor told you that he was applying to colleges outside of New York, wanting to be closer to his brother. Bruce wanted to go to medical school, and he and Nat were looking forward to sharing an apartment together. You told them that you had applied to colleges all over the country, that there was nothing really keeping you here. 

You spent the whole period of the game talking, and having fun. And then, when the fireworks went off from the stadium bleachers, you thought it was time to go.

The vast majority of the people had already gone home by the time you reached the stands, and then you thought you heard a noise. Investigating the source, you walked slowly around the iron construction, letting out an exclamation of surprise at the image you saw.

Tony Stark was wrapped around Steve Rogers in the passionate kiss. You wanted to laugh at the hypocrisy. You were going to leave in silence, because you didn't give a fuck about what these two were doing, but Tony pushed Steve away and opened his eyes, and then he saw you.

Assuming an aggressive posture, while Steve looked worried, he advanced toward you.

- What the fuck are you doing there girl? - He shouted, and you took a few steps back in surprise.

- You must be looking to get punched in the face again. - You retorted angrily, hiding your nervousness. You could fight, but being alone against Stark and Rogers, you might push your luck. 

- I think you'd better not tell anyone what you saw here. - He threatened when he approached you, Steve following close behind.

- You think I care if you're banging Rogers behind the locker room, Stark? Screw you. - You retorted in a provocative tone. Stark advanced on you, his fist raised, but Rogers held him back.

- You're out of your mind, it's a girl. - He spoke, shoving Tony away from you. 

- Listen to your boyfriend, Stark. - You teased last, reveling in Tony's anger.

Tony let out an irritated snort and jumped toward you again, but when Rogers grabbed him, he punched him in the face. You blinked in surprise, and then they started to fight, rolling on the ground.

What the fuck, you thought, frowning at the scene, and taking a few steps back to avoid being bumped into.

And then someone shouted, and you looked up from the fight to see Pietro Maximoff coming out of the locker room along with Wanda, and another boy from the team who you thought was named Bucky.

The boys ran to separate the two, and Pietro held Tony by the arms as Bucky stood in front of Steve.

- What the fuck are you guys doing? - shouted Pietro.

- It's all this crazy bitch's fault! - Tony shouted, pointing at you. You rolled your eyes as Pietro looked at you in confusion.

- Are you fighting over her? - he asked. And you burst out laughing when you understood.

- Oh, Maximoff, that's not the kind of fruit they like. - You sneered and Pietro had to hold Tony back to keep him from jumping on you. 

- Let's get them out of here. - Said Bucky dragging Steve away. Pietro nodded as he dragged Tony to the opposite side.

You frowned when you were left alone with Wanda, and she looked at you.

- Do you need something? - you said snidely, and Wanda let out a wry laugh.

- I don't know what your deal is, girl. - she said, stepping closer. - But I think you'd better leave my friends alone.

You laughed.

- What friends, Maximoff? - You countered. - Those kids are narcissistic sociopaths who will fuck anything that wears a skirt. And your brother is an asshole. You're just a trophy to them.

- You don't know shit. - Wanda spoke angrily.

- Try to stop behaving the way they want you to. - You provoked by taking a step forward. - One day of not being the perfect little lady that everyone thinks you are.

- You shut your mouth. - She retorted with fury in her eyes, and then she shoved your shoulders, making you laugh ironically. - Stay away from me.

- Oh but I can't wait to get out of this fucking school! - You shouted back, laughing wryly. - And I'll never have to endure Stark's little group ever again. But mostly, I won't have to deal with Miss Perfect Girl here, with her fake smiles and annoying comments. - You punctuated your sentences with your finger, as you approached Wanda, who was staring wide-eyed. You let out your breath through your mouth as you realized how close you were, and stared intensely at Wanda. - I hate you.

- I hate you too. - She whispered before breaking the distance between you.

You closed your eyes tightly, lifting your hands to Wanda's waist and squeezing. Wanda sighed against your mouth, and you took the opportunity to push your tongue against hers, moaning at the new sensation.

Feeling her whole body respond to the kiss, you pushed her, until she slammed her back against the locker room wall. You pressed your knee against Wanda's center, and she moaned against your lips, lifting her right leg and entwining it around your waist. You felt your body tremble in anticipation, and the new friction made you press Wanda tight against the wall.

You weren't thinking about anything. All you felt was Wanda. Her tongue circling in your mouth, stealing all the air from your lungs. You pulled your mouths apart to breathe, and moved your kisses down to Wanda's collarbone, which made her sigh. You kissed the skin, hard, marking her. The thought of her trying to hide those marks after that, stimulated you to suck. Wanda let out a loud groan, pressing her nails into your shoulder.

You brought your mouths together again, and let your hands run up the inside of Wanda's blouse. She was still wearing her cheerleader uniform, and you tried not to think about it so much.

Your hand reached her right breast, and you squeezed without hesitation.Wanda moaned against your mouth, and you kissed her hard as you pressed your bodies together.

She whimpered as you pushed your knee up, breaking the kiss to rest her head on your shoulder. You let out a wry chuckle, lifting her chin with your hand and forcing her to face you as you brought your mouths together again. This time you let your tongue play with hers slowly and sensually, making her shiver. 

And then you reached down into her blouse again, pulling down her bra. With her breasts exposed, you played with her hardened nipples, feeling Wanda rub against your knee. 

You lowered your hand around her waist, pulling up the fabric of her skirt. Your hand moved down to her now exposed ass, and you squeezed the flesh, pressing Wanda against you. The contact made you both moan with intensity.

When you interrupted the friction with your knee, Wanda grumbled at the lack of contact, but you kissed her firmly, one hand squeezing her neck, and she trembled completely. You released her ass, to run your fingers up her thigh, until finally you reached her pussy. 

Reaching up with your fingers to pull down Wanda's panties, you kept up the pace of the kiss, wanting to keep her distracted.

You found her pussy soaked, and moaned as you felt it. Massaging her superficially with just one finger, it didn't take long for Wanda to whimper, moving her hips in search of more contact.

She broke the kiss with a moan when you penetrated her without warning. You moved your hand from her breasts to grip her leg around your waist, seeing that the intensity of your touch was making Wanda shiver and lose her balance. 

You withdrew your finger and then sank in again, and Wanda rested her head on your collarbone, sighing breathlessly.

- I'm sorry, Wanda. But I won't be gentle. - You whispered against her ear before sticking two fingers in without warning.

Wanda cried out against your skin, completely surrendered. You didn't wait for her to get used to the sensation, moving your fingers immediately afterwards. She bit your shoulder to keep from moaning, and her hips began to move frantically against you next, trying to increase the speed. You smiled mischievously, following her request. 

It didn't take long for her body to quiver in spasms, you delighting in the feel of her pussy tightening against your fingers. A thrust or two later, and she came apart against you, letting out a sultry moan against your ear that made your own intimacy pulsate. 

You continued to stimulate Wanda's swollen clitoris even after she came, and she bit your shoulder, trying to normalize her breathing and stop shaking. She quickly lowered her hand to yours, asking you to stop your touch, and you gave her a dirty smile before moving your fingers up to your mouth, tasting Wanda's sweet flavor on your tongue. She looked at you with dilated pupils, and then moved forward, kissing you again and tasting herself in your mouth.

Kissing like this, she was soon ready for another. But you were interrupted, a hissing noise in the distance. You grumbled, pulling away, as you helped Wanda fix her clothes. 

- Who's there? The game is over! - says a voice. You knew it was the janitor, he had probably come to lock up the locker rooms. 

You and Wanda laughed as you ran past him, holding hands, while he yelled that you couldn't be there.

When you reached the parking area, you caught a glimpse of Rogers' car parked next to Pietro's car. The four boys were there, talking. They didn't see you.

Wanda also looked and then pulled you to the corner of the wall of the school building, hidden from the rest of the place. 

- I guess this is good-bye. - You commented, letting Wanda press you against the wall, as she slung her arms around your shoulders. You kept your hands on her waist. - It's a shame really. I wanted to make you cum in my mouth.

Wanda bites her lips, holding back a giggle as her eyes sparkle with mischief.

- It doesn't have to be the last time. - She says, bringing your mouths closer together.

- No, it doesn't. - You agree, closing the distance, meeting her in a slow kiss, while your hands press her ass into you.

- Hmmm, I should go. - She grumbles, breaking the kiss without pulling away. You bring your mouths together again, biting her lip gently, which makes her close her eyes and chase after your mouth, but you don't kiss her.

- You can go. - You play, squeezing her flesh again and pressing her against you.

- Fuck. - She whispers before kissing you again, one last time. 

You separate amidst giggles and stolen kisses. Wanda gives you one last look before walking toward the parking lot. You stand there against the wall for a while, your heart racing, with the promise that this would not be the last time.

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

The Critique of Manners, Part II

~Or~

A Candid Review of ITV's Emma (1997)

Disclaimer: I do know that both this and the Miramax version were released in 1996, but to avoid confusion, I refer to this one as the “1997 Emma” in reference to the US release date.

The bones of this review were written some six years ago after my initial viewing. I’ve watched it three or four times since then, two very recently (Within the past year). I’d started to soften on it in the most recent watch. So many people love it so much I thought surely maybe I’m just crazy or even wrong; until I found this blog post from 2008 (a year before my favorite version was released) that hit on almost EVERY SINGLE thing that skeeved me out about this version when I first watched it.

Like my previous review of Emma. (2020), I’ll be covering the cast and overall handling of the script in comparison with what I know from reading the book. I will also be commenting on my thoughts about the costumes (Whether they are attractive or accurate, or both, or neither) which will be a bit more in depth than it was for the 2020 version, and this will set a pattern for the costumes section going forward.

Directed by Diarmuid Lawrence with screenwriting by Andrew Davies (Or should I say “Written by Andrew Davies with direction by Diarmuid Lawrence”?), this version was  a fan-favorite among Janeites for many years for … well, reasons I’ve never been entirely certain of. I’ve read the book twice through and referenced pertinent passages MANY times besides, and really I don’t see what they’re raving about.

Let’s dive in.

Cast & Characterization

I’d known about this adaptation for a while, but I held off on watching it, largely for one reason: my apprehension about Mark Strong playing Mr. Knightley.

     I was concerned because when I watched this I had already seen Mark Strong as Sir John Conroy in The Young Victoria and as Lord Blackwood in Sherlock Holmes, both very unpleasant characters. But there have been several occasions when I expressed displeasure with casting choices only to eat my words when I actually watched the movie. So I entered into watching this with an optimistic outlook, sure that Mark and Kate would surprise me with brilliant performances. And I would like to say that they did, but that would be an untruth.

My biggest fear about Mark Strong playing Mr. Knightley was that his rebuking of Emma was going to be a watered down version of ‘RAAAWWWRRR’ that I was familiar with, specifically because of The Young Victoria. It’s very hard for me to see Mark Strong point his finger in Emily Blunt’s face and shout at her, and then watch him do the same thing with Kate Beckinsale (only somewhat less aggressively) and expect to feel all warm and fuzzy about their romance. I expected that to be a tall order. And it was. Whenever he raises his voice, the right side of his face pulls up into a snarl. Now since it does this no matter what role he’s playing I’m guessing that’s just how his face is. It’s not his fault really and it’s almost certainly unintentional, but I’ve seen that snarl before and it does NOT belong on Mr. Knightley’s face.

   Don’t ever think I don’t LOVE Kate Beckinsale, and I don’t necessarily think that my problems with this interpretation of Emma are her fault; these things very rarely fall on the shoulders of the actual actors, but those of the screenwriters and directors who guide them. However – and I am aware that this might sound a bit harsh – I would say that at points, Kate Beckinsale’s performance in this movie (In my opinion) barely outstrips community theatre or even very good high school drama club level acting. It seems to me that there’s burden on her here to sound historical or period. This lends to this interpretation of Emma feeling at once both cold and childish (more on that later.)

Her best moments are when she runs into Jane as Jane is leaving Donwell and when she speaks with Robert Martin at the end of the film. I always like scenes where Emma tacitly apologizes to Mr. Martin, and her feeling when she invites him to Donwell is Kate’s finest moment in this movie.

I found Raymond Coulthard’s Frank Churchill insignificant at first, but on repeat viewings I really started to hate him. I don’t think Austen intended Frank’s caddishness (to use more modern vernacular I’d say he’s an utter “Douche”) to be quite this obvious on first glance. He’s a creep in this version and Raymond Coulthard is just not at all attractive to me, from his big nose to his little shark teeth.

Olivia Williams was a good, even great, Jane Fairfax, and in my opinion does a much better job of portraying Jane’s vexation than, say, Polly Walker did (more on that next time), while still quietly looking like she’d like to arm-bar Frank rather than take his vulgar teasing lying down.

She also has the distinction of being the only Jane Fairfax who’s singing REALLY blows Emma’s out of the water, and I like that all of the songs she sings are in languages other than English (primarily Italian I think?). This achieves the double whammy of showing how much more accomplished she is than Emma by emphasizing that not only does Jane sing and play better, but she knows languages too.

Samantha Morton is a superb actress whom I love and I was sort of appalled at how she looks in this movie. Is she dying of a wasting illness? She looks like a gust of wind will carry her away, although since she looked the same in the 1997 Jane Eyre (In which she played the title role under similarly appalling direction) perhaps that was just her look that year?

Dominic Rowan, as Mr. Elton, is… there’s a perfect word to describe it and I just can’t think of it right now. Like every other young man in this movie (other than Robert Martin) he’s got this feeling of skeeviness to me but it’s more than that. It’s a dweebie-ness as well. This is so dissatisfactory to me because Mr. Elton is supposed to have every appearance of charm and agreeableness, with his only obvious fault being his over-eagerness to ingratiate himself to Emma and some rather vulgar locker-room type talk about marrying for fortune. He’s just so… (I’ve hit upon it now after some discussion with my sister) dingy. He looks less like a “very handsome young man” who “knows the value of a good income” and more like the kind of guy that scrubs up okay, but still you can tell from the rumple of his clothes and the pizzaroni odor wafting from him that he lives in his mom’s basement.

The shining star for me in this production was Alistair Petrie as Robert Martin. I love him as an actor and especially after watching him in Cranford, I think he was an excellent choice for Harriet’s Mr. Martin.

Davies wrote the character to be a little more romantic (Actually buying Anne Radcliffe’s The Romance of the Forest, where originally Mr. Martin was supposed to forget to – something Emma uses as a mark against him to prove how he will age into an “gross vulgar old farmer” who is “obsessed with profit and loss”.)

I especially like an inserted scene where Mr. Martin, working in his field, sees a distressed Jane Fairfax from afar as she is walking home (I think from Donwell). I thought it drew an interesting parallel between two emotionally wronged characters that otherwise would have no interaction.

What’s with Mrs. Elton (Lucy Robinson)? I don’t think nearly enough people question this. I’ve seen it explained away as her being from Bristol and trying to make herself sound more hoity-toity to hide the fact that she’s New Money. I’m not positive on what a Bristol accent sounds like (For that is where Augusta Hawkins is from) but… this sounds like an American trying to sound posh. At some points she almost sounds Texan. It’s all very confusing, because the actress is British.  

Prunella Scales lists among her achievements being an outstanding actress and comedienne, as well as bringing into the world Samuel West, one of my all time favourite British screen crushes. She's probably best known for her work on Fawlty Towers, so its interesting to see her range as much less inscrutable Miss Bates. Her performance is by the book, but so much more engaging than Constance Chapman's 1972 offering, although i find her perhaps a shade too placid. She lacks a certain nervousness that I associate with the character (for more information, see my previous review.)

As for Bernard Hepton as Mr. Woodhouse, I can only say I. Didn’t. Like. Him. I have every consciousness of this being a personal bias. I have seen him play too many insufferable characters in too many things to like him as Emma’s lovable if tiresome father. This isn’t a knock on him or his performance; his reaction to Mrs. Elton is some great subtle visual comedy, this is just a me thing.

Another one of the better characterizations, though a relatively small role, is John Knightley. Played by Guy Henry, he is shown to be a good father, and an “Gentleman-like man”, with just the right blend of good humor and caustic comments.

Sets & Surroundings

I’d never paid MUCH attention to or questioned the houses and interiors used for estates in Austen adaptations until the 2020 version of Emma used such ridiculously lavish houses for relatively provincial gentry it forced me to sit up and pay attention. I think the houses used in this version are mostly suitable.

The part of Donwell Abbey’s exterior is played by Sudeley Castle in Gloucestershire. The Key words for Donwell from the text are “rambling and irregular” and while perhaps not as big as the Former Claremont House (Which, it is believed, was Austen’s inspiration for Donwell Abbey) it definitely is a suitable architectural style and situation and furthermore, having been purchased in the 19th century by a glove manufacturer and having been up to that point left in a little bit of a state of disrepair, fits the “neglect of prospect” Austen describes as well. Its interiors are a cobble-work of the Great Hall at Broughton Castle (Oxfordshire), various rooms at Stanway House (Gloucestershire), and the Strawberry beds at Thame Park (Oxfordshire)

(Top, left – Sudeley Castle; Bottom left – Trafalgar Park; Right – Dorney Court)

Trafalgar Park in Wiltshire and its interiors (a minty sage-green drawing-room fitting in perfectly with the mint-chocolate – primarily chocolate – color palette of the production) played the role of the Woodhouse’s home, Hartfield. A typical Georgian style house in red brick, I believe is consistent with Austen’s description of a “well built, modern house”.

Dorney Court in Buckinghamshire was used for Randalls, Mr. Weston’s recently purchased estate. It’s a Tudor style red brick house and it looks pretty on the mark from the front facade, but I think it’s still too big for a “small estate” with only two guest rooms (Although there’s no panic about the snow in this version – perhaps because it’s already snowing when they set out.)

My biggest problem is the lighting of this movie. I understand natural lighting and I LOVE it when you can even it out – but it is so dark in the evening scenes that it adds to the colorlessness of an already colorless production.

Fashion

Oh Jenny Beavan. You are a well-respected costume designer with good reason. However, I know that most of these costumes are rentals, but why is every-fucking-thing in this movie a shade of brown, beige or green?

As you can see, a rich tapestry of brown and beige. And this isn’t selective. this is (just about) every day-wear outfit in the movie (barring repeats and a few exceptions that I’ll give mention to below.)

Emma’s outerwear is brought to you by Hershey’s Chocolate. Also I’m not certain but I think  that her light brown redingote is the same one as Elinor’s in the 1995 Sense and Sensibility? If anyone can confirm, drop it in the comments.

Perhaps the evening wear will be more colorful?

Barely – Mrs. Weston in a brownish orange; Mrs. John Knightley in an orange-ish brown; Emma gets a dark blue? Or is that just the wintery glow from the window on a dark green velvet? Green (either so dark it’s almost black, or washed-out mint) appears to be the only color Emma is allowed to wear other than brown or ivory/white. Even her gown for the Crown Inn Ball (upper right) is an underwhelming and rather dingy ivory. The champagne number she wears for Christmas at Randalls is not only lack-lustre, but also sports what I’m now calling a “Bridgerton Bust” (where the Empire waist comes up too high, with the seam apparently resting across her bust rather than under it.)

The pink frock (seen properly only from the back) on Mrs. Weston is as close to real color as a main character gets in this production, and can be recognized as one of Jane Bennet’s dresses from the previous year’s Pride and Prejudice.

Even Jane Fairfax doesn’t get a break. Rather than putting her in Jane Fairfax Blue ™ (honestly, Jane Fairfax being costumed in blue is so consistent at this point Crayola should just name a crayon in her honor - this is gonna come back in future reviews) she gets a black-green evening number with no trim at all, and a succession of what the Ladies over at Frock Flicks like to call the “Dumpy Regency Little White Dress”, or drab gray-blues.

Some of the background dancers in the Crown Inn Ball scene get to wear pink! Why not put Harriet in a nice pink frock for this scene?! Why is this so difficult?!

Strawberry picking at Donwell is the only time main characters are consistently wearing identifiable colors that aren’t brown or green: Mrs. Weston in pink, Miss Bates in (oddly the most colorful dress of them all) a nice refreshing lavender blue; Jane gets grey/blue and Mrs. Elton, a pastel mint. Harriet is also given a little break in Mrs. Elton’s introduction scene in a (very) pastel blue frock, while Emma sports white (with a trademark green shawl.)

So how about the...

Similarly dull. I almost screamed for joy when I saw that Frank’s jacket was actually blue, and a vibrant blue at that. (The red is too close to brown, I’m sorry.)

So yes, in short the costumes, while perfectly technically accurate (I didn’t get a lot of caps of them but the trousers sufficiently tight, not that I care to look), are drab as a peahen.

As always I’ll outsource any dancing critique by linking Tea With Cassiane on YouTube, since I find her insights on the approach to dancing in Austen adaptations just fascinating and I would like to share such witty and informed reviews.

The Andrew Davies of it All…

*Strong Opinions Ahead*

There are so many reasons why this adaptation isn’t for me. First of all the very idea of making Emma, one of Austen’s most socially complex works (certainly her most vivid) into a sparse 107 minutes is baffling to me. Perhaps I can understand if it’s a Theatrical release but this is a TV production. Why not at least make it a two part special?

And besides the issue that, in order to make this fit the time frame, the story is severely truncated, there’s… the Andrew Davies of it all.

I have some issues with Andrew Davies’ screenwriting for this adaptation particularly. A LOT of issues. Where does one start? I think Knightley is a good place.

It’s not just the casting I don’t like here; but it does say something to me that they chose Mark Strong for this role. It’s a casting decision I discovered with disbelief when I first saw clips from this version in a Period Drama men compilation video on YouTube. I mentioned above that I know Mark Strong as unpleasant characters with man-handling habits. That’s the kind of role Mark Strong is associated with because that’s just what he does well. And I think this played into the casting here, because Davies’ interpretation of Knightley is a bit… fierce. He shouts SO MUCH in this movie and in scenes like the Harriet Smith debacle (where Mr. Knightley of the book even gets a bit angry with Emma) I can understand this, perhaps. But in the book Mr. Knightley takes many pauses to collect and calm himself, because his goal is not to quarrel with Emma but to argue a point. 97 Knightley takes no such pauses and spends the whole scene in what some might call an escalating rage.

Knightley’s cheerful arrival to Hartfield to tell Emma that Robert Martin intended to propose to Harriet is cut out so we start right off with his indignant exclamation of “She refused him?!” and it’s all go from there. To make matters worse, Emma’s own arguments are crippled by Davies’ editing. Many of her more (what might even latterly be considered “feminist”) arguments are cut out. In fact once Knightley gets going, he juggernauts his way through all of his rebukes and speeches from the book, but Emma hardly gets a word in edgewise after arguing that Robert Martin is not Harriet’s equal. What Austen wrote as a heated debate is turned by Davies into a one-sided tirade. (By don’t take my word for it, watch the clip.)

The final cherry on top is having Emma, after Knightley leaves the room with the last word firmly in his grasp, childishly pout “You are wrong Mr. Knightley, and you will see you are wrong and then you will be sorry.” I half expected her to cross her arms and stomp her foot. Worth noting is the fact that Davies adds an additional “It was badly done. Emma,” in this scene where there was none in the book. Rather overkill to my mind. Is this his catchphrase?

At Box Hill, Davies has Knightley begin his climactic rebuke of Emma’s insulting behavior by grabbing her arm and hauling her aside, and concludes by leading her, still holding her arm, to the carriage. Well at least he doesn’t shout at her in this scene; but again, all but one of Emma’s responses are cut out and she stands there, pouting until Mr. Knightley leaves and then she bursts into tears.

When Mr. Knightly proposes to Emma I was feeling good about this scene, until he dropped the “I held you when you were three weeks old” line, and I immediately felt uncomfortable. Maybe you DON’T want mention how you held her when she was a baby after you asked her to MARRY you. But perhaps worse is Emma’s response to the line: “Do you like me as well now as you did then?”

Bringing up holding Emma when she was three weeks old at the proposal (A line which was not in the book) is bad enough but there seems to be a peculiar repeated emphasis on Knightley recalling Emma as a baby. He dragged it up previously when he and Emma make up after the Harriet debacle, as he holds John and Isabella’s baby daughter (whose name, I would mention, is Emma.) In this instance too, the line is a Davies addition.

Let’s talk about Knightley’s strawberry line.

This is delivered in voice-over as a transition to the strawberry picking party at Donwell, and is portrayed as a formal invitation: “Mr. Knightley invites you to taste his strawberries, which are ripening fast.”

At first I was confident that I was reading too much into this (but I think at this point I can safely say that I’m not). I can’t help bursting out laughing every time I hear that line. It was a questionable way to word that if you ask me, especially considering that this is (once again) NOT the line in the book, and it was NOT a formal invitation. It was said to Mrs. Elton and intended to be a joke.  

“You had better explore Donwell then,” replied Mr. Knightly “That may be done without horses. Come and eat the strawberries; they’re ripening fast.”

   ‘ If Mr. Knightly did not begin seriously, he was obliged to proceed so...’

   And here I thought Janeites hated adaptations that cut out “Miss Austen’s biting wit.”

To top it all off, we have Frank Churchill (Who I have already pointed out is a bit of a creep in this adaptation and even more detestable than he already was as Austen wrote him) praising Jane: this would be fine, if he wasn’t drooling into Emma’s ear about the turn of Jane’s throat, (He actually utters this line)

and how fine his dead aunt’s jewels will look against her skin. May I just be the first to say “Ehewhegaugh”.

I juxtapose this with the book where Frank's lines are almost exactly as Davies renders them, except Jane Austen never wrote the "have you ever seen such a skin?" Line. The difference i have highlighted in bold:

"... She is a complete angel. Look at her. Is she not an angel in every gesture? Observe the turn of her throat. Observe her eyes as she looks up at my father. --- You will be glad to hear that my uncle intends to give her all my aunt's jewels. They are to be new set. I am resolved to have some in an ornament for the head. Will it not be beautiful in her dark hair?"

Because talking about how pretty your fiancee's hair is, is normal and marginally less creepy than talking about what a fine skin she has or how lovely your (i cannot stress this part enough) dead aunt's jewels will look against it. Davies' script also makes no mention of having them reset, which makes me think he’s talking about the actual necklaces and bracelets Mrs. Churchill would have worn.

But hey, maybe its just a me thing.

Harriet Smith’s story suffers, primarily, I can with some candor admit, due to the time constraints. After Mr. Elton is married, we never see Harriet in any distress. It’s almost as though she’s forgotten all about it! Emma never has to appeal to her to exert herself or to move on. Perhaps this is better than Doran Godwin’s Emma gaslighting Harriet and manipulating her by constantly chastising her for… well general heartbreak (but that’s a bugaboo for a different review.)

My last complaint of note is that ludicrous harvest feast at the end of the movie. The whole concept of this scene just does not seem at all Janely to me. I was under the impression that I was meant to be watching an Austen. Not some bullshit Thomas Hardy knock-off. This is another Davies touch and I hate it more on the principal that it is one of his numerous, obsessive tweaks made solely to point out the existence of the lower classes.

If Davies wanted to show Mr. Knightley’s being an attentive landlord and gentleman farmer then I don’t see why he couldn’t just show Knightley actually running his farm?

“Okay’, you might say, “but I think the highlighting of the servants is to show how good Knightley is by treating them like real people compared to everyone else”, and I hear you. And in the situations where that is the case, like him greeting the Woodhouse’s butler and asking after his family I think that’s totally fine and in character. But things like the servants moving the knee cushions every time someone moves down the line at strawberry picking, to me, is AS ridiculous as the “servants clipping the lawn on their hands and knees with tiny scissors” trope. Like we get it, people took the lower classes for granted, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that it would be easier and more realistic to have Mrs. Elton have to move her own knee cushion. I don’t think Knightley would instruct his servants, who he treats so well, to do that kind of thing, but you could write in Mrs. Elton’s expectation of it if you wanted. It seems like the kind of thing she would expect the landed gentry to do.

Screenwriter for some of the best loved Austen’s (including the sacrosanct 1995 P&P Mini-series and my favorite Sense & Sensibility), I thought of Davies for years as untouchable; until Sanditon happened and left everyone who knows anything about Jane Austen really wondering where this mess came from. I put it to you now that it was there in Davies all along.

Davies admitted, when talking about the drastic “Sexing Up” he did in Sanditon that he felt Austen’s works could have done with a bit more sex appeal. I can hardly disagree and additions like Darcy’s little swim in the pond and Edward Ferrars’ angsty wood-chopping are welcome and beloved. But it seems that what he really wanted all along was what he gave us in Sanditon; and finally, without actual source material to stand in his way, he had a chance let his dirty old man show and gave “Austen” the sexing up he thought it needed.

And it gets more troubling as you look back.

In my opening paragraph to this review I mentioned a 2008 blog post that not only agreed with me that there’s something very off about this screenplay, but gave me some possible insights as to why. It points out numerous things that I have always questioned in this version but have never seen anyone else criticize (though I am informed that more recently it has gained its’ share of critics). In fact the post itself actually points out that almost no one in the Austen Blog-sphere had (at that point) criticized this version’s faults in any meaningful way, but my favorite thing about it is that it points out what you find in Davies’ screenplay if you pay careful attention to it “Rather than sitting there and cataloguing what is “technically faithful and whatnot”.

Many Austen bloggers have kind of been playing Miss Taylor to Davies’ Emma for some two decades and change.

The most troubling thing of all is Davies own comments on Mr. Knightley (and other things, more inferred in his screen play). All of the aspects of this interpretation of Knightley that I mentioned earlier seem to stem from the fact that, as quoted in Sarah Caldwell’s book on his works, Davies thinks there’s “Something odd going on with Knightley.”

Davies clearly reads foul, or at least questionable, intentions in Mr. Knightley but I find it interesting that, rather than cutting out material he may have found troubling about Knightley in the book out of his screenplay, he doubled down by adding MORE troubling lines and situations (that were never in the book at all, and imagined solely by himself) in a romantic story with a happy ending.

Perhaps there’s not so much something odd going on with Knightley, Mr. Davies, but with you.

Final Thoughts

At this point I might ask what it is that everyone sees in this version that makes them think it’s so perfect, but that would be a bit pointless since all I’ve read since I discovered this version is people on elaborating on just that and I don’t care to hear much more.

“The lines are verbatim!” textually, perhaps, but it’s the ones that added that trouble me.

“The leads have so much chemistry!” I’m glad you think so, but I can’t find it.

“The costumes are damn near perfect!” And brown. So, so very brown.

As a 90's TV period drama, this version is pretty standard. It sticks to the book (except in those places where the screenwriter saw fit to dabble with some subtle but troubling suggestions about the characters.) And if it floats your boat, as always I'm glad it gives you what you want from the story.

I know I hold unpopular opinions on Jane Austen adaptations, and perhaps this is one of them, but every time I watch this version I feel the need to read the book as a cleanse. Perhaps Davies’s ferocious Knightley was simply a pendulum swing reaction to Douglas McGrath’s almost too laid back interpretation in the Miramax film from earlier in 1996, but even if that’s the case it’s just uncalled for and is my biggest turn off for this film.

Tone: 3

Ribbon Rating: Badly Done! (40 Ribbons)

Casting: 5

Acting: 6

Scripting: 4

Pacing: 2

Cinematography: 4

Setting: 3

Costumes: 5

Music: 2

Book Accuracy: 6

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (7)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

Twinkle twinkle little star...

How I wonder what you are...

You hear this refrain as you try to escape him. You run desperately through these long corridors that follow each other and collide like an endless Labyrinth. But the more you advanced the more you heard that voice.  

Hold your breath and count to ten...

Praise your Lord it’s soon the end...

You suddenly find yourself in front of a dead end. It's getting closer... A sinister sneer was heard.

Twinkle twinkle little star...

Time for you to fall and ... DIE.  

A white mask appears in front of you with a knife in his hand. You wake up startled and sweaty, panting and putting a hand on your chest. Then a sigh of relief, all this was a nightmare. Since your conversation with Ghostface, this nightmare haunts you, this feeling of insecurity, knowing that it could appear at any time to kill you... it was horrible.

You're watching your alarm clock, 9:30. Fortunately for you, it's your day off, you have to take your day too, right? You stretch for a long time before heading to the bathroom to pass some water over your face.

“Come on, I've been through a lot worse than being the target of a fucking lunatic. He said that, until I tell the police, he won't kill me. He will eventually forget me, I'm sure... At least, I hope so.”  

After you get dressed you leave the bathroom to prepare breakfast, then you sit in front of the television to find out the news of the day. As you listened to the news, your eyes turned to the pictures hanging on the walls.  

A photo catches your attention in particular: Your parents sit at the beach, your mother holding you in her arms, your father smiling with all his teeth fresh bottles of beer in his hand. it was your uncle who took this picture and gave it to your mother as a souvenir. Then she gave it to you.

No brothers and sisters, you're an only child. But you didn’t have the feeling of solitude that all the unique children had because your parents have always been there. You shake your head, your eyes closed, then you get up to kiss the photo softly before sitting back on the sofa.  

The information is quite repetitive nothing new, nor interesting. You change channels until you stumble upon a series, when someone knocks on the door. given the force in the door knocks, it could only be Mrs. Lawson who surely brought you your mail. or cookies.

“Mrs Lawson! Do you need something?” you said with a bright smile.  

“Oh no my dear...in fact, I made cookies and I thought you would like to have some. I’ve followed your advices and James loves them more than before!” She responds with a laugh holding you a packet full of cookies.  

“Well thanks! But please come in! I’ll make some tea! Earl Gray, I presume?  

“Yes, Thank you sweetheart. What a lovely home you have! It's really different compared to the ancient tenant. He was always absent and this place was the kingdom of dust. Excepted for the bedroom and the bathroom, he never cleaned anything here.”

“Ewwww...Fortunately for him I wasn’t living here with him, otherwise I'll kick his ass for being such lazy. Don’t worry that’s not my case! This is and will stay as clean as the first day!” you said as you prepared and put the tea on the table. “You and Mr Lawson are a lovely couple; how did you meet him?”

“Oh, James and I, we've known each other since we were kids, we’re going to the same school. He was playful and a little impatient. But he was a loyal friend and his kindness was endless. And I'm not talking about the charm he had with women. The only flaw I can find is that he is often distracted and it's not new, I can’t remember how many times he goes to the infirmary. Then we each made our way... and 41 years ago, to the day, we dated. And since then, I've never left him. At 71 and 72 years old we still have the spirit we had when we were 30!” She chuckles before taking a sip of her tea.

“Well, your Kids must be proud to have parents who have loved each other so much all this time as you. And your grandchildren too! “

“oh, if only I had...Unfortunately, I am sterile and we have never been able to have children... but James never abandoned me even for that.”

“Oh...I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to...” You said really embarrassed.  

“It’s nothing. Is this your family on those photos? Your parents must be proud to have a beautiful and kind girl like you. I envy them so much. It must have been difficult for them to see their little girl leave the house...I'll hope you call them sometimes to reassure them.”

You remain silent on her last words. The situation is...complicated and too many things come to your mind. Things you'd rather have forgotten forever. And others you want to keep until your last day. You talk for a few more minutes with Mrs. Lawson, whom you learned during the discussion that her name was Meredith, before she left your apartment smiling and more lightly having someone to talk to when her husband is not there.

You put everything in the sink to wash it, and the packet of cookies in one of the kitchen closets, where all your treats are usually located. But shhh... It's a secret. Then you look at the piece of paper on your fridge which is Jed’s number.  

He gave it to you when needed. But you don't want to disturb him, risk his life. After all what will Ghostface do if he ever realizes that Jed is also in confidence? he said he would not kill him as it was because of him that he was the star of Roseville. But if he ever realizes that he knows far too much... You shake your head, preferring not to think in what state he might leave that poor Jed if the urge to kill him took Ghostface.

You head to your room, to look at the different dresses you had for the reception. Jed and his colleagues have warned you that proper dress is required once there and everyone knows that for the rich, proper dress means for us an outfit bordering on the overpriced.

“well then, what do I have in there that could do the trick? This one? No, too eccentric. Maybe this one? Hm... No, too flash, if I want to look like a traffic light this dress is perfect. Oh, maybe this one! No no no, too English schoolgirl...”

You looking during 30 minutes before giving up. None of these dresses will fit darling, you'll have to buy one... luckily you were saving for this kind of situation. A clothing emergency doesn't prevent!  

You take your bag before leaving the apartment, determined to find this dress. The one that not only will allow you not to get thrown out, but that may impress Jed. Hold on... What?

“But what am I thinking... Remains serious mollusc brain! Jed is your neighbour, nothing more! Even if he has a rather pleasant physique to look at, an angel face and eyes... Ahhhh his eyes... but what's wrong with me???”

“huh...You’re okay?”  

Note to yourself: never talk alone or we'll think you're crazy. You turn to face Jed, looking at you a little worried but also surprised. You laugh slightly embarrassed when trying to find your words. Good luck.

“Oh Jed! Hum yes, I'm fine! I was just...going outside...” you start before sighing “sorry... I'm going out for an emergency dress. For the reception. Unfortunately, I have none that will allow me not to find myself outside at the entrance...”

“I suspected it a little ... Then... I thought you'd like it.” He said holding a packet to you.  

“oh Jed...You shouldn’t...I can’t, really...” you replied before open the package pulling out a beautiful purple dress. “She’s beautiful. How do you know that was my favourite color?”

“I didn’t know. But... I thought you'd be the only person worthy of wearing her in this town.”

“Thanks...You know what? Tonight, I'll pay you for the restaurant! And I insist! If you refuse, no more cakes.” you laugh.

“Yes, ma'am. I give in to such a threat, I care too much about your cakes for that.” he said raising his hands in the air, laughing too. “See you tonight then”. He replied before leaving. You look at the dress while going home.  

That won't stop you from buying one for tonight. Well, it will not be a luxury dress either, but at least enough to be presentable. Brushing your hair a little won't be too much either. Because I doubt that, being dressed in sweatshirts and jeans is the best idea of the century. And above all... be careful. No inappropriate topics and no questions too personal.

You fold and store the purple dress in an empty locker in your wardrobe before you go out to buy tonight's dress. you take the opportunity to go to the café to check that nothing has been stolen or vandalized. You make at least three clothing stores before you find your dress: black with white and red floral pattern with very short sleeves. Simple, soft but effective. On the way you met Lindsey, the florist who, thanks to you, saw her clientele increase.

In the evening, dressed and coiffed, you and Jed left the building to go to dinner. From a distance, we might think you're a young couple dating. You both agreed to a Chinese restaurant, one of the best in Roseville. While eating you were discussing about everything and nothing... let's say you ask more questions about him than he does about you.

“I never thought you'd have had so many adventures... But... I want to know more. I want to know about little Jed Olsen, the pure boy from Florida.” you said eating a spring roll.  

“Well, I don't see what more I could tell you about me... When I was little, the other kids thought I was...weird. And they made fun of me because I was the "chouchou" of the school, the poor and weak Jed Olsen. As I told you before, my parents considered me as a mistake. You suspect that they were not going to defend me... they were acting in front of everyone but then...” he responds taking a sip of wine.

“I’m sorry... I don't understand how they can be so horrible with a child...Look at you today! You have a job, a fairly stable situation, you are a beautiful young man... and they miss all that. Just because you're a mistake to them.”

“I managed on my own as soon as I could. I had to have... 15/16 when I emancipated myself. it wasn't easy, but it taught me two or three things. But let's talk about you. Miss Rainbow.”

“hey I had the prettiest rainbow dress! my mother and I had spent a whole day doing it. And it paid off. Otherwise, I don't have much to say either. A normal life... a teenager... almost normal. A mundane life in short. And then I wanted to fly on my own. To create something personal. That's why I moved here.”

“And how did your parents react? I guess they must have cried when they saw you leave the family nest.”

“It’s...complicated. I don’t wanna talk about that. For now.”

He simply nods before eating again. After paying the bill for both meals, you leave the restaurant with Jed, laughing at one of his work anecdotes. Although he remains shy about some things, Jed seems more comfortable with you. As you were about to return to the car, several men stood in front of you, armed with iron bars. Instinctively you take Jed's hand and squeeze it tightly.

“What do you want?” Ask Jed calmly.

“Nothing to do with you, redhead. The boss has a message for her. So, get out of there, or you're going to taste my bar.” respond one of them.  

“Ready to run?” Jed replied looking at you holding tightly your hand. When you nod, he hits hard enough in a trash can to send it over your aggressors before pulling you by the hand to escape. “Come on! This way!”

“GET THEM BOYS !!!” Scream one of them.

You follow Jed blindly, while memorizing the path taken in case you manage to sow them to return to the car. After a while you find yourself in a dead end, your pursuers getting closer little by little.

“What do we do now???” you ask panicked and breathless.

“... Give me a hand." He responds pushing a big trash can.  

Placing it so that you could pass on the other side of the wall, you were about to go up when Jed took your hand shaking his head. He hit the lid of the trash can loud enough with his hand to make your assailants, who were getting closer and closer, believe that you were actually climbing the wall. Then taking your hand, he walked down a narrow and closed alley, hiding you both deep so that no one would see you.

Jed beckoned you to remain silent, before taking a light look, hearing the assailants stop in front of the wall. By pure reflex, you tighten against him, your arms tightening around his waist, your face buried in his torso.

“Shit! They managed to escape! Goddamnit, the boss is going to be mad.” said the one of the assailants.

The band leaves after a few minutes. Jed looked at you surprised before smiling slightly and patting your shoulder.

“They’re gone...We can go now. Are you alright?” He asks with a smile.

“Y-yeah... I'm sure it's that guy... McKellan who hired these guys. it seems that he wants more than to send me a message...” you start to say before blushing and releasing Jed. “Sorry...W-we should go home now.”  

You go back to your car, re-borrowing the road and finally go home. What a night! The fear of being attacked at your home wins over you and, while Jed is about to return to his apartment wishing you good night, you stop him by taking his arm.

“Wait! I... I don’t feel safe to sleep alone at home tonight. Can you...can you just stay with me? Promise it will be the first and the last time.”

“Well... if it makes you feel better... Why not.” responds Jed with a smile while Danny smiles devilishly. You let the wolf enter in the sheepfold? Poor you, you don’t know what you do. Even if he sleeps on the sofa, he can now explore better your home.  

You both enter your apartment and prepare something to sleep on the couch for Jed. He didn't mind, he used to do it with work. You take the opportunity to show him where the coffee is and what to eat if he ever gets up before you tomorrow morning.

“Are you sure you don't mind?” you ask.

“Don’t worry. I'll try not to make too much noise. Rest well and relax. I’m here. Good night...and thanks for the restaurant.” he responds with his angelic smile.

“...Good night Jed.” you replied, kissing him on the cheek unwittingly.

You blush when you see him put his hand on his cheek, surprised, and quickly go to your room by closing the door. Your gesture will not remain inconsequential... Maybe it's going to affect your fate. In a way you'll never dare think about it.

***

(Done! I’ll wish you a Merry Christmas to all of you! In these difficult times, nothing beats the Christmas holidays to find some joy and not think about what is happening now! fingers crossed that the year a month is better than this one! If you have questions for me or if you just want to talk, just do!  See ya! )

[sophielovesbarnes]

All or Nothing

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Winchester!reader

Warnings: none yet

Author note: Hello! ❤️ so this idea has been running on my mind for months and I hadn’t brought myself to write it, but due to the COVID my classes are cancelled which has me with a lot of spare time in my hands.

The story will make a kind of crossover with Supernatural, pretty much I will be using some of the characters in a AU.

Please let me know what do you think and dm me if you want to be tagged.

Chapter one.

You’ve always loved this; the adrenaline that rushes through your veins when you are thrown into the air and you fly so high that it feels like you are going to touch the stars, the excitement that fills you with every jump, the rush you get when you listen to the joyful voices that surround you, cheering every move you make, the smile on your teammates' faces that assures you that they are as passionate about this as you are.

These are the great things about being a cheerleader, things that not many people see or understand; you’ve been called vain, bimbo, basic, the thing is that you don’t people that have never felt this emotion will ever understand.

They won’t understand the sacrifices needed to get there, to make every move coordinated, the weeks of practice behind fifteen minutes on the stage; they wouldn’t understand the permanent calluses and blisters covering your feet and hands, feeling your muscles so weak as noodles after practice, the hours of training devoted everyday, the sweat, the blood and the tears; but those fifteen minutes, God, they made you feel like heaven.

**

After the music ends, signalling the end of the halftime you and your squad head back to the edge of the field, waving hello and throwing kisses back and forward.

When you finally reach your bench, you throw yourself to your water bottle and feel the relief of it’s cold contents hydrating your throat.

"It went well." Ingrid says, you can see her chest going up and down rapidly and short black hairs sticking to her sweaty forehead. "Truth be told I really thought I was gonna mess up that basket."

"Double kicks are a bitch." You agree and take one last sip from your water bottle, after you both catch your breath and both football teams are on their spot ready to start the next time you put down your bottle and grab your pom poms, preparing yourself to keep everyone's spirits up until the end of the game. "Ready?"

"Let’s do this." She smiles, and you both go back to position chanting and cheering for your team.

Forty-five minutes later, the crowd erupts into claps and screams when your team scores their last touchdown making them victors of this game, the squad jumps into hugs celebrating your victory.

The game is over and everyone starts to abandon the bleachers, so you take your bag and head to the locker rooms followed by the rest of the team, discussing what went well and wrong on the routine, the pre-spring break stress that’s building up, how cute the linebreaker looked, but mostly everyone is talking about the upcoming celebration party.

When you get to your locker, you untie your ponytail, letting your head recover it’s proper blood flow, you get undressed, carefully folding your uniform and proceed to step into the shower. The hot water loosens up your muscles and brings you to a sleepy point of relaxation. You finish showering and step out, wrapping your body with a fluffy white towel.

"Are you sure you’re not going to Liam’s party?" A tall brunette girl asks as she walks behind you. “It’s the event of the year.”

"Thanks Alice but I really want to attend the FBI lecture tomorrow and a hangover would keep me from actually paying attention." You reply simply as you get dressed and pack the rest of your stuff into your bag.

"Well I’m sure Liam will miss you." She implies. "He was very enthusiastic about having you there."

"He’ll survive." You give her a playful smile and throw the strap of your bag over your shoulder. "Night girls see you tomorrow."

They reply almost in chorus and, you wave goodbye walking out from the locker room, spinning your car keys on your finger. The parking lot is almost empty, most people are either back on their dorm rooms or on their way to Liam’s party, so the way back to your apartment is peaceful, just the sound of the wheels rolling on the road and the wind running through the windows.

Originally you lived on the dorm rooms like most of the squad, but at the beginning of this school year your brothers had surprised you buying an apartment just for you, quoting Dean's words it was easier to concentrate on your own space and you deserved a nice and private place to live, after all, you had a full scholarship ride so you didn’t have to worry about paying tuition.

Truth be told, you really liked the apartment; the building is fifteen minutes away from your school, and your neighbors are nice and quiet. When you first got the place, you, Dean, Sam, and Adam had spent an entire weekend painting the walls, decorating and equipping the place so it could fit all your necessities.

The kitchen is right next to the entrance door, behind it it’s the living room, there’s only one loveseat and the tv is in front of it, there are photographs everywhere, your brothers are on the most of them, there’s one from your first competition, you are sitting on Dean’s shoulders, holding high the trophy you and your squad won, Sam and Adam hugging Dean from each side, there’s one from your graduation, the KU game where Dean finally decided to introduce you to and your brothers to Castiel, next to it is the one from their wedding, there’s also one from your prom where you and your ex where crowned king and queen for the last time; you still keep the crown and the band displayed on your room.

You love the apartment, even though you live alone and far from Kansas and your brothers, they made it feel like home.

You leave your keys and your bag next to the door and then head to your bedroom where you strip out of your clothes and put on your pjs, you fall asleep the second your head touches the pillow.

The next morning your alarm starts beeping exactly at 6 o’clock, you have made a cocoon in the blankets that’s so warm and comfortable that you refuse to move, but eventually the beeping sound off the alarm becomes unbearable and you know for a fact that if you don’t get up from your bed soon you are going to be late for class; so you begrudgingly get up from the bed and slam the button of the alarm turning it off.

One hour later your hair and your makeup are neatly done, you have replaced your pajamas with jeans and a white bustier with puff sleeves, and you are ready to step out if the door, bag on one hand and coffee on the other one.

When you get to the auditorium, your best friend Maia is already there saving a seat for you, you distinguish her from her curly hair and her cinnamon skin, she smiles at you when she sees you.

“You’re late.” You drop your bag on the chair next to her and then take a seat.

“My bed and I were too comfortable together this morning.”

“I getcha.” She replies, her New York accent marked on her words. “Are you excited?”

“Totally, I’ve been looking towards this lecture for weeks.”

A few minutes later three men step on the stage, accompanied by the principal, there’s a man in his sixties, with black hair and a kind smile, you know he is David Rossi, you have re-read his book over and over since you were little. There’s also a bald black man, and you can almost see his muscles through his shirt.

But the third man is the one who has your complete attention.

You’re completely fascinated with him from the second he steps into the podium, there’s something on his messy brown hair, his shy smile, and the way he fidgets nervously with his fingers that makes your heart flutter.

A few moments later the room starts to fill and when every seat is taken the older man takes a spot on the podium and clears his throat.

“Good morning, I am Agent David Rossi, and these are my partners, agent Derek Morgan and Doctor Reid.” He points at each of the men and they both give a courteous nod.

“Research, casework, and training to hunt down monsters, rapists, terrorists, pedophiles, and our specialty, serial killers.” Agent Rossi turns his back and lets agent Morgan continue.

“Does anybody here know what a serial killer is and what makes it different from a spree killer or a mass murderer?” He asks, and you raise your hand almost immediately, he grants you the word and you smile.

“A mass murderer is someone who kills four or more people on the same location and on the same time period, spree killers murder two or more victims on different locations and they don’t have a cooling period.” You reply. “Serial killers have three or more victims; they usually select the victim with anticipation and there is a cooling period between each murder.”

“It’s very good, by statue three is the magic number, and it’s actually more qualitative than quantitative for us.”

“Today we’re gonna talk about how some serial killers get made.” Rossi continues, “Because if you can understand that, then you can figure out a way to catch them.”

After that Morgan proceeds to introduce two girls, both victims of the same serial killer; whom as Rossi describes as the most prolific killer they’ve had.

“One thing you should understand is that no two killers are the same, they each occupy their own point on the behavioral spectrum.” After listening to agent’s Reid’s rapid voice, you officially consider yourself a goner. “Genetics, brain chemistry, psychology, and environment are all factors.”

“We believe that this particular killer grew up in an environment so adverse that he never had a chance.” Morgan adds. “He endured years of cruel and abject physical abuse as well as horribly profound psychological abuse.”

“Now let me be clear, most abused kids do not turn into killers, but this particular unknown subject, or unsub suffered extreme abuse and it has everything to do with why he does what he does.” Agent Rossi explains, after that they project the images from the unsub’s murder scenes and they give the details of his MO.

“I’m gonna be sick.” Maia whispers to you as she covers her eyes and retreats into her seat to avoid watching the gruesome pictures displayed on the wall.

When they finish explaining the case, sharing the details and the profiling process they open the podium for questions, again you are the first and only one to raise your hand.

“Yes? Miss…”

“Winchester.” You complete “So, you said that not all abused kids become killers, but what is the breaking point where some of them do and some don’t?”

“The majority of the most prolific and dangerous serial killers were genetically disposed to behave antisocially and furthermore grew up in an environment that cultivated a disregard for the lives of others.” Agent Reid answers “One gene in particular is linked with an increased risk of violent or aggressive behavior; monoamine oxidase A, it controls the production of a protein that breaks down brain-signaling chemicals like dopamine, noradrenalin, and serotonin, which all influence mood, there’s a variant of the gene called MAOA-L, it causes people to produce less

of the protein that breaks down these signaling chemicals, which in turn causes them to build up. An excess of these chemicals, leads to impulsive behavior; such as hypersexuality, sleep disorders, mood swings, and violent tendencies.

“So it can be inherited?”

“The heritability of the antisocial personality disorder is estimated to be 0.38. Heritability is the proportion of differences in traits in a population that are due to genetic differences as opposed to differences in the environment. A heritability of 0.38 tells us that, on average, about 38 percent of the individual differences that we observe in degree of “sociability” or “anti-sociability" are in some way attributable to individual genetic differences.”

“Thank you.” You smile at him, and you can swear there’s a pink blush coloring his cheeks as he smiles back at you.

There are just a couple more questions, most of them directed to morbid curiosity about the case, when they are done answering, agent Rossi opens an invitation to all the attendees to join the FBI, which brings a query about the requirements and the preparation his team had; again, Spencer is the one who answers.

“Most of us have done extensive postgraduate work in areas such as abnormal psychology, and sociology, as well as an intensive study of relative casework and existing literature.” He keeps his hands in the pocket of his navy blue pants.

“But that is after the selection to the unit, first you have to be an agent, work in a field, and that’s what we are here to talk about.” Spencer retreats himself to the back of the stage, almost leaning against the wall. “For that, the academics are wide open, everyone in this room, once you graduate; regardless of your course study; is eligible to apply to the FBI.”

“What did you study?” The guy wearing the Cardinals hoodie, sitting two rows behind you asks.

“Criminal justice, but sports appreciation was all full up at my Community College.” There’s a soft general laugh, but you can’t take your eyes from the Doctor.

“And you Doctor Reid?” You ask, looking him straight in the eyes. “What did you study?”

“I-I hold doctorates in Chemistry, Mathematics and Engineering, as well as BAs in psychology and sociology.”

“You’re drooling.” Maia mocks in a whispered tone, causing you to blush.

“Shut it.” You whisper as you try to slow down your heart rhythm. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-four as of last month, thirty-four; I, I also completed an additional BA in Philosophy, which reminds me that I have a joke.” He chuckles nervously and keeps talking “How many existentialists take to screw in a lightbulb? Two, one to change the lightbulb and one to observe how it symbolizes an incandescent beacon of subjectivity in another world of cosmic nothingness.”

You giggle softly, but the rest of the room seems to remain silent, Maia looks at you with an eyebrow raised like she is trying to figure you out.

“It’s fun, you know? Because that’s what existentialists do.” You explain on a murmur.

The silence of the spectators makes Spencer shift timidly and he starts to speak again, trying to explain the joke when he gets cut off by agent Rossi.

“Okay, before he does his Quantum Physics knock-knock joke.” This is what makes the class laugh while you stay quiet “Do we have any other questions about opportunities in the FBI?”

There are only a couple more questions, and when the lecture is over Morgan and Rossi find themselves surrounded by curious students, and girls fussing over them, Spencer stays alone and he starts to pack his things on his bag, you take a deep breath and make your way down towards him.

“That was really interesting.” Your voice seems to startle him, he turns around and runs his fingers through his hair messing it up just a bit more. “I really enjoyed it.”

“Uh thanks, Miss Winchester.”

“Y/N is fine.”

“Y/N.” He repeats and changes his weight from one foot to the other. “You seemed interested in the BAU.”

“I am, I mean, I still have a couple years left in college but joining the FBI does sound interesting.”

“Well, if you have any more doubts, you can... you know, call.” He hands you a white card with the FBI emblem on it, as well as his name and phone number; you take the card without breaking eye contact and give him a coy smile.

“Will do.”

A/N: so that’s it, please let me know what do you think ❤️

[crystalwillow]

Kinktober - Open Heart

The Boss’ Restraints

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Casey Valentine (F!MC)

Word Count: 2.6K

Contains: Smut, tiny bit of fluff

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Tagging: @mckenzie-bae @deansmyapplepie

A/N: I swear to God that I had this done and ready to post before todays chapter. I think it’ s just a little unlucky for me that what happened with Ethan, happened on the same day I planned to post this... anyhow, do enjoy this one! 

=========

“Valentine, get those samples and get them to the lab right away, I’ll page you if I need anything else today. Team dismissed.” Ethan said in his usual matter of fact tone as he took a seat behind his desk and shuffling a stack of papers. “Yes, Dr. Ramsey.” The young blonde doctor replied, gathering her things and following June and Baz out of the office. She waved goodbye to her colleagues and headed towards the patients room, but stopped dead in her tracks as her pager buzzed in her pocket. “A code blue for Mr. Fitzgerald?!” she exclaimed and ran to the elevator, jamming the button for the floor she needed. Not even giving the door time to open by themselves when the elevator stopped at her floor she burst out and down the hall towards Mr. Fitzgerald’s room. She entered to chaos. “He gone into anaphylaxis Dr. Valentine and the code team isn’t responding.” A panicked nurse said hurriedly, Casey turning and retrieving the defibrillator cart and wheeling it into the room. As she worked quickly and efficiently expose the patient’s chest, she had flashbacks to her first patient Annie. The nurse set the charge for the paddles, then Casey grabbed them knowing there wasn’t a second to lose. After successfully saving Mr. Fitzgerald, Casey trudged to the locker room to put her bag away then carried on with her patients, completely forgetting about the task Ethan had given her. She was at lunch with Bryce and Elijah when her pager beeped on her tray, her face immediately falling as she read the message.

“I... I’ve got to go guys. I... Bye!”

Was all she said as she stuff the last of her bread in her mouth, grabbing her pager and water bottle and sprinting off towards the stairs. Normally she would take the elevator when she received a page from Ethan, but he sounded mad in this one, so she wanted to buy herself a little more time. Also this way she could finish her mouthful of bread and not anger him anymore. As she approached the diagnostics office, she gulped audibly as she noticed the blinds closed. Stopping at the nurses station on the floor she leant over to the nurse who was there. “Um.. How- How mad is Dr. Ramsey with me?” she asked timidly. The nurse looked to her with a small smile. “He’s pissed. But don’t worry. We’ve got our jobs to keep us busy, and we also plan to scurry the second that door shuts behind you..” the nurse replied. Casey gulped again and approached the doors, entering into the lion’s den. She expected to see an angry, fast-typing Ethan behind his desk, so was confused when he wasn’t there. Then, he whole body froze as she her the lock of the door click shut behind her. Oh no. This was bound to be bad.

“E-Ethan. Please... tell me that’s you. And not- not some st-stranger.”

But she got no response, just a familiar breath that tickled her neck and sent a shiver down her spine. “I’m not happy with you.” A low and quiet voice spoke into her ear. She bit her lip, he sounded dangerously hot when he spoke to her like this, her already forest green orbs darkened with desire.

“I- I’m sorry Dr. R-”

“Ah! No talking. I want you to listen to me.”

She swallowed hard. She knew he was confident, it was one of the things she adored about him, but he wasn’t usually this commanding at work. Which lead to her having a quickened pulse, the only time he turned like this was when they were alone in his apartment and about to move things o his bedroom. She took a seat as he walked around his desk, doing the same. She looked at him, a mix of emotions taking over the mind. She felt scared, anxious and now... a little turned on. Casey didn’t dare speak, she just met his hard stare waiting for him to speak. The silence stretched on for what felt like hour before Ethan finally took a breath to speak.

“I don’t take being ignored lightly Dr. Valentine. Care to explain yourself? Why I had to do the job you were asked to do?”

“I... uh.”

“Well?” he pushed, making the younger doctor sitting across from him even more nervous than she already was.

“I g-got a c-c-code bl-blue.” She stutter, palms sweating with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

Ethan raised a brow at her, skeptical of her answer. “For whom? Why couldn’t the code team answer it?”

“M-Mr. Fitz-Fitzgerald. And I- I don’t know. S-Sarah said they were-weren’t answer-ring.”

His annoyance with Casey turned to curiosity for a moment as he cocked his head to the side. “Why are you scared?”

“Sc-scared? Who said I was-”

“You’re stuttering a lot. Like a child in trouble for doing something wrong.”

“I.... I’m not. I just....”

“Rookie...” Ethan said leaning forward, his tone softening for a moment as he took her hand and she flinched. “Are you scared of me?”

“What?! No! Of course I’m not! I’m just... I made you angry. You should be correcting me and then telling me to leave. Why are you letting me explain myself?”

“Because that’s what happens. You clearly made a mistake. Besides, I was only angry at you for a moment.”

“Oh.”

Casey finally looked back up into his eyes and she saw it. Her desire for him matched in his darkened blue eyes as he licked his bottom lip, eyes slowly moving to look at her lips. They leaned into each other over the desk, Ethan stopping inches from Casey’s mouth.

“This is why I shut the blinds and locked the door.” He said smugly before bringing they lips together softly. “We wouldn’t want anyone to see me do this would we?” he whispered, breaking the kiss and swiping all his papers to the floor, turning Casey’s back to him and gently pulling her across the desk, spinning her around to face him, standing between her legs.

“Ethan... we’re at work. Are you crazy?” Casey asked

“Maybe. Maybe not. Or maybe, you’re the crazy one for trying to stop this.” He husked, sliding his hand up Casey’s thigh and under her skirt. Her eyes closed slowly, and mouth partly slightly as she let out a hitched breath.

“You infuriate me Dr. Valentine.” Ethan said into her ear lowly, a small growl at the back of his throat as he squeezed her hip

“Ethan..” she said breathlessly.

“Shhhhhh.”

Ethan brought his lips to the crook of her neck, kissing sweetly at first and Casey tangled her fingers in his dark auburn locks. His kisses grew hungrier as he travelled up to her earlobe, gently sucking and nibbling at the skin. The contact was leaving Casey breathless, and she inhaled sharply as he nibbled her earlobe before pulling back, slowly opening his eyes and looking at her with nothing but desire. He moved his hand to his top draw, gaze never leaving the flustered sight in front of him, and a small smirk grew on his face his hand came into contact with the cool metal of the object he’d placed in there just before he summoned Casey to the office. Casey gulped as she hear the jingle of the metal as he moved it from the draw to the desk next to her.

“Y-you brought them to- to w-work” she asked. But was met with his silent mirk as he slid her white coat from her shoulders before turning his attention back to assaulting her lips with his own and discarding his own white coat on the floor, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. The kiss was fervent, full of lust and need. Yet, Casey caught the undertone of love and care it also carried. Ethan pulled her to her feet, breaking the kiss.

“Strip for me.”

“Yes, Dr. Ramsey.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game by calling me that in such a situation, Valentine.”

“That’s a bold statement considering our current situation.”

Ethan smirked at her spoken remark hearing the lust and want laced in her voice. The air crackled with a passionate electricity as they’re lips assaulted each other’s and clothes were thrown carelessly around the office. Ethan stopped mid assault on Casey’s chest, looking up at her with a devilish smirk that caused her to bite her lip and watch with anticipation as Ethan stood up, his now fully hardened length straining against his boxers. Casey bit her lip, enjoying the sight in front of her, eyes widening as she hear Ethan pick up the cuffs before turning back to her with a smirk.

“W-What are you going to- to do?”

“Hands above your head princess. I intend on taking you on a wild ride.”

Gulping Casey done as asked, watch as Ethan hovered over her.

“I’m very disappointed in you.” He husked in her ear, sending electric shivers down her spine. “Not only did you not do the task I asked, you disobeyed my request. This..” He said, snapping the waistband of her panties against her hip sending a jolt of pleasurable pain through her. “... is not the set I asked you to wear. Is it?” He challenged as he brought his gaze to her eyes, soft but calloused hand grazing her side before circling her aroused and sensitive bud with his index finger before toying with it between finger and thumb. Casey gasped at the sudden contact, whimpering when she felt the warm roughness of his tongue glide over the other.

“Ethan..” she breathed out, pulling on her restraint. “I want to... touch... you.”

“You should have thought about that before disobeying me.” He teased, leaving a trail of hot, wet kiss down the body before turning his attention to her inner thighs. Above her head, Casey wrapped her fists around the metal leg of the desk, her breath now rapid with anticipation as Ethan kisses everywhere except where she needed him the most.

“P-Please...”

Ethan smirked against her skin, he liked having her like this. Begging for mercy during punishment after disobeying him. It was one of his biggest turn-ons, though he would never let anyone in on that secret. It was purely his own. Hooking his thumbs under the sides of her panties he pulled them down as he kissed back down her inner thighs, leaving small purple bruises behind.

“Ah, Ethan. Please..” she whimpered as the cool air hit the dampened area between her legs. Upon seeing the sight, Ethan licked his lips hungrily, reaching out and running a single digit between her slick folds.

“Mmmm. Look how wet you are...”

“It’s.. all.. for you.”

“I should hope so.” He smirked as he positioned himself between her legs, kissing up her inner thighs again, slowly before teasingly swiping his tongue over her most sensitive area. The place she needed him most.

“Fuck.” whimpered Casey, her hips bucking up to meet his mouth. He hummed softly as he devoured her, pinning her down with his left arm as he brought the middle finger of his right hand to her entrance, circling it teasingly as she writhed and whimpered above him.

“mmm, fuck. ... eth-ethaaaahhh.” She hissed as he pushed his finger in slowly, pumping it and building up a quickened pace, swirling his tongue around her arousal. Ethan worked his tongue around her clit until he knew she was about to climax and then stopped pulling away. Casey whimpered as she slowly opened her eyes, finding Ethan looking down at her with a triumphant smirk, before kissing her passionately. She retuned the kiss with fervor, Ethan moaning as his still clothed erection brushed lightly against her hipbone. He lightly bit Casey’s bottom lip as he pulled away breathing in deeply, standing to remove his underwear and gasping when his erection sprung free. Casey breath hitched as she stared at the sight before her.

“Like what you see baby?” Ethan asked with a smirk as he lowered himself back to the ground.

“C-can you let me.. out?” Casey asked pulling on the cuffs. Ethan flitted his gaze up to the cuffs wrapped round the leg of his desk, then beck to Casey as he shook his head, spinning round and positioning himself over her mouth. She puckered her lips, lifting her head slightly and kissed the tip, making Ethan shudder with pleasure.

“Ohhhhh.”

“Did you like that..... Detective?”

Ethan close his eyes, breathing out heavily as he silently cursed to himself. “Open your mouth.” He demanded

“Why?”

“I want you to show me what that pretty little mouth can do with no hands.”

Casey smirked, slowly opening her mouth and lifting her head, taking him in inch by inch until she starts to gently bob her head. Ethan groaning pleasurably above her, keeping his plank position proved a challenge as Casey started deepthroating him.

“Ah, shit... Casey.” Weakness overtook his muscles as she hummed each time he hit the back of her throat. “Ah, fuck. Stop! Stop.” He said breathlessly, pulling out of her mouth and spinning to undo the handcuffs. He pulled Casey to her feet, kissing her with urgency, grabbing he butt in his hands as she jumped wrapping her legs around his waist. He carried he to his desk and laid her down. Casey gasped as the cold mahogany came into contact with her back, her eyes widening as she spot the whip hanging out of Ethan’s open bag by his chair.

“Ethan? Why do you h-have a whi-whip?”

“Precautionary. Disobey me again, and well.. .I think you know where this will go.” He growled in her ear lowly.

Many minutes which felt like hours later, Ethan surrendered begging for Casey.

“Fuck. Spread your legs for me. Now.” He urged as he blindly reached for his pocket, pulling out a condom. Casey waited in anticipation, her back flat on his desk as she watch him slide the protection over his rock solid manhood. Without warning, after positioning himself, Ethan slammed into Casey making her cry out in pleasure.

“Shhhh.” He warned bringing a finger to her lips, which she took between her teeth as she nodded. Slowly, Ethan started to thrust, and Casey whimpered quietly as he picked up his pace.

“fuck. me. harder.” She whispered in his ear, gasping as he almost immediately fulfilled her request cause her stomach to form that familiar knotting sensation as she felt Ethan start to twitch inside of her. Their breath was ragged as the whispered each other name in ecstasy as they climaxed together.

A few moments passed in a blissful silence as the two caught their breath, before Casey sat up looking Ethan in the eyes. The were now as clear as the Caribbean Sea again and he smiled, forehead still clammy with sweat.

“I didn’t think you had it in you.” Casey teased as she looked around the room, then got up to start collecting her clothes.

“What?” he asked as he removed the condom, putting in a small black bag and the discarding it in the trash.

“Hooking up with me at work. Let alone in this office.”

Ethan chuckled as he began getting re-dressed too. He had just draped his tie round his neck when there was a knock at the door.

“Hello? Ethan? It’s Baz!”

Casey’s eyes widened as she pointed to their heads. Both of them still had sex hair. Ethan shrugged.

“He’s doesn’t know anyone’s here.” He whispered in Casey’s ear. “Now, care to help me with my tie?” he said, cocking an eyebrow at her. 

...

[sly-merlin]

softerory asked:

Hi hi Simmi di, it’s me again. I read you’re taking requests, may I get a fluff type thing, a bit desi if u may (coz why not) hehe, with my jaaneman jungwoo uwu Also how are you today! I’m butt shit exhausted hahahaha.

“do you even know how to use this?” you huffed at jungwoo who was busy trying to find the right location. he was sure he had correctly entered the address in the maps or maybe he didnot!

“yes, i do. now lemme concentrate.” without even glancing at you, he started using his thumbs rapidly as if to show you how he was a master in using maps.

it continued for a while until you saw few people with heavy shopping bags coming out of what seemed like a back door of the building. to confirm your doubt, you left jungwoo’s side to inquire on your own. and you were right!

“umm woo , can you repeat the address please?” you asked him strictly.

“st no 45, k convention center , gu-

“then what are we doing at the back of the center?”

“whatttt? who told you that?” he questioned cluelessly.

“there! those people are just coming out . the entry is from 54th street jungwoo. we are at the wrong side!” you pointed towards another group of people coming out from the designated exit door.

“then why are you doing a slo-mo drama. we should hurry. you are so lazy!”

you repeatedly hit jungwoo on the arm as he led you both through the street to reach the right place and finally after 10 minutes of walking in sun, you were there!

                     “SOUTH ASIAN CULTURAL EXPO”

since jungwoo was free for the weekend , you both decided to attend the fair but jungwoo’s amazing sense of direction made the simple task harder than you thought!

you and jungwoo felt like little kids as you entered after taking the tickets. his face was covered in a cap and glasses but you could feel his excitement through your hands which were squeezed in his own. the building was tightly packed with small booths which represented different countries and kind of articles they were offering. everything was super colourful, from food to clothing to handmade gift shops!

but ofcourse, the only thing that jungwoo could eye was food!

“i’m hungry y/n.” you playfully rolled your eyes at him before replying,

“let’s get tired first! we’ll shop then we eat and it’s final!”

“ugghh! hurry up then!” he knew you weren’t gonna budge so he had to give up.

after 10 minutes of wandering, he himself forgot about the food and was more interested in the pointed north indian shoes that he wanted to buy for jaehyun.

“which colour is better y/n?” you smiled, as he pondered over different shoes to choose one. apparently it was not so easy to please jaehyun!

“take the black leather ones.” you suggested before turning to face the seller, “how do you pronounce the name of the shoes?” you waited as the translator sitting beside him parroted your words in his native language.

“punjabi jutti!”  he exclaimed happily.

“ohhh..jungwoo say it once.” and 5 minutes were spent on the same place trying to perfect his pronunciation.

after buying several gifts including silk scarfs, bandana patterned authentic clothing and some handmade wooden items, you made your way to food stalls. the aroma that filled your nostrils made you feel like you were hungry from many years. you both glanced at each other before nodding in sync. that was the code language that meant you both would divide and raid. jungwoo on right and you on left. the shops bags were already left at the makeshift lockers and tokens that were being provided to all so there was plenty of room in your hands and stomach to grab anything and everything.

after few minutes of window shopping, you decided upon some sweet things along with spicy varients. you knew jungwoo would avoid sweet so you took charge on that.  

after 15 minutes you both met at the center with several plates of food placed on the table you had luckily found.

“what did you got?” you asked him, watching his plates.

“these are called fritters or pakoras. in both veg and non veg varients. they are from pakistan and indian stalls. then there are some south indian food,dosa and all. i can’t remember all the names but these things are similar to sauces! what have you got?”

“umm. this is a sweet called jalebi! they were piping the mixture in a big utensil and then putting them in a syrup. it’s yummy though . and then there is this chilli fritter just like your ones! and this sweet is made from carrots. it’s so orangy right!” you gleefully pointed to each food just like he did.

“we’ll buy some more for hyungs! “

“oh yeah?? how are we gonna carry all this in a public transport. we didn’t use the car dumbo!” you scolded him as you both chewed on the delicacies.

“let’s call manager hyung. he likes food as well . it’s not like he’ll refuse!”

you answered his mischievous wink with one of your own. you loved how his brain worked sometimes!

“yeahhh! it’s not like he’ll refuse.” you repeated playfully before continuing with your precious sweet jalebis!

life was heaven with jungwoo and food!

{{for those you don’t know , JANEMANN as she said in ask , is a affectionate word for sweetheart or loved ones, for ones whom you love just as your life or sometimes even more!}}

[itsyourchoicedevotionals]

Will We Speak?

“Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter. If you say, “But we knew nothing about this,” does not he who weighs the heart perceive it? Does not he who guards your life know it? Will he not repay everyone according to what they have done?” Proverbs 24:11-12NIV

This post is long, but bear with me. It’s extremely important. Are you awake to what the House of Representatives enacted? And now what the Senators are supposed to comply and approve, enacting into law for this land? Do you understand HR-5? (Check out Dutch Sheets Give Him 15: An Appeal To Heaven on Facebook.)

The Civil Rights Bill became law in 1964. Two people groups were greatly affected— all races became equal and women were finally elevated to equality with men in employment, and having restroom facilities.

HR-5 will forever change the definition of men and women within the Civil Rights law. Racial ethnicity, and men and women will totally lose their identities. The new ‘transgender’ will be preferred over the biological sex or color. Everyone will bow to the rule of this group, from pastor to president, to teacher, to parent. Are you ready for that?

Schools will be teaching social dysphoria of a person’s born sex designation. I remember when, at eleven years, the menstrual cycle hit my body with shocking waves of pain. Why couldn’t I be a man? In reality, I wasn’t old enough nor wise enough to make such a decision. After being a woman all my life, I’m happy sex change wasn’t available. But what if my ridiculous desire at eleven was granted? Horrors!

“Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to act.” Proverbs 3:27NIV Action must be taken to stop women from losing their rights to privacy in the restrooms and locker rooms. I can remember going to church where we had one outdoor toilet, shared with men. For life, I find the port-a-potty the most disgusting of all. We’d be digressing in society by having open doors and no privacy. Sharing locker rooms with a transgender, God forbid.

Never sports oriented, my understanding is limited. But I know disappointment and can’t imagine the disappointment of some girl who’s worked hard to receive a trophy, only to lose it to a boy posing to be a girl. Hormones won’t change muscular strength. It’s in our power to stop this.

“First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way. This is good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Savior,” 1Timothy 2:1-3ESV Pray. PRAY! PRAY! Lift up the Senators to Jesus, asking for love and conviction to overwhelm their hearts. Bind the god of this world who’s blinding the minds in the government and Senate with darkness, see 2Corinthians 4:4.

God is allowing His Son’s bride to act like her beloved Bridegroom, exercising His Word and authority in prayer and actions. “It was granted her to clothe herself with fine linen, bright and pure”— for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints” Revelation 19:8ESV.

“For though we walk in the flesh, we are not waging war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds. We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ,” 2Corinthians 10:3-5ESV. We must pull down these strongholds, cast down these evil imaginations which sets themselves against God, through prayer and authority.

Christians around the world are suffering for being Christians. “From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force” Matthew 11:12ESV. We’re next on the list to suffer, unless we stand up. Although we’re to be harmless as doves— we’re to wise as serpents. Harmless to the Senators, being snakes striking suddenly, and surprisingly all the evil forces, and making our will known.

“Jesus entered the temple courts and drove out all who were buying and selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches…” Matthew 21:12NIV. Our King went in and upset status quo. As our example, we must upset the Senators with emails, and phone calls. They must KNOW, we’re seriously watching and evaluating their every move. This bill, if enacted, will have serious repercussions to their political futures.

Remember sometimes God doesn’t move until we show how much we care about the subject. We allowed abortion with silence. 65 million murdered children later, we regret silence. They took God out of schools and our parents sat by praying but not saying anything. What if they’d held the Supreme Court accountable?

Will we speak? Will we contact our Senators who hold the future of this nation in their hands? There is still time to make our voices heard. Call the US Senate at 202-224-3121. For full information go to childparentrights.org. Or will, with your inaction, we stand before the Righteous Judge with blood on our hands? It’s your choice. You choose.

PRAYER: Lord God help us to stand in Your authority and power, tearing down the enemies strongholds spiritually and physically, in the name of Jesus Christ I pray.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2021 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional as author. Thank you.

[watchingminecraftyansim]

Post 1, Episode 1: The First Step On Our Journey

Hi, I’m Isabelle, or Spar-kie on Tumblr and Twitter, and I’ve decided to watch through all of the Minecraft Yandere Simulator Roleplay series by Samgladiator on YouTube, but you knew that already, and I feel like the first post here should serve as an introduction of sorts, not just to me, but to the important characters in the series, as well as talking about the first episode. 

First there’s me, but there’s not much to say about me, I’m a trans gal who makes poor decisions, if you wanna know more about me I have personal stuff you can follow.  As for the series, it is based loosely off of Yandere Simulator, to the point that one would think that it was just put in the title to get more views, and if I had to venture a guess the scenery was built by Grian of Wynncraft and Craftedmovie fame and more recently, Hermitcraft, as he later appears in the series as a third protagonist, along with our two main protagonists, Samgladiator and Taurtis. Sam and Taurtis are two students at an unnamed highschool In Japan, Sam wears a bunny hood in addition to his school uniform, where Taurtis wears headphones and suspenders, and his face is almost exactly :| . In these episodes Sam is the more sane out of him and Taurtis, although they are both fairly normal, with the exception of Taurtis saying “don’t worry, they’ll never catch me” when Sam says there’s reports of a serial killer on the TV. Taurtis is also the more outgoing and social of the two, with him managing to make more people like him via the amazing technique of insulting less people than Sam, and also generally being more socially competent, but we’ll talk about that in the episode summary proper. Speaking of which…

The Episode starts off with Sam and Taurtis waking up and getting ready for their first day at school, it’s implied that they’ve gone to this school before with it being their 2nd year, but they know none of their classmates or teachers, so you can pass your own judgement on that, and on their way they meet JtsTheStar, or as I will be referring to him from here on out, Jay. Jay hits it off really well with Taurtis and Sam and they walk to the convenience store near the school before school starts, here Taurtis buys himself some Mountain Dew and Doritos, a lunch of Gamers. Then Sam and Taurtis spot a GameCube (or GameCrab, if you wanna use the terminology the shopkeeper used.) and Taurtis exchanges his IPhone and Sam’s doritos for it, even though Taurtis has like 8 bags of doritos. The shopkeeper is also a crab man, this isn’t relevant to anything, I just thought it was worth mentioning. This also is where we meet another major character, KawaiiInvader, a girl, but get this crazy thing, she has a beard, and Taurtis and Sam treat this with respect and… nah I’m fucking with you, they make fun of her, some things in this series have aged like a fine milk.

After trading Sam’s lunch for a GameCube and making him get a carrot so he doesn’t starve, they finally make it to class, and we are introduced to one of the only two people who work at this school, professor Gareth who is the teacher for everything except P.E., or to put it in his words “maths to science, and why my wife left me”, and when he asks for questions after his introduction Taurtis not only asks for his wife’s name but also if she’s single, you read that right, Taurtis wants to get with Gareth’s wife, and then Gareth threatens him with detention, and then Gareth starts everyone’s favorite activity of someone has to go up and introduce themselves to the class and calls on Taurtis. Taurtis pretty much only gets to say his name and that he’s friends with Sam before they go back and forth about how Taurtis is doing a good job at his introduction. Then the bell rings and they have to go to lunch, which starts at 11 for them, which is pretty early, that’s like only an hour after McDonalds stops their breakfast menu, but this could just be the fact that my school makes me wait until one to get lunch, but enough about me. They sit with Jay at lunch and see another Jay, JtsTheDane, or JtsTheExchangeStudent, whom I will be calling Exchange Student Jay, who has a scar across his eye, leading to Sam and Taurtis to wonder how he got it, with Sam daring Taurtis to ask him how he got it. Exchange Student Jay says that he was surrounded by wolves who tried to kill him in his home country, which he proceeded to kill and skin with his teeth. Personally I feel like this, and Exchange Student Jay as a whole, is dope as hell and he should be the protagonist of the series, Sam and Taurtis find this weird and quickly run away, with Exchange Student Jay insisting that he’s a nice guy as they run away. After they rush back to where they were sitting before they notice Sookie, one of the girls, staring at them, Sam being the smoothest motherfucker in existence, confidently walks over to her, makes a weird scream noise, throws a carrot at her, and runs out of the cafeteria, still making the weird screaming noise. Smooth. Unsurprisingly this got the attention of the other students and Sookie just gave Taurtis the carrot instead, probably so he could give it back to Sam. Shortly after that it’s time for P.E., and I didn’t find a good spot to mention this but throughout the entire lunch block Professor Gareth had been spying on Taurtis rather conspicuously. 

Finally we head to P.E. with the only other staff member at this school, RowanArtifex, the stereotypical drill sergeant like gym teacher. Now before we continue, I wanna talk about the gym uniforms in this series, the boys get shorts and the girls look like they’re only wearing the shirt which goes only barely low enough to cover their no no zone, which, given the fact that these are high schoolers, is not good, and is very creepy. What’s also creepy is Rowan typing “mmmmmm” in the chat while watching the students stretch and do jumping jacks. I don’t have anything witty to say in response to that, that’s just weird. Rowan also bullies his students, specifically calling out Sam for being a wimp, and punching his students a couple of times. No wonder this school has like two teachers, they can’t afford more with all of the fucking lawsuits they must get. Rowan then has the class do an obstacle course, which Sam only manages to do once, and Taurtis isn’t able to do before the bell rings signalling the end of the school day. Now, there’s a bath in the boy’s locker room, and assumedly the girls, but we don’t see inside there.  So everyone has to share a bath in their clothes after they get done with working out, and as if to make a bad situation worse gym teacher Rowan comes into the bath with the boys. Sam says he’s gonna talk to the counselor about this and Rowan punches him for that. We also learn that Exchange Student Jay is originally from Norway, which I’m calling bullshit on as his username is JtsTheDane, Dane as in someone from Denmark, I would assume. After we get done with Gym teacher Rowan’s lawsuit building against him Exchange Student Jay asks Sam and Taurtis if they want to hunt deer with him now that school is over for the day, which they decline because they are massive wusses weirded out by this proposition and are going to play their GameCube instead and offer for him to join them in that, to which he declines. When walking home Sam overhears some of the girls talking about how weird he acted and asking Sookie if she knew him, so he tries to face away to hear what they’re saying without them seeing him, which doesn’t work when your main identifying characteristic is a bunny hood that you never take off. They recognize him and he runs home, screaming, with Taurtis in toe. When he gets home Sookie and the girls actually followed them home and sookie asks Taurtis to give Sam some carrots that she was going to give him, while some of the other girls insult him, making Sam sad and the episode ends. Normally at this point I would go on to summarize episode 2, but Episode 1 is roughly twice as long as a normal episode, combined with the fact that this is the first post and I had to add some extra stuff on top of it, making this an already very long post. So, see you next week where we take a look at episodes 2 and 3.

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

Uncle Donald gave her $800 in the 1980s

She let him invest it for her up until now

And she has now $45B

I hope you enjoyed your game as there are more to come but with more people as it enters TV for free of course on Channel Fox.

As always enjoy life and what it brings with the most care you can afford.

Don't let the economy, crumble, Uncle Donald, i hit up JP for some cash since Jesse stole mine from United Business Bank located in Oregon, Washington, and New Mexico.

I own Chase, bought it with Donald and sold to the US Government for a mint. Jesse could got in on this deal but he wanted to challenge me instead.

So I asked Uncle Donald for a cash loan, how much he could afford and what was in his wallet. $4000 roughly. So we split it between his 4 kids (the 4th being me) and I gave him back $200 for the rest of the day.

And we returned to the bank and I asked him how to deposit the money into Chase Manhattan because Denise had bought me clothes but I wanted to be a fashion designer and had altered them So she threw them all away in a rage of jealousy and heat.

Of course i started to cry so we went back across the street to McDonald's and we talked. He said "i have a surprise for you, lets get to the bank"

So we walked alllllll around the building, up and down and he talked to a man and got us inside all the back rooms. He said "i wanna buy it!" And he turned to me and asked "would you like to invest your $800 into my bank as an investor?"

I said "what about my clothes! She said i had to return the money or else i get none!"

"But who did she spend the money on?"

"Me and my brothers and and her!"

"Well don't you think Its time to invest in you and your fashion?" He asked for my $800 i had to pull from 4 different pockets and my sock as he taught me to split to beat pick pocketers. And handed it all. He handed me back $200 and I handed it back then he handed me a $5 from his breast pocket and t told me to keep it.

And began to walk to the counter to buy the bank.

I chased after him and put it in his left cost pocket and told him, 'well you know you bought me lunch so you keep it"

I pulled it from his pocket to produce proof I had already given it and he couldn't give it back and then stuffed it back in deep, all the way i nearly ripped his shoulder off for which I promptly apologized, jumped on the counter and rubbed his soreness off and jumped down.

And he started to cry a little bashful at first then a full sob. And I tried to console him and Robby appeared with a trailing line of toilet paper so his silk hanky wouldn't be soiled with snot.

He thanked him and became startled and asked if he wanted in on the investment.

Robby said, "i might but i need to talk to you, I belong to this boarding school ran by this might be soon white bigger as he calls himself, inspired by her and taken completely out of context"

"Michael Jackson" interjected our new found Uncle Donald. "Come let's sit"

We moved to the side of the spacious lobby to a small table accompanied by two plus club chairs.

He and i talked about how neat it would be to have chaise chairs in Chase bank.

"Well, her mom is abusive, mostly about money so i would like to take control of her stock with her permission"

"Yes! I do! And i will wanna get married!" I jumped with my fist in the air and pushed against the chair like a standing push up and stood

....

"Her sit. First I would like to talk to you as an investor. I am run by the boarding house and they teach us things like to steal and bring back to get 'rewards' much often things less than they are worth like a stick of gum for $2 when I can get a whole pack for 20 cents. Uh oh, here he comes"

"Im about to invest into this bank with these two kids you got something you wanna say to me?" Instead of waiting for a reply, uncle Donald got up and briskly walked to the counter, asking to return to a different room, promptly and away from Mr Jackson whom was still solidly black (he doesn't have vitaligo its just bleached).

And we entered a nearly empty office and he turned fiercely, angry even, "this will be your office where you will WORK"

...

"Its okay! We are still friends!" I climbed into the chair then up onto the desk "this is where I will sit"

"Well close your legs and sit like a lady, like this hand me your foot, no don't take off your shoe"

"Well I didn't want to ruin you! Your suit is NICE!!"

And he moved my foot and crossed my ankles and patted my knee and said "or you cross at here"

I took my ankle to my knee "no not like that, that's like a man. Knee to knee"

"Oh like this?" I squeezed my knees together

Robby laughed and Uncle Donald looked flustered

"Oh i know I know cross at my knees, you need to explain better!" I patted his shoulder. In the 80s it was okay to touch, at least for a child.

"I said that first!"

"Oh! I interrupt!"

"No apologize" Robby groaned

"I apologize for interrupting"

"For?" Asked Donald "you can't tell her that Because ---"

"No he could I get misinformation that way"

"Except when I'm being scolded and she knows the truth" said Robby.

Tune in next week for another Miss Adventure of one Wild Single Mom's Childhood!

I had 48 cents. Robby had put in 2500 front Hayes then 1500 each from Mark and Mike Andrews which he had not signed and they got rejected. Yet Jesse notified me of this, restricted my remote deposit privileges and now i am to notify the Sheriff of Hays County, Austin, Texas that the money is kept hidden in the tax and revenue accounts of his great county. And to open an investigation which he will pretend he did and then not. So i get his hush money as well as the other two and the $15B JP Dejoria stupidly just paid me because i Told Jesse to tell his father in law that Jesse is a stupid piece of shit which he didn't.

And of course I will invest in schools across the nation, installing playgrounds at any schools that do not have them, including intermediate, Jr high, middle, High and etc.. And may be finally lockers at least were I'm centrally located and/or where i want to be, namely at high schools at least.

Because that is what I want to do. Make people happy in the funniest ways possible.

And if there is any left I want to reinvest at the parks i originally invested in, initially, to make them better snd brighter, starting at the older to the newer.

I want the world to seem happier and brighter and in the case of schools at least around here once they hit 7th grade (middle school) they change schools to those that no longer have lockers or desks to put things in, 7 or more teachers to please instead of one or two they spend all day with, like a parent who gives love and kindness and retribution, they go through puberty which in itself is a chore. Then the kids riot. I've seen it in small schools and i know it happens in big ones. 20 in one week at the beginning of school less than a mile from my house where i can hear the school bell.

And so they need a place to sleep their weary heads like the shoulder of an old friend instead of weeping a soul they can no longer call their own.

The secrets i have included here broke my heart to where it actually stopped over and over.

Instead of asking what was wrong, Mr Moneybags Jesse sent me to the doctor alone. -.-

He could have provided me with what i needed like I provided and protected him from Ms Dejoria and Mark Hindberg, Afghanistan and Iraq, which I will no longer do.

He is the one that encouraged Michael Jackson to pickpocket the slaves he had created.

Yes Michael Jackson is Wacko, is Him and is burning in Hell because I killed him with my own pistol Jesse had stolen from a cop, altered and resold to himself at a cheaper price than the way over inflated price he created to create a deficit in his company to receive a refund from the US government's IRS Department in the amount of $8,000 instead of paying the $1M he owed.

I plead guilty before a judge and Uncle Donald, Mrs Katherine Jackson, the Anne my 4 year old daughter that Michael Jackson attempted to rape in front of me, as well as Robby, my true love and of course Sunny and Jesse James himself whom gave me the gun.

Then, before then President Barack Obama, i was exonerated and pardoned completely without the possibility of parole or any other misconceptions that would be included with self defense manslaughter.

This week total I have arrested a total of 19 men and women thanks to the CIA as an unpaid civilian.

That would guarantee me Presidentship of one really great country, now, wouldn't it?

Thanks. And not to be repeated: No more games. Only truth.

Until next time my fair weather friends!

Now! Let's grab the bookie!!! Snag! You're in jail. What did ya know, Mike Andrews, I knew all along that Mark Hindberg was FBI. Why didn't you think that?

Moving along, hi JP. How are you? No one cares. Good thing you trusted into your rapist daughter who was married to a true hero whom puts up with my shit even after we name him Mr Vomit cause I make him so scared he actually vomits like I did tonight (that's included. No more scare, only truth)

Oh yes, JP, you have already been arrested and so you know -- you have no guns with you, right? Alexis Dejoria is no rapist, she's actually an excellent FBI agent whom hates her dad and is included in any exonerations I may have to hand out butbat my leisurely pace, because she actually didn't rape anybody!

Also the US government will pay your wages as you did file a lawsuit this very week by signing up with Namus.gov like we all did.

She like me, was an unpaid civilian whom ran into luck. While she's smart, she's not smart like me. Thus she's the FBI vs me who is CIA and can work against the world in a millisecond as i usually do and have in Afghanistan and Iraq where i protected many NHRA members during their tours in the US Military while they served with Jesse James and my little brother and were even kidnapped thanks to Matt Hagan's temper tantrum and Jesse James refusal to listen to command. Eventually I saved them from that too in a day and 6 hours after leaving base. They were involuntary bound and gagged and beaten within 20 minutes of their capture. Within the next 20 when I was finally told of their status they were rescued by Tony Schumacher and his team.

And now i have saved the NHRA from being beaten and raped and tortured. My time to continue here at home is not wasted,

I love you all and thank you very much for listening...

And now i have something to say about Jesse since i made him puke from a lie via email Because he made me mad for being a Dick douchebag and not caring enough about me, not wrecking his motorcycle and then lying to make me feel bad and stupider than ever although I saw the wreck and my being a girl, up and President running, couldn't stop to rescue or assist a man on his feet whom had already picked up his bike after a wipe out and the trailer passed me up to show me he would assist because forgive those trespassers as we trespass ourselves and i care that he could really been hurt. That may be a fault of mine but it is called Grace and not salvation which is being my daughter reincarnated into a goat in Iraq to keep everyone safe because Jesse is a dumb dumb sometimes and Matt Hagan prefers truth over himself, sometimes. Like being in love with a goat of my daughter's soul, in Iraq. (I bet he fucked her, too. Bestiality freak. Not my business tho, nor yours. But still, let's laugh instead of poking fun at his misadventures. It is funny, yo!)

Jesse cared about the goat so much he listened to her over every one, even me. Because he believed she was closer to God where he needed to be..

I changed his life once in Alabama and several times then, over and over, any time that need be.

But finally for this one time he trusted somebody else and learned to love as much as he could, the soul inside of him.

So God bless to all of the two headed creatures we will see wandering around the backs of people at the NHRA in the future to come. Including even on me.

I'm Mrs Cougar cause of my fingernails and my desire to be with someone young to keep me fresh and Alive -- not by his blood byt by the life he gives me. And he will be Mr Snake the one who slithers up beside me only for love while I labor in the grass kicking myself for what i might have done but not for what i might have missed out on because I was there the whole time thinking and feeling and frolicking through the grass, same as me.

And of course my tattoo will be scary cause the world as I know it, very much can be.

And you can thank me for the past or you can think about the future and beyond!!!

[wweassets]

thanks for sending me this!

Charlie Haas & John Cena

Charlie Haas walked around backstage, doing anything in his power to get away from Rico. He hated the current role he was in, but it was one of those things that he had to do if he wanted to keep his job. Charlie just didn’t quite understand why, of all people, he had to be paired with Rico. He hated when he was torn away from his tag team partner Shelton due to a roster split. And what was wrong with being in the singles division? Charlie felt he was doing well up against Rob Van Dam. But it all didn’t matter because here he was, trying to escape from Rico so him & Miss Jackie wouldn’t steal anymore of his clothes.

Charlie finally went into some random locker room that didn’t have anyone’s name on it, pretty confident that Rico would not find him in here. As he looked around, he noticed that despite the missing name tag on the door, the locker room did belong to someone. There were car keys on the coffee table, a duffel bag in front of the couch and a towel discarded on the couch. At this point, Charlie didn’t care who it belonged to, as long as he was able to hide out for awhile. He sat down on the couch and lye his head back, enjoying the peace & quiet. Then, almost as if on queue, someone came into the room. John Cena stood at the doorway, shirtless, sweaty and in his trademark baggy shorts.

“What the hell?” Cena said when he noticed that someone unexpected was in his locker room. “I’m sorry John; I didn’t realize this was your locker room. I was just trying to hide,” Charlie said. “Hide from whom?” Cena asked. “From Rico, of course, I’m sick of him and his crazy antics,” Charlie replied. “Yeah right, you mean to tell me you don’t like being teamed with him?” Cena said. “No, I really don’t, I’d much rather be on my own,” Charlie responded. “Bullshit dawg, my boy Kurt told me that you practically begged him to team you with that fruit,” Cena said, enjoying the thought of that night he was with Kurt. “Kurt’s lying,” Charlie said. “Yeah, because Kurt is known for being a liar…whatever dude. So why did you beg Kurt to team you with Rico? You really wanted him that bad?” Cena teased. “No, the only reason I did it was because I wanted to get closer to Jackie,” Charlie said. “I don’t buy that either man, I think you wanted Rico’s dick,” Cena said. “That’s not true!” Charlie yelled and got up from the couch and made his way to the door. Charlie reached his hand to the doorknob to open it, but Cena pushed it back to shut it. “If you wanted some dick, I’ve got some right here for you, you didn’t need to beg,” Cena said as he grabbed a hold of his dick through his shorts. Charlie simply looked away, hoping that he could escape this somehow.

Then Cena did something that Charlie didn’t expect. Cena unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts and then pulled his dick out from his boxers. Cena just got through with a match against Mark Jindrak, so his dick was semi-hard.

Charlie tried to look away, tried to resist his inner urge to look at Cena’s dick, but it only made him want to look more. So he finally gave in and his eyes moved down to Cena’s crotch. Charlie just stood there for awhile staring at Cena’s dick as his own dick became rock hard.

Cena noticed that Charlie was hard and was about to do something about it, but he was interrupted.

“No man, I don’t want your dick and I certainly don’t want Rico’s. I told you, I only did it because I wanted to get closer to Jackie,” Charlie said as he stepped away from Cena. “I’m just kiddin’ dawg, I know you don’t want my dick. I’ll find any excuse just to whip it out,” Cena said, lying about the first thing, but not about the latter. He then stuffed his dick back in his boxers and zipped/buttoned his shorts back up. Charlie decided to play it cool and just laugh it off. Even though he had stared at Cena’s dick, he did not want Cena to know that he really did want some.

“So dawg, obviously you want to escape from Rico…why don’t you & I hang out tonight?” Cena suggested. “Are you sure about that?” Charlie asked. “Yeah, positive. But first, I have to stop at the store, I’m craving a sundae. You game?” Cena asked. “Sure thing, sounds great. Can’t remember the last time I had a sundae,” Charlie said, not wanting to turn down an opportunity to spend some time with Cena.

With this, Cena grabbed a shirt out of his duffle bag and put it on. He then grabbed his keys off the coffee table, grabbed his bag, and the two left the locker room.

After Cena stopped at the store to get what he would need for the sundaes, he took Charlie back to the hotel so they could hang out and watch T.V. Once they got to Cena’s room, Charlie quickly took a seat on the bed. Cena put the bag of stuff on a table near the bed. He grabbed the remote for the T.V. off the night stand and handed it to Charlie.

“Here ya go man, turn on anything you want, I’m gonna go change into something more comfortable,” Cena said as he made his way to the bathroom.

“Okay,” Charlie said, thinking nothing of it.

Charlie turned the T.V. on and began flipping through the channels. He found a hockey game on so he decided to watch it.

“Alright, so how do you like it?” Cena asked as he came out of the bathroom.

Charlie turned to look at Cena and was about to ask him what he just said, but he couldn’t get any words out. Cena stood before him in nothing but a pair of purple & blue boxers. Charlie found himself staring not only at Cena’s crotch, but at all of Cena…and came to the conclusion that Cena was one hell of a hot guy and he was glad to be in the hotel room with him.

“Charlie,” Cena yelled out, knowing darn well that he was getting checked out.

“Yeah, what did you ask?” Charlie asked, coming out of his “trance”.

“How do you like your sundae?” Cena asked again.

“However you like yours is fine,” Charlie replied.

Cena went over to the table where he placed the bag of stuff. He removed all the contents and set them out on the table. He got out two styrofoam bowls and plastic spoons and began making the sundaes.

As Cena grabbed the can of whipped cream, he couldn’t help but think of the different ways he could use it. He knew for sure that Charlie wanted some of him and he knew that he wanted a piece of Charlie’s ass. His dick quickly became hard with the thought of pounding his dick into Charlie’s ass.

Cena turned his head so he could see what Charlie was doing. He saw that Charlie was heavily into the hockey game, and he knew how it was when you were into a game…you were totally oblivious to everything around you. With this, Cena decided to get a little bold. He tucked his thumbs in his boxers and slid them off and he quickly stepped out of them, kicking them off to the side.

Cena then took the whipped cream and covered his entire dick with it, leaving no area uncovered. Once he was satisfied with this, it was time to go after what he wanted.

“Did you want whipped cream on your sundae?” Cena asked as he turned around and stepped toward Charlie. Just as he’d assumed, Charlie was oblivious to everything, so he tapped on Charlie’s shoulder.

“Huh?” Charlie said, turning his head in Cena’s direction, only to find himself face to face with Cena’s whipped cream covered dick.

“See Charlie, it’s not so bad, it’s just like a sundae,” Cena said seductively.

Charlie didn’t say or do anything he just sat there analyzing the whole thing. He wanted Cena, and it was obvious that Cena wanted him as well, so…he decided that he would just go for it.

“C'mon man, you know you want this,” Cena said.

Charlie didn’t give a verbal reply to this…instead he leaned his head in and began licking all the whipped cream from Cena’s dick. After he licked it all off Cena’s hard member, he licked off the bit of whipped cream from Cena’s small patch or pubes and then moved lower to Cena’s meaty balls.

“Oh god Charlie, that feels so good. Suck on them balls,” Cena said, his dick becoming harder, if that was even possible.

Charlie was glad that he gave up fighting his temptations…because this was the best sundae he’d ever had.

After sucking on Cena’s balls for awhile, Charlie moved in for the main course. He opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue and then with one hand, began rubbing Cena’s dick around on his wet tongue.

He then wrapped his lips around Cena’s dick and began sucking. Charlie wasn’t new to this, but Cena’s dick was big, and he was only able to get most of Cena’s dick down his throat.

“Oh yeah, suck on that dick good Charlie. You like this dick in your mouth?” Cena asked.

“Mmm hmmm,” Charlie mumbled, Cena’s dick still down his throat. Cena was enjoying this a lot but couldn’t refrain from wanting full control of this. Cena reached down and put a hand on the back of Charlie’s head, and pushed Charlie all the way down on his dick.

“Fuck yeah, take it all,” Cena moaned as he continued controlling Charlie’s head.

Once Charlie got used to this, it was no problem for him. He even stayed down on Cena’s dick for awhile, covering it with his saliva. Then suddenly Cena pulled Charlie off his dick completely. Charlie looked at Cena with a puzzled look on his face.

“If we keep that up, I’ll blow my load. And I don’t want to do that until I’ve fucked that hot ass of yours,” Cena said with a smile.

Charlie took the hint and quickly peeled off his clothes and lay on the bed on his stomach, ass up. Cena took one look at this, and immediately came up with an idea. He grabbed the can of whipped cream and got on the bed behind Charlie.

“Spread those ass cheeks for me Charlie,” Cena said.

Charlie did as requested, reaching his hands back, grabbing a hold of his butt cheeks and spreading them apart. Cena jumped into action immediately. He started at the top of Charlie’s ass and began putting a line of whipped cream all the way to the space between Charlie’s ass and balls.

“You ready for this?” Cena asked. “Oh yeah John,” Charlie moaned, knowing what was next.

Cena stuck out his tongue and licked all the way from the top to bottom of Charlie’s ass, collecting all the whipped cream in his mouth. He swallowed that and then put another patch of whipped cream on Charlie’s asshole. Cena quickly licked it off and swallowed, but once he got his first taste of Charlie’s hole, he had to have more.

He began licking and licking away at Charlie’s hole like there was no tomorrow. Cena then began probing his tongue into Charlie, trying to fuck Charlie’s ass with it. The whole time Charlie moaning out loud and pushing his ass back into Cena’s face.

Cena could have stayed between Charlie cheeks for hours, days even, but his dick was painfully hard, and he needed to fuck. He quickly jumped off the bed and went into the bathroom. When he came out, Charlie saw that he had a condom and some lube.

“Here ya go, lube that hot hole up for me,” Cena said as he got back on the bed. He unwrapped the condom, took it out of it’s package and then slid it over his dick, as Charlie rubbed the lube over his hole. Cena grabbed the lube from Charlie and squirted some on his condom clad dick and then rubbed it all over.

“You ready for this dick?” Cena asked.

“Yeah John, give it to me nice and hard,” Charlie begged.

Cena lined up his pole with Charlie’s hole and pushed until the head of his dick was in. Charlie let out a yell out pain, but his pain didn’t last long, `cause pleasure took over. Once Cena had given Charlie some time, he began fucking away. He thrust into Charlie’s ass furiously, pounding away so he could only hear his now sweaty balls slapping against Charlie.

“Fuck yeah Charlie, your ass feels better than your mouth,” Cena moaned.

Both Charlie and Cena were moaning away in ecstasy, loving every minute of this. However, they both had been on the verge of cumming before they started this, so it wasn’t long until they blew.

Once Cena was ready to cum, he began short, fast humps into Charlie. Charlie felt Cena’s sudden change in fucking and figured that he must be close. To help Cena along, Charlie tightened his ass around Cena’s dick, as if trying to squeeze the cum out of it.

“Aaaahhh shit, here it comes,” Cena yelled. He began blowing his load into the condom, shooting a good five times. Cena then collapsed on Charlie’s back from the sheer pleasure of his orgasm.

Charlie didn’t need anything to help him blow, the feel of Cena cumming in his ass, even if through a condom made him blow. His dick was trapped underneath him, so he shot all over the bed and himself, leaving a nice puddle of his cream.

Cena got off Charlie, and Charlie rolled over, Cena then saw the cum covered blanket and laughed.

“Good thing we have room service,” he joked. “Let’s hold off on that, I’d like to go at it again soon,” Charlie said grinning.

THE END

[justlookfrightened]

My boyfriend

Based on OMG Check Please! 04.03

Ugh.

How many times would they yell out a question about the locker room?

Did they really think Jack had nothing better to think about when he was getting ready or cleaning up after a hockey game? That his team had nothing better to think about than what Jack was thinking about?

Well, if Jack was thinking about how to solve Holtby, they should be thinking about that.

Jack felt a his lips curl into a small smile and quickly tamed it. He wasn’t going to give them anything until they asked about the topic of the day, which was, duh, hockey.

Then someone asked whom he had been kissing. Like, what, he grabbed the first cute blond in a Falcs sweater (a Zimmermann sweater) he saw?

“Oh … my boyfriend?” Jack said, because really, wasn’t that obvious?

Jack wished he could see Bitty right now, but he knew it was better that Bitty was safely tucked in an office, away from the prying eyes and rude questions. Someone had already mentioned Samwell. If they didn’t know his name yet, it wouldn’t be long.

He felt the presence of Marty and Thirdy, Tater and Snowy beside him, ready to share the load, so he sat down and let them take over.

After, he invited them to come for breakfast, even though that would mean a stop at the grocery store on the way. Bitty could drive straight home with Tater, who really should stay off that knee, and get things going.

Jack and Thirdy brought the eggs and milk and bread to the kitchen, then Jack busied himself refilling coffee for everyone who was feeling the effects of overdoing it the night before.

Bitty was sending out platters and bowls of eggs and toast and potatoes and fruit every few minutes, while the TV played continuing coverage of the game and the press conference. Someone — maybe Shitty? — had muted it before they got home, which was fine with Jack. He’d much rather watch himself kiss Bitty than listen to idiot commentators talk about it.

Bitty was still in the kitchen. Jack wanted to ask him to come join everyone, but stopped himself. Maybe that wasn’t what Bitty wanted? He loved to cook, loved to feed people, and maybe he just wanted to get away from the hubbub. Jack knew what that felt like. It wouldn’t be right to drag him out here just because Jack wanted to feel him close, preferably in his lap (Jack loved having Bitty in his lap) or at least next to him.

Jack craned his neck and saw Dex in the kitchen with Bitty. He wasn’t alone, then. Even if Dex seemed an odd friend for Bitty, Jack knew they were close. That was good.

Maybe all these people would leave soon. Shits and Lardo would have to go to Boston for clean clothes, or at least out to buy some. Jack had to call Maman and Papa … had Bitty talked to his parents? At all?

Shit.

When the TV went to a commercial, Jack turned it off and started collecting plates. That was enough of a message for most everybody to get up, carry their dishes to the kitchen, thank Bitty for the food and get ready to go. Thirdy even dragged Tater out.

Jack loaded the dishwasher — Bitty must have emptied it while he was cooking — and went in search of his phone. While he was at it, he grabbed Bitty’s charger and took it to the kitchen.

“Want me to plug your phone in, bud?”

[trophywifejimgordon]

pre show hcs: jim & oswald

backstory headcanons under the cut; i’m putting these two together because they’re the most polished and also because i’m a gobblepot bitch at heart. a few barbara and fish ones snuck in as well, if that’s your cup of tea 👀👀👀

When Peter Gordon is still alive, he shows his sons (Jim and his younger brother Roger) his favorite western movies, which Jim retains a taste for all his life. Jim especially loves 3:10 to Yuma*, both back then and in the present, because of Ben Wade--honestly, he doesn’t realize it (and would never admit it), but his first crushes were on those gentlemen outlaw types. Seems like nothing ever changes.

Jim idealizes his father completely and withdraws into himself entirely when he dies. He’s angry & sulky as hell at first, which only gets worse when his mother remarries--he picks constant fights with his stepfather, who isn’t such a bad guy (he genuinely loves Jim’s mother and he and Roger get along, but then, Roger doesn’t have as many memories of Peter, and he doesn’t have Jim’s temper), but when years pass and Jim’s still in that angry, mourning state, things eventually get brutal. He leaves home senior year the second he turns 18, finishes the year couch surfing, and doesn’t look back. Enlists in the army because there’s no way he can afford college on his own and he stopped caring about his grades once his home life went to shit, so he’s not exactly first in line for scholarships. Spends the majority of his senior year with his high school sweetheart** Barbara Kean, whose parents tolerate him because he’s walking proof that she’s straight after all.

Ha.

Jim breaks up with her messily right before he enlists; she handles the breakup poorly (combining with her parent’s neglect to give her some pretty severe abandonment issues that will rock their relationship years into the future) and spends her first year of college at a prestigious school her parents kind of buy her way into (but kind of not, too; she’s a very talented artist with a passion for art history as well as a perfectionist driven by her parents’ expectations when she was in high school, and if things hadn’t gone as they did with James, she might have excelled at that university) completely wasted. She flunks her first semester and her parents pull her out in an outrage and stash her in a local Gotham school to save face, where she meets Renee Montoya, a very promising student with a criminal justice major who is brilliantly talented and in fact got accepted to Barbara’s fancy college all on her own, but couldn’t pay tuition. She pulls Renee into a toxic cycle of drug use and affairs and being miserable, tries to make her both everything Jim is and what he isn’t, and they circle around each other for the whole of their college careers through increasingly tumultuous make-ups and break-ups that wreak havoc on both their grades and their mental states. Finally, their last year of college, Renee breaks it off, apparently for good, and pulls herself up to good academic standing in the school and joins the GCPD soon after, while Barbara does nothing with her degree but laugh at it for a while, spending her life mostly between parties and hangovers.

Jim had one or two encounters in high school that might have been recognizably Not Straight, but he really finds out he’s bi when he’s in the army, stationed overseas with about 30 other men and no women whatsoever in his platoon. He fools around mostly--not particularly interested in falling in love or even really in lust--but accidentally forms a close bond with fellow soldier Eduardo Dorrance, with whom he starts sharing dreams and fears and hopes for after the war in between quick and cheap late night h*ndjobs. They fool around just enough that Jim knows it’s more than friendship for him, and for Eduardo too, he thinks, and that realization shows him what he probably already knows; this is nothing new to him, not really (understanding that puts everything in a new light for Jim and he looks back on some of the interactions he’d had and thinks oh--the way he’d always change fast in the locker room, looking at the walls and making no eye contact, making sure he’d never look around because he couldn’t bear for his eyes to linger and leaving as soon as he’d tugged on his shirt and tied his shoes, the uncomfortable attraction he’d had to that particularly strict football coach junior year, the claps on the back and knocks to the shoulder he’d give friends, feeling the contact for long afterward), and at the end of his service he just finds himself surprisingly comfortable with men, perhaps more than he’d ever been with girls back in school. That’s... pretty much the only thing the army makes him comfortable with. While he’s there, he becomes increasingly disillusioned with the United States military and the war he’s there to fight. He starts getting in arguments with superiors, and only escapes a dishonorable discharge by the fact that he’s shot in the stomach and sent home with a purple heart first.

(When Eduardo comes back to the States on leave and shows up at his doorstep hoping to reconnect, pick up where they left off, something, Jim throws him out with an anger he’s never quite felt before and can’t understand afterward, and that’s it for them... until recently.) 

Jim makes a full recovery and decides, while he’s in the hospital, that he wants to get a job where he can just help people--at first thinking idealistically, thinking about being a doctor or a lawyer or a case worker--someone he thinks could really make a difference. He starts trying to find a way to make this work in Gotham and inevitably runs into Barbara Kean, whom he reconnects with, and soon, she’s offering to fund his education and go back to school with him, and he can’t say no.

They move to Chicago, where Barbara goes to school and Jim takes night classes and works during the day to pay for their shitty apartment that he still couldn’t afford if Barbara(’s parents) weren’t footing the bill.

He gets through two years of school and leaves with an associate’s degree, feeling like he’s good for nothing. He wakes in the few hours he does get to sleep with nightmares from the army, and while Barbara is moving up, selling a few of her pieces and organizing galleries and rubbing elbows with high class people, he can’t find a career that does what he wants to do. Drinking in a bar one night (he does that increasingly regularly, coming home earlier and earlier in the morning and sometimes not at all), Jim sees a man trying to take advantage of some lady there and beats the shit out of him. The police are called, and Jim nearly gets arrested, but the lady steps in and begs them to let him go, saying he’s a hero. The cops give him advice: you want to be a hero, stop getting drunk in bars. Join the force.

Thinking that the army has ruined him for any career that doesn’t involve guns and violence, anyway, Jim joins the police academy. He moves back to Gotham while Barbara stays in Chicago, and graduates top of his class, the oldest recruit they picked up that year. He does his time as a uniform cop at a smaller precinct outside of Gotham, but his (sparse) education and military background, not to mention the reputation his father left behind as DA, mark him for better things, and within a year, he’s promoted to become a homicide detective at the GCPD. Barbara moves back to Gotham (back into the apartment she’d lived in since her undergraduate years, a big penthouse she’d never quite been able to let the lease run out on, for reasons that surely have nothing to do with the woman who still held the other key to it) and sets up her own studio and shit, and he moves back in with her, asks her to marry him, and everything gets all picked out. Jim starts the job investigating the Wayne murders. The rest, we know.

*The 1957 version, because somehow it seems like blasphemy to conceive of modern movies in the Gotham setting

**Okay, so this isn’t entirely accurate to Gotham canon. There’s a part in season one where Harvey is deconstructing Jim’s love life and says something along the lines of “let me guess: high school sweetheart, hoes overseas only made you sad, and then there’s Barbara,” which Jim more or less acknowledges. I guess the first time I heard it I misinterpreted the line and thought it meant that Barbara was the high school sweetheart, so by the time I realized that wasn’t it, I was already in deep with the headcanon... oh well. I explored that idea in this fic over here, if you’re interested. 

Now, Oswald, on the other hand... Oswald Cobblepot spends his childhood as the weird kid with the strange clothes and the faint foreign accent. He brings goulash to school in a thermos and is too close to his mother and has no friends whatsoever, but spends a lot of time at the library and, in his early years, gets top marks in all his subjects. He’d be a shoe-in for special attention or even a place at the prestigious private school on a merit scholarship, but that the teachers don’t like him very much (there’s some prejudice against him for his single mother and his accent, and for the smug way in which he knows everything they ask of him and more) and do nothing to help him get ahead. 

When he starts high school, Oswald decides to try and make friends. He kicks his accent to start talking more like the other students, and does his best to socialize, mostly with other kids in his smart classes. For one ephemeral semester, some of the girls find him cute and take him under their wings, inviting him to study and go to the mall with them. He’s definitely their “gay best friend,” although he doesn’t know that (doesn’t realize he’s gay) and in hindsight resents them for it. He does their homework for them and generally lets himself get walked all over in the interest of having friends for the first time in his entire life. It goes pretty well until they start inviting him to hang out with them when they’re with their boyfriends, and Oswald (who’s also never had a crush in his life) falls hard, still not realizing that what he’s feeling is attraction. He’s overly nice and asks the guys a lot of questions and offers them things and generally just fawns, which kind of freaks the dudes out (and naturally they get mad about it) while the girls get pissed off that he’s flirting with their boyfriends. Eventually, they just go back to bullying him like everyone else, and Oswald is alone again.

Oswald deals with Gertrude’s mental state on-and-off throughout his life. She’s a loving mother, and in her better times she reads to him and teaches him to cook and tells him stories of her childhood (though never of his father). In her worse states, she can tend toward paranoid and delirious, a product of her childhood fearing the secret police* while living in poverty, and can even lash out toward Oswald, thinking he’s someone else, or else refuse to let him leave their apartment, because she’s afraid he’ll leave her for better things like Elijah had. When he’s much younger, there’s a string of abusive boyfriends who give him a warped perception of what “love” and dating look like--ultimately, he’s pretty turned off to the subject. They either ignore or physically hurt Oswald, and hurt Gertrude emotionally, physically, and s*xually, especially when she’s in more vulnerable mental states. These states get worse as he grows up and starts coming home with increasingly bad injuries--she’s furious about the bullies, but doesn’t do much but smother Oswald in attention he grows to resent. 

Because of her instability, she’s in-and-out of jobs as a cook or a house cleaner, and they spend most years impoverished, Oswald having to mend his own clothes because they can’t afford new ones. Between caring for her and worrying about where dinner’s going to come from, Oswald’s grades start to slip, and eventually he drops out of school halfway through his senior year to work two jobs, as she’s too far gone to support them. He spends his days at a department store as a clerk (working retail is all the backstory Oswald needs to justify his misanthropy, lbr) and his nights as a dishwasher for some seedy bar he’s not old enough to visit. To make things harder than they should be, Gertrude is resistant to him going out, as she’s sure that he’s going off on dates with a hussy that he’ll eventually elope with. He still loves his mother, of course, but he’s starting to grow resentful of her mental illness and the degree to which he’s suffering--pushed around by assholes at work, up at all hours, hardly getting more of a rest than his lunch breaks and the hour between his shifts, and seeing his future as essentially ruined because of how high school experience turned out. Still, he has no obligations greater than his devotion to her, so he sets his teeth and bears it. Builds up a crazy level of patience, stamina, and pain tolerance, as well as a flood of negative emotions at the whole world. Every once in a while, on his rare day off, he’ll sit with Gertrude and and read her her novels, like she would read to him. She seems better during times like these; sometimes she’ll have him let her take over reading, and she’ll pet his hair. Sometimes she even has enough clarity to realize that she’s putting a huge strain on her son, and weeps, apologizing; he feels guilty, then, for all the resentment he’s got, all the times he thought about just running away. He works longer hours, tries to pay for medication for her. It’s showing improvement in stabilizing her moods, but at the same time, he’s operating on the edge of collapse.

Right when Oswald figures he can’t take it anymore, something changes: a young, fearsome Fish Mooney comes into possession of the bar Oswald works nights at and decides to change it into a respectable nightclub. She’s Falcone’s wunderkind, making him the highest profit margins, and so she gets pretty wide range for what she’s allowed to do. Most of the staff, she fires for boring her or for having the wrong “look” for her establishment, but when Oswald grovels to keep his job, she decides he’s funny, and besides, the groveling fuels her ego. She, like those girls at his high school, takes him under her wing; she first buys him a new suit (he takes eternal pride in it and washes it nightly; it starts off his obsession with fancy dress and presentation) and then gives him a list of jobs: he has to tend to various things around the bar and do a few humiliating chores, not the least of which include cleaning toilets, rubbing Fish’s feet, and carrying her umbrella. It’s demeaning, but honestly, he’s too thankful (then) to give much of a shit. 

She tells him to quit his other job so he can follow her around all day, and he protests that he’ll never be able to feed his mother--to which she responds that he’s getting a pay raise effective immediately. She’s got a soft spot for poor single mothers, after all. Now he’s got both a well paying job and more time on his hands than before--Fish is demanding, but not as demanding as two full-time positions. Used to working his ass off constantly, Oswald spends his newfound free time both entertaining his mother and studying to make up for the years of high school he missed--he gets his GED, and passes with flying colors. Thinks briefly of the life he could have had as an academic, but pushes that behind him. Too late to regret what’s already gone. Plus, he’s got a good gig--Fish is amused by him, but she’s also slowly starting to value his advice (if it’s given appropriately timed and with no one else around, a lesson he learns with great difficulty), and slowly trusting him with more of her secrets. Many nights it’s just the two of them at the club after hours, her complaining about some new issue, him doing petty accounting for her over a glass of wine. And as time goes on, Oswald starts to realize that Fish is Falcone’s most trusted ally, and he’s her most trusted employee. He’s got everything he’s ever wanted--his job’s enough to keep him and Gertrude above the poverty line, his mother’s mental health has at least partially improved, and he’s gaining influence in the mob. He’s not that surprised to find he’s got no qualms about this--the mob has given him shit he’s not gotten anywhere else, and after being put down and miserable for all his life, he finds no injustice in hurting other people to pave his way. When Butch Gilzean offers him a bat and lets him have a go at beating the shit out of some goon, the guy on the ground is everyone who ever made fun of his accent, every shitty guy who beat on his mother. It’s a good match for him.

So for a while, he’s content.

Then... Well, for the first time in his life, his basic needs are met without fighting every day to survive. Basically he’s tasted blood and he wants more, so when he realizes what Fish is planning to do about Falcone (sees it months before she even dares speak the concept out loud, in fact) he wonders if he couldn’t damn well do the same. 

So he starts listening. Writing notes at the end of the day, little tidbits of information. Who’s in on her scheme. How she’s going to do it. Moves she’s anticipating from him, and from Maroni. All the while, he’s planning. At the same time, the stress she’s under is coming out in the form of more abuse on Oswald’s head, and he’s growing more and more resentful of her. The first step of his plan becomes “replace Fish in Falcone’s inner circle.” He bides his time for nearly a year before the opportunity to set things into motion presents itself....

The Waynes are murdered. Gotham plunges into the deep. Oswald finds a way to survive.

*Isn’t there an episode where Gertrude talks about selling out a girl’s parents to the secret police? I feel like I distinctly remember that. Anyway, I’ve always felt like she was traumatized to a certain degree and the influence it has on Oswald is something we don��t talk about enough, so...

[lesbianshera]

One of my biggest dreams that only a handful of people have ever heard about is the Homelessness Transitional Program I want to start one day, especially here in Chicago.

Basically, it would be a home where people can register to move in and work at. Ideally it would be a large building downtown that is easily accessible to people who would have to walk or take the CTA. I would love to house as many people as I could, the main focus would be with Youths but nobody would be “too old” to join. Many programs here end at 25 years of age. 

Playing with some numbers, lets say I could one day afford a building downtown that has 50 floors to it. The top 30 would be the living quarters, the highest 10 would be for youths. Then 10 would be for families. 5 for the elderly. And 5 for the in between ages. 

Age Ranges would be:

Youths: Anybody 25 and under. Families: Any age, 2 or more people arriving together. In between: 26 - 55 Elderly: 56+

The floors would be set up as so for youths: 

5 floors for exclusively girls (taking into consideration girls running from abusive hetero relationships, girls with a fear of men due to trafficking, assault, abusive parents, etc. Also taking into consideration trans girls who want to surround themselves with a more feminine environment.)

5 floors would be co-ed.

All 10 floors would have “All Gender Restrooms/Locker rooms” as most LGBTQ youth centers here have. The idea is very accepting and gives easier access to many trans and non-binary youths. Also available would be private bathrooms with showers for anybody who isn’t comfortable being the restroom or shower near/with others around the way many locker rooms are set up. 

All floors are set up kind of like dorms, 4 people to a room, 2 sets of bunk beds in each room, 4 wardrobes and 4 desks in each. All rooms are handicap accessible of course and people can request the bottom bunks if needed. Ages would of course be taken into consideration, all roommates would be within 1-2 years of each other. Especially with the younger kids. 

The floors for families would be set up like:

Like apartments. They would have 1-3 bedrooms. Families with only 2 people (whether it’s a couple, a single parent and child or another situation) would get 1 bedrooms only. The bedrooms would be adjusted to have one bed or two beds upon request. Families with 3-5 people (whether it’s 2 parents with 1-3 kids or a single parent with 1-4 kids or another situation) would be allowed a 2 bedroom. Each room could be adjusted in the number of beds, kids would be allowed only a twin sized bed. Families with 6+ people would be allowed 3 bedroom apartments, number of beds would be adjusted as needed. The one and two bedroom apartments would have 1 bathroom and the 3 bedroom apartments would have 2 bathrooms. Each floor would also have a public use restroom/locker room on each floor. 

The floors for the elderly would be set up like:

Apartments as well, all would be 1 bedrooms. A connected restroom with shower for every 2 apartments. 

The floors for the in between ages would be set up like:

Pretty much like the youth rooms, with shared living spaces, the 5 floors for 26-55 year olds would be the 5 just before the youth spaces. Whenever the number of youths is lower, we would allow for more “older” people to use their floors, ages and gender would still be factored in. All youths would still be kept together, nobody over the age of 26 would be allowed to room with anybody 25 and under. A whole floor from the youths could be converted to an adult level if needed. Any runaway youths, orphans or kids kicked out of their homes that are 18 or younger would only be allowed to room with other youths 18 and under. 

The bottom 20 floors would be where most activities then occur. The first floor would be our lobby with a few offices for initial interviews. 

The second floor would be the public hanging space with access to computers for job searches, apartment searches or fun if wanted. There would also be a few rooms with tv’s and coaches for bonding and getting to know others within the program. A small library as well in one room, an art room for anything creative and a board game room. This level would be accessible to not only those living in the building but also for youth who need a place to go and hang out. Those not living within the building however would have to be 25 and under, still need to do an intake and would have a curfew of 7:30pm. The open hours however would be from 10am to 7:30pm, Monday - Fridays. Saturday and Sundays it would only be open to those living in the building. 

The third and fourth floor would each have a large kitchen and large cafeteria, each floor would also have smaller dining areas where anybody who requires a quieter setting would be allowed to go. 

The fifth floor would be our clinic where all initial health intakes are taken to make sure everybody coming in is vaccinated and in good health. Any medications that are needed would be offered as well, insulin, hormones, antibiotics, etc.

The sixth floor would be our mental health rooms. Where we would have offices for around 10 licensed therapists, 4 of whom would/should have a specialty in youth care. We would also have 10 suites for sessions on this floor and a break room for the staff on that floor. 

The seventh floor would be where our case managers work from, hoping for at minimum 20 case workers, these would be the people who help with finding jobs, finding affordable apartments, figuring out where your primary health care provider and dentist will be once you leave the program, etc. This floor would also have a break room for the staff on that level.

The eighth, ninth and tenth floor would all have classrooms where we would teach basic skills such as budgeting, cooking, cleaning, sewing, math, and more. The rooms could also be requested by anybody in the program who wishes to teach something. 

The eleventh floor would be our public laundry room where people could be and do their laundry for free, detergent and such would be given as well. 

The twelfth floor would be our closed laundry room where we would wash all sheets, towels, etc between people staying in rooms. As soon as somebody is moved out their sheets and towels would all be replaced and cleaned etc. 

The thirteenth floor would be where all cleaning supplies would be kept for the building. We would have 50 carts set up as well to be taken and used on each floor each morning. Our large dumpsters as well to be taken around the floors to collect all trash. 

The fourteenth floor would be theater sort of set up with multiple purposes. One of which being for talent shows (primarily for fun and done every 4 months to allow for happy moments with all the staff and program members and open to the public with donation boxes set up.), open to be rented as well by the public for funding purposes. 

The fifteenth floor would be where fundraising gala’s would be held, so it’d be like a large ballroom with a stage, large windows with a view (rich people who donate like the view).

The sixteenth floor would be our HR since the building would be “run” by those within the program. (Expanded on lower in this post)

The seventeenth - nineteenth floors would be closed private spaces for those living within the building. These floors would have mini kitchens with snacks, living room set ups, computers, a gym for physical activities, jogging, volleyball, etc, not accessible to the public. 

Then twenty+ would be the living spaces.

The rooftop would also be used. It would be fenced off for safety reasons but it would have a garden, a few bonfire set ups, it would be a nice little space for people to just go up and get some sun. 

We would have 6 elevators for those within the program, all requiring key/badge access. All people accepted into the program would receive a badge with their photo and name on it, that key would be programmed to give them access to their bedroom and all floors allowed to them. 

We would also have 3 elevators for public use that would only stop on the first, second, third, and fourth floor during regular hours. During event nights they would also stop on the fourteenth and/or fifteenth floor. There would also be one express elevator that stops only on the first, fourteenth and fifteenth floors. That one only accessibly during event nights. 

As I mentioned earlier, the building would be run by those within the program, to elaborate, anybody 16 years or older would be required to have a job within the building. They could help in the kitchen with food prep, serving, dishes, etc. Another job would be housekeeping, where they’re assigned a floor and would have to go around and clean, collect trash, etc. Another job would be programming, where they would run groups such as art, supervise movie nights, give mini lessons, etc. Another job would be those who help in the closed laundry rooms. Another would be to provide child care for those who are staying there with children and who have to go to job interviews, go to their new jobs, apartment viewings, etc. All jobs within the building would pay $15/hour, would pay weekly and have a minimum requirement of 12 hours a week and a maximum of 20 hours a week so as to not prevent the people within the building from working jobs outside of the building. This would also provide those within the program a way to buy work clothes and shoes and start a savings account to move into their own place. Bus passes would be provided as well. 

People could stay within the program anywhere from a few days to four months maximum. By four months you should have an apartment and job set up, exceptions can be made however. 

All staff would be paid relatively well, anywhere from $22/hour+ depending on their role and level of experience. Holiday pay, overtime, vacation and insurance would all be given. Staff would be allowed to partake in special events, would be allowed to eat dinner with the programmers, etc. I would 100% want to make sure they all feel and know how appreciated they are. We would also accept interns and volunteers in the building. 

How would this get funded? It sounds expensive? I know. It’s a dream, but something that any billionaire, maybe even a millionaire could accomplish. I would be living within the building myself so as to make sure everything is running smoothly at all times. I would probably invest in real estate and buy several apartment buildings throughout the city and make sure all rent is affordable. The spaces would primarily be rented out to those within the program once they’ve secured jobs. Those buildings would then be paying for themselves and any income from the rent that’s left over would be put towards the primary building itself. There would of course be several events throughout the year for rich people to attend and donate. I would probably try to strike up investment deals with several companies as well. Basically, they would invest/donate/fund by providing either money, food, clothes, shoes, supplies, etc and in return they would be provided with resumes of those within the program. For example a retail store provides us with maybe 200k a year, in return they get access to all the resumes and could higher anybody in the program. Maybe a phone company gives us a money donation and even donates cell phones for those who need them, then they set up interviews with anybody in the program. Maybe a grocery store provides us with money, food and hygiene supplies, they then have access to resumes. Maybe an airline donates money and funds special events, etc. It would be a win-win situation for big company donors that way, it would also give them a good reputation with the public and would more than likely bring in more business. We would also apply for government grants, which from how big of a program it is and how many it would help, we would probably receive a lot of government funding.

What would the rich people donating receive? Their name ingrained on the “Wall of Heroes” that would span throughout the gala room. And if we were ever to run out of space in there then it would be expanded to the theater level.

I realize my idea probably sounds so expensive and so out of reach but I’ve always had big dreams and this is one that I want to one day accomplish. Even if I’m 60 by the time I can start something like this up I’m gonna try. Honestly I just want to do whatever I can to end homelessness, every day I see so many people out on the streets. I work at 7am most days so I’m on the train by 6am to get there on time and I see people sleeping on the train, sleeping at stations, on the streets out in the cold and it breaks my heart. I see people begging for left overs outside of restaurants, I see people struggling just to make it one more day and I just don’t understand how so many rich people can turn a blind eye to that. How can people have hundreds of millions of dollars and not do a damn thing about it. I just don’t understand how people can earn anywhere from 10 million+ a year and just hoard it all or spend it so selfishly. What kind of family of 4 needs a 25 bedroom home with a home theater and indoor swimming pool? 

I might be naive and I might dream too big but I swear, I will get something like this started one day in all big cities within the United States. I’ll advocate for affordable housing, for universal healthcare, for a living wage, not just a survival wage. I’ll do everything in my power to make this world better, I’ll make my voice heard about the environment, about our wildlife, about our humanity. I’ll do what I can in the time that I can.

[aprilrichardson]

I Know It’s Over

There are people to whom music doesn't matter. I often envy these people. My mom is one of them -- she's not really concerned with music, poetry, movies, or anything in popular culture. She considers herself a whole, satisfied person without these things in her life, free from any aesthetic crutches. I am not one of those people. I needed music. I need music. From a very early age, I needed music to tell me I was okay. I needed it to tell me I was normal, I needed it to tell me I was weird, I needed it to confirm that I'd be fine either way. I needed it in a dramatic way. I needed it in a mundane way, playing all the time in the background like wallpaper with a pattern you've stopped noticing. I needed to identify with it, I needed it to make me feel complicated emotions I'd never felt before; it could comfort me or repulse me, soothe me or force me to look outward, echo my own sentiments or expand my mind to fit new ones. Music (and the bands/people who made it) served as my mentor, my older sibling, my voice of reason and, at times, bad influence. When you're an only child from a fractured family, you spend a lot of time in your room. Your hobbies can become your closest friends. Music became my savior and my most time-consuming, all-encompassing, money-draining pursuit. My savings account would be at least triple its current amount had I not been so obsessed with seeing bands and collecting their records. Perhaps I would have created more things of my own if I'd not spent so much time fawning over the creations of others. My personality would have been entirely different if, early on in my youth, I had not blatantly lifted the clothes and mannerisms and styles of those I looked up to or had not read the books and watched the movies they had championed. For better or worse, art -- this specific form of art, music -- has been and continues to be a transformative force in my life. At the very center of this were two bands, R.E.M. and The Smiths, and specifically two people: Michael Stipe and Morrissey. My first two real heroes, with now only the former still on the pedestal I built when I was around 11 or 12. I moved to a new neighborhood and school district when I was in second grade, and became fast friends with a boy my age who lived one street over. Nathan and I shared a lot of the same interests, and as we started middle school, a deep obsession with those two aforementioned bands and frontmen (and, also, Depeche Mode and Dave Gahan). Nathan was gay before either one of us knew what that meant, and was often mocked for this -- I was made fun of, too, but for reasons far less difficult for me than coming to terms with my sexuality as an adolescent. But, for our own reasons, we were outcasts, seeking comfort in our chosen art. This was conservative Georgia in the late '80s/early '90s, a time well before the Internet, before easily accessible media, when role models were fought for tooth and nail, with plans having to be made on how to save enough allowance for cassette tapes, older friends or siblings bribed to purchase things with "parental advisory" labels we'd smuggle into our rooms later. I can barely put into words what hearing (and seeing!) Morrissey for the first time did to us -- did FOR us! For Nathan, in such an environment, Morrissey became a blueprint for queerness, the very first peek into the very POSSIBILITY of life as a grown man who wasn't either an alpha male jock, like all the ones at our school, or stern businessman with a briefcase, like all of our (step)dads. He was the first person to, with his mannerisms and his very existence, communicate to Nathan that it was perfectly fine (and cool even!) to, in the words of the bullies, "act like a girl." And the magical thing is, he somehow simultaneously did the exact opposite for me! As a masculine tomboy, I saw in him a person so easily blurring the lines of both! He made me feel better about the qualities I had so often been told "weren't ladylike." We talked about him constantly. We dressed like him. It goes without saying that his music was playing in the background nearly every time we hung out. I remember my mom allowing me to stay up late to watch Johnny Carson the night Morrissey was on -- I was 12, and I absolutely remember my mom getting angry, watching alongside me as Morrissey fans screamed over Bill Cosby (gulp) as he tried to talk. The next year, Morrissey was on Saturday Night Live, and my mom let me go over to Nathan's house to watch it (our parents became very close friends as well). He taped it on their VCR as we watched, and we immediately played it back. We watched it probably every day for months. We didn't have the money to buy all of his back catalog, so an older kid in my youth group at church let me borrow his Smiths CDs, and I dubbed copies on my tape deck for us. I sat and hand-wrote the lyrics down on notebook paper, carefully transcribing from the liner notes as the tape recorded. It's difficult for me to be eloquent here, and I always find it hard to convey these feelings to people who are, well, normal, who can hear a song and go, "That's nice!" and not have to immediately know its backstory, who wrote it, why they wrote it, what inspires them, what books they read, etc. Who don't feel their insides twist into knots when a turn of phrase meets a melody and the combination makes them feel understood in a way they never have, sets them at ease in a way that even the kind words of the closest relative couldn't do. That is absolutely how I felt the first time I heard The Smiths. When you're 12, at least when I was 12, the last people you feel like you can talk to about your feelings are your parents; and for Nathan, doubly so, as I don't think he could even articulate his until Morrissey's lyrics shed some light on what he'd been going through. So, for us, this guy was so far from "just a singer" -- he was a beacon, a mentor, he told us it was okay to be effeminate and okay to be masculine and okay that you didn't get invited to the parties because staying in your room reading books was more glamorous anyway. The world wasn't made for people like us and that should be worn as a badge of honor, not shame. Such a message was REVELATORY for a girl whose every male role model had let her down or left entirely and a boy who didn't want to play football or shoot guns. The obsession continued and deepened, and in high school, became full on reliance. Who better to help me navigate the emotional minefield that is the teen years than Morrissey? I didn't drink, I didn't smoke, I didn't do drugs, I didn't "party," I didn't even so much as hold a boy's hand until I was a couple weeks shy of 16 years old -- all of the things that kids considered fun and did on a regular basis were so foreign to me, until I got home to my bedroom and was soothed by the voice of a guy who also did not participate in any of the above. I didn't really know anyone in real life who seemed to understand my plight more than the man whose voice was blasting out of my speakers. To me, Morrissey was always absolutely the voice of the underdogs. The weirdos. The outcasts. The disenfranchised. Anyone who felt left out, let down, misunderstood, too sensitive, too sad. He was there to comfort us, understanding and empathetic to our needs while giving the finger to the system and the people therein who were keeping us down, shoving us into lockers, ripping the glasses off our faces and stomping on them in front of their domineering friends. When someone writes songs as seemingly personal as Morrissey's, you tend to think you know them. And in my case, having read so many books about him (and now some BY him), I felt that way, to a degree. I like to think of myself as a rational person (perhaps after reading this far, you disagree), but I definitely felt a bit like I "knew" him in the sense that I'd picked up on words he'd frequently used ("vulgar" and "vile" were personal favorites), had working knowledge of the causes that were important to him, and certainly knew his favorite bands and movies and authors. I'd even been lucky enough to meet him quite a few times, especially after moving to Los Angeles, where I'd see him at restaurants and shows, and he was always cordial (if not downright sweet) to me every time we spoke. Of course I'd heard stories about him "being a dick," but that never bothered me, truly, only because I think that's kind of relative, and perhaps a lack of manners or catching someone on a bad day is a bummer, and the "temperamental artist" archetype exists for a reason. Sure, it's ideal that someone you admire is nice to you should you ever interact, but a surly encounter would not cause me to write someone off completely. So, because of this, well, perhaps delusion, I was able to explain away certain statements, such as calling Chinese people a "subspecies" while addressing animal rights, because I knew of his history of exaggeration when trying to get his point across about that subject in particular, the one perhaps dearest to his heart. (And I won't pretend that white privilege didn't play a part; it's undoubtedly and shamefully easier to conveniently ignore something when you aren't the target.) This person's main place in my life thus far was almost as a therapist, so the possibility of him having anything other than the best of intentions seemed so unlikely. But the words became harder to parse, excuses harder to make. Playing the contrarian for the sake of it isn't helpful (or even entertaining) in times like these. You aren't at the Algonquin Round Table. You're courting Stormfronters. It's not funny or charming. I don't expect every artist I look up to (or even every friend or acquaintance in my life) to share my exact same views, but when your band wears T-shirts supporting the Black Panthers yet you voice your support for the likes of Nigel Farage, how does the cognitive dissonance not paralyze you? You change lyrics to songs to slam Trump, yet you basically share his views on immigration? You imply that a gay teenager -- arguably the demographic most deeply affected by your art -- is at fault for the predatory behavior of an adult? You've told anyone who will listen that you were raised on feminist literature, yet you claim the female victims of Harvey Weinstein -- a man who hired fuckin' BLACK OPS to spy on his accusers to make sure they never came forward, so calculated were his plans -- were just "disappointed" that their RAPES didn't result in career advancement?! WHO ARE YOU. Who is this person saying this? The very person who gave me the strength to stand against the establishment has become the establishment! The person whose voice soothed with empathy and compassion for outsiders like me has become someone I would have crossed the street to avoid. The bullied has become the bully. He has, for years now, exhibited the very closemindedness I thought he was trying to free us from. Is it just an inevitability that the spoils of success will change a person? If you isolate yourself and invite no one into your circle who will ever question you, is this the result? Contempt for the very people who supported you for so long? A quality I used to admire in Morrissey was his obstinance, but I've found as I've aged myself, standing by opinions for the sake of it, refusing to allow yourself to grow and change as more information becomes available, to never soften your heart and swallow your pride and apologize when you've realized you might have been wrong about something -- that's not admirable, that's cowardice. I appreciate it more when people admit they don't know enough about a subject to comment on it instead of making a statement just for attention. My heart is broken. The man I looked to as an oasis of sensitivity in a desert of toxicity seems, well, just plain mean and vengeful now. I refuse to be cynical, and I refuse to be someone who says, "That's what you get for having heroes." Perhaps the lesson here is just knowing when to let go. And that it was indeed the songs that saved my life, not the man.

Fifteen-year-old me in my bedroom.