#as marie condo says

[luvfromlucifer]

y’all would not believe the wardrobe clear out i just pulled off

[raccoon-in-the-danger-room]

Logan and Wade's relationship post movie is slow burn in the most infuriating way cause they have so many hang ups about the relationship

On Logan's side: He fell in love with Wade first. Which mortifies him cause 1) Wade is still in love with Vanessa 2) they're roommates in a one bedroom apartment with Blind Al until he gets his life together in a parallel world where he's technically dead and his SSN is donezo 3) Wade Winston Wilson is probably the most embarrassing person to have a crush on, let alone be in love with. Logan will defend him to heaven and hell and back, but even he knows it's crazy to fall for the Blowjob Queen of Sasqatoon.

He's fully aware of his feelings but tries to squash it down, acts like he hates Wade's guts. Even though every morning he wakes up early to make coffee for the both of them before Wade wakes up. Even though he's memorized what's his favorite gun cleaner and oil are, then stocks them up before Wade even notices his supply is running low. Even though he's the most at peace when Wade and Laura are having Girls' Night in the living room, wearing face masks and watching A24 horror films, while he's kicking back with Blind Al in the kitchen, sipping shitty beer.

On Wade's side: He has no idea Logan likes him. Or, better to say, he has no idea WHY Logan would like him. He might be gods perfect idiot, but if 2+2 = 22, then if someone tells you to shut up and stabs you in every argument to be had, they can't possibly LIKE like you. So even when the initial hostility of being new roommates dies down, he takes the domesticity they find together a side effect of being a Wolverine over the age of 40 with a teenage daughter and no active income in sight. "Beggars can't be ungrateful bastards who couch surf for free" and all that jazz.

Wade is also still hooked up on Vanessa. She'll always be his soul mate, and that will never change. So they try to talk it out. They go on a couple dates. They try to work something, anything out, but in the end they both agree it just isn't right anymore. They still love each other, but that doesn't mean they should be in a relationship. They both deserve better than to be stuck in the past.

So by the time Wade is single for real, Logan is already set on them not getting together. Previous points aside, he's no rebound chick. He just got promoted from Worst Wolverine to Okay-est Wolverine (via the coffee mug Laura got him from etsy) -- so he's absolutely NOT fucking gonna be a sloppy bitch and make a move on his roommate after he got out of a whatever the fuck situationship with his ex-dead, ex-fiance.

When they finally get together, it's so far down the line and so slow-burn, that they genuinely don't know how they got there. All they know is that they share a new one bedroom apartment together, alone (but Blind Al lives on the same floor of the complex) and that they are so far gone in domestic bliss that they're arguing with each other over how to properly assemble a pet condo for Mary Puppins.

[purelyfiction]

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NFL QB Jake 'Hangman' Seresin AU x Popstar F!Reader

Summary: NFL Quarterback Jacob Seresin is in hot water from a streak of bad decisions, just as you go through the worst public breakup of your life. With people slandering both of your reputations, your publicists hatch a plan to bring both of you back into favor and keep the heat off until spring - that is if you can keep up the facade.

Word Count: 5,334 words

Author Note: I know I have two other outstanding Top Gun fics and I swear I'm trying to get those going but I am writing what sparks joy and well.... this certainly does. || Also!! Reader's stage name is 'Celeste' with 'Este' as the nickname. So no one gets confuseddddd

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You'd never anticipated to start the biggest year of your life absolutely gutted, yet here you are. Your boyfriend – well, ex-boyfriend, severed what you had thought to be a loving, trusting and safe relationship, rather unexpectedly on New Year's Eve. Then he'd gone to the press to relay that you were a horrible person, a terrible girlfriend, too involved in your work to even bother paying attention to anyone else. The timing couldn't be worse, since you were about to start your first ever stadium tour in the spring. 

The result had been you hiding away in your little oasis that was your condo in California’s southern escape of San Diego. You’d stayed off the internet, binging TV shows that you’d been too busy to pay attention to and immersing yourself in anything you could, to erase the four year relationship you’d been splintered from. The garbage people probably wondered why there were a near dozen empty quarter pints of ice cream in your recycling bin, but that wasn’t for them to care about. At least you’d recycled them. 

Now, three weeks into the new year, with your favorite Chinese on the way, you sit on your couch going over tour visuals. Your lighting engineer is rambling on the line as you hear the gate buzzer go off. You’re quick to collect your dinner as one of the others on the line gasp and quickly mute their mic. “What?” You quip, walking to your expansive kitchen and dropping the large paper bag down. You’re half paying attention when the employee brushes you off, as your hand pulls container after container of food from the magical Mary Poppins-style bag. Getting to the bottom, you grasp for a pair of chopsticks, only to find several sets of them, along with a dozen fortune cookies. You take a moment to look over your four entrees and styrofoam container of sushi. The audacity of them to think you would be sharing any of this. 

Finally, you address the matter of your dramatic tech director. “What’s the deal over there Hollywood?” You chide, before your phone is ringing, leaving you to hang up the video call to answer the phone. It’s your publicist and you know better than to let her calls go unanswered.

“Check your inbox.” Her voice is frigid instead of it’s usually cheery demeanor.   

“Hello to you too?” Begrudgingly, you do as she commands, finding the email she sent to you. 

Jonah Carter agreed to sit down for an interview with UsWeekly, post-breakup to clear the air and to make sure no one else would fall for his ex-girlfriend's (Celeste) playful, girl-next-door-ish facade.

"At first, it felt like a dream come true," Carter, an up-and-coming actor within his own right, said almost sheepishly. "I thought she was talented and kind, but I should've known it was too good to be true."

But there's more to this pop-star than Jonah says meets the eye. In addition to the vanity and self-importance that seems to plague this generation's starlets, Este was a vindictive slob who routinely talked behind the back of even her closest friends. "It makes me wonder what she's saying about me, now, after everything I've heard her say about those who think are closest to her." The concern for others is written very clearly on the actor’s face as he speaks. When I question the songstress’ messages about authenticity, the man adjusts in his seat as he holds back a laugh. 

"She'd like you to believe she writes all her own music, but I'm not sure she could write a full sentence without the help of her team," Jonah chuckled nervously into his coffee. "Sorry, that was rude. I don't want to stoop to her level." Cowed brown eyes made me wonder what else he had endured behind closed doors. It struck a chord within me. 

“Why did you stay as long as you had if this was what you were facing?” I ask him. The expression of his kind features morphs into despair. 

“When we first met, Celeste was someone I admired. Her compassion, her drive and her dedication to the things she valued spoke so deeply to what I did, what I still do-” he fumbles as he attempts to source the proper words, “They just… weren’t her beliefs. They were her team’s.” Jonah lets out a pained sound, “I think when we got toward the end of it, I realized that she has this way of manipulating what she says, how she acts, to make herself look good. She puts on a show, on and off the stage and you pay for it one way or another. So, I knew what she was capable of. I knew she could be that person if she really wanted to and I wanted so badly to help her see that. I eventually learned that people see what they want to see.”

God, what a load of hot garbage this was. It was a particularly rare batch, clearly it had been baking in a dumpster in the scorching sun with the lid closed. All damp, with a horrendous mix of something rotting and old crusty seaweed. 

The tour was supposed to be announced on the first of the month and here your ex was selling stories (horribly narrated and mangled stories) to the press. You might as well have been kicking puppies at this point. 

“Isn’t he just swell? Nothing but peak wisdom from good ol’ Jonah.” Your eyes could’ve strained themselves with how far back they rolled. Probably the only time he’d ever made them do that too.

“I’ve already called a team together to brainstorm. I don't want you to respond. Stay offline, away from all of it and don't entertain any of the discourse. Not until I have something to work with.” 

“None of it is true we both know that-” You begin to laugh but she cuts you off.

“As much as I want to be on your side here, we are working to put out a fire. Your silence the last three weeks has put you at a massive disadvantage and frankly? The public eye doesn’t see you in the greatest space right now.” You know she’s right. She always is, and right now ‘Celeste’ was synonymous with ‘cynical, fake and fraudulent’. You wouldn’t be shocked if the uproar demanded you be canceled based off of this testimony. 

It wasn’t all but two days later that you were called in by your PR team. Into the office in New York for the first time since before Thanksgiving. It had been a busy end of the year and now that the new one was coming in so ferociously you weren’t looking toward any of the things you once had been. This was the first time back into the light and so you had made sure that the inevitable cameras had something to look at. You’d dressed yourself in your favorites, in an effort to boost your confidence as best as you could. Putting on a show, just like you had been when things had been on the rocks with Jonah. 

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Getting to the office, you’re nearly trampled with the amount of people that swarm you. It’s not normally this bad - hell it’s never this bad. It isn’t until you catch sight of a football jersey and an ESPN logo that your brow furrows. Odd. 

Stepping into the building, you’re pushing your sunglasses up onto your head, looking down at your ringing phone and trying to slide your coat off simultaneously. Instead, you crash right into what you think is a wall, but is instead a broad man, looking rather lost. 

“Easy there, Twinkle Toes.” You guffaw and look up at the blonde man before returning your eyes toward your feet. Of course, the bedazzled statement boots on your feet call attention to themselves before the rest of the outfit can balance itself out. 

“Alright, Prince Charming, you first.” You snicker before stepping out of his way and start to the elevator. Unfortunately for you, he’s apparently heading your way as well, needing access to the lift to the next floor. 

“Prince Charming, huh? I mean I’ve been called worse.” His shoulders roll backwards as the elevator dings to one of the other floors. You keep your head trained forward, suddenly remembering the rule you’d been given. Stay quiet, don’t engage. And here you were giving sass to a stranger and showing up in bedazzled booties. You were really digging this grave deeper than necessary. So, instead of giving him another sassy response, you keep your eyes locked to the neon numbers as the elevator passes each floor. “Oh so, now I’m getting a cold shoulder? Darn, I was really ready to ask you all about the boots on your feet, too.” You can’t help but let your eyes move back over to the broad male, just out of the corner of your eye. His face is completely locked on you, shamelessly at that. “They expensive? They got that waxy red paint on the bottoms of ‘em?” Silently, you turn one of your feet up to give him a glimpse at the blue bottom of the shoe. “Huh, blue. That’s fun. That more expensive than the LouButton or whatever they are?” Finally the elevator reaches your floor, hopefully shutting this chatterbox up for the time being. Yet the questions continue like an immature toddler as you rise up the floors - going to the same floor nonetheless. “Hey, you’re that Celeste chick aren’t ya?” 

“Yes.” You finally answer one of his questions, his face lighting up.

“Oh look at that, she cracks.” Another eye roll times well with the sound of the elevator reaching the desired floor. Instead of responding, you quickly find your way through the glass hallways and to the desired room. You are so glad to be in the presence of the familiar group, the stranger in the elevator having rattled your composure somewhat. Your manager comes in with a cup of coffee and a smile, which immediately puts one on yours. 

“You didn’t have to do that!” You cheer, reaching out for it as she sits beside you. 

“When you see what Rachel has come up with, you’re going to need it.” Oh. Reassuring. 

You see her point when Prince Charming steps into the board room, followed by a host of men in dress clothes and suits, all matching the blue soles of your boots. Charming sits directly across from you, a hand wiggling his fingers as he waves at you. Oh good. 

“Thank you everyone for coming. I know this is a very polarizing group, so before we get ahead of ourselves, I want to introduce Celeste, or Este as we all have come to call her over the years.” Awkwardly, you wave at the foreign men. They grunt and nod. You were already having doubts and not a word had been spoken on their end. “I also want to introduce Beau Simpson, public relations coordinator for the San Diego Sea Lions, Coach Natasha Trace, and Sea Lions owner, Tom Kazansky.”

Sea Lions? As in the NFL team that had been built not even three years ago but had made it to all three playoffs in their short time? The one that Jonah had ridiculed immensely when it joined the league because ‘California doesn’t need another group of inflated egos in the league’? 

“I’m really feeling the love here, Rach.” Charming speaks up and the raven haired woman on the other side of the table sighs. 

“This is Jacob Seresin, starting quarterback for the Sea Lions.” The coach speaks, the blonde man brushing off her introduction. 

“No need for full names, Trace. Clearly we only do the stage name around here.” That was a clear jab to you if you’d ever heard it. “Hangman’s what they call me.” His hand juts across the glass, toward you. Your hands stay tucked under your biceps. 

“Pleasure to meet you.” It’s passive, turning to your team leader. “Rachel. I’m not seeing a connection here.” 

“Jacob is in the same pot of hot water you’re in.” Your attention moves to the similarly broad man who stands up, towering over Rachel. “We feel as though we can spin this to both of your advantages. Jake needs to stop sleeping around–”

“Easy now, Simpson.” The eldest in the room stands up and he gives you a kind smile. It’s not a farce though. You’re not entirely sure what makes it so genuine, but you smile in return of seeing him stand, despite it taking a slight bit of effort to do so. “What he means is, Jake’s professional status has changed due to the words of someone else and we’re determined to alter that. Rachel identified this and made quite the proposal.” The young woman seems all too cheery to cut off the old man. 

“You’re both having relationship woes–” The raven haired woman on Jacob’s team speaks under her breath. 

“Wouldn’t call them relationships.”

“And by putting you two together, we feel as though we can put you into a positive light. Let’s face it, putting two very successful, and attractive people who are already in the spotlight allows people to follow the developing love story. Este attends games, plays the WAG card, has an opportunity to be seen in the public eye more frequently and dispels the ill-spoken words that were published about her this week. Jake gets the proof that he isn’t just a love-em-and-leave-em type.” Your eyes spell out the doubt you’re feeling, looking at your team who is just as skeptical. “That’s just the beginning! Celeste is going on tour this year. Stadiums all across the country have her booked and ready for the summer. We have a captive audience already following these games to see Este and Jake together, and we get brand recognition. The conversations that will come as she gets to witness her betrothed play in a stadium she would be performing in that very summer.”

Now you see where the benefit actually is. Clearing your name while simultaneously promoting your tour in the process. Seeing stadiums you’ve booked and would hopefully sell out. 

“So how are you proposing this works? We’ll need a start, an end - a story on how we met–”

“Well,” Beau settles in his seat, twisting in the desk chair as he draws in the attention of the group, “we have the major details hypothesized. Rachel and I will work with one another to get the rest of it together. For now, you two met at a New Years Eve party.” 

Oh joy. Now you get to remember that bitter break-up that led you here, every time you speak about him. 

The man looks like he walked out of a surfing magazine, as it were. Now, the scowl on his features paints him as a devil. Long hair, muscular arms on display as he leans into the table in front of him. 

“If we don’t do this?” Jake leans back in his chair, a hand coming to fiddle with the lingering 5 o’clock shadow that he has omitted in his morning routine. 

“We don’t do this and there will be a lack of support for the Sea Lions. You’ll have painted the entire team as jackasses who can’t focus to save their life, especially if you continue to party and hook up with whomever your dick has the hots for that night-” Beau has gone off the handle and Tom speaks up again. 

“The point is, public favor will stay low and it will not bode well for the team. With a lack of support, we have empty seats. Empty seats translates to less viewers, then to less money and you know the song and dance. Not to mention morale for the upcoming playoffs. We need to keep the team happy, Hangman. It’s time to do something to benefit everyone.” 

Jake’s expression deepens, as though he was a young child just scolded by his father for his poor behavior. Green eyes shift and face you, his hand jutting out toward you. 

“I’m in.” His hand hovers. Waiting for you to join him in this grand scheme. Glancing at your own team, they look rather haunted. At this point, it was this or to hope that a long string of possible good stories and fan interactions can redeem you. 

You want this to pass. And if this would make it go faster… you grab Jake’s hand firmly.

“What’s there to lose?”

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You went back onto social media. Posted some photos you’d taken with friends back at the beginning of the month, from the worst party of your life. The photos at least were cute and you loved the dress you’d gotten to wear. Luckily these photos were all taken prior to midnight. So there were no red eyes. No ruined mascara and glitter across your cheeks. No freezing car rides home and empty beds. 

Mindlessly, you scroll through the comments. 

Flameth: can still make the whole place shimmer ✨

RunTao: phony photos

Romanacent: so glad to see you’re not letting him get to you!

H_ngm_n: you’re still gonna let me borrow those boots right

It’s the last one you’d been keeping an eye out for. Boots? Looking back at the photo, you scroll through the carousel until you spot them. 

The same shiny sparkly rhinestone boots you’d worn to your meeting. 

Celeste: @h_ngm_n I’m a woman of my word, of course 🤗

Not even a week goes by before you’re ‘spontaneously’ at a bar in LA. Jake has been there for the last two hours, as he insisted you both show up alone and then end up leaving together. You eventually found him in the VIP section, drinking with his buddies. 

You made sure to keep your distance for a few minutes - after all, his friends had no idea this was going down. The only people who knew about this little arrangement were your respective PR teams. That was it. No one else from your teams, your friends and family, absolutely no one knew what your little plan was. Maybe you should just leave. It was a verbal contract, you didn’t sign anything, you were just trying to make this work for the two of you-

The bartender pulls you from your deliberations. There is now a drink that you certainly didn’t order sitting in front of you. Well there was no going back now. Jake had likely made a show of sending over the drink and now you had to go through with this. Glancing over your shoulder, you see the jock, legs spread, arms resting on the back of the booth chair. Green eyes lock in your direction and send a cocky wink as a garnish to your drink. 

You are about to win your first Oscar with this performance. Throwing on a grin, you pick up the drink and easily sashay your way over to him and his football buddies. Some flash titanium wedding bands, some platinum. Some aren’t wearing them at all, like your date, mister 83 who leans forward upon your approach. “Well, well, well, long time no see hot shot.”

“Speak for yourself, pop star.” Jake stands to greet you, his arms coming around you, carefully as to not spill either of your drinks. You catch a whiff of his cologne when he does so. It’s rich, familiar in the way it reminds you of summers camping. Bonfire smoke and smores. Yet clean, like when you came home to a clean house, citrus floor cleaner lingering in the halls. Pulling back, you almost move forward again to sit in it. Easy does it. 

“Oh come on, three weeks isn’t that long.” You chide. While most of his body has pulled away from the hug, his free hand still sits on your waist, warm against the AC of the exclusive bar. 

“Technically it was a year ago.” Jake smirks before taking a sip of his drink and you want to groan. So you do. But spin it into something more playful. 

“Observant, are we?” You nearly snarl as you take a sip of your drink, Jake’s colleagues standing up. The one who’d sat right next to him grins and extends a hand. He’s tall, lean but has a stunning smile as he steps your way.

“Not sure we’ve met. Javy Machado, running back, San Diego Sea Lions-” the blonde looks at his friend with an amused scoff. 

“I think she knows who the Sea Lions are, Jav.” The look on the captain’s face is one of skepticism and amusement. You were here to dispel rumors. So, as much as you’d like to smack Jake for being a dick to his friend, you shake his teammate’s hand instead 

“In passing. I don’t follow football closely, but I get by. Celeste.” The smile on your face is genuine as the next player stands. Kind eyes, a domestic bar of hair on his upper lip and the build of a pickup truck, he goes for a quick one armed hug. When he lets go, you have to wipe the temptation of any swooning you were compelled to do. Especially since a gold band glistens on his left hand. 

You’re here for Jake anyways. 

“Name’s Bradley Bradshaw. They call me Rooster.” Your eyebrow furrows as your head twists. Before you can ask, another man on the other side of the room laughs. 

“You should hear him on the field when he’s sacking someone.” This one, curls and meticulously groomed facial hair to boot, leans forward and shakes your hand kindly. “I’m Mickey. That back there is Bob.”  

True to his word, at the end of the bench is a long haired man, tucked into his phone and fiddling with a ring. He doesn’t seem to match the energy of the rest of the group. Curious. “Bob!” He glances up at the sound of his name, blue eyes flitting from face to face before spotting you. When he does he breaks out into a smile. 

“Celeste! Gosh, wow it’s so cool to meet you! My girls adore your music.” This catches Jake’s attention, a brow popping up. 

“Aren’t both of ‘em less than five?” He asks and Bob looks between the two of you. 

“Yeah? It’s never too early to introduce them to great music and influential women.” There’s no faking the smile on your face as you reach over and shake his hand. When you do, you look at Jake with a ‘would you look at that’ coded grin. 

“That’s amazing to hear! I’m glad they have fun with it! That’s why I do it.” You glance back at Jake as he comes behind you, hand shifting to the small of your back. 

“Pay’s in the bathroom, I’m sure you’ll meet him sometime later tonight.” The quarterback gives a nod to his group, before guiding the two of you to a high top table not too far from them. When you sit down he looks at you with a laugh. “Flirt much?” 

“Excuse me?” Jumping to the defense, you watch Jake roll his eyes and then look back at Bradley, before facing you. 

“You were practically eye-fucking him.” 

“Was not.” 

“He’s happily married, leave him be.” The blonde sips at his drink and you can’t help but laugh when you realize he’s giving you a hard time. 

“Right, right, guess I’ll bother you instead.” The tease is off your lips in two seconds. Maybe he was right, you were coming off strong. You huff and sink into yourself briefly. “I don’t know if you realized this, but I haven’t had ‘flirt’,” your fingers mark the quotation marks in the air, “with anyone in a while. Let alone fake it.” 

Jake leans back in his chair, downing the rest of his beverage a smirk making way when he sets the glass down. 

“Don’t worry, you won’t be faking it for long.” 

The two of you sat at that table for probably an hour, bickering over which of the Pirates of The Caribbean movies were the best, and why glitter was a detriment to society. Another round of drinks and the football star return to the table as he laughs when he spills a little of your overflowing drink. 

“No, no I assure you. Glitter originated in some high tech nuclear weapons factory to make the enemy go insane upon introducing it to an environment.” He pushes your drink toward you as you pull your hair back. Not only were you not anticipating for him to be this passionate about it, but you weren’t planning on the night going like this. 

You were enjoying yourself. Jake had told you about his time at UT, six years spent studying communications no less. 

It made sense when you really dissected it. Jake had the ease to hold someone’s attention: he’d held yours this long after all, and he was well spoken. Both were things that were shocking to you. He soon enough revealed the plan had always been football. Communications was for post-retirement, when he got tired out and wanted to be back in the stadiums. 

Stories of his dad commentating his high school games came fondly before he asked about your background. You were a bit hesitant to divulge too much, but what you had was pretty bare-bones. 

Music had always been a hobby but never a career choice. You’d planned to go into school for a degree in education, a masters in English. Go and teach for a bit before getting your PhD in some niche of the world of writing and then become a professor at your alma mater. 

With the rise of social media and the multitudinous connections of the internet, a little original song of yours got popular. Local radio picked it up and then your label signed you. 

“It all was pretty spontaneous, really,” you answer. “My career was in no way by design, but… I wouldn’t change it.” The smile on your face is small, but genuine as your hair falls back around your face. Tracing the rim of your glass, you keep your eyes down before a hand pushes your hair out of your face. Coming eye to eye with him, he grins. 

“Guess it was written in the stars then.” His response catches you. Jake’s eyes are much softer than when you’d approached him earlier. They were dark, focused and possibly a little mischievous. Now? They were gentle. Every shade reassured you that the boisterous man you’d seen in the office and the press was nothing like the man under the helmet. 

It made far more sense to you now. How he’d gotten women hooked on him. The abrasiveness and bold exterior was the casing to the real character. 

How many women had actually made it past the outside?

The rustling of a fabric on leather comes from in front of you, watching as the blonde pulls out a wad of cash from his pocket. 

“Please tell me this isn’t you trying to buy my affection there, Seresin.” As he stands up, pushing his wallet back, the grin carved on his face doesn’t leave when he shakes his head. 

“No, no, princess. This is for the bartender. Turns out you’re not a cheap date.” His knuckles wrap onto the table briefly before he disappears. You blame the blush on your face on the humidity inside the building. 

The two of you bid your goodbyes, before starting to the front of the bar to exit. Reaching the street, it’s expectantly empty. He takes the side closest to the street as the two of you head down the way, toward the row of restaurants and shops that were quiet for the night. 

“Are you hungry?” Jake’s voice breaks through the cold of late January air, looking at him quizzically. 

“If you’re hungry we could go back-” His hand comes to your back again as he shakes his head. 

“Oh-ho, no ma’am I promise, I’ve got something way better.” 

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Unfortunately, he was right. The two of you stand in the glow of food truck lighting, beyond messy tacos in hand. He’s watching you with a smirk on his face, obnoxiously chewing the fish taco in his hand. 

“Is that not the best taco you’ve ever had?” Again, his voice is filled with ardor as he watches you attempt to maneuver the soft corn tortilla that seems to be spilling into your napkin. 

“It’s… a taco.” You shrug, looking down at the brown beef meal in your hands. Jake shakes his head, still chewing. 

“No, no, I will not have you slander Ganso’s Tacos. Absolutely not.” He sets his red basket down on a table, hand in a vice grip around his taco. “Here, open,” he maneuvers closer and you shake your head, backing up. 

“I am not eating your taco!”

“Eat it!!” The two of you laugh. Finally, you concede and take a bite of the hand fed taco. When he finally takes it back to his plate, his expression eagerly waits for your reaction.  One hand covers your mouth as you chew, nodding as Jake looks like he just stole the Mona Lisa without getting caught. 

“You’re right.” One singular fist to the air and he’s back to scarfing down his tacos. 

“I told you. Way better than bar food. This is by far the best taqueria in all of California. And I stand by that.” 

With full stomachs and messy hands, the two of you start back toward the bar, where Jake’s parked. When you do, you finally notice a car has been tailing the two of you since you ordered your meal. 

The crowd in front of the bar proves that your teams were certainly on to something. Flashes of light start in an onslaught, your hand coming to block your eyes. Still, you keep walking toward them, only for Jake to grab your hand and guide you toward his car. 

━◦○◦ⓛⓘⓟⓢⓣⓘⓒⓚ◦○◦ⓞⓝ◦○◦ⓨⓞⓤⓡ◦○◦ⓕⓐⓒⓔ◦○◦━

Voices shout, questions sail through the air, your name, his name, Jonah’s, more questions about football- it all gets crammed into the cacophony before the passenger door opens under Jake’s hand, guiding you to your escape pod. 

The driver side door causes the car to shake with an unceremonious thud. In seconds, the engine to the sports car is ignited and the two of you are underway. 

It isn’t until you get about two miles out that one of you finally speaks. 

“How long do you think it’s going to take for those to show up online?” White lines on the road disappear as you head further and further from the bars and closer to the hotel you were staying at for the weekend. 

“I give it maybe six hours. Four if we’re lucky.” He laughs, but it doesn’t match the hearty ones he shared with you earlier.

A sports broadcast plays lowly on the radio, both of you overwhelmed by the cameras that stimulating conversation was far from what either of you were concerned with. It isn’t long until you spot your hotel. Jake navigates into the lane closest to the front of the building, pressing down on the brakes. You’re just about to unbuckle when he pulls back out into the other lane, lurching forward and away from your accommodation. 

“Um. Hello?” You question. The car whips around a turn, green eyes fixated to the rear view. Shifting in your seat, you glance behind you. 

“We’re being followed.” Jake just barely makes the light before it turns red, leaving the tailing SUV behind. 

“It’s probably just paparazzi, no big deal.” It’s easy to shrug off for you, but Jake huffs. 

“Yeah. And I’m not dropping you off at a hotel alone with vultures circling.” Navigating the CarPlay in the vehicle, he quickly moves to messages and asks his phone to send someone to your hotel to gather your things. 

“Jake, I’m-”

“You’re staying with me.”

━◦○◦ⓢⓞ◦○◦ⓘⓣ◦○◦ⓖⓞⓔⓢ◦○◦━

[p-redux]

My conclusions after researching Lauren Marie, the woman photographed holding hands with Sam Heughan in London on May 29, 2024. And my opinions on the whole situation. Also, some stuff regarding Sam and Sarah Holden. With a little Chloe Montana thrown in...

As per usual, this is gonna be a LONG one. You know what to do...put up your feet, grab a beverage, and dive right in.

But first, for those who need a refresher, here's my previous post on Lauren Marie and Sam Heughan. 👇

Okay, now onto the assertion by many, that Lauren Marie seen with Sam in London is an escort. First, let's clarify what that means. An escort is not necessarily a prostitute. A prostitute offers sex in exchange for money. An escort may or may not offer sex. But their main role is to accompany rich men to dinners, events, or travel with them. I know what you're thinking...why would a man pay a woman to basically be his date and not also get sex out of it? Men are dumb sometimes, what can I tell you. You can bet your bottom dollar that if I'm gonna PAY some hot dude for his company, he better be doing more than taking me out to dinner. Much more. Mind bogglingly, MANY, MANY, MANY men are literally okay with shelling out thousands of dollars just to have a beautiful, sexy woman on their arm. Some like to take on the role of Sugar Daddy and they lavish their Sugar Baby with gifts, condos, etc., for the pleasure of their dinner or travel company. Don't ask me how I know so much about this. Let's just say I had to do some research for it related to one of my work projects. I've interviewed men who are Sugar Daddies and women who are Sugar Babies. But I digress...

Onto Sam's Lauren Marie (I'm gonna call her that to make it easier to identify her in this post). If you Google "Lauren Marie escort," you get a few escort websites. The first one that pops up is xlamma. So, the picture on the account looks like it could be Sam's Lauren Marie. Keep note of the phone number and her tattoo. 👇

Here is another escort site with same name, similar info, same phone number, two new pics, and the same one from the other website. Again, same phone number, same tattoo. And now we see another tattoo on her other arm. 👇

Here's a 3rd escort website with two of the same pics from the other websites, plus a new one. Both tattoos match again. Same phone number as the other two websites. This woman is in Fort Lauderdale Florida. 👇

Here is a 4th escort website with the SAME phone number. And the woman in one of the pics has the SAME shoulder tattoo as in some of the previous websites. But this one is a totally different city and state--Detroit, Michigan. 👇

Why am I pointing out the tattoos? Because the escort's tattoos DO NOT match Sam's Lauren Marie's tattoos. 👇 The woman on the left has a huge tattoo on her right upper arm, Sam's Lauren Marie does NOT.

Here's more. Before you look at both pics, keep in mind that both pics are SELFIES looking in the mirror. Mirrors show reverse images of everything. What look like tattoos on their left arms, are actually tattoos on their right arms. The woman on the left has a single tattoo on her lower right wrist. She is the one on the escort website. The woman on the right is Sam's Lauren Marie. She has 3 tattoos on her right arm. Two on her lower right wrist and one that is some writing on her inner upper right arm. The woman on the left has no writing on her inner upper right arm. 👇

Below, is the same escort selfie pic in a mirror, showing one tattoo on her lower right arm. And Sam's Lauren Marie taking a selfie video, showing her lower right arm with TWO colorful tattoos.

In conclusion, the Lauren Marie on escort sites does not seem to be the Lauren Marie that was seen holding hands with Sam Heughan in London on May 29, 2024.

Since I was deep into my research, I decided to actually CALL the number that was on the escort websites. The things I do for you guys. 👇

Guess who answered? NO ONE. I got the automated message "the number you have reached has been disconnected or is no longer in service." So, that means there's no chance of Sam...or any other man contacted escort "Lauren Marie," that way.

So, since I know about this subject. Again, don't ask how. By and large, the pictures on escort sites are FAKE. Rich, old dude, who's not getting his willy wet at home decides to hire an escort for some company and willy wetting, and 99.9% of the time, he ain't getting the bodacious babe that's in the ad. Oh, there will be a woman behind the door when he comes a knocking, and she will be semi attractive and very attentive, but it won't be the one in the picture. Only if the man is very picky or not super desperate, will he turn her down, most men, will be "Okay, fine, you'll do." The people running these operations know this. That's why they employ the old "bait and switch" technique. It works out fine most of the time. Now you know.

Having said that, WHO is Sam's London Lauren Marie? We've all already seen her Instagram account. 👇 ALL are pics of her looking sexy and glammed up, galivanting all over the world. She's posted from Los Angeles, to New York, to Dubai, to South Africa, to Brazil and many other places. Yet, she doesn't post what she does for a living in her bio. No links to businesses, no company endorsements, not even Only Fans.

But she's clearly traveling and having a great time on a consistent basis. Here's her gay best friend saying they travel the world together. 👇

He has a bunch of other Tik Tok videos showing them traveling together. There's one where he posts they "finessed," a month in Paris. Unless the dudes hiring are into some kinky "busty babe with her gay best friend" threesome, I find it odd that she would be an international escort with her gay bff in tow. Some women do travel with a "bodyguard" of sorts, basically a beefy guy who can extricate them from precarious situations, but this guy is definitely not the "bodyguard" type. Anyway, she doesn't always travel with him.

Here she is on her own Tik Tok account, trying to forge a path as an influencer. 👇

She also hangs out and goes to events with other sexy models like Corrie Yee, who she was mistaken for initially. They attended the BabesInToyland charity event. Click on the video to watch it. 👇

So far, the impression I got was that she was doing what MANY young women do who count on their looks and sex appeal to get them ahead, she was trying to capitalize on that. There is such a huge market for it and there is a broad spectrum on how that capitalizing can occur. You an interpret that as you wish. I didn't really think anything negative about her. Just another sexy wannabe. That was until, I watched the video below. Yikes. Don't get me wrong, I'm no saint, and I love copious f-bombs, but in this video she and her friends drop f-bombs and "bitch" like it's their JOB. It's SO CRINGE. Watch at your own risk. 👇

In summary, do I think Sam's choice of Lauren Marie was the best choice? No. Lots of other sexy bimbettes he could be hooking up with who don't sound like truck drivers. In fact, all the other women we know he's dated or hooked up with, even the ones that verged on bimbette, haven't acted this way. I'm a very tolerant person, but if I'm honest, even I was "what the hell, Sam?" Ironic, I know, I know.

Here are my opinions and my take on this. OMG, I'm SO tired you guys. Again, I must really love you. Okay, here we go.

Do I think Sam pays for escorts? ABSOLUTELY NOT. He doesn't have to. He has women teen, young adult, adult, middle-aged, grandma aged, one foot in the gravers, ALL kinds of women, lining up for him. And that's just fans hahaha. Besides fans, his social media DM's are FULL. I know this for a fact. Sources, people, sources. And we know he's on the celebrity dating app, Raya. Anytime he wants to have a no-strings-attached hook up or fling, all he has to do is go through his virtual Rolodex (the youngens will have to Google that reference) and boom, he can meet up with a woman. Some will say, "but the reason men go to prostitutes or escorts is because they want to be able to walk away, no expectations, and no one spilling their secrets." Yes, but celebrities are different. They know thousands of women are ready and willing to sleep with them for FREE and they will keep their mouths shut. I know we sometimes hear stories of celebrity hook ups, but think about HOW MANY we don't hear about it. That's because the women either want to keep sleeping with the celeb and/or they don't want to get sued, etc. Sam Roland Heughan, at age 44, still handsome as hell, in amazing shape, charming as all get out, does not at this point in time in his life have the need to hire an escort. To quote an old, semi-offensive classic song by Dire Straits, "money for nothing, and your chicks for free."

Do I think Sam meets women on the exclusive, celebrity dating app, Raya and has hooks up that way? ABSOLUTELY YES. And that's HOW I believe he met Lauren Marie. This is just my speculating, but I imagine she got herself an invite to be on Raya and then she meets rich, famous men there. She gets to travel and be pampered that way. And hey, many women are dating and having sex with non famous, non rich guys, why not try your luck with the rich and famous ones. So, I think either Sam contacted Lauren Marie or vice versa on Raya, and they agreed to meet up, and obviously more.

Do I think the pics in London of Sam and Lauren Marie were a staged pap walk? A PR set up by Sam and/or his team? NOPE. No way in hell. Sam is still doing very well, he is still visible, Outlander hasn't ended, and all his business and charity endeavors are super promoted. He doesn't need any pap walks. BUT, IF he did, they would be for GOOD PR. Being seen with Lauren Marie was BAD PR. And he has a very experienced team who would never pull a stunt like that. A true pap walk would have involved a known or semi known actress, model, not a woman no one knows and one that could or could not have a shady history. It also doesn't involve the subjects looking down, looking miserable. If it was a pap walk, they would have been smiling, preening for the camera. Also, I was just reminded that after the pics with Lauren Marie went viral, Sam turned off tags on his IG account. You don't do that if the intent was for PR.

So, then why the hand holding you ask? If it was "just a fling," why are they holding hands? I wondered that too. My guess is that they must have had a great time together and were fine being affectionate with each other in public. OR, this was not the first time they've met up. This is just the only time they've been photographed. I'm sure Sam has had other hook ups that the paps didn't get wind of with her and with other women.

Who called the paps? Definitely NOT Sam. Again, this is not good PR for him, and he definitely knows that. And I actually don't think she did either, or else she would have looked happier. But I guess, it's still possible it was her. This IS good PR for her. An unknown being seen with a hot, famous actor? Guess, what? Now her pics are all over social media and celeb news outlets. Here we are talking about her. If it wasn't her though, then as is the case many times, someone at the hotel, or a restaurant, or shop recognized Sam and called the paps. It happens ALL THE TIME.

Regardless, I am not the person to turn to if you want to shame Sam or Lauren Marie about their choices. I think all sex is good, as long as it's between consenting adults. Obviously, these are two adults consenting to be together in whatever manner they deem fit. I don't see anything wrong with it. If you do, that's your right, but please try to be civil about it on my blog.

What about Sam and Sarah Holden "didn't you say you had proof they were dating?!" I never said I had "proof," I said I KNEW 100% they were dating. And that still holds true. I know for sure Sam and Sarah were dating before May 29 through two direct insider sources I know and trust. Apart from that, two people who claimed to have info from Sarah's camp also confirmed it. But those two people I don't know and can't vet completely, so I took what they told me with a grain of salt. Regardless, I completely trust the other two people whose identities I know. And they both confirmed #samarah. And remember, it's not just me confirming it...there is proof they vacationed in the Canary Islands together, there is proof Sam was cheering on Sarah at Hyrox, Glasgow and he didn't compete. And there is proof that Sam didn't compet and was cheering on Sarah at Hyrox, London, holding her purse, and eating at an outdoor restaurant with her. There's not disputing that and Hyrox London wasn't that long ago. So, we have independent proof and I have my identifiable trusted sources who confirmed #samarah to me. Now, the thing is I was not told whether they were dating exclusively. So, the Lauren Marie London thing could have happened because Sam and Sarah are not in an exclusive relationship. OR they broke up after being in London together for Hyrox, and Sam felt like drowning his sorrows in something brunette. Sarah will be at Hyrox World in France next week. If Sam shows up, then that may give us a clue. Also, if we see Sam with Lauren Marie again, then we'll know she wasn't the one who called the paps. If we don't see her again, then we'll know she did or Sam thinks she did.

In summary, I don't believe Sam's Lauren Marie is on the escort sites shown. I do think she probably has some "arrangements" with certain wealthy men she knows, and that's how she travels the world. Unless, someone can show me other business ventures she has. I do believe she and Sam met on Raya. Sam had no idea who she is. Just a sexy woman he found attractive and wanted to hook up with. He didn't Google her, like we did. And there was no pap walk from his team. They would FOR SURE have Googled her and vetted her. Lauren Marie may have called the paps. If not, hotel, restaurant, or shop did. I knew with 100% certainty Sam and Sarah were dating. Didn't know if it was exclusive or not. I'm not sure if Sam and Sarah are still together. But, even if they were not dating exclusively, seeing those pics of Sam holding hands with Lauren Marie had to sting a little. It's one thing to know the man you're dating is dating other women, it's quite another to SEE it. I'm sure I forgot something. Let me know if you have any questions. I'm exhausted.

In other news, past rumored date, Chloé Montana poked her head into the conversation and posted a Jamie Fraser reference in her IG stories hahaha! The screenshot on the left is from a clip of the Bravo show The Valley. One of the men on the show dressed up as Jamie Fraser. Why he's wearing a black wig and not red, I'll never know. And on the right is the Jamie Fraser/Sam Heughan reference. I'm still cackling over it. Gotta love Chloé's sense of humor. 👇

PS. I know you all have LOTS of feelings and opinions about all this. I simply ask that you are respectful of Sam and Lauren Marie. They're both human beings living their lives, they're not out killing puppies, let's all take a deep breath. None of us know them personally. They haven't DONE anything TO us. If you want to badmouth Sam or Lauren Marie, there are plenty of blogs wanting to take you under their wing. If you want to continue engaging with my blog, I ask that you be civil. The only people I'm not civil with are haters who have made my life hell, namely Extreme Shippers and ex-Extreme Shippers. And people who are annoying assholes. Everyone else, I'm nice to. You be nice to me, I'll be nice to you. Simple.

I'm off to shower and then take a nap. Love you guys!

[romirola]

Snippet Saturday

Tagged by the incomparable @ejunkiet. Thank you, friend! I've been working on a post-Inversion fic that celebrates the David/Angel and Milo/Sweetheart friendship (with Aggro, of course!) I had planned for it to be a oneshot, but I'm thinking it's going to be a few chapters. This is the first bit of it I'm sharing.

Tagging anyone who'd like to share a WIP of any kind, including @dominimoonbeam, @sincerelywhistler, @floofdeloop, @autisticempathydaemon, @cashandprizes, and @vampire-bite.

The sharp knock at the door startled Sweetheart out of their thoughts. They blinked, almost wondering if they were beginning to hear things. Feeling practically paralyzed, Sweetheart glanced at Aggro, who was also staring intently at the door. 

After a moment, the knocking resumed, this time louder and more rhythmic. 

“You’re gonna give yourself bloody knuckles if you keep that up,” a deep voice grumbled. 

That voice belonged to none other than David Shaw. Sweetheart would recognize the alpha’s voice anywhere. Other than Sweetheart and Marie, David was the only other person Milo told about his harrowing Inversion experience. 

It had been a difficult conversation to say the least, but Sweetheart was relieved that David knew of Milo’s bravery. That was part of his job as Milo’s alpha, and he was nothing if not a supportive, trustworthy alpha. Sweetheart wasn’t at all surprised to know that Angel also was privy to this knowledge, and they had no doubt the alpha-mate would keep that secret. 

Still kneeling, Sweetheart flicked their hand to guide a bit of telekinetic energy upon the door handle to let David into the condo. The heavy front door swung open to reveal the looming figure of David, who had two tote bags, clearly chock-full of something, slung over his shoulders as he held a small cooler in his arms. Angel was standing in front of him, holding their phone and a single bag of what appeared to be Aggro’s preferred brand of cat treat. 

“Hi,” Angel brightly greeted with a wave before they pushed their large, round sunglasses up onto their head. “We’re here to check in on our Sweet’n’Low mate-pair.” 

[jungle-angel]

Spooky, Stormy Nights (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: Fall has at long last hit the Abbott Ranch but you and Rhett will always find a way to make it cozy when it's cold

Tagging: @sebsxphia and @nobody7102 My dears, this is my way of saying thank you for putting up with me all these months (lol)

The sudden *BANG!* of thunder rattled the book barn as you pulled a book from one of the upstairs shelves, causing you to jump and nearly drop the book. Down below, you heard your husband gently comforting two year old Amy who was terrified out of her mind, clutching her Winnie The Pooh blanket and her soft, cuddly looking circus-clown ragdoll as though her life depended on it.

"I know princess, I know," Rhett said, gently bouncing her on his hip. "Ya'll still don't like thunderstorms do ya?"

Amy buried her face in his neck as another one rolled over the land, the rain battering the roof of the barn, the windows and rattling the gutters as it fell violently from the completely black skies outside. The woodstove had been going for the better part of the evening ever since the storm rolled in, warming the barn which smelled of old books, mulling spices, apples and pumpkins. Tiny trotted across the big expanse of rug in the cozy corner near the entrance, carrying the littlest of her and Willie's kittens right to the knotty pine cat condo to nest in for the night.

"Alright you two," you announced. "Wanna hear a spooky story?"

Before Rhett could answer, the oven timer in the kitchenette area beeped, signaling that whatever was in there was done baking. Out of the oven came the last of the cakey pumpkin cookies which you readily added to the plate on the counter.

"Ah-ah! Don't even think about it," you ordered when you saw your husband's free hand sneaking towards them. "You haven't even eaten your dinner yet."

Rhett feigned a pouty face and put Amy back down on the floor. "But I love those cookies," he whined.

"Not until you've had some of your Ma's pot roast," you told him.

Rhett mumbled under his breath as he grabbed the spoon and helped himself to the crockpot full of pot roast. In a matter of minutes, the plate was gone and Rhett could help himself to the cookies along with Amy.

You curled right up in the old wingback chair that used to belong to Cecelia's great-grandmother, brought over from the family's estate in Ireland along with the wooden Celtic cross that hung in your kitchen back in the main house. Rhett snuggled in with Amy in the other one, the two of them munching away at the pumpkin cookies and sipping the hot drinks made from blood oranges and mulling spices.

"Listen to me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder; and yet you would, with a satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature. Oh, praise the eternal justice of man!" you read.

Rhett and Amy were completely engrossed in the story yet Rhett couldn't help himself as to what came next.

"So you're telling me, he put an abnormal brain in a six foot tall, thirty six inch wide gorilla?!" Rhett questioned. "Is that what you're telling me?!"

You rolled your eyes and laughed. Of course, heaven forbid you get through Mary Shelley's work without your husband making a crack at one of your favorite parodies.

Yet you couldn't have asked for a better or more beautiful evening, the smells of all things fall making the place as inviting and cozy as ever and especially with the people you loved most.

[possibilistfanfiction]

I absolutely adore the chef/sommelier au and always find so much comfort in your writing. i have a few questions/prompts if you’re interested in any of these:

1) how did they meet? were they part of the same circles and crushing from afar until they finally had the chance to work together? or did they have a more classic meet cute?

2)Ava mentions that she knows Beatrice prefers to eat in the kitchen rather than the restaurant and I would be curious about any backstory behind how Ava came to learn this.

3) one of those foodie travel adventures where they eat their way through X city or cities

ok so this is no1 but has hints of the other two (which i love & will maybe write later!)

also i guess... this turned into platonic bea & lilith are in love. who knows lol

//

you've known beatrice for so long now, you really should've seen this coming.

for as annoying as she is, she's remarkably talented — something that had made you frustrated with her, and yourself, for years during culinary school. beatrice's food is true to who she is: wholly precise and quietly playful, elegant and creative, and really, really warm. thoughtful. surprisingly fun. you've always been able to tell: your technical skills are the best in the world, better than hers or anyone else you've ever met, and your palette is exquisite; you run a kitchen with quiet authority, and each dish comes out on time, exactly as it's supposed to. you are very good at your job. but beatrice makes food — elevated chinese and european fusion dishes, whatever she's most interested in at the moment — that makes you want to cry in its capacity to comfort. not that you would ever admit it, but you have stepped away to the bathroom on a handful of occasions to do just that.

she's more your sister than anything else — your little sister, you make sure to remind her — and so when chef superion had essentially ordered — encouragingly — beatrice into opening her own restaurant after five years of being chef de cuisine and, really, being the quiet driving force behind those three michelin stars, it hadn't even been a question to you that you would go with her. that you would help with the menu and everyday operations; the design and hours of operation; the sustainable sourcing for all of your dishes that she's always been so invested in. that part, while exhausting, had been fairly easy: mary and shannon, who own an urban farm, had been thrilled to partner, and you came up with a collaborative menu together. you were able to secure local seafood from a few suppliers, local ethical meat from your favorite butcher. camila, admittedly your favorite chef from superion's, young and absolutely kind, had agreed to come on and do pastry. you and beatrice had hired yasmine as your sous, trustworthy and smart.

you've been elbow-deep in planning — food, interior, front of house, all of it — for months. you're pretty sure beatrice works, like, twenty hours a day, and doesn't do anything but that. she eats takeout quickly in the kitchen, standing over a trashcan. every friday you barge into her condo and force her to eat greasy pizza and watch reality tv and share a joint. a year or so ago she had asked you to buzz her hair for her and you still do now, weekly, because she's neat and confident and loves efficiency and, according to many, many women unfortunately saying this to you directly whenever you drag her out for drinks, it's hot. she takes you to doctor's appointments and picks up your dry cleaning; she's the only person you let sharpen your knives for you, and the only person you'll share a bed with overnight if you're too drunk or stoned or tired to go home. she never says anything, never minds, just grumbles when her alarm goes off and grumbles sleepily in chinese while she makes herself an espresso.

and so, really, it's your fault. you should've known. you're not sure how you should've known, but you definitely should have.

'so,' you say, lowering yourself into the chair across from her immaculately neat desk in her office in the back, 'i think i found us a sommelier.'

your drinks menu is one of the last things you have to finalize, and beatrice has been so fucking picky about who to bring on to do so. cocktails hadn't been that hard; hans is competent and creative. but the wine pairings have been a pain in your ass: one sommelier was too old to have fresh, exciting ideas; one was a cis white man so beatrice automatically vetoed that, which, honestly, you didn't hate and definitely should've seen coming.

'and who is it?'

'ava silva,' you say, flick open your tablet to his profile: ava is young and renowned already, and has experience with local, natural wines and restaurants all over the world, especially europe, brazil, and east asia. she is, you realize later with a heartfelt deep annoyance, beautiful.

'ava silva,' beatrice repeats. she reads through ava's profile, her accomplishments and accolades and references. 'they worked with taian table.' beatrice hums. 'i've heard of them.'

'yeah.' you force yourself not to roll your eyes at her reluctance.

'ava is available to meet for a consult?'

'tomorrow, if you want. i can take care of the oyster tasting if that helps.'

she laughs, and you let yourself crack a smile. 'i don't even want to be a part of your oyster tasting, lilith.'

'just because i have fun —'

'sleeping with our supplier better not backfire on us, that's all i have to say.'

and maybe you should've realized right then, when beatrice's eyes lingered on ava's professional headshot on her website, on her impressive accolades. 'i am a consummate professional,' you tell beatrice.

she shakes her head, fondly, and leans back in her chair, runs a hand over her hair. 'fine,' she says, 'i'll take the meeting with ava.'

'great,' you say, relieved in the moment. 'what's the worst that can happen?'

/

very soon, unfortunately, you find out: beatrice is fucking insufferable. ava is even more insufferable, flirting with horrible humor and fond, relentless teasing. beatrice is, somehow, blushing and stumbling around like a schoolgirl, despite her attempts at being a serious, focused chef. she burns her hand on a pot, sets a towel on fire, and spills a red wine reduction all over her favorite apron the first time ava is coming to try a few dishes on the menu.

'jesus christ,' you say, maybe a little bit of a prayer, 'what the fuck, chef?'

beatrice groans. 'ava is... pretty.'

she says it reluctantly, like it's terrible to admit. ava is definitely annoying, but even you have eyes. 'yes, we all know after having to watch you fumble around during one meeting that you think ava is pretty.'

'and,' she says, a blush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck, 'he's smart, and funny, and has an amazing palette.'

'well, he better.' you deflate a little; it's disarming to see beatrice this nervous, especially when it has nothing to do with her food being reviewed or rated. 'listen, beatrice,' you say, trying your very hardest to be gentle, just this once, 'this menu is gorgeous. i came up with eighty percent of it —'

'— you did not —'

'— so i can assure you that ava will love it, and that we can pair wines that will be excellent. and don't tell anyone i said this, or i legitimately will kill you, but you're an... impressive person. you're a remarkable chef. ava would be a fool to not see that.'

beatrice lets out a big breath. 'okay.'

'plus, it's kind of fun to see you trip all over yourself because of a crush.'

'i'm going to go change now.'

'yes, because you spilled because of a crush.'

'see you later, lilith.'

'yeah, yeah,' you say. 'i'll make sure to overcook the egg noodles, just for you.'

/

it's your fault, for sure, because you said yes to doing the food at their wedding — to make it worse, excitedly. it's gorgeous and it's a huge pain in your ass because there's, like, every cool chef in the world there, and a ton of Wine People, and beatrice has been traveling with ava filming something, so you've been running the restaurant. but still, beatrice gives you a hug and ava, terribly, kisses your cheek. they're both beautiful, and their backyard is full of edible flowers and herbs and vines with wine grapes. at one point, beatrice snags you by the hand to dance with her, which you protest for posterity and eventually give up on, as you always would have anyway. as you always have.

'thank you,' she says, 'for this. it's the best meal i've ever eaten.'

'i'm certain that's not true.'

she shakes her head; she's tan and has more freckles than you've ever seen on her, stretching across her cheeks — they'd gotten to film in brazil, apparently, where ava is from. but here it is, really: the whole world, right there, and beatrice has chosen to love you. she's chosen to want you as her sister, and you have always chosen her back.

'i'm really glad you're happy.'

'thank you,' she says. 'i am so happy.'

you roll your eyes. 'i know. it's nauseating.'

'lil.'

'after all of this, i want two weeks off when you're back from your honeymoon.'

'done.'

'well, a positive outcome, at the very least.'

she laughs.

'it's my fault, anyway. if i had just found a less beautiful, boring, straight sommelier...'

'i'm going to go dance with my wife now,' she says. 'love you.'

'yeah, yeah.' you squeeze her hand, linger for a moment in how softly she says wife, just because it's gentle and sweet and you don't hate seeing her this happy. 'love you too.'

[foxydivaxx]

Zosan: Late Night Birthday Special

Here it is. Zoro's birthday special. I set this in the AU I have created. Zoro gets a visit from a certain blondie. Just read on and see what I am talking about. Warning: Sexual content.

Zoro sighs as he walks into his swanky condo in Manhattan. Sure, today was his birthday but he purposely ignored all the birthday greetings from the others. Perhaps getting gunned down weeks ago might have made him a little too paranoid.

At first, he suspected Sukuna his rival, sort of friend, and Sanji's ex-lover. But after some investigation, Sukuna was found innocent of all crimes even though he had enough motive to do it as the bastard used to obsess over Sanji and almost killed him on more than one occasion.

As he enters the living room, he sees Sanji lying on the sofa in a seductive manner, dressed in a wine suit. His heart starts pounding. Some things sure do not change.

"Hello Marimo" he says, a playful smirk in place. The way the blonde says that childhood nickname of his often does things to him. Zoro gives him a curt nod, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "Hi Curly."

Sanji slowly gets off the sofa and makes his way towards him. Once Sanji gets close to him, he traces his fingers across his chest, causing shivers to go down Zoro's spine. After all these years, Sanji still held that level of power over him.

Ever since that Sukuna incident that happened five years ago, the couple kept their distance, trying to pick up the pieces of their life. Same applies to the rest of the gang as well.

"You actually came back." Sanji giggles. "I could not stay away for that long darling. Besides, everyone needed that break to you know, recoup from all the drama and b.s. I mean, we were all a bunch of fucking kids. What do kids know?"

Zoro chuckles at that one. He had a point. "That's what happens when you give kids that much power and fame. It can intoxicate you." Sanji grins and wraps his arms around his ex's neck. "A little birdie told me that you do not want to celebrate your birthday."

Zoro sighed. "Yeah. After that shooting, I was not excited." Sanji then leans closer to his ear and whispers, "How about I change all that?" He then proceeds to slowly rub Zoro's crotch. The green-haired heir had to bite his lip. God he missed Sanji and this was one of the reasons why.

"What's the plan babe?"

Sanji smirked. "Glad you asked."

A couple minutes later, the couple are in the limo with their friends. Sanji managed to call the rest of the gang. Not their old friends but rather the new ones they made.

"Hold up?! How did these two end up together?!" Zoro exclaimed, pointing at Gojo and Nami. "Thank Sanji for that." says Gojo. Zoro stares at Sanji who smirks. "Well, how it happened is that Gojo here helped me pay for my dinner after my date stood me up. Sanji heard about that and called him and encouraged him to take me out for a bar date. The rest is history." says Nami as she sips some champagne. Gojo grins and wraps his arms around his new beau. "Best decision ever."

"Who would have thought that the great Gojo could mellow out like this?" says Zoro. "Still the same old Gee. Just a different flavour." says Gojo.

"Heard Usopp got engaged." says Eren. "What?!" Sanji's jaw dropped. "About time tbh." Zoro laughs. Mary flashes the 15 carat diamond ring. "Wooh!! Look at that bling!!" says Sanji. "Usopp got taste." says Gojo, chuckling. Usopp shrugs. "Anything for my princess." he says, kissing Mary on the cheek.

"What about you Luffy? Congrats on that Hollywood Star." says Sanji. The gang applauds Luffy who chuckles. "Thank you!! Thank you!! Much appreciated." says Luffy.

"Do not compliment him too much. His brain might explode." Sabo jokes. "Pfft...like you are one to talk." Everyone laughs. "Don't mind him." says Ace. "He was a sobbing mess that day though," says Shanks. "Who wouldn't be? Like that is a fucking huge honor," says Sanji .

It was great to see the entire gang back together. The last time this happened was 5 years ago and there was a lot of drama then thanks to the old crowd

"He got a point man." says Franky who is smoking a cigarette. "How about a toast ladies and gents?" Sanji suggest. Everyone grabs their glass and toasts to Zoro who grins at Sanji and then leans closer to him and whispers in his ear, "Thanks for this babe." Sanji smirks. "Anything for you my love." With that, the duo seal it with a kiss. "Aww." the girls all cooed. "Took them both long enough." Gojo jokes. Everyone laughs. Zoro smirks. Tonight was going to be a long night.

After hours of nonstop clubbing and partying, everyone heads home. "I cannot remember the last time we have had this much fun together." says Zoro as he and Sanji walk back into his condo.

"This is why I arranged all this for you Daddy." Hearing Sanji call him Daddy after all these years was enough to work wonders on his ever growing bulge. Without hesitation, Zoro pulls Sanji closer and begins to kiss those lips of his hungrily.

Sanji obliges him in kind, letting out a moan in response. "God I fucking miss you!!" The two start stripping and throwing their clothes around as they make a race to the bedroom.

Sanji gets on all fours on the bed and wiggles his ass. "Come get me big boy." Zoro chuckled and proceeds to lick and eat out Sanji's ass, earning more moans from the blonde.

He could have kept at it til Sanji came on the sheets but he would rather have his dick in that ass and fuck him senseless. Grabbing the lube from the bedside drawer, he pours some on his dick.

Once he was satisfied, he pushes his bulge into his lover who lets out a loud gasp. "F-Fuck...."

"Damn you are as tight as ever!!" He then begins to fuck the living daylights of Sanji who is reduced to a screaming, moaning mess. Normally, he owuld take it nice and slow but he knows Sanji well enough to know how impatient the blonde can get.

He keeps on going, trying to find that spot that he knows would drive Sanji crazy.

"Fuck!! Right there!!"

Zoro smirks and proceeds to keep on hitting that spot. Eventually, Sanji cums screaming his lover's name. Zoro follows suit and moans cumming hard into Sanji.

Once they were done, Zoro pulls out out of his lover and lies down on the bed. Sanji crawls towards him and liesdown next to him and cuddles him.

"Happy birthday Daddy." says Sanji. Zoro smiles and kisses Sanji on the forehead. "I owe you one babe." Best present ever.

What do you guys think?

[spooky-donut-ghost-house]

Some Rockstarverse headcanons

The book that Jack tells John about in RDR1 is about Red Harlow the book was written by a close ally of Red Harlow, Jack Swift

The book found in Franklin's condo in GTA 5 called Red Dead is the book written by Jack about the entire story of the Van Der Linde gang including what happened to Mary Beth Gaskill, Sadie Adler, Charles Smith, Reverend Swanson, Josiah Trelawney and Tilly Jackson by 1911

Eddie Low is actually the great nephew of Edmund Lowry Jr. and Eddie Low has been in quite a few snuff films directed by Lionel Starkweather and produced by Valiant Video Enterprise

Jimmy Hopkins is the son of James Earl Cash, Gary Smith is the younger brother of Leo Kasper and Petey Kowalski is the nephew of the journalist in Manhunt

Michael used to be a fan of Lionel Starkweather until he found out the depraved shit he did

Michael is also the nephew of Tommy Vercetti

Marshal Leigh Johnson is the grandfather of Cole Phelps

Trevor actually has met Mr. Nasty before and has starred in some snuff films Mr. Nasty himself says that Trevor could be the next James Earl Cash

The IAA has ties with The Pickman Project

Steve Haines is the great grandson of Edgar Ross

At Cole Phelps' funeral there was a man in a suit and top hat with a handle bar moustache nobody knew who he was though

Accounts of the same man have been spotted in Carcer City, Los Santos and Liberty City the man was also said to be in the town of Brimstone back in 1891 but nobody seems to know who this man is but it seems wherever there is death this strange man seems to follow

[sizebrained]

Characters & Stats: Humans

So here's some brief stats and backstories about the humans in my imaginary Borrower universe. Some of this may or may not get further fleshed out in my stories. But I think the context helps. There's really no choice but to get it out of my head when all of this just starts bubbling up and filling it.

Ben (Benedito Alvarez) - Main Character

Age: 20 years old. 

Species & Gender: Human male. 

Height & Weight: He thought he was 6’11” tall (210 cms), 250 lbs (113 kgs). He’s actually 7’3” (220cm) and a little heavier. Here's when he finds out.

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual. 

Hair & Eyes: Brown curly hair. He kept it buzzed when he played basketball but it’s growing out. Bright green eyes.

Skin color: Whenever asked, Ben says “this color”. Hazel says his skin reminds her of the Professor's preferred drink of strong black tea with cream. Ben says that drink sounds disgusting and was offended the only time she told him that, but only because she compared him to something he thought was gross.

Details: Born in America to Brazilian immigrant parents (his father was forever disappointed that neither Ben nor his older sister played soccer). Speaks with a General American accent.

Growing up, Ben always felt out of place given his size and the meaner kids picked up on it. They teased him relentlessly through every grade until he became a freshman in High School. He often felt like he was some kind of zoo animal and hated that his height was the center of everything. He wished he could be more like Sam about it. Ben was very anxious growing up and his social situation made it worse. The summer before High School, Sam had had enough and trained Ben intensely basically demanding he try out for the basketball team. It worked and Ben found a new outlet that gave him some confidence. He earned the nickname “Big Ben” and fans would shout out “Ding Dong!” when he played.

Ben was a star player at his Big Ten, Division 1 NCAA school. He had just started his 2nd year at college and the basketball season. One night, he went home from a practice, in a bad thunderstorm, with his best friend and teammate Max. Ben had to sit in the backseat of Max’s car to fit. They were in a horrific head on collision withal a tractor trailer and Ben's right leg was destroyed, but Max died at the scene. Ben's basketball career was likely over and his anxiety had never been worse. Ben also now suffers from severe PTSD because of the accident. Using money from his lawsuit settlement, he bought a luxury condo and lived alone. One night he discovered Hazel in a glue trap and rescued her.

Ben and Hazel became fast friends, maybe more, and one day shortly after they met, Hazel suggested they enter into a revealing pact. Hazel is helping Ben recover mentally like she did with many of the wounded soldiers in Mary’s care at hospitals during the 2nd World War. Hazel is also tutoring him in school now, given her own extensive schooling from the Professor. Since Ben doesn't play basketball anymore, he decided to take studying more seriously and finds he really needs her help. ***

Sam (Samara Alvarez)

Age: 25 years old.

Species & Gender: Human female

Height & Weight: 6’7” (200cm), 175lbs (75kgs). 

Sexual Orientation: Gay. 

Hair & Eyes: Brown wavy hair she keeps in a ponytail almost all the time. Same green eyes as her younger brother. 

Skin color: Same as her younger brother.

Details: Born in America shortly after her parents arrived from Brazil. Has the same accent as her younger brother. Sam not only played almost every sport but dominated. She finally settled on volleyball in high school because that was what her girlfriend played. Sam was a star volleyball player, going to the same Big Ten D1 school that her brother would eventually attend. Sam was in a long term relationship with the team's captain (who was the same girlfriend from high school). They broke up shortly after Ben's car accident and Sam’s ex started medical school on the other side of the country.

Unlike her brother, Sam loves being bigger than almost everyone else. She’s very comfortable with her size and extremely outgoing. She’s also a goof ball and sometimes it makes her and Ben go together like oil and water. But Sam is fiercely protective and caring for her big little brother even though they don’t ever talk about emotions or anything that deep.

Sam is in now in graduate school at the same university for physical therapy (PT). She's very close friends and maybe more with Hazel's younger borrower sibling Cob. But Sam and Con are not in a revealing pact like Ben and Hazel…yet.

*** Mary Worthington Ward

1920-2011 (died Age 91) Species & Gender: Human female

Height & Weight: 5'4" (162 cm), 110 lbs (48 kgs) Sexual Orientation: Conflicted bisexual. Hair & Eyes: Dark black hair that was almost always braided or in a bun with Blue eyes. Skin color: Pale white. Details: British but left England after World War II with her new American husband, an injured pilot named Lt. James "Jack" Ward. Mary entered into a revealing pact with Hazel during World War II, shortly after they met in the hospital where Mary worked as a nurse. Mary was very conflicted and loved Hazel, it got physical. A lot. But Mary felt it was improper to be in a relationship with another woman, let alone a borrower one.

She was married Jack to try and prove she could be just as happy with a human man. Mary and Jack could not have children of their own and led a simple quiet life. She was very happy that Hazel understood her position and chose to stay with her even trying to undo the revealing pact, which she learned could only end when one of them died. After many decades together, Jack died of a heart attack and Mary suffered a terrible stroke not long after.

Mary was rendered nearly catatonic by the stroke and Hazel moved with her into a retirement home. Hazel took care of Mary for a few more decades before Mary finally passed away one night in her sleep. Hazel felt lost and took solace in her father and younger sibling.

The retirement home was eventually torn down and replaced by a new luxury condominium building that Ben eventually moved into, unknowingly along with Hazel's borrower family. ***

The Professor (actually Sir Reginald Ampleforth IV)

1879 -1941 (died age 62) Species & Gender: Human male. Height & Weight: 5'6" (167cm), 140 lbs (63kg)

Sexual Orientation: Asexual. Hair & Eyes: Gray for the time he knew Hazel and her family. Curious brown eyes behind wire rim glasses.

Skin color: Pale white. Details: Minor British nobility, but he was the black sheep of the family. The Professor was an odd man out in more ways than one. He served in the Boer War in 1899 with his older brother but abhored everything about armed conflict between people. After the war he became a staunch pacifist and pursued his real love of academics. Eventually he earned a doctorate and became a tenured professor at Oxford (his nobility was a big help in getting the position at the school). His older brother stayed in the military and died in World War 1. After his older brother's death, the Professor took over the family's country estate. He was unmarried and the last of his line.

One day in the library, a 2 and a half inch tall girl walked out onto his desk interested in the illustrations in his copy of Audubon's The Birds of America. The tiny girl's mother, who would be named Lily by the Professor, explained borrowers and entered into a revealing pact with him for her daughter’s safety. As part of the revealing pact, the Professor promised to educate Hazel with her mother's blessing.

When World War II erupted in Europe, the Professor chose to volunteer with his brother’s connections in military intelligence in London. He had a lifelong guilt that he had survived the Great War while his brother did not. He also knew how much of a threat Nazi Germany posed to the world. Lily and Hazel accompanied him into the city. Hazel's then 2 year old sibling, Cob, stayed with their father at the country estate. During this period, Hazel would meet and enter into a revealing pact with Mary at a war hospital next door. One night during the Blitz, the hospital and intelligence building were heavily bombed. The Professor and Hazel's mother Lily died. Hazel was devasted by the loss. Unbeknownst to Hazel, the Professor had left all of his family's wealth and estate to her considering her the daughter he never had. ***

That's the main ones so far, other than Jack. Send help I love them so much.

[piraterefrigerator]

I accept SELECT BITS of season seven. Marie Condo says if it doesn't spark joy throw it out and that is me with most of the season seven plot.

[italianexotiicbeauty]

@copiious ( for joe ! )

It's been an entire year and a half now since Mary agreed to sign the contract, to be Joe's manager on the west coast only. Her contract had to have that particular stipulation because unlike everyone else that worked solely for the company? She had another job, her main job – this?.Was quite the side hustle. Mary wasn't a fool though, she has a dummy account on most of the social media platforms to see what the fans are saying, because the only personal account she has is Instagram. The tattoo parlor had a separate account for artists to display their work, there was a site linked in the bio as well as an email to contact the management. You know — a typical business account. 

Both rosters were on the road four days a week – and since the schedule literally changed every single week ? She's a bit grateful there's times where she's not needed at all, where it's the old wiseman having to be there and she can be at work or sitting on her surfboard watching the sunset. Did it at all weigh on her subconscious? Yes, it did — because Joe lived all the way on the other coast — 4, 649 miles if anyone needed the numbers. And there were very few who knew the truth — six people to be exact, other than themselves ( Joelle, his mom, Paul, Sefa, Jon & Josh ). It sat on her ring finger the whole time she was back in Hawai'i, she slept with it on and only ever removed it to shower — but they agreed to not wear them when working.

Fans were insanely ruthless, so it was a matter of safety. 

— — —

Today was going to be a tiring travel day for Thursday  — she had to fly to Los Angeles and stay there for four hours until her flight to Portland. Which was where the show was going to be and she had rented herself a cozy little AIRBNB for the night. So she could hang up her outfits and steam iron them all again for good measure, get her nails done and just have … quiet before all the chaos. ( yes, she's flying out a day early. )

She had just left her condominium, the dark green suitcase rolling along the hallway floor of the 30+ condo building. Dressed in a mauve colored loungewear set, flip flops on her feet and a matching dark green backpack with an empty yeti in a mesh side pocket. Her keys and wristlet clutch dangled from a lanyard around her neck, her android phone was neatly tucked inside of the clutch. While in the elevator and on her way down to the lobby, Mary removed a folded yellow slip of paper from the wristlet clutch to put in her mailbox. It was one of those request to hold mail forms for the post office, she had a whole stack of them on her desk for this reason alone — a downside of living alone. No one to get the mail and let it pile up on the coffee table for you, she didn't exactly trust her neighbors … because she was recognized a little more these days due to being on television. 

With the yellow piece of paper now safely within the confines of her mailbox, Mary exited the building and began walking towards the back of it. Where the parking lot was and only briefly stopped to remove the keys from the lanyard. Unaware that in those few seconds, the rolling suitcase had been taken — not in a nefarious manner, but was she in for a surprise when she turned around and squeaked!  “ — !!!” Uncertain of what to say — because standing before her were both Joe and Paul, who had his hand wrapped around the luggage handle. “ …. I …. hello to the both of you, I'm sure you'll explain to me why you're here but I also … kind of need coffee and a breakfast sandwich before going to the airport.”

[rgr-pop]

went back to rosalind krauss for something unrelated only to find this nice treat i hadn't thought to look for. i admit that amniotic fluid belongs to sophie lewis to me now. "the originality of the avant-garde" comes out in 1981, though it would be anthologized in and other modernist myths in 1986, one year after "a cyborg manifesto." i feel startled, silly, and forgetful, that i can't think of where all this was coming from in that moment (i will say this again but: i have a degree in exactly this). but it is also probably true that rosalind krauss is getting left out of what we remember--even though everyone remembers this essay. i hadn't thought of "myth" as so of-the-moment, which was silly. i'm persuading myself to pick it up. the thing i came here for is about the use of Modernism for a painter today, i am rereading some basics. but there's this second thing i have a stack of books about (mary kelly), something i don't have a name for yet. one joke we have in the household is "dialectical natalism." mary kelly doesn't offer this. sylvia lavin picks up "and other postmodernist myths" in 2018--surely this had been done before, but i remember this because it transformed me. (the book turned out as other postmodernization effects, i haven't been able to get my hands on it.) i'm making a note here that i don't really know how the psychoanalytic moment is going down in the art world right now. i will ask my friends who would know.

i told him i'm going to write about his faces and he could write about his bodies. i said i don't have much to say about bodies-- wrong, i have a women's studies degree. i'm texting him right now asking what he thinks of rodin, which is how krauss opens "originality." i bought him her de kooning book about the women last year. on faces: i told him about sylvia lavin's faciality (kissing fish are also not like the Lacanian mother through whose gaze the infant’s uncoordinated body becomes a legible face, because kissing aborts the regime of faciality in toto). then i said, in the two years since we have been talking about this, i have kept this a secret from you, but what i want to talk about is "open casket." i want to write about your paintings and "open casket." so the three of us (m was there, and his mom came in and out) pulled up "open casket" on his laptop and we did a crit. he had seen it at the whitney, i don't know when. before i arrived that day he had been doing some takes on guston's "painter in bed," and we noted the similarities, we talked about her guston influences. he (m) does these paintings, and she does these paintings too, her other paintings, where faces have this comic iconography, like guston, and like george condo. she also does these paintings with the kind of muralist neoclassical modernism--monumental, totally dull compositions (to me)--that remind me, too, of early guston. i can't browse and skim her work without this driving me mad--a painter hung up totally on the twentieth century, dropping bits about her innate maternal empathy in the press to distract them from it. i could not hate an artist more than i hate her. history will vindicate us. i googled her name and guston to look for her stalking about his influence and found that she was one of the mouthpieces of the cancellation stunt. a few years ago he got me a book on guston's hood paintings, it's on the shelf in my bedroom instead of with the rest of my art books.

he saw the painting when it was up and he didn't think it was good. one of the many things to hate about this painting is that in obliterating the face she was so obviously picking up Modernism as a subject--Modernism and its stepsister, the history of seeing--then she built this elaborate cover to keep from getting caught doing something so, maybe, unfashionable in its own way. maybe that's it. this is funny because the project we are working on is essentially, well, you have to explain why you paint like this--Modernistly. so we're writing about that. i read to them (m and m) a list i had written in my notebook when i was on a train, of art world news items spilling into commentary ecosystem that maybe didn't really exist for them to spill into before that long ago. or what i wrote was: well, i think i left my stenopad at his mother's house, a panic for another day. i think i wrote, anti-woke (although that isn't what they all are): dana schutz, the staged cancellation of the philip guston show, epstein gugenheim, and the epstein clinton painting, the climate change stunts, maybe emrata v richard prince.

on bodies: we were looking at his slides. i told him i don't know what to say about bodies, so i'll ask you some questions, i'll brainstorm. i asked him if he had been thinking about the george bellows boxing pictures before he did these and he said he hadn't been. these paintings aren't really that modernist at all, but i have to talk about them as if that's what they're about because that's the only thing i know anything about. i say the thing i think about when i look at bellows's boxing paintings is the industrial sublime. i am also in this phase where i want us to coin a new _ sublime so bad. it's not just about the awe, and the upward wonder and the glow, it's more about this moment where musculature and the body was this visual technology at the center of the cultural rupture of the invention of photography, and then moving pictures. so then we looked at muybridge, i had forgotten about bacon's thing about exactly this. i find it impossible to learn anything about bacon, which is funny because i'm writing about/for a painter defending himself against accusations of warmed over bacon. i told him what we need is an essay comparing the bacon in teorema and the bacon in last tango and it feels like i'm the only one on earth here to do it but every single critical tool for making this analysis is just out of reach. i've been working on it. i shouldn't have read the deleuze. but then we're looking at these photographs and i say, you know, a unique angle i feel really qualified to talk about is the history of physique photography, which i then explain. he says he'd been working with tom of finland, and just then i remember i bought him an etienne postcard at the leather museum and i put it in the copy of the david sylvester bacon interviews he loaned me, it's here in my bag. so we look at that, and mapplethorpe, and so on. his parents are photographers, i'm helping his mother with some archives. i'm not sure this is about bodies in the same way. the hook here is that we are two people hung up on the twentieth century, wrestling with the twentieth century. (coming back to this: to be hung up on--to be strung up on a hook. like in my favorite movie about the twentieth century and the rupture of industrialization...) he has all these things to say about it, and that's good for his artist's statement. when i look at the bellows painting i see the conflict, contradiction, encounter, what have you, of the moving image. when i see muscle in motion today i am still seeing that same thing. to pick up Modernism must be in some way to pick up or analogize the conflict or contradiction of modernity. i talk about two ways to understand a history of modern painting, a very vulgar way of putting it, and that he has much more of an engagement with this genealogy of the mechanics of sight--the proposition of self and other--and me i tend to talk about the transformation of the surface. he's not sure about this especially because he's all about de kooning.

i want to move on from this and get to our "second book project," which will be a dialogue in book ("like the gayle rubin judith butler interview," as i am always saying). when we first met he was watching old buckley firing line clips. we wanted to have an old talk show like this so bad. i want to see the literary interview come back for the left and the art world. a different kind. this is hugely my bottom line. the phaidon mary kelly book has a great one with douglas crimp that does exactly what i'm looking for--a dialogue historicizing the recent past with two people on different sides of the thing. that's for another discussion, but this is all i think about. i want the dialogue, although after writing this post i think i will incorporate some such diagesis as i have here. i think i convinced him that we can call book two "dirtbag modern," which has been the title of my notes for two years. ("well, how did we meet?" "i suppose we did a podcast.") maybe amber's book will have come out, and be worth talking about...

[gogogoats]

Dragonblade Deep Dive - Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen – Lavinia’s Dilemma

Lavinia is remembering a conversation she had with Jester a few weeks ago about Cuthbert, and how he was improving as a person. This is illustrated by yet another story of him prioritising an insect over people, so I’m not exactly filled with confidence that he will make a great ruler.

Then their conversation turns to Gunther, and whether or not he is a good person. Jester says that he is, and points out that his father has not been good to him, or a good influence. Starting to feel like this book has been written for the Gunthester fans, tbh.

Somehow, in spite of all this context, Lavinia still concludes that Gunther is merely plotting to bring about his father’s death and will treat her badly in order to achieve it. Despite it being spelled out that Magnus would be executed for treason, because HE IS PLANNING TREASON, and Lavinia would simply no longer be betrothed to Juan/Gunther/whoever as a result, not that part of bringing down Magnus’ plan involves her being specifically targeted for emotional pain by Gunther, wtf?

She also decides that she can’t discuss any of this with Jester, which makes no sense, and decides it will have to be Dragon, because… reasons.

The King would throw Gunther out for… not allowing his father to commit treason. The Queen would have him exiled for the same. Jane would tell her to go to Theodore who would tell her to go to the King and we’re back to the start. Does Lavinia honestly think that not a single person would think to say “We’ll look into it and try to help Gunther save us all from his father’s tyrannical rule!”??? I mean, with the way Gunther is treated by the other characters in the novel it’s not hard to believe, but that doesn’t make it make sense. But Lavinia also can’t do nothing because if Gunther’s plan unrolls then Magnus will be executed FOR THE TREASON HE WILL HAVE COMMITTED. If Gunther’s plan doesn’t work out then MAGNUS WILL RULE THE KINGDOM HOW IS THIS NOT A PROBLEM FOR ANYONE???? Gah!

So Lavinia decides she must confide in Dragon. Because he’s definitely the most level-headed advisor, sure.

Jane is in her room, having tidied herself up as Theodore requested. I wonder if she’ll notice Jester’s arse-print and tear stains on her bed?

She is preparing for a meeting with the King to explain the contents of this novel so far which… good luck with that lol.

She looks at her belongings, struggling to fully commit to the Marie Condo life. There is so much emphasis placed on Jane and her belongings being a tie to her past/preventing her from changing. It doesn’t make any real sense, literally every person who has achieved anything has probably had some treasured, sentimental possession of some sort. I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be a clunky metaphor or an attempt at hinting that Jane’s mysterious new future will require her to let go of everything she has ever cared about in her life, but it’s just confusing so far.

She heads to the meeting place and catches up with Pepper, who wants to know how Robert burned his hands. Robert told Pepper that Jane pushed him into the fire when he tried to “embrace” her. I have no words.

Pepper calls Robert their “handsome young guest”. First, if everyone could stop describing this guy as being so insanely handsome for five minutes, that would be nice. Second, WHY is a much younger Pepper calling Robert “young”? It’s been established that he’s an adult in his 20s, no changing it now just to make him seem less creepy.

Pepper is very dismissive of the fact that this grown adult man tried to assault her friend in a cave to the point where said friend felt the need to physically defend herself, and instead teases Jane about kissing. So that’s nice.

Throughout the meeting with the royals Robert is called “Young Robert” repeatedly. Still doesn’t make it okay!

Jane recaps things for the royals and then the Queen re-recaps for the King. It’s still a steaming pile of horseshit.

Every adult in Jane’s life continues to fail to care about her basic physical and emotional wellbeing. The Queen basically tells Jane she can do whatever she wants and won’t be held to her decision to become a knight. Wild.

End chapter.

Overall impressions:

Is all the carry on about Jane’s “toys and trinkets” referring to her KNIGHTHOOD? Like that was a thing she wanted when she was a child but now a creepy gross stranger who entered her life less than 48 hours ago and keeps lying to and about her has her questioning if her life-long ambition is really all that?

Why is Lavinia (and everyone else, really) so wilfully misinterpreting what Gunther is planning? He is literally the hero this kingdom does not deserve. By telling Jester (or anyone at all) what he’s planning he is jeopardising everything, because if word gets back to Magnus it won’t end well for Gunther.

But sure, not wanting his father to stage a coup and rule the kingdom makes Gunther a bad guy.

Time passed since start of novel: day two, the unrelenting afternoon            

[copiious]

“I know why you’re calling.” // mare @ roman ( GHEHEHEH AFTER WHAT WE TALKED ABOUT LAST NIGHT & THAT IG POST SHE’D MAKE. )

What he was doing was totally out of the normal for him. He wasn’t the type of guy to just pop up at someone’s house unannounced, but yet here he was. He had seen Mary’s IG post and of course he had to see if it was true for himself in person. Now outside her condo he decided to call first instead of knocking in hopes of her picking up.”

“Do you?” He smirked as he held the phone in his hand, one arm crossed across his chest. “In that case you should know where I’m calling from.” He gave her a moment to answer before he went on to say. “…open the door, baby girl.”

[totally-lit-road-trips]

Chapter 22: Farm & Orchard

Welcome back to my Totally Lit Road Trip blog, where the lit stands for literary!

Today’s adventures took us all around Concord, MA, as we learned about Henry David Thoreau and Louisa May Alcott, as well their relationships with each other and other authors in the area. I think it says a lot about the authors that despite age and gender differences, they inspired each other’s writing and played a role in each other’s lives.

Jess and I started our morning at Thoreau Farm, where we were treated to a private tour, because we were the only ones there. Our tour guide, Barbara, is an amazing historian who told us the saga of the Thoreau family’s life on this farm. Even though Henry David Thoreau only lived there for eight months after he was born, the farm played a large role in his writing due to the stories his mother told him about the place. His grandmother, Mary Jones, was living in the house with her husband, and when he died, the “widow’s third” rule went into effect, meaning that even though she couldn’t own the house, she could legally continue living in 1/3 of it. Mary “swapped” homes with her daughter Cynthia (Thoreau’s mother), since she was younger and would have an easier time farming the land to make a profit. This is how Thoreau came to be born on a farm not technically owned by anyone in his family.

In 1995, when the last living owner of the house passed away, developers wanted to purchase the land and build condos. This prompted a group of historians and literature lovers to create a trust and raise the nearly $1M needed to purchase the land and restore the house. Rather than restoring it to its original form, as a lot of historical societies do with old houses, the trust wanted to refurbish in a way that would honor Thoreau’s memory and lifestyle. Given that he was a huge proponent of finding harmony in nature, the house was refurbished using recycled material and environmentally friendly paint, and uses solar panels to provide most of its electricity. 

One interesting tidbit about the house is that its original foundation was about 300 yards away from where it lies now, and no one really knows why it was moved. It certainly would have been easier to just build a new house on the place where it is now, and historians have not discovered a reason for its move.

Inside the house you can see most of the original floorboards and walls, which were repainted to match the original colors in the house, although they left a few spots un-painted for comparison. 

On our tour, Barbara told us about Thoreau and his siblings. He and his brother John both (unsuccessfully) proposed to the same woman. A few weeks later, John cut himself shaving and ultimately died of lockjaw. Thoreau was so distraught over the death of this brother that he wound up developing what we now know were psychosomatic symptoms which mirrored John’s so strongly that his family was convinced Thoreau must have cut himself as well. He eventually recovered, and went on to write A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers, about a boat trip he took with John before his passing.

Thoreau’s younger sister Sophia (pronounced So-Fye-Uh) was an accomplished artist, and drew the cover art used for Walden, the book for which Thoreau is probably most well-known. Additionally, the family were abolitionists, and his older sister, Helen, founded the first woman’s abolitionist group.

Thoreau Farm is also still a fully functional farm, and volunteers from a non-profit organization called Gaining Ground farm the land and donate all the produce to local food pantries and meal programs. We took a few minutes to stroll around their crops, and it was really impressive. 

My favorite new plant discovery came in the form of Egyptian Walking Onions, which were growing in one of the small garden plots near the house. When I said I wondered how they tasted, Barbara gave us permission to pick a few, if we would try them and let her know what they tasted like. Can confirm they tasted like red onions, just in miniature form! The Egyptian Walking Onions are an heirloom plant, meaning the seeds were from Thoreau’s time period.

(The little purple buds in the phot above are actually the Egyptian Walking Onions! They’re very small, but very tasty!)

After a quick and delicious lunch at Nashoba Brook Bakery, we headed over to Orchard House, the family home of Louisa May Alcott. 

As you approach the house, the first thing that stands out is the lovely little garden out front, which is planted with the same plants and flowers that each of the four March sisters plants in her own little garden plot in Little Women. The plots are labeled accordingly with the sisters’ names - Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. 

The first part of the tour takes place in the Concord School of Philosophy building, which Alcott’s father built in 1879. He was a Transcendentalist, who believed in education reformation. He believed in things like recess and field trips, and opposed corporal punishment, which was widely used at the time. 

In the Concord School of Philosophy, you’ll find benches that were created for the schoolhouse scenes in the 2019 Little Woman film, and donated to Orchard House after filming. You can sit on them as you view a short documentary about Orchard House, narrated by a very compelling “Louisa May Alcott”, played by Jan Turnquist. You can watch the documentary here, if you are a member of Thirteen PBS.

After viewing the documentary, it was time to tour the house. Unfortunately, photography is not allowed, so if you want to see the residence in all its glory and fine detail, you’ve got to come visit for yourself. 

We learned that the family bought Orchard House when Louisa was 25 years old. Prior to that, the family had lived in 29 houses over a span of 30 years, which sounds exhausting. After purchasing the house, which was only a few rooms, Alcott’s father had a nearby tenant house rolled in using logs, and attached it to the main house, making the whole residence much more spacious for his family. Louisa and her sisters helped with painting and setting up the house, although her sister Beth died before the family officially moved in. Beth’s melodium (a reed organ that resembles a small keyboard) and her portrait reside in one of the sitting rooms. 

Due to the success of Alcott’s writing, she was able to furnish the family home with a lot of nice things, many of which are still present in the house today. She was also able to finance her youngest sister May’s art lessons in Europe, which were necessary because in America, art was not seen as a viable career for a woman. May had a small studio room in Orchard House where she gave art lessons, and one of her students, Daniel Chester French, eventually went on to design the Lincoln Memorial.

May spent many years in Europe learning art from the masters, eventually marrying and having a daughter, whom she named after her sister Louisa. Unfortunately, May passed a way shortly after giving birth, and then Lulu was sent back to America to be raised by Louisa for about nine years. Lulu eventually moved to Switzerland, where she lived until her death in 1975 at the age of 95.

May’s artwork lives on, however, as it can be found in every room in the house. From sketches to paintings to ink drawings all over the windowsills and walls, May’s art gives visitors glimpses into the lives of the Alcotts and the art styles of the time period. Due to a current art exhibit with the Concord Library, more of May’s art was on display than usual, including a silk dress which she hand painted. In addition, the wedding dress of the eldest sister, Anna, was also on special display in Louisa’s bedroom. The silvery gray silk was certainly unlike any modern wedding dress you’d see today, but it had a very sophisticated look nonetheless.

Some other items of note in the house were Louisa’s boots and writing desk. The boots are kept in a costume trunk from when the sisters and their friends would put on plays. The very same boots are mentioned in Little Women as belonging to Jo, who wears them to play Roderigo, the same role Louisa wore the boots for in real life. Louisa’s writing desk, though small in size, was large in what it represented - her family’s faith in her writing ability. During her lifetime, it was unfitting for a woman to have her own writing desk, as writing wasn’t seen as an appropriate career for them, similar to art. Louisa’s father build the desk for her, showing how strongly he believed in her.

Something I already knew before visiting Orchard House, but that I still think is interesting and important to mention is that when Alcott was writing Little Women, she fully intended for Jo, the character modeled after herself, to remain a “spinster,” just as Alcott was. However, her publisher absolutely forbid that, so as a “compromise,” Alcott created a sort of unexpected character for Jo to marry, rather than the fan favorite pick, Laurie.

One thing I didn’t know before our tour was how involved the Concord authors were in each other’s lives. Nathanial Hawthorne lived next door to the Alcotts, and Thoreau and Emerson were contemporaries of Louisa’s father, Amos Bronson. They even joined the family for Anna’s wedding.

After our tour of Orchard House, Jess and I explored downtown Concord a bit, and visited a few antique stores, a chocolate shop, and a cheese shop. Then we went back to our hotel to unwind for a bit before heading to Copper House Tavern for dinner. We both had fancy burgers that were quite scrumptious, and very satisfying. Now we’re back at the hotel resting up for tomorrow. We’ve got a lot planned, and it looks like rain all day, but luckily most of our adventuring will take place in doors.

Tune in tomorrow for some more literary adventures in Concord!

<3 Theresa