#cyd answered a thing

[chaggle]

To answer what’s happening on hc rn: Skizz is/was streaming, him and Impulse started putting their Minecraft butts together and calling it double mooning or something like that, and then Skizz said he has a weird medical thing going on w/ his stomach and Impulse’s chat decided he was pregnant.

The beauty of child making

[tomwambsmilk]

ur thoughts on Tom’s attraction to men?

Ohhh boy. Well. Before we can even get to things like internalized homophobia and the idealization of the “traditional” family unit and the Tom’s lifelong ambition in a highly conservative environment necessitating a certain self-image that excludes homosexuality, we have to talk about how Tom understands masculinity and, by extension, platonic interactions and relationships between men.

(I'm answering both of these anons together because they do go hand-in-hand - you can't talk about Tom's attraction to men without talking about his feelings towards Greg).

Tom’s understanding of masculinity is very much shaped by the Waystar approach to masculinity (which is representative of a wider cultural opinion, for sure, but then we start to get into certain nuances that are beside the point, so I’m just going to refer to it as the Waystar approach for now), and that understanding focuses largely on the concept of dominance. You can't really have two equal men in any kind of relationship (friendly, platonic, antagonistic - anything); one has some kind of dominance over the other, and both (if they're masculine men) are constantly seeking to gain an edge over the other.

And this extends to how they understand love and sex as well. Women are excluded from this dominance framework, with the exception of a few women who, by virtue of their competence and their ruthlessness, are really just considered to be men (eg Gerri and Cyd - and notice how both of them have names that sound masculine?). But sex still plays into it; having a lot of casual sex and seeking their own pleasure is one way men can display dominance, and they can humiliate other men by using sexually violent language towards them. Intimacy and vulnerability are exclusive to the realm of heterosexual romantic relationships, and even that has limits - take Logan himself, who allows Marcia to witness his physical vulnerability while hiding it from everyone else, but displays very little emotional intimacy with her.

One of the immediate consequences of this attitude is that genuine friendship between men cannot exist. Every 'friendship' in the show is marked by these interpersonal dynamics, which make the kind of trust and intimacy true friendships are built on impossible. And if friendship cannot exist, then romantic or sexual attraction absolutely cannot exist, except possibly as another expression of dominance (and even that would be questionable, because by expressing attraction to another person you are giving them a degree of power over you).

So do I think Tom is attracted to men? Probably. In terms of 'what do the showrunners intend', there are a few different directions they could take canon that are plausible to me - and if they chose not to acknowledge any attraction to men on Tom's part, I wouldn't necessarily consider that to be misguided or poor writing. That's mainly because I don't think Tom understands himself as being attracted to men. And how could he? He's not allowed to be, and I'm not just talking about homophobia but that entire framework of how men are supposed to relate to each other. He's 40 years old and probably worked at Waystar for 15-20 years, which means he's internalized this enough that he's viewing all of his interactions with men through this lens without consciously realizing that's what he's doing.

This is complicated even more by the fact that for Tom, physical attraction and sex are largely indivisible from emotional attraction. Tom is not someone who enjoys casual sex; I would argue that not only does he need an emotional connection, but that the emotional connection is the origin of his attraction to someone. But in a world where emotional intimacy is taboo, that attraction becomes deeply fraught. And again, Tom himself has internalized this framework; he's bought into the idea that men should want casual sex, that attraction for men should be mostly physical, and that emotional vulnerability belongs only in the sphere of heterosexual marriage. He gets a blowjob from Tabitha and goes "Threesomes, that's the dream" because that's how he thinks he should feel, and the fact that he doesn't actually feel that way means there's something wrong with him. Already the way he experiences attraction is profoundly wrong and unmasculine even before we start bringing men into it.

I know it's fun to look at the "Would you kiss me? If I asked you to? If I told you to?" scene as a declaration of repressed attraction, but... Tom has just met Greg, some kid off the street who technically is a blood Roy but whose place in the overall Roy hierarchy has yet to be established. Tom is currently at the bottom of the totem pole, and he knows that being able to place Greg under him in that hierarchy will increase his standing. "Would you kiss me?" is not an expression of attraction, it's an attempt to utilize the same sexually dominating language we see Kendall using with Lawrence Yee and Logan using with Kendall in this same episode. But it comes out horribly wrong; instead of dominating and violent, it sounds homoerotic. It unsettles Greg, for sure, but not for the reasons Tom wanted it to.

And I think that's the foundation of their relationship. Greg is the first person in the show that Tom is truly able to dominate in some way, and Tom is also a person who is absolutely starved for emotional intimacy. So it makes sense that once Tom is confident that Greg is under his thumb - which happens pretty quickly since no one else gives a shit about him - of course, Greg is going to become the outlet for Tom's complex emotions around and desires for intimacy. Of course, Tom's expressions of dominance towards Greg are going to become increasingly homoerotic. Of course, Tom's feelings towards Greg are going to start to move more and more into the realm of attraction the longer he knows Greg and the more he develops the emotional intimacy with him that he isn't allowed to develop with anyone else. And of course, when Tom finally does start to express that attraction it has to be violent. He can't just marry him but he has to castrate him too because there might be an attraction but they're also both men, and the dominance framework is inescapable.

And, of course, I don't think Tom understands his attraction to Greg as attraction proper. I think because he's not attracted to Greg in the same way he's attracted to women, he would classify his attraction to women as Attraction proper, and his attraction to Greg as something else. I don't think starting a relationship with Greg would make him realize he's attracted to men; at least as long as they're both at Waystar and in that sphere I think he'd classify it as some kind of exception that proves the rule.

Finally, I would be remiss not to mention that yet another complicating factor is that Tom is a man who's definitely idealized the "traditional" nuclear heterosexual family ideal for a very, very long time, and who considers it part and parcel with all of his other ambitions. A long-term committed relationship with another man does not fit into that image. Even if he did get to a point where he could acknowledge his attraction to men, he's going to be deeply reluctant to commit to anything real until he lets go of that ideal - which he's unlikely to do while he's at Waystar, surrounded by other people who are also committed to that ideal. And even after he leaves, he might not, if only because this is an ideal that likely pre-dates his time at Waystar, and goes all the way back to his childhood, probably, and the fact that he is attracted to women means it's not something he ever really has to give up on or re-evaluate in the same way he would if he was exclusively attracted to men.

If Tom and Greg left Waystar together, would they be able to have a healthy and functional relationship? Maybe, but it would involve deliberately unravelling a whole lot of Tom's very deeply ingrained beliefs and attitudes. If neither of them had ever gone to Waystar and met in an entirely different context? Who knows. Probably, but Tom in particular would be an entirely different person if he hadn't spent his entire professional life at Waystar. It's very fun to write the fanfic and explore the infinite possibilities out there (and btw I'm absolutely not trying to knock any of the really fabulous tomgreg aus and post-S3 tomgreg fics out there), but in terms of what we see in canon - Tom, as a character who exists in Succession, is so formed by that environment that any version of him that didn’t come up at Waystar is a fundamentally different character.

(Greg, on the other hand, has not been formed enough by Waystar to have that same kind of deeply ingrained character development. He's been shaped by it, but I think he's still elastic enough that if you remove him from the environment he'll reshape and adapt into something else. Which is why I think if a post-S3 tomgreg relationship fell apart it would be largely Tom's fault, not Greg's.)

[kimwexlers-brownhair]

Oh back to Yellowsuccess! I think after the plane crash Logan would become obsessive trying to arrange a rescue until enough time passed for him to "cut his losses" and shut down, and things would get even nastier between him and Kendall because of how it seems that he's brushing off the disappearance of his supposed favorite child like it's nothing and Kendall takes out his own feelings of guilt for being a shitty brother onto him. He's also the first to recognize that Shiv is probably dead while Roman is the last, coming up with elaborate scenarios in his head for what she might be doing and maybe for a while believing he's got some kind of psychic connection with her. And then of course things gets Very weird when it turns out she's been alive after all.

Logan is not an idealist. He never claimed to be.

Look, life's not a walk in the fucking park. It's a rollercoaster that goes off the rails onto the crowd below. If you’re lucky, you scramble over the crushed bodies beneath you out of the wrecked train, bleeding all over the cotton candy squeezed in a dead fist. It's a shitstorm.

Terrible things happen. People die.

You can't make it to the soccer match that gets your daughter's team into Nationals. There have been too many whispers about cruises lately, so you need to be at that board meeting. To make up for it, you hire a few nonunion mechanics to spruce up one of your recently decommissioned private planes so your daughter and her teammates can fly to Seattle in a little luxury. The thing's no hunk of junk, just a little smaller and more delicate than the top of the line, newest models. It's not like they're flying to fucking Hong Kong. Compared to the far flung cities Logan regularly flies to, a quick trip over Canada from New York to Seattle is a mere hop, skip, and a jump. It'll be fine.

But no, actually, because the fucking plane crashes somewhere in the Canadian rockies.

Terrible things happen. People die.

But Siobhan --

Siobhan's not People. Siobhan is his.

It is nearly four in the afternoon. Logan skims over another damn contract about some obnoxious port problem off the coast of Brazil. ATN drones on in the background about Dubya's daring new Medicare cuts. Outside the glass doors he suddenly hears hurried feet, rushed whispers. He glances up and a PA is darting here, another darting there, and here comes Gerri looking pale as if she's about to lose her lunch. Frank and Karl follow, looking about the same. The new press girl Karolina trails them, speaking rapidly into her phone.

"What," he barks as they hussle in. God, don't tell him there's another NRPI situation he needs to sign away discreetly while deliberatey avoiding the written details. On top of this fucking Brazil thing --

But no, Gerri's pallor, Frank's stony expression --

"Logan," Gerri's voice is weaker than he's ever heard it, but as always she's keeping it together. "Logan, it's Shiv."

It doesn't occur to him. Not yet. But Gerri's face.

"What about her?"

Her tongue darts over her lips quickly and he's never seen her like this.

"The plane" --

Karolina cuts in, shifting her phone away from her mouth. "It's leaked. I've given Cyd the go-ahead so ATN can announce it first."

Gerri closes her eyes.

Fear, fear Logan is mostly able to keep at bay, rushes in like a flood from the creek Rose drowned herself in --

"Someone fucking tell me right now or you're all fired!"

Before they answer, from the TV comes, "We're getting word now that a private plane carrying a high school girls' soccer team to Nationals in Seattle has lost contact with airport authorities after being overtaken by a storm surge over the Canadian Rockies. It's early hours yet, but authorities fear the plane went down --"

Water, rushing water all up and down inside him, plummeting.

Nothing's quite real anymore.

Rose....

But Siobhan is not Rose. Siobhan is a scrappy fighter like him, a survivor. She has Ewan's annoying habit of disagreeing with him. She has her mother's acid tongue, his mother's grit. She has none of Rose's vulnerability. They don't even look that much alike outside of the coloring --well, okay, that's not strictly true, they look a little bit alike, okay, now that Logan thinks about it, they look a lot alike -- but they're not the same.

No. Shiv's tough. Shiv's tough. She's a survivor. She's his whip-smart Pinky with the wicked smile, his little hell-raiser confidant. His girl.

Logan doesn't believe in any of that woo wee woo, cosmic bullshit about feeling whether someone close to you is alive or not, but...Logan would know.

Shiv is his blood, his self. Add Shiv and her brothers up and they equal Logan. Ken, Rome, and yes, Connor -- sometimes they make up the parts Logan loathes about himself. But not Shiv.

So he would know if she was -- he would feel it, no matter how much he disavows that spiritual shit.

He doesn't feel it, not now. He didn't feel this coming at all. Shiv is alive. Shiv is alive.

Shiv is alive, so he has to act, now.

"Call DC," he says to no one in particular and so that means everyone. "Tell Cheney we need a search party. Top of the line military OP types, no bleeding heart volunteer morons. If he flinches, tell him we've been sitting on that story about the Chump-in-Chief falling off the wagon in Key West. Tell Laird to pucker up and suck off whatever Canadian officials we need to get full access beyond the border. Who's overseeing this? Get me on the line with them, now."

This is different from Rose because he is in control now. Total control.

Evening. The door opens and Roman is there in the study. His eyes are more haunted and frightened than Ken can ever remember them being, and Rome often wore that look in his childhood.

They embrace.

"Like, what the fuck, man? What the fuck," Roman asks into his shoulder.

Ken gives him a squeeze. "It's going to be okay, Rome. Shiv's too much of a bitch to go down that way."

Roman hiccups a laugh. "Yeah, she probably pushed the pilots out of the way and landed the thing herself. She's going to get those poor bastards fired."

They don't separate until Connor arrives. He wraps them both in his arms.

"Hey, guys. Whatever happens, it will be okay."

Both secretly resent him saying that, since it implies something might happen.

The door opens and here comes their father. He whispers a few words in Gerri's direction and for once shuts her and the rest out to address them.

Sill, when he speaks, his voice is as impersonal as the one he uses when trying to boost morale amongst hired underlings. Almost light, airy.

The only difference is his eyes. They're glassy. Unfocused. He doesn't meet any of their gazes.

He claps, starts. "Boys, uh, glad you're here. Glad you're here. Thank you for coming. Uh, it's all good. All good. We've got search parties setting off now. And we're getting word they've picked up a signal from the plane's transmittor. So it won't take long now."

He hasn't once said even her name.

Still, not just for Logan, but for Roman, Kendall says, "Yeah. Yeah. Of course. It's, like, impossible for a plane to completely go missing these days. They'll find the signal and pick them up."

"Right." The briefest of nods from his father, a rare sign of acknowledgement, thanks. He takes in a breath and finally brings her up. "Your sister's tough, now. She's tough. She's going to be just fine. Isn't she, Connor?"

Connor's sitting on the back of the sofa, and his face is grim. Still he nods. "Sure, Pa. Sure."

Roman's too much in shock to notice what they're doing. It's for him. With Shiv gone, Roman is the baby. It's a show for him.

The youngest son says nothing, just gives a weak smile behind the fingers covering his face. His shoulders are hunched upward like a dog mincing away from the whip.

"Uh-huh. Okay." Logan's eyes wander over the room. If they didn't know him, they'd think he was a confused old man who doesn't quite remember where he is. But Dad's not old, they all tell themselves. He's not. And he knows what he's doing. He's just a little...unsettled. "Thank you, boys. Thank you."

"Uh, dad," Kendall clears his throat. "Is there...is there anything I - we can do right now? Like, does the search party need volunteers?"

"Huh? Oh, no, son. We've got top of the line -- it's taken care of. "

"Okay. How about, how about Mom? Does - she knows, right? Or --"

"Ah? Oh, your mother. Uh, yes, I'm sure she knows by now. Someone must have...I mean, if you want to call her..."

"Sure, dad. Sure. I can do that."

Logan's gaze finally rests on Kendall, and there's true warmth there. "Thank you, Kenny. Okay, boys, I'll keep you posted." Then, without another word or glance, he leaves the boys behind him, their haunted eyes on his retreating back.

It's about five in the morning when Logan's bedside phone starts ringing. He's only been in bed for three hours, and been asleep for just about one. He'd just been dreaming of a campfire, and girls were laughing. Shiv's face is covered in soot but she's smiling, eyes sparkling as she knocks shoulders with one of her teammates --

However, he's awake instantly and answers. "What? Siobhan?"

Gerri. Her voice is very quiet, which means there's bad news.

Logan listens.

His veins are on fire. He's sitting on the edge of the bed and the darkness of the room turns red. "What? How? How can they lose the fucking signal? Those boxes are supposed to be goddamn indestructible, aren't they?...I don't fucking care that they're doing their best, Gerri, I need them to...well, don't they fucking know by now where the signal was coming from before it went away? Didn't they have jets going there?...oh, don't give me that garbage about the storm, I fucking know about the storm, that's how the plane -- interference? Fucking...what the fuck good are those fucking boxes if they can't give you the correct location through a fucking storm? Don't give me any shit about interference, Gerri!"

He listens a few moments more, breath chugging out of his nostrils like a bull ready to charge. "Well, you tell Cheney and the air force that I don't give a fuck. Tell them to keep pushing. This isn't some run of the mill commercial flight with some hodunk assholes from Iowa flying to Florida for vacation, this is my daughter. In fact, there are a lot of fucking important daughters on that plane. Tell that reptile that if he wants his braindead idiot reelected, I better not hear one fucking word about the operation slowing down. Fucking got that, Ger?"

He slams the phone down. His nerves are open and raw, and the darkness is too close and Shiv is out there, she's out there and the signal is gone.

From below, Richard, giving the morning's instructions to staff, hears a roar and the phone crash against Logan's bedroom wall.

Eleven-and-a-half months later, Kendall has to see it on the news like everyone else.

He doesn't give Richard any time to warn Logan before he bursts into his father's home office. His father is not at his desk but sitting on the couch holding a scotch, staring at nothing.

"What the fuck, Dad? What is this? You're fucking calling off the search?"

His father doesn't move, doesn't look at him. "It's been almost a year, Kendall." His voice is a thousand years old.

"So? That's it? We're done? You're not gonna fucking..."

"Not gonna fucking what, Kendall?" At last his father turns to face him, and his glazed eyes are even older than his voice. "We've done everything. Searched everywhere in that damn wilderness." His eyes are on the amber liquid in his glass. "Nothing."

"W-well," Ken's stammer is back. "We-we-we can"--

"Kendall," his voice is sharp, commanding. "It's done. There's no going back. Your sister..." Kendall must be rocking on his feet, because it looks like his father is swaying. "Your sister is gone." His voice cracks at gone.

But Kendall won't hear it. "Come on. Come on, Dad. It's not like you to give up like that. We"--

"The shareholders aren't going to want anymore money going to a search party that isn't finding anything."

"So that's what it all comes down to? Fucking money? Dad? Again? That's all that matters to you, now even?"

He sees the storm cloud gathering in his father's face. "We can't keep throwing resources" --

"Throwing resources? That's what you call funding the search party to find your fucking daughter? Your alleged favorite?"

"Don't fucking push me, son."

"No, this is -- wait." Ken's eyes cast about the room. "What...where?" He cranes his head all around, checking every end table, every surface. "Dad, where..." his eyes focus back on his father. "Dad, where are her pictures?"

Logan says nothing, stares into nothing, his face saying nothing. The only horror is in his wide glazed eyes.

Kendall points to the hutch against the wall. "The picture of her and Rome as kids? Her yearbook picture on your desk? The team on the wall? Where...where the fuck are they, Dad? Where did you put them?"

Logan's voice is as low as it is ever capable of being. "They're in her room. Which is locked."

Ken is too numb for a second, but then the pain and anger burst out. "In her room? Locked away? Like she never even fucking existed? Jesus fucking Christ, Dad"--

Logan is all at once on his feet, the drink slammed down on the coffee table. "And what the fuck have you been doing, Kendall? Hm? What have you been doing to find your sister? All this time, playing with your dick in your overpriced dorm room at that Ivy League dump instead of joining the search party?"

Kendall doesn't know whether to laugh or scream. "You told me not to volunteer, Dad. You told me not to interrupt my education. You said I wouldn't know what I was doing and I'd only get in the way"--

Logan's red face is inches in front of his. "Oh, you needed my permission, hm? My permission to go out and find your baby sister?"

"That's not fair" --

"GO ON. FUCK OFF. Your sister is gone, Kendall, and no amount of mewling about her pictures is going to bring her back. So, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE AND STOP WASTING ANY MORE OF MY GODDAMN TIME."

Logan turns away and marches over to his desk. His back is to Kendall, but Ken sees his arm go up over his face. Blocking everything out.

A stab of love. "Dad, I" --

"Go on, Kendall. Go on. Go and see to your brother. I can't right now. I need...I need some time."

Roman's sitting on the stairs when Kendall comes out. He's been home since everything started, "for Dad", he says. As if Logan has noticed at all. He's insisted throughout that Kendall stay at Harvard, but he's never given a serious shit about what Roman does.

"Is...is it true? He's called off the search party?"

"Yeah, Rome. Yeah, it's true."

"But why?" His voice breaks. He's trembling. "Why would he do that?"

Ken feels empty, like a clockwork man. He parrots his father. "It's been close to a year, Roman."

"So?" Roman is on his feet, arms wrapped around his slim body. He's been losing more and more weight recently. "That doesn't mean anything. If...if they're close to water, if there's game, they can still be..."

"Roman." Kendall closes his eyes, breathes. "Roman, she's gone."

A jolt shakes Roman's body. "Oh, fuck you, Kendall. You don't know that."

"Rome" --

"You don't know that. Anything could have happened!"

"We would have heard by now."

"Not necessarily! There's a lot of fucking wilderness out there."

"Right, so the chances of them making it this long"--

He stops short as Roman suddenly shoves him hard in the chest.

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up, man! You don't know shit!"

"Hey, hey, Roman" --

"No! Fuck you! What, they teach you about surviving in the woods in your fucking Harvard business classes?" Another shove. "You're just fucking useless."

Kendall can't take it and he spits back. "Oh, yeah? Well, at least I'm not delusional."

"I'm not delusional."

"Yes, you are. This whole time you've never even considered that she might be" --

"Because"-- Roman cuts himself off and turns away, hands on the back of his head.

Kendall frowns. "Because what, Rome?" His shoulders slump. "Not because of your dreams. Bro, please don't tell me that."

Rome's arms are crossed again, still turned away from his brother. "Fine, I won't," he mumbles.

"They're just dreams, Roman," Kendall says for about the millionth time.

They started soon after the plane went missing. Shiv almost burning up on the crashed plane, but Roman tore off the seat belt so she could escape. Shiv happily splashing her friends in a lake they just discovered. A creepy cabin in the woods. A dark-haired girl wailing over a frozen body as the first snows fell.

Roman would never meet Ken's eyes when telling him, usually as they sat on his bed in the evening. He'd stare at his bedspread and say, "I don't know, they just feel really...real. Like I'm actually in front of her. Sometimes she sees me and gets really shocked but we..talk and stuff."

Ken never said much in reply.

He didn't want to say he'd been having the same dreams.

And now, he just won't put up with it. "You don't have some kind of psychic connection with her, okay? Like, you're not even twins, you're Irish twins." Born barely a year apart. Logan liked to throw the term around because he knew it bothered their old-English mother who deep down carried an ancient bigotry against the Irish like the rest of her family.

Roman finally faces him. "Yeah, I fucking know that, okay? But they feel more like visions than dreams"--

Kendall now shoves him hard, because he just had a flash of his own dream from last night, of Shiv stumbling in the snow and sniffling. She looked so relieved when she saw Kendall standing there in the cold, ready to help her up.

Another shove, and Roman whimpers. "You're fucking delusional, Roman. She's gone. She's dead, all right? She's fucking dead."

He doesn't wait to take in his brother's tears. He storms out of the house, pushing past Richard.

Roman collapses on the steps.

Logan can hear his youngest boy's sobs through the closed door. He's relieved. They're covering the choking sounds he himself is making. He's slouched over the window seat, clutching the curtains.

He can't stop it now, tears cloud everything.

Just last night he was sitting by Siobhan on the bank of that frozen lake again. She was wrapped up in that patchwork coat made out of bear and deer skins. He could see scars on her face. That wolf nightmare was true. His arm was around her, and he was telling her stories about how he and Ewan used to ice fish.

A little over nine months later, the call comes. Crash site found.

Survivors found.

[yourhostandbestfriend]

Let’s get a few things out of the way!

Starting off this blog with an ooc post to just go over plans and whatnot for this account.

Hi, I’m Cyd, the admin for this account. You can also find me on @warnerswilsons and some other blogs. I’ve mentioned before that Schmitty is my favorite jackbox/YDKJ host and also honestly a comfort character for me, so I had this idea. I’d been going back and forth for a bit on whether or not to make this rp/ask blog, but I finally have the motivation to. Before getting into the blog, I wanted to use my intro/pinned post to just cover some ground.

1. My plan is to make this blog very low-stress. I tend to keep busy, and will not be online all the time. It may take me anywhere up from within the day to like a month later to get to an ask, and just because I answer a later one before an earlier one doesn’t mean I’m not looking at everything.

2. Please be respectful with your asks. Teasing is fine, but please don’t send anything harmful, offensive, or bigoted.

3. On that note, I’d like to keep stuff around PG-13. Certain jokes are fine, but stuff beyond that I just get a bit uncomfortable about. Feel free to to reach out with any questions or just to check about something!

4. I’m kind of uncomfortable with roleplaying ships unless I know the person I’m writing with and have written that ship before (and I can work with the other writer ooc for planning purposes). Asks around ships are fine, but please keep that in mind.

5. Aside from that, I definitely highly encourage chaotic and silly asks and interactions. I want this blog to be fun and funny!

Once again, please feel free to reach out on this account or my others if you have any questions or want to clear up a few things. I’m really excited for what’s to come!

[mostlydaydreaming]

So, under that great French doc about Gene on YouTube (that's now in English-hurray) I commented about Gene being a wonderful man and was immediately contradicted by some moron named MissGelly who wanted me to know that he was a bully, hated by all his co-stars. Well, needless to say, I pinned her ears back and wondered if you wanted to add a few salient points, too. I forgot a few things: I didn't tell her Michael Crawford says he owes his fabulous career to Gene Kelly or mention what Patricia Wilson had to say about working with the Hollywood legend in "Take Me Along." Also forgot about his dance assistants, Coyne and Haney, being totally loyal to GK. Indeed, one of them was head over heels in love with him. I don't know why some people insist on spreading this nonsense; I suspect it's because he's very sexy and his choreography is sensual. Sexy is not in vogue these days and always suspect. Some seem intent on making him the face of Classic Hollywood's Me Too. As you know, nothing could be further from the truth. In a world of Bob Fosses, be a Gene Kelly. Cheers!

Ah, the whole purpose of my Mostlydaydreaming Tumblr & YouTube channel. When I discovered Gene Kelly (thru YouTube videos!) I loved him🥰 When I started trying to learn more, there’s a top layer of nothing but Debbie Reynolds quotes and a Cyd Charisse quote taken out of context.

When I dug deeper I found a wonderfully complex man with a huge heart. Faults and weaknesses? Of course, everyone has them. He had a white hot drive to succeed, to prove himself and leave his mark on the world. But he was also an honorable, loyal and loving family man. Yeah he could be hard to work with, but I knew he was more than that. I wanted to defend him.

That’s why I’ve posted interviews from other people who had a completely different view of him: Leslie Caron, Mitzi Gaynor, Cindy Williams, Michael Crawford, Rita Hayworth, Paula Abdul, Betty Garrett, Vera Ellen, etc. etc. etc.

I’ve tried to deal with haters before.

I remember posting a long answer, with links to interviews, articles, videos, trying to show them a different point of view. But all I got was a short smart ass answer that infuriated me, leading to me block them and take down my GK rant. I’m not getting baited again. You did ok. Offer things for them to check out, like YT interviews, and move on. You can lead a horse to water…🤷🏻‍♀️

All most people do is google him and read the first few pages of the same Debbie Reynolds stories and the same negative (usually incomplete) anecdotes:

Debbie’s horrible “french kiss” from Gene. First, this was likely a misunderstanding. It was on camera, it’s not like he trapped her in a dressing room. No other co-star ever claimed that Gene was sexually inappropriate in any way. This kiss was in the final scene. The rest of the kisses in the movie were chaste and he likely wanted a big kiss for the finale, like he had in a few of his other movies. He knew she had practiced screen kissing with another actor, like Judy Garland had done with him for his first movie. He probably didn’t think she would freak out like she did.

Debbie’s bleeding feet & Fred Astaire teaching her how to dance. First bleeding feet is nothing new to dancers. Ginger Rodgers danced with Fred Astaire with bleeding feet but you didn’t hear her bitch about it. Second, Fred Astaire didn’t teach her how to dance (I see this reported a lot). He let her watch him rehearse, which he normally didn’t do. He did it so she could see how much work dancing was, even for him. She watched him get frustrated and even throw his cane. All so she would know, if this is what she wanted to do, this was how much work it was going to take.

Cyd Charisse’s comment about how her husband knew who she danced with because if she danced with Gene she’d be black & blue. No she wasn’t implying Gene beat her! Gene was more physical than Fred with lifts and such, that’s all. They always forget her other comment when people tried to get her preference between the two: They were like apples & oranges, they were both delicious😘

The competitive dinner parties. I’m sorry, it was Gene’s house and he could put on any kind of party he wanted. He liked informality (He and Betsy knew when strangers came because they were the only ones who knocked) He liked sports and competitions. If you don’t like that stuff, don’t go!!! The people who complained most weren’t even real friends of Gene & Betsy at all, but people who tried to use them and their parties to get close to other influential people.

He only wanted young women. Again, most people only look at the surface on this one. Yes, his 1st wife Betsy was 17 when he married her and even younger than that when they started dating. But his girlfriend before her was in her early 20s. (Per articles I’ve found, they were either engaged or very near).

When Betsy left him, she was in her 30s (he in his 40s) and by all accounts, he didn’t want a divorce. If he wanted a younger one, it was the perfect time. But 2nd wife Jeannie was also in her 30s while he was in his 40s. No robbing the cradle there. After Jeannie died, in the late 70s and early 80s he dated women like older actress Jean Simmons and Tony Bennett’s separated ex, Sandra. Not excessively young. As for his 3rd wife, she did have what all his wives had, intelligence. They both loved words and literature. We may question her motives but Gene didn’t pick dumb bimbos. But to say he only wanted much younger women wasn’t true.

And he didn’t just seek young women to take advantage of them. Betsy loved telling the story of how when they dated and she tried to push for more than hugs and kisses, he reminded her that she was still too young for all that.

My GK rant is done🥵 I admire you’re enthusiasm but I don’t feed trolls anymore.

[typingtess]

NCIS: Los Angeles Season 13 Rewatch:  “Come Together”

The basics:  When a robotic vehicle robs a casino’s armored car pick-up, the team is looking get it off the streets.  Big life changes ahead for Callen, Kensi and Deeks.

Written by:  Kyle Harimoto wrote "Omni", "Merry Evasion", "Chernoff, K", "Command and Control" as episode 150, "Granger, O.", "Ghost Gun", "Kulinda", "767", "Se Murio El Payaso", "Assets"/"Liabilities", "Venganza", "Superhuman", "One of Us", "Let Fate Decide" (season 11 premiere), "Decoy", "Answers" , "Watch Over Me", "Cash Flow", "Fukushu" and "Bonafides".   He co-wrote "Three Hearts", "Leipei", "Humbug", both ends of the "Matryoshka" two-parter, "Smokescreen" part two, "Searching", "A Fait Acompli" and "A Tale of Two Igors" (season 12 finale).  

Directed by:  John P. Kousakis directed "Imposters", "Sacrifice", "San Voir" part one, "The Fifth Man", "Parley", "Inelegant Heart", "Chernoff, K.", "Active Measures", "The Long Goodbye", "Talion", "Glasnost", "Unleashed", "Party Crashers", "This Is What We Do" (episode 200), "Goodbye Vietnam", "Ninguna Salida", "The Guardian", "High Society", "A Tale of Two Igors", "Under the Influence", "Genesis", all of the Afghanistan scenes from "Iron Curtain Rising" to "Zero Days" in season five and all of Kensi’s injury/recovery storyline scenes from "The Queen’s Gambit" to "Sirens" in season eight.  

Guest stars of note:  Bar Paly as Anastasia "Anna" Kolcheck is back from “Down the Rabbit Hole”.  Vyto Ruginis as Arkady Kolcheck, Richard Gant as Raymond Hanna and Natalia Del Riego as Rosa Reyes are all back from “Work and Family”.  Both Duncan Campbell as NCIS Special Agent Castor and Cyd Strittmatter as Ms. Janice King return from “Hard for the Money”.  Eugene Young returns from “Bonafides” as Sang.  Lesley Boone as Nina Barnes, Sara Young Chandler as Amanda Chen and Monique Mosee as Woman (Raymond confuses her for Sam’s mother).  

Our heroes:  Have a barbeque.  

What important things did we learn about:

Callen:  Getting married. Sam:  Really trying with his Dad. Kensi: Foster parent. Deeks: Foster parent. Fatima:   Dating profile whisperer. Rountree: Bad dating app luck. Kilbride:  Admiral in the Navy, BBQ master at the beach.

What not so important things did we learn about:

Callen:  Mr. Carl. Sam:  Switch. Kensi:  Brings Deeks a bagel sandwich for his ride home from LAX. Deeks:  Still looking to do trust falls with the Admiral. Fatima:  Good at circuit training and hot yoga. Rountree: Good at circuit training and bad at hot yoga. Kilbride:  Big “Moana” fan.

Where in the world is Henrietta Lange?  Callen talks to Sam about wanting to speak with her about his past.  Hetty’s décor choices in the boat shed got a thumbs up from one visitor and a thumbs down from another..

Who's down with OTP:  Kensi and Deeks are parents, Callen and Anna are getting married.  Things are going well.  

Who's down with BrOTP:  Sam tells Callen that Anna is good for him and Callen agrees.  Everyone on the team is over the moon with Kensi and Deeks bringing Rosa to the OSP family.

Fashion review:  Callen starts the episode in a grey quarter-zip with blue sleeves that looks a lot more like Chris O’Donnell fashion than G. Callen gear.  For the rest of the episode, he is wearing his blue and black checked button down shirt.  Long-sleeve black tee-shirt for Sam.  Kensi is wearing a golden brown cropped hoodie for Kensi.  Grey henley for Deeks.  

Working out, Fatima wears a dark pink and white workout top with dark pink running tights.  Working, Fatima is in a blue sweater.  At the beach, she’s wearing a pale, purple turtleneck.   Rountree works out in a medium blue tee-shirt and grey shorts. At work, he’s in tan sweater.  At the beach, he’s wearing a green and white button down short-sleeve shirt (a Hawaiian shirt cut without the bold colors).   The usual dark blue suit, pale blue dress shirt and blue and grey tie for Kilbride.  At the beach, the Admiral is wearing khakis, a Hawaiian shirt and a beige bucket hat.  

Music:  “TV Dinner” by Holy Wars is playing in the casino.  “Carry On With Me” by Junius Meyvant is playing when Kensi, Deeks and Rosa get to the party.  “On the Nose” by Ryan Pollie is playing while Kilbride, Raymond and Arkady chat.  “The Magician” is playing while Callen and Sam talk.

Any notable cut scene:   No but there was a gag reel.  Chris O’Donnell introduces himself as Agent O’Donnell, Eric Christian Olsen has a hair emergency on the Allegiance and Gerald McRaney wears his mask into a scene.    

There is also a Season 13 season wrap-up.  They try to explain the Callen childhood nonsense.  Chris O’Donnell is incredibly complimentary to Linda Hunt, who always surprise him in how she delivers her lines.  Pembrook is being set up as a “fun villain” in the future.  LL Cool J likes playing Switch because it take Sam and the audience on different journeys.  The producers talk about prior mentions of Sam’s father and they wanted to see the man who made Sam the way he is.  The program is doing more than catching the bad guys, they are looking at their character’s humanity.

The infertility storyline didn’t take the easy way out and brought in the issues with immigration.  They talk about celebrating the family you have and not the family you though you’d get.  

Growing more comfortable with her place on the team, Fatima is getting a chance to shine.  Rountree is learning to think before he acts and be a part of a team.  The two of them are friends, not a couple “for right now.”  This is a more interesting relationship, especially with Fatima being the more tenured of the two.  

Gerald McRaney is thrilled with the way his character is written.  He’d like to go into the field more.  He feels guilty calling what he does working.  

The program takes their social responsibility seriously with the violence against Asian-Americans.  Gerald McRaney’s father trained Japanese Americans who were fighting in WWII and always thought it was terrible these young men were going to die for the country that had their families in internment camps.  Caleb Castille spoke about “Perception” and the fear young Black people live with.  

The program asked Daniela Ruah and Eric Christian Olsen if they were OK writing and directing together.  Daniela Ruah is thrilled that the start of her directing career is someplace where the team is so good.  Cast and crew loves her work.  Frank Military thinks that directing is her future.  Eric Christian Olsen wanted to write an episode that was funny and became a freight train by act four.

The season finale was written as a series finale if they weren’t renewed.  

Quote: Tie:

Rosa:  “Who are all these people?” Deeks:  “They, they’re…” Kensi:  “That’s our... and now your family, Rosa and I think it's pretty clear they're excited to meet you. Are you ready to meet them?” Rosa:  “Yeah.” Deeks:  “Oh my God, this is happening.”

Callen:  “Anastasia Kolcheck, will you marry me?” Anna:  “Of course I will.” Callen:  “Yes.” Anna:  “Yes.”

Anything else: At a casino, a waitress picks up her things from her locker.  The tips have been bad and she’s questioning her life choices as she walks to the employee parking lot.  What looks to be a golf cart blows past her firing a weapon mounted on the cart’s roof.  Over a speaker, someone in or around the cart orders two armed security officers making their casino bank run to stop and cooperate if they want to live.  The officers are told to put the money into the vehicle.  They comply as the waitress watches.

When the cart drives off, the two officers start firing at it.  The waitress moves behind a dumpster to protect herself and to watch what’s going on.   The cart stops and races back to the officers.  The big gun on the roof fires into a nearby vehicle, causing it to explode.  The officers go flying off their feet.   The cart races away as the waitress does the same in the other direction.

A grateful Deeks is playing up to Kensi for not only picking him up at LAX but having a Nate ’n Al’s bagel sandwich waiting for him.  It is next level love.  When he asks about Callen, Kensi tells him he’s being really open about his feelings and the entire team is helping him through this difficult time.  That earns a ‘touché’.  

Kensi’s phone rings, it is Janice King, the social worker.  Deeks says hello too.  While she has no new news on Pilar’s case, she has great news about Rosa’s adoption.  “Congratulations, you two have been approved to be a resource family.”  Kensi and Deeks look at each other, stunned.  They will be fostering Rosa.  Kensi and Deeks thank King, who tells them they did the hard work to make this happen.  She knows they will provide a wonderful home.  Deeks is looking for a time frame for when Rosa can move in with them.  It is “tonight”.  Kensi and Deeks are a little freaked – they just became parents.  Deeks thinks he should save some of his bagel for Rosa.

Leaving a neighborhood breakfast spot, Sam is dealing with a seemingly cranky Raymond.  Raymond wants to know if Sam wants a parade thrown in his honor for feeding him and putting blankets on his mattress.  Raymond sees Sam’s reaction and tells him he’s kidding.  He remembers that Sam takes his ribbing to heart.  Sam is happy to be living with his father and wants to make the most of it.  Raymond tells Sam he sounds just like his mother.  Sam misses her every day.  It is obvious Raymond does as well.  Looking at his take-out breakfast, Raymond could not see his wife being happy he was eating a breakfast burrito or Sam drinking a smoothie.  Sam agrees.

Raymond tells Sam about a place he’d go for dinner once a week after Sam’s mother, Vivian, died.  The owner, a Miss Sarah D’Arcy, would sit with him.  Never let him sit alone.  He would look forward to the company.  Sarah wanted a relationship but Raymond thought he was disrespecting Vivian.  Sam disagrees – his mother would want Raymond to be happy.  “Don’t ever have a Miss Sarah D’Arcy son, regret is real.”  Michelle would want Sam to be happy.

As a woman walks down the street, Raymond grabs her, mistaking her for Vivian.  Sam is able to pull the woman away and explain that his father is just confused.  Raymond is yelling that he knows his wife when he sees her.  He’s livid.  It takes Raymond a minute to get his bearings again.  The two walk home.

In a park, Fatima and Rountree are working out.  He’s impressed seeing her go from hard circuit training into yoga and being good at both.  It was Rountree’s final hot yoga class since he was a hot mess.  Rountree calls his prior night’s date a hot mess.  Fatima wants to know what went wrong.  Rountree says it was almost everything.  They couldn’t agree on movies, sports, food, even houseplants.  They had nothing in common.  Fatima thinks the algorithm did him wrong but Rountree agrees – the algorithm never did him right.

Reviewing Rountree’s dating profile, Fatima tells him the algorithm can’t help when he gave it so much bad data.  His dating profile says he enjoys eating takeout and reading a book on a Friday night.  A tiny bit defensive, Rountree says he’s done that before.  Fatima keeps going – he says he enjoys long hikes but she knows the longest hike he likes is from his car to the basketball court.  The profile says his fashion sense is “frugal, durable and functional.”  Rountree agrees – he wears Dickies.  He does, Fatima agrees.  He also pays someone on Beverly to make them look distressed and fashionable.  Rountree thinks characterizing himself as “salt of the earth” could be a problem too.  Fatima laughs – “you’re helpless”.

Sitting near the window of a house, Callen and Anna are sharing some quiet time.  She doesn’t want to leave but since it is a short time rental, sooner or later they’ll have to leave.  Anna still feels guilty about nearly killing Callen by opening the shipping container’s door.  She wants to be normal with him – go to work, come home, cook dinner and watch TV.  They kiss.  Callen is about to say something when Arkady knocks on the window.

Reluctantly going to the door, Anna lets her father in.  He gives her a big hug, he’s so happy she’s OK.  Callen says hello, Arkady does not react.  Saying that he came as soon as he got her text, Anna tells Arkady she texted him three days ago.  He was occupied with a beautiful, voluptuous – and Anna’s had enough of that chit chat.  Pulling out a bottle from his jacket pocket, Arkady has some nastoyka for “a celebratory drink.”  Turning to Callen, Arkady says he is glad he’s safe too.  It is obvious to Arkady how much Anna loves him.  Callen says “I like you too.”  They are going to drink to that.  

Walking into Ops, Kensi and Deeks join Fatima and Rountree.  The team is investigating the casino heist with military grade firepower.  There were dozens of spent shell casings found on the ground.  An Army vet from the Vietnam War playing poker at the casino told LAPD that the sound of the weapon reminded him of an M60.  Kensi is stunned.  

Bigger problem was the car blowing up – it was taken out by a grenade.  There was a second, undetonated grenade found next to the car.  The guards are sedated and recovering from the assault.  NCIS is looking into whether the weaponry was stolen US military property.  Kensi notes they haven’t seen any surveillance footage.  The machine gun took out all the cameras before the robbery.  Their only witness is the waitress – Amanda Chen.  Callen and Sam are on their way to speak to her because Admiral Kilbride wants to speak to both Kensi and Deeks.  Deeks thinks the Admiral just wants a hug.  Kensi gives him a hug instead.

Knocking before entering the Admiral’s office, Kensi and Deeks start with a good morning.  Of course the Admiral doesn’t have good mornings in Los Angeles.  40-minutes to drive 10-miles which gives everyone time to work on their mindfulness practice.  Deeks thinks the Admiral is serious, talking about taking a little scheduled time every day to check in with yourself.  Deeks is pushing trust falls once again.  The Admiral looks stunned.  Deeks thought they were at the point where they could banter but admits he miscalculated.

Getting back to the case, with a vehicle with an M60 driving around Los Angeles – and Deeks brings up crawling because of the Admiral’s previous comments which goes about as poorly as you can imagine – weapons and ordinance that can’t be bought by civilians, there has to be someone supplying them.  Kensi thinks the heist crew is being financed by someone.  The Admiral discusses an above-board, high end arms dealers with access to these type of weapons.  Putting some photos of a woman on his office plasma, the Admiral mentions a criminal dealer could be moving them too.

When Kensi comments that the woman in photo is a tough looking lady, the Admiral thinks that is an understatement.  Her name is Nina Barnes.  Barnes used to be one of the most connected arms dealers on the West Coast.  Deeks asks if she was above board or one of the criminal ones.  The Admiral thinks it is a 70% legal/30% illegal situation.  Barnes was caught making a purchase of stolen weapons a few years ago and the Admiral helped her out.  She owes his a favor – a big one.  Living in LA, the Admiral wants to them to find Barnes and find out what she knows.  Deeks is still open to some trust falls as he leaves.

In the boat shed, Castor drops off Amanda Chen.  She finds the boat shed has a “touch of that serial killer vibe”.  Sam asks about the shooter.  Chen explains that there were no shooters, it was a “supped-out armored go kart”.  Callen is surprised that nobody was driving it.  She compares to a life-sized robotic car that her brother used to play with when they were kids.  Chen also mentions to robotic voice that ordered the security officers around.  She saw the cart go south on Vermont.  

Calling it a UTV drone, Fatima can’t find the armed cart anywhere.  An excited Rountree brings up pulling “a full-on Knight Rider.”  For a change, Fatima is confused by the entertainment reference.  Growing up, Rountree’s neighbor had a TV and loved a show with a talking car “and the guy from Baywatch on it.”  The Knight Rider car would move around the country undetected in a big truck.  The casino is in a commercial area – a lot of trucks in the immediate area.  Everything in LA is a target if the UTV can move around without being detected.  Not just jewelry stores or banks, the UTV could go after soft targets and LAPD couldn’t stop it.

After checking the rental trucks in the area, none of the renters seemed suspicious.  The non-rentals are more of a problem since there are an awful lot of them and they are owned through corporation.  Reviewing the UTV, it is dangerous and it is expensive.  The people behind it wouldn’t move it around in a rental or stolen truck.  Callen realizes they know someone who moves things around.

Outside of the Premiere Bake Shop, Kensi and Deeks think they are in the wrong place.  Going in, they are not.  Nina Barnes is teaching a class in cake decorating.  Thinking Kensi and Deeks are Deana and Colby late for class, she’s surprised when they pull out their badges and drops the “federal agents”.  With a paying class, she’d be happy to help later that afternoon.  Kensi drops Kilbride’s name and Barnes is defeated.

When Fatima says it is a strange place they live in where an UTV could be used to rob a casino, Rountree breaks into song – “It’s a whole new world” – at his work station.  Fatima laughs – that is the version of Rountree that should be in his dating profile, his love and deep, deep knowledge of Disney musicals.  While he goes on about the Disney musicals, the Admiral shows up.  The Admiral is pleased Rountree can “carve out time to watch cartoons.”  After getting a sit-rep from Fatima, the Admiral asks Rountree “How can you not mention ‘Moana’?”  It tells the Admiral a lot about the person he is.  

Apologizing to her students, Barnes is sweetly offering the next class on the house as they leave.  With the shop empty and the “closed” sign on the door, Barnes asks “how is that old bastard Kilbride?”  Kensi brings up his dislike of LA.  Barnes is stunned he’s there.  “He must be miserable.”  If Kilbride sent them, Barnes knows some weapon is in LA that shouldn’t be – what is it?

When Deeks gives the specs, Barnes is impressed.  The machine gun is something that the SEALs use.  That gun would be easy to find.  The grenade launcher is the issue – that would be hard to bring to town.  If the weapons are in LA and she didn’t bring them in, she wants to know who did.  Since she doesn’t do guns in her cake shop, Barnes needs a place to work, a clean laptop that runs Kali Linux and Tor, internet access to the dark web and an untraceable cellphone.  Kensi orders it all for the boat shed.

Sang, the guy who messed with ‘Switch’ in “Bonafides”, leaves his home to find Callen in his back alleyway.  Callen asks for a good spot to get food in Koreatown.  Sang threatens Callen, pulling a gun what Sam as Switch easily takes from him.  “Damn you, Switch.”

Saying he knows nothing about a remote UTV and driving it around the city, Sang isn’t interested in even helping Sam since Switch stole from him.  Sam says it is redistribution program, not stealing.  Callen asks if Sang wasn’t moving the UTV, who would?  Sang has no interest in talking to Switch or his accountant.  Callen tells Sang his name is Mr. Carl and he is Switch’s life coach.  

Saying he needs the UTV, Switch wants Sang to help him.  Sang wouldn’t help Switch if he was hanging off a building.  Listing a few places where Sang has garages, likely with stolen items stored there, if Sang helps Switch won’t rob them all.  Sang reluctantly tells them to look for a 14-foot truck with out-of-state dummy plates.  He has a name.  But after that, they’re done.  Switch disagrees – Sang is going to take them to the name.  Now.  

Speaking in German, Barnes is working the phone.  When one call ends, another comes in.  Barnes is speaking Chinese.  Deeks finds Barnes impressive.  Kensi is worried she might be launching a missile strike.  When Barnes finishes her calls, she tells them she’s just waiting to hear who is bringing a rocket launcher into LA.

Arriving in the Land Rover at Pelican’s home, Callen asks Sang why is he called Pelican.  Sang doesn’t know and doesn’t care.  In Korean, Sang tells Sam Callen is annoying.  “I’ve gotten used to it,” Sam replies.  Sang wants Callen to change his look – he comes off as an accountant or law enforcement.  Callen asks what they’re talking about.  Sam lies about Callen becoming Sang’s life coach.  

Walking up to Pelican’s secured gate, Sang is allowed in but Callen and Sam are not.  Waiting, Callen admits to Sam that Anna is struggling a little about what happened with Katya.  Sam thinks most people would.  With Katya gone, Callen and Anna can live their lives without looking over their shoulders.  Callen brings up Pembrook and Sam tells him not to.  “Things start going good, you start focusing on the next thing and pushing people away.”  Sam tells Callen that Anna is good for him and Callen agrees.  

An aggravated Sang returns.  Pelican didn’t want to talk but Sang threated to steal all of Pelican’s business.  Pelican gave up a name – Lou Faria.  Pelican tracks all his vehicles – he gave Sang the transponder, which Sang gives to Sam.  As Callen and Sam get in the Land Rover, Sang is not allowed to join them.  He wants a ride home but Switch says they’re good.  Callen makes a life coach push.

Rountree tells Callen and Sam there is no response from the transponder but that may be because it only works when the vehicle is in motion.  Fatima has a long list of  Lou Faria’s crimes – drunk driving, robbery, assault.  Callen sees him more as a strong arm guy than someone who could build and control a UTV.  

In the boatshed, Barnes is looking at the photos on the wall, seeing pictures of Doc Paskowitz’s family.   She asks who hung them up.  Kensi speaks generally about the woman who decorated the place.  Kensi likes the life Paskowitz was living the photos.  Barnes asks if Kensi has kids.  She and Deeks look at each other and explain that they didn’t this morning but by tonight expect to be parents.  Barnes is surprised they are a couple.  She laughs and Deeks doesn’t see what’s funny.  Barnes thinks Deeks is punching a bit above his level and Deeks agrees.  

Barnes gets a phone call, she answers in German but scolds Elias on the other end for not telling her about the deal going down.  Based in LA, she needs to know these things so make sure it doesn’t happen again.  She learns the terms of the deal – it was a German grenade launcher that was traded for an unarmed UTV drone.  Deeks is a big concerned that a high-level arms dealer now has a UTV drone.  The two men who traded the UTV drone are Jacob Griffiths and Gordon Cassella.  

Both Griffiths’s and Cassella’s homes and offices were checked out by LAPD – nothing.  Both are engineers with the technical know-how to build a UTV.  But Jacobs works at a chemical plant in Hawthorne while Cassella works for a mechanical engineering firm in Simi Valley.  There is no link.  Different colleges, different homes, the only thing they have in common is being connected to the UTV.  They are likely hobbyists.  Thinking the men would need space to build the UTVs.  Checking, Fatima learns both men live in condos.  Fatima is going to see if they rented a warehouse – she immediately finds it.  

Kensi and Deeks are first to the warehouse.  Deeks find one of the men dead in a room in the warehouse with a bullet in his head. It is Jacob Griffiths.  The two wonder where is Gordon Cassella.

In Ops, Faria’s transponder is back working.  Fatima contacts Callen and Sam with the truck’s location.  

Seeing Faria’s in a truck coming their way, Callen and Sam try to cut the vehicle off.  They yell “federal agents”.  Faria picks up a gun and that’s the last things he does.  In the back of the truck, Callen and Sam find Gordon Cassella bound and gagged with the UTV and its remote control.

Saying that Castor is on his way with the car, Kensi and Deeks are sending Nina Barnes home.   Barnes find Castor pouty – doesn’t get her sense of humor.  Deeks says he’s “an angry, angry man.”  Kensi sees Barnes is still working on the laptop.  She hopes Barnes isn’t making illegal arms deals with it.  “Hope is a powerful thing.”  Barnes wants to know about the case.  Deeks confirms that Griffiths and Cassella built the UTV drones.  When they tries to sell them, Faria saw the criminal potential and strong-armed them into going for his plan.  Since both Faria and Griffiths couldn’t operate the UTV, Faria killed Griffiths and left Cassella alive to run the UTV.  Free to leave, Barnes packs up the laptop and starts making her way to the door.  Kensi thanks Barnes and hopes she can come back – depending on how many favors Kilbride can call in.  “And, that gear stays with us.”  Barnes says you can’t her for trying.  She also says she wishes her foster parents were a little more like Kensi and Deeks.  

Complaining that he’s missing his shows, Raymond asks Sam “why are we here?” as they pull into a parking spot.  Sam is going to introduce Raymond to some people.  If he can’t get to Raymond in a time of need, some of the people they are going to meet will be his back-up.  Raymond tells Sam he doesn’t need someone to “spoon-fed me.”  Sam promises Raymond he will like everyone.  Raymond isn’t so sure.  “Some people are morons.”

Raymond also tells Sam that he doesn’t know how fast whatever his has is going to run through him.  So Raymond wants Sam to know that who he is as a man…Raymond has a hard time saying proud.  Sam knows his father is proud.  After feigning that he didn’t remember why they were in the car, Raymond asks his son to lighten up –  Sam takes things too hard.

Worried that he’s not wearing a collared shirt, Kensi is calming down Deeks, who wanted things to be special.  Kensi promises him it is going it be special.  Rosa runs down the stairs to hug Kensi.  Mrs. King will speak to them next week.  Rosa says hello to “Mr. Deeks” but Deeks tells her Martin or Marty or Martisauarus Rex are all fine.  Deeks thinks it is a Dad joke.  Deeks gets a call – Kilbride wants to see them.  Deeks explains they are busy but they’ll be there.

Really annoyed, Deeks can’t believe that tonight of all nights, they have to see the Admiral at the beach.  Kensi is trying to keep him calm.  Rosa tells them if they have work she’s going to be fine.  She wants to take a walk on the beach – it looks beautiful.  Kensi hands Rosa a phone.  It is so she can keep in contact with both Kensi and Deeks as well as her family back in Guatemala.

Deeks is still railing against Kilbride and their lost dinner reservations when Kensi’s breath is nearly taken away.  She points out the welcome Rosa party starting on the beach.  There are big balloons that spell out ROSA, beach chairs, umbrellas, blankets, a portable barbeque, coolers – Deeks can’t believe it.  Everyone is there – Callen, Anna, Arkady, Sam, Raymond, Fatima, Rountree with the Admiral running the barbeque.  

Confused, Rosa asks who everyone is.  Kensi explains that they are our, and now your family.  Since everyone is excited to meet Rosa, is she ready to meet them.  She is.  Fatima spots them first and everyone is so happy.  Lots of hugging and introducing Rosa.  Kensi and Deeks meet Raymond.  The Admiral introduces himself as Hollace.

Enjoying their meal, the Admiral, Raymond and Arkady are chatting.  The Admiral is complaining about young people putting a lifetime of knowledge in a back seat to “technological acumen.”  Arkady doesn’t know much about young people except his ability to deposit their rent checks.  Raymond announces this is the most fun he’s has since being “kidnapped and brought to LA.”  Arkady talks about being on different sides of the Cold War but now they are comrades, sharing drinks and “a very fine cow.”  The Admiral is not his comrade and if Arkady goes back to his old ways, he will be locked up.  Arkady thinks Kilbride knows how to kill the vibe.  

“My man” Callen brings Sam a beer while Kensi and Anna are playing cornhole behind them.  Callen talks about it being a wacky few months.  Both are glad the deep fakes thing is over.  Kensi and Deeks are parents and Sam is living with his dad.  “Didn’t see that coming.”  Sam asks if Callen will ever speak to Hetty again.  Callen admits he needs to talk to her.  Sam sees Callen watching Anna.  “She’s always been good for you,” Sam tells him.  Callen agrees.

As the sun goes down, almost everyone is in a beach chair around a fire pit.  Anna is standing near the ocean, Callen arrives with a blanket.  He tries to say something but it  takes a second.  Telling Anna that in every aspect of his life, he didn’t know who he was until he met her.  Saying that he can’t give her the normal life she’s looking for, Callen tells Anna he’s broken.  She seems concerned where this is all going.  Callen wants to give her what she wants.  Anna says it is no secret that he is broken.  She’s broken too.  “That’s why we fit.”  They have their normal that makes senses.  The two share I love you’s and a kiss.

Kensi notices Callen going down on one knee and tells the group to shh.  Everyone watches as Callen propose.  Anna is giggling and crying.  She says yes.  Everyone is cheering Callen and Anna.  Another big round of hugs.  Even Arkady hugs Callen.  Sam offers a toast that they dodge all of life’s bullets and have a super successful family.  

What head canon can be formed from here:  Lesley Boone is a keeper as Nina Barnes.  

Doc Paskowitz lived on the beach and surfed for peace with his nine children from his third marriage.

This would have worked perfectly as a series ender.  Callen, the man introduced with no name and no family, now has a name and people who love him.  Sam is being the man his father brought him up to be.  Kensi and Deeks who came from troubled places in their childhoods are offering a safe home they didn’t always have.  

This works perfectly for another reason.  If like my other big show – The X Files – this one screws up the way things go for the characters when it ends, the show can just end here.  Mulder and Scully wound up on his couch sharing a beer and watching “Caddyshack” in “Je Souhaite” (season seven’s second to last episode).  Nothing happened after that. Those four seasons and a movie - nope.  If dumb things happen to this program going forward, it all ends here.

Episode number:  The 22nd and final episode of season 13.  This is the 302nd episode overall.

[harmonyckrs]

Day 12 of Twisted Pleasantview: A Red Target

THE PREVIOUS DAY

NAME: BRANDI BROKE

LIFE STAGE: ADULT

STATUS: ALIVE, FUNCTIONAL

SPECIAL NOTES: A widow fighting a battle with postpartum depression and grief, and the first to befriend a fairy.

---

Dear Diary,

I don't know how, but Beau somehow returned!

Dustin also apologized to Angela and I over the phone and asked if he said or did anything weird. Apparently the fairy ring was planted to give them a form of escapism, as he said, but there was a side effect of fairy madness that would cause the person to develop psychic visions and levitate. I don't know how that fairy could forget such a major detail like that but it seems like Dustin has his mind back so all is good

For the time being, Dustin said that he had to stay in bed as his head was hurting a lot from the possession. Ms. Broke went back to her old job as a chef, and the fairy is helping out with their household chores as an apology. I'm not sure if that's enough but I guess it's up to Dustin, since he was the one who was affected and all that.

Angela and I tried to visit him, but there was a weird forcefield preventing us from going inside so we decided to use this chance to try to talk to Cyd instead. The condos are literally in the next block, man. How could we not?

When we got to his condo, we noticed a bunch of flower circles lying around his garden. I imagine he was probably trying to summon fairies or something. I wonder if he knows about what happened with Ms. Broke? He'd probably be jealous lol.

As I approached the door, I could hear two people talking from inside. Turns out Ophelia was also there, so that's gonna make things super awkward. I know Ripp said she was chill, but at the end of the day she's still a Specter. I don't know what those motherfuckers are capable of, and I don't want to find out!

Angela said we can just stand by the window to eavesdrop, then run to the Grunt house if anything happens. It sounded reasonable enough, that's what we did. Ophelia was asking Cyd a bunch of questions about Ms. Broke and her fairy connections, with Cyd giving off the most vague answers that could possibly be formed.

At some point, Cyd straight up told her that he didn't trust her since she was a Specter and that he wouldn't be surprised if she knew what happened to Dina. We then accidentally unlocked Ophelia's tragic backstory, as she started venting to Cyd about how she was actually adopted by Olive, who was her aunt, after her parents died from drowning. Cyd responded to this by giving his condolences but then telling her to leave.

Angela and I were about to leave also, right before we heard Ophelia yelling something to him about how "she'll tell him the Specter secrets if he would tell her about the fairies."

So naturally, we had to stay for that.

THE NEXT DAY

[snipsnexus]

*takes a seat in your inbox and takes a sip of some Gunpowder Green Tea*

HEY CYD NICE TO SEE YOU HERE IN MY ASKBOX!!! OH THE GUNPOWDER GREEN TEA, HMM!!!

Okay, so it starts off like this.

After very careful consideration, I have realized that Charlie Slimecicle(variety youtuber and occasional twitch streamer) and Grian (minecraft youtuber extraordinaire) are actually very incredibly similar. Their love of gunpowder, of puns, their glasses, how both of their names are actually fucking "Charles". I've talked about it before.

Anyways

This revelation of their similarities caused me (an my good friend Cydough/Cyd/Chaggle) to make this VERY FUNNY AU where Charlie Slimecicle and Grian Minecraft are twin brothers, separated at a young age when Grian went to Japan and Charlie stayed in his hometown with his good friend Condi. >:3

This is gonna get longer, so I'm going to put the rest of this au (going through most of the SCU, Epic SMP, Wilbur's Skyblock, MCC, Hermitcraft seasons 6-8 and Evolution SMP) under this readmore!! V V V V V

When either the Elders remember the prophecy or it gets dropped by the local wizard (Scar's Grandfather) like a new diss track, they all immediately assume it's one of the new boys,

They basically spin a baby roulette wheel and choose Grian, so they little guy is shipped out to whatever town in Japan that YHS takes place in and meets Sam and Taurtis, two other English transfers that had been there for longer than he has (I don't really count the kindergarten thing as canon)

Charlie gets along with all the kids before Wilburs father (Yknow, Phil) decides to take both him and his slightly older brother somewhere where they can contact their mother easier (Mumza, Kristen, Goddess of Death)

They continue to do shit together for most of their lives, until they're wisked away by the Chaos God, Schlatt, who only really wanted to fuck around with the prophecy for Some Fun (Charlie), Give him an apple and all, and ended up with the other two as well. So he tried to kill them off with his powers, but they just wouldn't stay dead. Until the God Apple started to take into affect

It didn't really give Charlie anything he didn't already have, it just amplified what he already had. The ability to change. To create. To take the Code of an Old God and rip it to shreds to Save his friends. So he did.

Schlatt, or what remains of him, sticks around in Charlie's mind. Like a hallucination, like a tumor. Whatever, right

MEANWHILE

Grian is going through the time of his fucking LIFE in high school

He dips from Tokyo after he and Taurtis and Sam end up destroying the world with the necronomicon (Which sends everyone else in the world into the Void, i.e. the Soots) and Grian goes on to found Evo

We Know What Happens In Evo

Except before that last portal, the one where they go an kill the dragon, Grian is bloodthirsty, and angry and *hurting*

Because he lost Taurtis

And He's Not Coming Back This time

So, Grian killed the Dragon, is now a Watcher. Charlie killed Schlatt, is now a New Old God. Condi and Grizz both have a taste of power after eating the other two Golden Apples.

Where's Wilbur in all of this??? I'm glad you asked

My hypothesis? Two different sets of Sky Gods

The Council(Charlie, Condi, and Grizz), who are usually VERY unhelpful, And The Watchers (Grian), who gives resources, and things he would need to survive

And both sets of Gods are trying to give items at the same time which just messes up the code of the item being delivered and Wilbur just gets another pair of boots and NO ACTUAL ANSWER

It's like when two people are fighting over how to fry an egg and end up making pumpkin pie or something. Wilbur is Confused, Grian is getting a bit pissed that his first assignment as a Watcher is going so poorly, and Charlie is having the time of his fucking life

Grian eventually flees to HCS6, The Council eventually add in Bizly, And Bizly becomes a Minor God, Grizzly becomes a Fallen God and then a Ghost, like Schlatt, and Condi ends up leaving M'olympus after Grizzlys death.

Charlie ends up being the last God on the council after Bizly resigns and returns to his former Kingdom and he ends up drifting alone for a while until he lands in Epic SMP where Charlie is essentially a God In Hiding. He's trying to be carefree about everything that's going on and *How The Fuck Is Schlatt Here??*

Charlie's pretty sure he killed that goat fuck, and back when Charlie was playing around in lonely worlds after the rest of the Council died or left, he messed around in a few survival worlds to get the hang on being real again. He sees Schlatt in the corner of his eye too often for his liking

So Charlie goes and says HI to Schlatt, and he doesn't quite know if Schlatt is real or not and if anyone else can see him, so he just kinda pretends he isn't there until Swagger addresses Schlatt by name

And when Charlie looks at Schlatt, he looks younger than he last saw him. His horn look shorter, the suit looks a bit more casual, and his voice doesn't echo,

so Charlie is pretty much okay with hanging around Swagger and becomes fast friends with Ted, who reminds Charlie of Condi and he spends a few nights before the internship crying and sobbing and feeling pretty fucking regretful over his longest friend's leave

Right before the internship, Charlie gets an invite, one time holiday special, for Mcc

Charlie sees Wilbur, and immediately recognizes him from the short time he tormented the guy for a couple months with the Council and- yeah fuck, thinking about them still really fucking hurts. He sees a few of the other competitors, meets his team who are two nice almost-adults and possibly the one person who thinks they know everything(:)) and Charlie thinks a few of the other competitors look familiar, he's probably seen that face before,

So also side note: why did Schlatt have the resurrection book in the DreamSMP???? Well, maybe someone was trying ro revive an old God whose powers were already taken by someone else, hmm

So like, maybe Swagger was trying to revive Schlatt in EpicSMP, maybe asked the void pit for assistance or prayed to it idk, and got a funny little book the next morning

What I'm saying is, SwaggerSouls had the resurrection book first, Schlatt took it in his rush to leave EpicSMP after Charlie blew the place to smithereens, and went to DreamSMP

So like, after he blows all that shit up, he grabs Ted and they both run from the explosions as fast as fucking possible and jump into the Void Hole just in the forest of Epic

Going through the Void, everyone knows all of the Void is the same in every world, the Deep Void, that is. So Charlie and Ted are just kinda drifting, but since Ted can't really breathe, Charlie had to knock him the fuck out and is using most of his magic to create oxygen for Ted to breathe

Because he's fucking wired on adrenaline and trying to make sure his friend doesn't suffocate in the Void, he completely misses the Watching eyes

He basically gets straight up YOINKED from where he is in the deep end, and has a fucking DEATH GRIP on Ted to keep him from being ripped away. He Sits, or well, is strewn across the large marble Gallery of The Watchers.

Charlie freaks out, as a fellow God himself, he would be lying to you if he said he knew anything about any other God out there. He didn't really do his reading when he was fucking around with his new powers, kay?

So he just sees what looks like fucking purple tinted biblical angels with talons and eyes literally covering every inch of their form. He's panicking, a little. The Watchers greet him warmly, call him Little Empire, call him Xelqua, pat his head, rub some dirt from his face, check his magic and, oh. Oh it looks like he's missing a bit, oh dear, don't you fret we'll just give you our gift again. Funny life series you're trying out dear, must have masked most of the magic we gave you. Don't you worry, we'll put you and your friend, oh is this one the Mumbo guy you were talking about? No? Taurtis? No matter, we'll send you two right back to your little Hermits, bye, make sure to preen those wings more often.

He and Ted get basically rocket launched through the Void until they're no longer heading Sideways, they're going Up, And oh, would you look at that, they get tossed up through some bedrock and two people are just standing there, bantering

So I'm gonna put Ted and Charlie's arrival about the same time as the one time Scar got trapped in the bedrock in the botem hole and Grian had to fish him out using ender pearlsI also kinda wanna give him wings because of the Watcher mishap so image, *imagine*

Wings that are almost completely useless because he didn't ever really learn how to shape-shift so now he's just got constantly melting goop wings

Grian just got Scar out of his own mess of being in the fucking bedrock of the botem hole (*really, scar?*) when two people just get flung through the Botem Hole, more importantly, the *void* under the botem hole. So Grian does the first thing he thinks of and just fucking YOINK

Since I'm always riding on the headcanon that avians are shapeshifters and Grian is pretending to be an avian, and totally not a Watcher

Grian catches Ted in his talons while Scar barely manages to catch Charlie from where he's still half-stuck in the bedrock

You bet when he wakes up, the first thing out of his mouth is "Where's Condi"

So Charlie goes and find Ted just eating a bowl of milk, and judging by the person on the other side of the table's reaction, he's been doing so for a while.

He goes to meet Ted and gets frame-one hugged the SHIT out of and Ted like "Man, I thought we were goners. Who knew the weird, unexplained, vaugly disturbing pit in the middle of the first would bring us here, right!" And Charlie's just like "Haha, yeah, sure is crazy amiright"

Sitting at the table is a guy who introduces himself as Xisuma, the Admin of the server who is currently trying to find out how the absolute fuck they managed to get into a whilelist server without being whitelisted and Charlie just shrugs because God's do what God's do he guesses, and if a God is gonna mistake him for someone who was supposed to be here, well then he isn't going to look a gift horse in the fucking maw

He doesn't know, and Ted doesn't know, so Xisuma asks too look at their code for a later date, thinking that maybe something in their code let them manage to slip pass the whitelist barrier. And after asking the two newcomers their last memories, the really tall guy who could probably rival Mumbo in Tallness says the last thing he remembers is running for his life as the entire world blew up behind him, with Charlie dragging him along as explosions chased their heels.

Xisuma thinks it might be okay to let the two stay for a little while.

So I want Ted and Charlie to build in the area between Impulse and Scar's Swaggon, and Charlie starts digging another cave when Ted goes "Can't we have an actual house this time?" And Charlie just freezes like "I never actually considered living in a House that is a GREAT IDEA!"

People start confusing Grian and Charlie as eachother, especially people who don't really know Grian, like Beef and Hypno

And at some point they actually start getting to know eachother and Charlie and Grian sit down for a little funny talk where Grian is like "My life's always been shit. I lost my friend-" Charlie flinches. "I was taken from my friends by the Watchers-" Charlie pales. "And I'm pretty sure it all had to do with that stupid prophecy when I was born!" Charlie freezes, "I'm sorry, the *what*?"

Grian starts to recite the prophecy with a sigh and halfway through Charlie jouns in and they both just stare at eachother.

"How do you know-"

"That was the prophecy an old man blabbered about when *I* was born, but they never said it was for me, the same shit happened to me too."

"I lost my best friend Taurtis."

"I lost my longest friend Condi."

"I was taken by the Watchers."

"I was taken by Schlatt."

"I was given abilities akin to a God after I killed the first Ender Dragon."

"I took another Gods powers after I killed him to protect my friends."

Every hermit think Ted is either a cow hybrid with recessive traits or a Vampire who drinks milk as a replacement for blood. Beef and Zedaph try and figure out what kind of hybrid Ted is but Ted is honestly just drinking more milk and trying to cause general havoc and they hvw no idea what kind of hybrid he is. zed makes a red string corkboard, hypno joins him and xb is in the corner drinking a slurpee watching this go down.

He stops by the Swaggon like "Excuse me Mr. Goodtimes, do you have any spare vines." And Grian, who is already there, and Scar, who lives there, start laughing their entire asses off

Charlie also makes a really shoddy ramp up into the Swaggon because even though Scar built the thing, it really isn't handicap accessible

Mumbo is just like: I'm selling end crystals!

Charlie and Ted: What are those???

Botem: * very confused *

Grian: They're- uh, the exploding thing on the top of the obsidian pillars in the end that heal the dragon?

Ted and Charlie: OOOH!!

Charlie: But wait, how do you get those? I thought the only thing you can do is punch them or shoot them???

Mumbo: You can craft them!

Ted and Charlie: YOU CAN WHAT???!!

Ted and Charlie make their own little cottage core house after Grian and Charlie realize they're brothers. Grian gives him flying lessons when he's not working on the Midnight Alley and Ted regularly hangs out with Impulse and Mumbo, until he gets introduced to Zedaph and everything goes absolutely bonkers for a few days

Charlie meets Ren and they both have such Golden Retriever energy and they literally go and play catch outside of Octagon for a while

And then,,,

Grian: Hey Charlie...

Charlie, fiddling with his kazoo tuner: Oh, yeah?

Grian: Is the moon big...?

Mumbo starts the moon cult, Charlie gets thrown on his fucking ass by the changing gravity, Ted pretends to walk on the ceiling of their house. Ted signs up for the Mooners cult for fun and Charlie ends up the only one who doesn't because he has a single self preservation instinct

So like, Charlie feels like he's going insane because everyone else around him is so entirely sleep deprived that they don't even sound real anymore

He takes regular trips outside of Botem to go to wherever Bdubs is so they can have a slumber party, where all they do is sleep. They just sleep. That's it.

It starts with Charlie who can't sleep at his own base because Ted is there, so he goes to the notorious sleeper on the server, Bdubs. As a fun sleepover game, they end up summoning a demon, which turns out to be Impulse so they leave again. They go to Zed's place and after they sign a liability waiver, sleep for about five seconds before Charlie can feel Zed taking his blood samples and he just grabs Bdubs from the bed and books it.

They try to sleep somewhere between Gem and False, but get so intimidated by the giant reindeer and eagle that they keep fuckin walkin

They end up sleeping at Iskall and Ethos place and are very confused by the fact that they don't actually talk to eachother, just pass notes to eachother, but will talk to them just fine

Once they finally sleep through the night and get back to their respective bases, refreshed, ready for the morning, eating breakfast, doing a morning walk around Botem, Charlie sees the other Botem members and how fucking ragged and sleep deprived they are and almost laughs straight in Ted's face

"That was a terrible idea and you know it."

"C'mon Charles, it's just the first night. It can only get better after-"

"The human body can only go 11 days without sleep, Ted. You don't look like you're going to survive *one*"

Charlie just ends up finding places around Botem where he can sleep in peace. Like an empty car on the Swaggon, on a windowsill outside of Impulses factory, on Pearl's waterfall llamas' back, between the roof and the top of the Midnight alley

When the moon starts falling and Scar puts them all in crash dummy suits into the rocket, there's still only 4 chambers but there's seven of them so Charlie sits on Scars lap and Ted tries to sit on Impulses shoulders when they drop

As soon as they pass through the Botem hole, it's not just Charlie who's trying to keep everyone alive, but now Grian is too

But Grian and Charlie both manage to give everyone an air bubble that they all sit in as they drift through the void until they're yoinked up by the watchers again

And deadass they're like

***TWO OF THEM?????!!!***

The Watchers realize they've made a little bit of an oopsie and are just like "We thought you were our little empire!!! You two have the same taste of magic!!!" (Its shape-shifting magic, they're both natural born shape shifters) They start drilling Charlie on what the fuck he's been doing with his powers and he just goes like "I've just been fucking around with people in the one block void worlds, especially that one guy, Wilbur."

And grian goes

"you fucking *what*"

Charlie realizes he was fucking with his brother and just, the most *shit eating grin* ever"

Milo was a good fish!"

"YOU WERE OVERIDING MY DROPS, YOU-"

"Now now boys, please don't maul eachother on the marble."

I think I'm gonna end the story once the Watchers direct them back towards the Season 9 world

Ted and Charlie respawn in separate worlds. And when Charlie opens his eyes, Condi is there in a shittly little wooden shack

[snackhobi]

pairing: jimin x reader / word count: 8.8k / genre: smut, established relationship, driftracer!au

summary: Jimin’s been pretty busy recently and you’re starting to feel neglected. Guess you’ll just have to make him pay attention somehow.

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), unsafe driving (back at it with the street racing), cursing, mild degradation, fingering, spanking, unprotected sex (it goes without saying but please use protection guys), creampie, controlled orgasm (delay), multiple orgasms (f receiving), dirty talk, pet names

THIS IS A FOLLOW UP TO ‘CATCH YOUR DRIFT’— please read the original first

a/n: to everyone who was asking about a cyd follow-up—here it is! it’s basically a pwp with the flimsiest of plots lmao. enjoy!! x

--

“Jimin's up to something.”

“Huh?” Jungkook looks away from where he’s been fiddling with something in the Pontiac’s engine. “What?”

“Jimin,” you repeat, slowly. “He’s up to something.”

Park Jimin. Breathtaking, captivating, gorgeous Park Jimin—unstoppable in his sleek black Nissan Skyline GTR, a master in his element, relentless, incredible. Your rival and main competitor on the track. The one person who challenges you, who you measure yourself against, who you always strive to beat.

Park Jimin. Your boyfriend.

“He’s been… weird lately,” you say, uncharacteristically hesitant. 

Jungkook looks a little baffled but also concerned, eyes darting over in the same direction as yours. Jimin’s already kissed you good luck, a soft, lingering touch of his lips against yours before returning to his own car, and you’ve been watching him get ready for tonight’s race. He lounges against his black Skyline and laughs at something that Yoongi and Taehyung are talking about, looking every inch the king that he is.

Jimin is as striking and dazzling as always, jacket covered in jewels that burst outwards like fireworks, the cut of his metallic shirt low enough to reveal his collarbones and smooth skin of his chest. The only understated part of his outfit is the pair of unadorned silver hoops in his ears, simple and elegant. A gift from you that he wears every time you race.

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise a little. “What do you mean he’s up to something?” 

Honestly, being with Jimin is a dream. At first you’d been concerned that your competitive natures would clash and that being opponents on the drifting circuit would cause friction in your relationship—but it actually works out really well. Jimin makes you strive to be a better person, the best you can be, both on and off the track. You’re both as invested in giving each as much attention as you do to winning races, and the truth is that a lot of the fierceness you show on the track melts away entirely when you’re alone together: it just highlights how multifaceted and incredible Jimin is.

He’s a ruthless competitor. He’s also sweet and caring and kind and he always makes time for you. 

Or at least, he normally does.

“He keeps saying he’s busy, and he seems to be distracted when we’re together,” you admit to Jungkook in a low hush. There’s no one within hearing distance of your Pontiac but you’re still cautious. Your relationship with Jimin is well known throughout the circuit now and you don’t want people overhearing intimate details about it. It’s none of their business. “I don’t know, Kookie, it’s… it’s concerning. I guess.”

You’re usually self-assured and confident but right now you sound unsure. Jungkook’s known you for years and years and is one of your closest friends, but even so, admitting this to him is difficult—and he knows it. 

Jungkook pulls the hood of your car down, shutting it with firm hands before he leans across the metal towards you. “Have you tried asking him about it?” 

“Of course.”

“What did he say?”

“We, uh, got distracted,” you say, and Jungkook makes a face at the implication.

“Maybe next time you’re trying to have a serious conversation you shouldn’t let yourself get ‘distracted’?” He raises his eyebrows as he lifts his hands to make air quotations at you and you pout.

“But his ass is just so perfect, can you blame me?”

“Okay, that’s it, I’m out,” Jungkook says while looking pained, and you can’t help but laugh.

Later, though, when you beat Jimin in the race, he lavishes attention on you like he always does—you’d barely inched out ahead of him tonight and so he takes his time when he works you up, touch light and teasing as he runs his hands over you. Your head tilts forward as you pant, bent over the hood of his car as he fingers you open, deep and slow. Just the way you like it, even if you’re hungry for more.

“Jimin, please.” Your voice is desperate as you beg and try to rock against his fingers, get him to move faster. “I need you inside me, god—”

Your words choke off when you feel a sharp smack against the bared skin of your ass, a small punishment for your impatience. You let out a gasp that turns into a quiet moan, turning to hide your face in your elbow to try and stifle the noise as Jimin’s hands immediately soothe over the touch, soft as he rubs over your heated skin.

“Patience, baby.” His voice is low. “You’ll get my cock when you’re nice and ready. Okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur, a little breathless. “I just want you so bad.”

You’re still turned away from him but you can hear the affection in Jimin’s answer as he leans forward to kiss the sensitive skin just behind your ear. “I know, sweet thing.”

Once he finally sinks his cock into you, it doesn’t take long for him to pull you over the edge, your nails scraping against the warm metal of his car as your body goes tense and you cum. Jimin follows soon after, spilling himself inside you as you shiver and clench around him, trying to draw him in as deep as possible; no matter how many times he fucks you open it never gets old, the way you can feel his body move against yours, the way he gasps and moans as he reaches his own edge, the way he holds you close as you both go lax against each other, warm and tender.

“Are you free on Saturday?” You’re perched on the hood of his Nissan afterwards, arms curled around his neck as you pull away to look up at him. “I thought you might want to come over for dinner and a film? You can choose which one we watch, I’m not picky.”

A quick expression flits across Jimin’s face, faster than you can identify, before it turns apologetic. “Sorry, baby. I’m busy this Saturday. How about next week?”

“Oh,” you say. “Okay. Um. Do you want to… grab a quick lunch instead? Or something? When you’re free?”

Jimin turns his face into your hair, nuzzling into your scalp before he kisses the crown of your head. “I think I’ll be busy all weekend, but I’ll let you know, okay?”

You pause and try to hide the surprising amount of pain and confusion that shoots through you at his subtle dismissal, schooling your features before Jimin pulls away to look at you. “Okay baby,” you say brightly. “I hope you have a good weekend, either way.”

Jimin cups your face gently as he smiles at you, all warmth and open affection before he dips down to softly kiss you on the lips. “I will.”

--

If you didn’t trust Jimin so much you’d think he was cheating on you.

You know that Jimin has his own life outside of you and you’re okay with that. You honestly are. It’s not that you want to monopolise his time, but he’s usually so willing to give it to you without you even asking—so now that it seems like he’s pulling away, it’s all the more pronounced when it happens, and you can’t help but wonder why. You’re trying not to be pushy and you haven’t outright demanded Jimin tell you what he’s so busy with; it must be important if he’s prioritising it over you and keeping it a secret, right?

Right?

You’re not needy or overbearing or clingy, but you are a tad possessive, and you can’t help but feel jealous of whatever it is that’s catching Jimin’s attention so much.

“Uh.” Taehyung’s eyes are wide. “Y/n, uh… your bra is? Kind of? Showing a little bit?”

“I know Tae, but thank you.” You take one last glance at yourself in your wing mirror before straightening up, content with how you look tonight. “I can assure you it’s entirely intentional.”

You usually opt for feminine outfits when you race, but they’re never normally this revealing; it’s borderline scandalous, really. Your bra is visible through the lace mesh of your shirt and your skirt is hiked so high it barely covers your ass, pleats fluttering each time you move. The thing that’s covering you the most is actually your pink leather jacket, but even that’s not enough to hide you from any eyes that are roving over you.

But the real kicker—the part of the outfit that would let anyone with discerning eyes know that you’re aiming for aesthetic over practicality—are your shoes. Your over-the-knee suede boots have a killer heel and they have got to be the worst things to drive with, the heels making it hard to shift your feet when you need to slam them onto the pedals, but you don’t care.

“I still think you should try talking to Jimin instead of doing… this,” Jungkook says, waving an arm at you.

“You just gestured to all of me.” You raise a perfectly shaped eyebrow. Not that you don’t always look good, of course, but tonight you’ve pulled out all the stops and it shows.

“That’s my point,” Jungkook groans. “If I nearly catch sight of your butt cheeks one more time I’m going to call the police. I’m feeling distinctly harassed.”

“You should be grateful.” You blow him a kiss and Jungkook makes a face.

“I’m going to call 911.”

“We’re not in America, Kookie,” Taehyung says. Jungkook just sighs.

Seokjin’s organised the meet at a car park in Gangnam tonight, and you watch as the lot starts to fill up, tweaked Supras and Skylines and Fairlady Zs whose engines rumble as their drivers descend into the underground level, filling the basement with noise. There are unfamiliar faces you don’t recognise, rich residents of Seoul’s most expensive neighbourhood rolling out to show off their money by way of their beautiful cars. 

You know a lot of these people won’t be racing tonight and they’re just here for the novelty of it all. Good for them. You have other things on your mind.

(If Jimin isn’t going to give you time when you want it, then you’re not going to let him take it when he wants it.  He hasn’t turned up yet but you know the second he sees you he won’t be able to keep his eyes off you—but tonight you’re not going to let him have you.)

You’re perched on the hood of your flame-red Pontiac as you wait for everyone to finish turning up, pretending to be absorbed in checking your nails as you cross your legs; you don’t have to look up to know that people are staring at you and your shameless behaviour. 

They can watch. You’re not doing this for them.

You glance up at the sound of a deep rumble, almost a purr, and your eyes widen at the sight of the next car that rolls into view. It must be the only time you’ve ever been caught off guard by an unfamiliar vehicle and you don’t even have to pretend to be overawed, breathless as you take in the gorgeous sight. 

She’s low and sleek and magnificent, stark black cut through with a thick ribbon of blood red that rises over the car's bonnet and roof, matching the crimson wheel trims and strip of colour that trails over the edge of its spoiler. The LED headlights glow white and red, crimson halo rings shimmering through the pristine and unmarked glass. She’s all smooth lines and curved edges, every contour a graceful stroke that builds up into a masterpiece, heavenly and bewitching all at once.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe, and for the first time since you started racing, you approach someone’s car before you even know who they are.

The driver is a man you don’t recognise. He’s stepped out of the car and is leaning against it casually, arms crossed and head tilted as he surveys the other motors lined up nearby, running a hand through his dyed brown hair to push it away from his forehead. He’s tall and handsome with his defined cupid’s bow and hooded eyes, and he’d almost look sleepy if he wasn’t watching you so intently, noticing your approach and keeping his eyes on you as you step forwards.

“Oh my god. A Dodge Viper?” You can’t begin to imagine the exportation costs for this thing and how much it must have cost to get the parts to modify it, let alone maintain it. (But Gangnam is an incredibly wealthy area, after all, so you’re not too surprised.)

“You like it?” The Viper’s owner tilts his head at you, a small smirk playing at the edge of his lips. “I can take you for a drive later if you’d like, beautiful.”

“Trust me, if I was sitting in this car, I’d be behind the wheel,” you say. “I bet she drives like a dream. How did you get your hands on an SRT-10 ACR? In Seoul?”

His smirk grows wider. “Brought it with me from Chicago.” He shrugs carelessly, as if it can’t have cost him a small fortune. Like the money means nothing to him. Pocket change. Holy shit. “You wanna take that seat behind the wheel to see if it suits your fancy?”

It does. You run your hands over the leather seats and tilted wheel, pretending to hide a laugh behind your hand as the driver, Johnny, leans into the car to adjust the seat for you; you spread your legs so he can reach between them to pull the bar before he can move the chair, helping you hitch it forwards so you can reach the pedals with your feet, your legs shorter than his. It’s nothing lewd but it’s undeniably flirtatious, even if you’re more focused on drinking down the car’s beautiful interior than pandering to his attention on you.

Johnny holds a hand out to help you step out of the low car and back onto your feet, taking a second to steady yourself on your heels. You’ve been so focused on the Viper that you haven’t been paying attention to the other vehicles that now fill the parking lot, but over Johnny’s shoulder you notice a car that’s as familiar as your own by now—Jimin’s black Skyline.

Your hand is still lingering in Johnny’s as you take the sight in. Jimin looks surprisingly flashy today, jewel embellished bomber jacket catching the eye, Gucci shirt tucked into leather trousers that are cinched tight against his waist by his belt, highlighting his thick thighs and perfect ass. Still pink-haired and always gorgeous. Your beautiful, charming, wonderful boyfriend.

When you make eye contact with him for the first time that night, a hot shiver shoots through you, goosebumps rising over your skin. Jimin’s lips are a firm line and his eyes are dark through the soft touch of faint eyeshadow, and he looks almost impassive, cold; even when you’d first met, back when you’d been nothing more than opponents, he’d never looked like this. 

He’s furious.

He doesn’t come over to wish you good luck today and you don’t approach him either.  Even if this hadn’t been your aim to begin with, who can blame you? You’ll work with this. Maybe it’s passive aggressive, maybe it’s petty, but if Jimin isn’t going to give you the time of day you can’t be blamed if you’re feeling starved for attention, right?

Johnny might be watching, and others might be staring, but at the end of the day you’re only ever aware of one man—and Jimin knows that. 

You’ve been driving your Pontiac for long enough that adding heels to the mix doesn’t throw you off as much as people might expect (besides, you’ve been practicing). Even so, it wouldn’t matter if they did, because you’re not wearing them to help achieve a victory—for the first time ever, you don’t care if you beat Jimin today. Not on the track, anyway. You wanted him wound up and frustrated, desperate to touch you, and it seems like he is.

It shows in his driving. He’s always a sight to behold when he races, swaying his body into the motion of his car as they dance together, every motion practiced and sure. But tonight his actions are sharp and angry. Jimin curls his Skyline into each turn, hard and fast; the Nissan almost seems to float as he pulls the steering wheel and sets the wheels at the perfect angle to achieve his drift, swinging effortlessly around the crescents of safety cones of today’s course. 

He beats you. 

And yet you’re the one who’s smiling. You step out of your car and take in his frosty expression; your heart pounds in your chest but you pretend to be unaffected, disappearing into the throng of fans who are hollering in excitement for the after party now that all the races have finished. 

“Oh, hey, Y/n!” Hoseok seems unperturbed when you loop your arm through his, staying cheerful as you latch onto him. He’s still one of the few drivers who you actually like and trust to not be lecherous towards you, no matter what you’re wearing. “Wow, you’re a lot taller than normal. Where’s Jimin?”

“Don’t know,” you say. It’s true—he’d disappeared after the race and you have no idea where he’s gone, but you know you’ll find him eventually. Or he’ll find you. You always find each other in the end. “Where are the drinks? Is there anything non-alcoholic?”

Hoseok manages to find some cans of coke, much to your delight. He tilts his own can against yours in a cheers motion as you continue to cling to him, sipping your drink, eyes scanning the crowd for where your boyfriend might have disappeared to. 

By the time your can is empty and drained of liquid, Jimin has yet to appear. You frown. It’s not like him to be gone for so long, even if he’s angry right now. You unravel your arm from Hoseok’s and pat his cute cheek as a thank you for letting you hold onto him for so long before you slip away from the after party; you’re uninterested in keeping up the facade of having fun if Jimin isn’t around. 

The elevator is deserted when you step into it, pressing the button to take you to the roof, where you’d left your Pontiac after finishing the race earlier. It’s starting to get chilly and your sheer top does nothing to protect you from the nip in the air. You draw your leather jacket closer around you once the elevator doors open, stepping out onto the rooftop and towards your Solstice. 

There are no lights up here but you don’t need any. Gangnam never sleeps, lights from billboards and skyscrapers washing over each of the buildings, and the sky is clear tonight too—the moon is shining down, silver and bright. You spot a familiar silhouette, bathed in white light where he sits atop your Pontiac’s hood, leaning back on his palms in the way he always does.

Jimin’s the only person who's allowed to touch your car like that.

You let your jacket fall back open as you approach. Jimin’s eyes flicker over to you, his face remaining hard as he watches. A cold shiver runs down your spine but you hold your ground—you’re not about to bow down immediately in the face of his quiet frustration.

Jimin’s eyes slide over you, taking every inch of you in; each part of your revealing outfit, your flawless makeup, your boots, their unnecessary heel. Even though you know he’s angry right now you can tell he likes what he sees and you can’t help but feel pleased about it. 

“Come here, sweet thing,” he says. He spreads his knees apart so you can stand between his legs, because of course you immediately comply with him; he lifts one hand off the car’s bonnet to grasp your chin in his hands, tilting your face down towards him. He doesn’t let go. His grasp is firm. “Any reason why you’re so dolled up today?”

“Nope.” You pop your lips loudly around the p. “No reason at all. Why, do I need a reason to want to look pretty?”

Jimin’s grip tightens and his eyes narrow. Wrong answer. A small puff of air escapes you, knees weak—you’ve never seen Jimin so affected by anything and you feel weirdly powerful at this realisation. There’s something thrilling to know that only you can get under his skin like this.

“Of course not.” Jimin’s voice is deceptively smooth and low, something burning in his gaze. “Just seems to me like my baby wanted everyone’s eyes on her tonight, for one reason or another.”

You stay silent. You don’t want everyone’s eyes on you: you just want his.

Jimin crooks one of his eyebrows at you as you remain quiet. He takes his hand off your chin and lets it fall, dragging it over the lace of your top, through the valley of your breasts and down your stomach before slipping under the hem, splaying his hand over your belly. You can’t help but shiver, body singing under his touch when he draws his nails lightly over your skin. The sight of his hand against you, visible through the netting of your shirt, sets the blood to rising in your veins.

“Oh? Shy all of a sudden, baby?” His eyebrow is still raised as he watches your movements, the way you react to him so easily, always attuned to his touch. “Where was all that shyness earlier, hm? You seemed so bold behind the wheel of that little Viper.”

“I was just having a look,” you say, acting a little pettish. You hadn’t been planning on letting Jimin touch you, but—but you’re so weak for him, and besides, you don’t want him thinking that you’re shying away from his hands because you’d been talking to Johnny earlier.

Jimin rises, pulling his hand from under your shirt as he does. “And everyone was looking at you,” he says. You know he can be possessive and it’s fine, because you are too, and you have no eyes for anyone else but him; normally he likes it when people look at you, because they don’t have a chance and he knows it. “Do you like it when people watch you, sweet thing?”

He punctuates this question with a movement of his hands, one coming to rest at your collarbones, the other sliding between your legs with no warning, running his fingers over the material of your underwear. You jolt in surprise, sucking in a breath.

“You want me to take you right here, hm?” His fingers are rubbing small, tantalisingly light circles over your clit, your panties a maddening barrier between your skin and his. “Bend you over and fuck you on this rooftop where anyone could see?”

Your cunt clenches, entire body going tight at the idea, and Jimin’s eyes darken when he notices. He flips your positions, and your hand fly out to brace yourself against the hood of your car as Jimin shoves the material of your skirt upwards, bunching it around your waist, revealing the scalloped edges of your skimpy lace underwear and the two tiny bows that adorn the centre line of them.

“You want me to call everyone up here? Let them see how well you take my cock?” Jimin continues to run his palms over the flesh of your ass as he speaks. He digs his fingers into your skin and a moan slips out of your lips, the pain shooting through you and dulling into pleasure. “I bet you want them to touch you too, don’t you?”

“No,” you insist. “No, Jimin, only want you—”

“You expect me to believe that you’re not a hungry little cockslut, dressed the way you are tonight, hm?”

You’re blindsided by the arousal that floods through you. You know that Jimin doesn’t think that, not really, but the way he lets the degradation fall from his lips has your toes curling.

“I only want your cock,” you say, trembling. Any rush of power you felt earlier is gone. Jimin is entirely in control now and you both know it. “Wanted you to look at me—dressed pretty for you—”

“Oh, sweet thing,” Jimin hums, sounding indulgent. “You were just feeling needy, was that it?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes, need you so much.”

God. You’re so weak and needy right now, and it’s crazy how much power Jimin has over you; you’ve never been so ready and willing to surrender yourself up before, your earlier planning and resolve slipping away almost as soon as Jimin had laid his hands on you. But what you have with Jimin is built on trust, and you trust him enough to be vulnerable in front of him, to let him see how hungry and desperate you are for his touch.

Then again, he’s always hungry for you, too.

He strokes his hands down your ass and thighs before he circles his hand around your throat to pull you up. He puts no pressure behind his fingertips but you feel helpless anyway, breathless as he pulls you flush against him, your back to his chest, head tilted upwards with how his hand is resting around your throat.

Jimin’s voice is pitched low and his breath is warm against your ear as he lets the words curl out of his mouth. “What does my baby need?”

Oh, he does so love to hear you beg. Your eyes flicker towards a sudden flash of light; there’s someone using the elevator, panel lighting up, letting you know they’re on the way to the rooftop.

“Jimin—”

He presses closer to you, trapping you against your car, helpless. “If you don’t tell me what you need you won’t get it,” he says, and you shudder.

“Need you to fuck me,” you gasp out. “Need you to make me cum—need you to fill me up—want you so bad—”

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

Jimin steps away just as the elevator dings, doors sliding open to reveal a gaggle of people, fans crowding around a few drivers. The smile on Jimin’s face is wicked as you turn around, and you almost hate how nonchalant he looks while you’re so affected. You have no doubt the flimsy material of your underwear and the high hem of your skirt is doing nothing to hide how slick you are, so you’re grateful that the rooftop is only lit in dim light.

One of the drivers peels off from the group and you realise that it’s Johnny. He approaches you despite how Jimin wraps an arm around your waist, hand sliding under your jacket—you let yourself relax, leaning against Jimin’s familiar body, settling against him in a way you don’t even have to think about any more.

“Nice driving,” Johnny says. He hadn’t actually raced himself, but his Dodge is a powerful and vicious beast, so you’re not surprised he didn’t want to risk damaging her in the tight corners of the car park. She thrives on the open road, not indoors. “Want to put those skills to the test in my Viper?”

“She’s busy.” Jimin pulls you even closer. He has his usual mask on now, distant and aloof. You’re the only one who sees his softness, or his lust. (That’s only for you.)

“Wasn’t talking to you, man.” Johnny doesn’t even spare Jimin a glance, ignoring him despite how Jimin had beaten you earlier—he just stares at you. You can’t help but feel insulted on your boyfriend’s behalf. He’s a fantastic driver and he deserves every bit of attention that Johnny is lavishing on you.

“Thank you, but it’s true, I’m busy,” you say. Jimin’s thumb is slowly brushing up and down your side; just a small, tiny motion, but you’re hyperaware of it. You lift your hand to rest on Jimin’s chest, over the raised, glittering Roman numerals of his shirt. “Enjoy your Viper. She’s beautiful.”

Johnny stands there for a second and then shrugs. “Aight,” he says. “I will. Have a nice night, I guess.”

He wanders off and gets absorbed back into the group of people he’d appeared with. Jimin turns his head and kisses your cheek, and then your ear, dipping his head to mouth at your neck, and you grip the hand that’s resting on your waist.

“Jiminie,” you say. “We need to go.”

He laughs against the skin of your throat. He sounds smug, the desperation obvious in your tone. “Always so needy, sweet thing,” he murmurs. “Haven’t heard the saying all good things come to those who wait?”

Jimin’s making you pay for your earlier boldness and you know it. There’s an ache between your legs, one that needs to be satisfied, but he seems happy to wait, unruffled. You’re so riled up right now and he seems unmoved, even if the iciness around him has melted now.

“I’ve been waiting all night.” You squirm a little, tightening your thighs, trying to offer yourself some relief; Jimin can always turn you on so fast and you can feel a physical throb of arousal in your cunt, lips swollen, begging to just be touched.

He lets out a little sigh, as if he’s being put upon right now. You’re torn between wanting to kiss him or shove him away from your car.

“Fine,” you say, making your tone a petulant one as you turn your nose up. “I guess I’ll just go home and grab my vibrator—”

Jimin tugs you against him, his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes.  His voice is quiet but undeniable. “No, you won’t. I’m not done with you, sweet thing. You’re always so impatient.” He loosens his hold so he can pull his head away and then he’s smiling at you; there’s something behind that smirk, something in his eyes. “Come on, baby.”

He gives you no chance to question him. You drive beside him in your Solstice, trying to ignore how your skirt is hitched up and you can feel yourself dripping on the leather seat; the rumble and vibrations of your car provide the barest of reliefs, nowhere near what you really want. 

You know Jimin’s apartment will be deserted tonight, Yoongi staying with Taehyung, leaving you and Jimin alone, but he still teases you even as you step inside. You try to crowd up against Jimin, get him to touch you— you know that he wants to and he usually gives in once you’re this wound up and aching, but tonight he seems content not to. At one point you try to guide his hand under your shirt again and he grabs your wrist, giving you a look that makes your knees go weak, even if you scowl at him. He hasn’t even kissed you properly yet.

“Be patient,” he says. 

There’s a note of warning in his voice. Normally you’d be more willing and pliant, ready to listen, but this entire escapade started because you’re feeling neglected and ignored—this is just the icing on the cake.

“I have been! Come on,” you whine. “Don’t you want your reward for winning tonight?”

Jimin’s mouth is a hard line. “I’m going to claim my prize,” he says. “But it seems like you’re making this about you, aren’t you? Always so greedy, sweet thing. I guess I’ve been too lax with you, haven’t I?”

You pause. He has that look in his eye, one that you’ve started to recognise the more you see it, and you can feel your pussy throbbing when you realise that he’s starting to take complete control of the situation. You’re equals on the track, and equals in this relationship, but recently in the bedroom you’ve been giving up your position at the helm sometimes, letting Jimin control the pace.

Because you trust him.

“Maybe,” you answer, and Jimin smiles. “But you can’t blame me for that.”

“No, that’s true,” Jimin says. “That’s why I’ll only punish you for your earlier shameless behaviour, not your impatience. I’ll give you five.”

He doesn’t need to elaborate on what he means. Five spanks. Barely anything, really. You scoff. “Five? Why even bother at that point?”

Jimin’s eyes darken. “Another five for answering back. That’s ten altogether. You want to keep going, baby?”

Do you? You’re not sure. Jimin’s helped you discover that you enjoy spanking, sure, but do you really want to waste time on more spanks when you could be getting something better?

You’ve clearly been quiet for long enough that Jimin finds it concerning. “What’s your colour, sweet thing?”

A warm flush of affection spreads through your chest, the reminder that no matter what happens, you have your safewords: that even though you feel like Jimin is controlling the direction of the night, you have the power to stop it if you need to. You decide that ten is enough. “Green,” you say. “I’m green, Jimin.” 

You watch as he smiles at you, pleased, before he pulls the rings off his right hand, dropping them to the coffee table and ignoring the clatter of metal against glass. Once his hand is free and unadorned he takes a seat in the middle of the sofa, patting his thighs. “Boots off, and then I want you over here, baby.”

You shrug your jacket off and let it fall to the floor before you pull the tie-string at the top of your boots, letting them sag open before you kick them aside. You try to ignore how slick your folds feel and how wet you are as you make your way over to him, draping yourself across his lap; his thighs feel so thick and firm under your stomach, shifting forwards so that your ass is tilted up towards him, settling over his knees. You glance over your shoulder to look at Jimin but he just tuts.

“Eyes forward.”

You bite your lip but obey, facing forwards again as you stretch your arms in front of you, staring at your hands. You can’t see what Jimin is doing but you focus on the sensation of each of his motions. How he pulls your skirt up like he had earlier, how the air of the room is cool on your skin. 

You choke in a gasp when he takes the material of your underwear and tugs it up, revealing the bare skin of your ass when he pulls them tight; the pressure against your clit feels so good but it’s still not enough, even when you try to roll your hips forwards into the sensation. He clicks his tongue and then pulls them down instead, letting them settle at your knees, nothing better than a flimsy restraint.

“I want you to count them for me,” Jimin murmurs. He’s rubbing his hands over your skin, your lower back and ass and thighs, getting you ready; he swats your skin lightly a few times to get you prepared, each quick slap a glancing touch that quickly fades. “One to ten. Okay?”

“Okay.” Your voice is shakier than you thought it would be, so wound up and desperate for any sort of relief. Even though the light hits that he’s raining down on your skin fade almost instantly you can feel the coil tightening inside you, the anticipation building up, ready to burst.

The first real smack has you jolting in his lap. The pain quickly fades into pleasure and you clench your hands as the sensation rolls through you. “One,” you count as Jimin rubs his palm over your skin, soothing it.

The next smack is on your other buttock, Jimin’s flat palm leaving a stinging sensation against your skin that tingles outwards and into your core. “T-two.”

You continue to count out each smack. Jimin varies the intensity and speed of them, alternating between caressing your skin or squeezing the flesh of your ass between each one; you can never anticipate how he’s going to move, each slap against your skin a sharp pain that instantly melts into pleasure, sensation dulling and spreading into a tingling sting that settles into you.

By the time you’re ready for the last hit you’re almost sobbing with pleasure, trying your best not to squirm in his lap, trying not to think about how much you’re dripping. Jimin dips his fingers lower, glancing over your sodden folds, and you gasp out loud at the teasing, desperate for more.

“One more.” Jimin’s voice is low. “You’re doing so, so well, baby. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you confirm, and then his hand is coming down against the swell of your ass for the final time. “Ten,” you gasp.

Jimin’s hands are all over you, stroking you, praising you with his words and touch. He turns your head towards him so he can crane forwards and kiss you. It’s an awkward position but you can’t help but lean into the kiss, the first time his lips have touched yours tonight, ample reward after the punishment you’d just taken.

“Did so well,” he praises. “How are you doing, baby?”

His hands are rubbing over your sore flesh. Your skin stings but the ache isn’t bad, although you can’t help but think that you’re not going to want to put any pressure on your ass any time soon. “I’m good,” you say. “So good. Thank you, Jiminie.”

He lets out a tinkling little laugh. “Thanking me for a punishment, sweet thing?”

You feel loose and relaxed, limp in Jimin’s lap, all the endorphins from the spanking running through your veins. “I deserved it,” you sigh.

Your head is turned to one side so you can glance at Jimin, though the angle still prevents you from seeing anything in any sort of detail—so you’re caught completely off guard when he pushes a finger into you, your lower lips parting so easily for him, and you let out a reedy cry when he presses another one in when he realises you can take it.

“You’re fucking dripping,” Jimin breathes, and you writhe as he presses in deeper, his pretty little fingers sinking so easily into your greedy cunt. You can’t spread your legs properly with how your underwear is hooked around your knees and you feel so tight around his fingers, especially when he presses a third one in, the slight burn fading so quickly into pleasure. “Oh, just look at you.”

The slick sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of you is lewd. You’re so, so wet, only growing wetter as he continues to move his hand; he doesn’t touch your clit and when you try to rock against his thighs he uses his other hand to hold you still, splaying his fingers over the heated flesh of your ass. 

He knows how hard you find it to cum without any stimulation to your clit and doesn’t touch you where you’re desperate to be touched, focusing on turning you into a quivering, needy mess in his lap. Your skin feels overheated and your nipples are hard in the cups of your bra, almost painful, and you’re so, so hungry for your release.

“Jimin, please,” you sob. “Please, please—”

He pulls all of his fingers out of you all at once. Tears of frustration spring to your eyes and you kick your feet as you clench and unclench your hands, but then Jimin is guiding you off his lap, putting his hands around your waist to move you. His hands are quick and fast as they tug your skirt down your legs, though he’s still careful to ease the waistband over the curve of your hips and ass, avoiding the stinging skin. You feel the lace of your top rip as you both hastily pull it off, but you really don’t give a shit, fumbling for the clasp of your bra as soon as you can; you’re naked and needy in front of a fully-clothed Jimin, who’s looking at you with hooded eyes as he stands.

Normally you take the time to touch him, feel his soft skin under your hands and lips, tease him and work him up with his cock in your mouth, but tonight it seems like he’s too impatient to wait. When you reach out for him he takes hold of your wrists, his grasp gentle but firm, and he guides you into the position he wants— knees on the sofa, hands braced against the backrest, looking over your shoulder so you can drink him in as he gets undressed.

First, that beautiful embellished bomber of his, carelessly cast to one side. Next, the shirt, tugged out of the tight loop of his belt and pulled over his head, revealing his beautiful chest and stomach, the tattoos you’ve grown familiar with still beautiful as ever on his skin. The belt, unbuckled, leather trousers shoved down and kicked aside, and then he pulls his socks off and he’s finally, finally done. He looks so beautiful like this, naked save for the jewellery on his body— the chain around his neck, the bracelets at his wrists, the rings on his left hand, and of course, the simple, silver hoops in his ears.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” you breathe. 

Jimin’s expression is clouded with lust but you can see how his eyes go soft at your reverent tone, and he bends forwards to catch your mouth against his again; it’s deep and slow but messy, sloppy with the desperation you have for each other. “You’re gorgeous too,” he murmurs against your lips, and you smile, leaning into him. “My pretty baby.”

One of his hands settles at the curve of your waist, and the other grips his cock, ready to press into you. You’re almost shivering, so, so ready for him, entire body on edge; you choke in a gasp when you feel his cockhead brush against your folds, the slide so wet and easy. You feel how you part for him once he breaches you, your inner walls opening for his familiar hardness, pulling him in deeper and deeper until he bottoms out.

The skin of your ass stings where he’s pressed against it, but it’s just another sensation on top of the pleasure singing through you, settling in your lower belly and between your legs. Jimin wastes no time and starts to snap his hips forwards, one hand at your waist and the other at your shoulder to give him leverage to drive into you, curving your spine as you struggle to hold yourself up— the slap of his skin against yours and the wet sounds of his cock breaching your cunt is almost deafening, but then he leans forward to hook his arm around you, taking his fingers and rubbing tight, quick circles on your clit, fingers still wet from where they’d been sunk into you before.

The noise you make when you finally cum drowns out the other sounds that have been filling the room. You cum so hard your legs shake and you slump forwards, thighs trembling as you fold your weight into your arms, ripples of pleasure skating through you from your dripping cunt, still stuffed full of Jimin’s hot cock.

Jimin slows his thrusts, though he’s still pumping in and out of you, aftershocks trembling through your body from your orgasm. He puts a hand in your hair and tugs, pulling you against him, the skin of your back pressed against his chest. “Is my baby still feeling needy, hm?”

You nod your head, still grinding back against him, chasing the pleasure of his cock shifting inside you and the ache of your stinging skin dragging against his hipbones. “Yes,” you say, breathless. “Yes, need more.”

Jimin laughs, a triumphant little sound. You’re too far gone to even feel embarrassed at how shameless you’re being right now. “I knew it,” he says. “Greedy little cockslut, aren’t you?”

You clench around him, swallowing down a moan. “Only for you, Jiminie.”

“No one else is ever going to be good enough, are they?” He circles his hips and you shudder against him at the feeling, how his cock drags against your inner walls. “No one else knows how to please my baby like I do, do they?”

“No,” you agree. “No, no one else, only you— oh—”

Jimin stays inside you as he turns you around, hands firm around your waist as he sits down and pulls you with him, seating you in his lap. You lean back against him, rolling your hips and arching your spine when he cups your breasts in his hands, kissing down the length of your neck before sucking marks into your skin. Once it seems like he’s satisfied with how clearly he’s marked you as being taken, as being his, he starts to bounce you in his lap, thick thighs cushioning your fall each time you drive your hips back down.

“Can you cum again for me, baby?” His fingers are digging so firmly into your hips now that you wonder if it’ll bruise, but you can’t help but want it, want more reminders that you’re his. Reminders of his touch. “Can you give me one more?”

“Y-yes,” you hiccup, breath driven out of you with one particularly hard rock of Jimin’s hips. “Wanna come with you, Jimin.”

You can tell when Jimin’s close to his release. You don’t need to look over your shoulder to know—you can picture the sweat in his hair, the set of his brows and the curve of his mouth as he moans. You know the cadence of his gasps, how the motions of his hips start to speed and go off rhythm; you know exactly when to let your hand fall between your legs, rubbing at your clit so that you can cum with Jimin, your entire body wound up and ready to tumble off the edge with him. He puts his hand over yours, pressing the pads of your fingers down harder on your swollen bundle of nerves as your fingers grow slick with your wetness, and you’re gone.

You hit your peak with a breathless, wanton cry, throwing your head back against Jimin’s shoulder as your toes curl and you cum again. You’re swept up in the sensation of pleasure washing through your body when you feel how Jimin shudders underneath and inside you, how your cunt is still clenching as his cock twitches, as he empties himself into you. You’ve never cum the same time as someone before. It’s almost like you’re pulling the cum out of him, drawing it deeper inside you with each wave of sensation that ripples through your core, and you slump back against him, your chests heaving as you both ride out your highs; the tremors slowly subside as Jimin strokes his hands over your skin, and you twist your head so you can kiss each other slowly, lazily pressing your lips together as you catch your breaths, pleasure from your orgasms settling into every inch of your bodies.

“My pretty baby,” Jimin says, quiet and sweet against your mouth. You smile and rub your nose against his, pressing a swift kiss to the swell of his cupid’s bow.

“All yours,” you say, leaning into the tight embrace that Jimin wraps you in.

You feel blissful and fucked out, lying on your side on the sofa to save putting pressure on your still sore ass, watching Jimin as he moves around the room. He gathers up your clothes and you see how he pauses when he reaches your boots. It’s like you both remember all at once what lead you to this moment, and you see how Jimin turns his head to you with a question on his lips—he knows you well enough to know that everything you do is thought out and measured and that there would have been a reason that you were dressed so provocatively. You wouldn’t have done it on a whim, just because you felt like it.

“Y/n,” he says, and you look away from him, suddenly embarrassed. Every touch tonight has cemented the fact that Jimin cares about you and gives you time and attention, so now you just feel like some sort of dumb petulant child who was being greedy—you didn’t think you were monopolising Jimin’s time, but you obviously are. “Why—”

“You kept saying you were busy,” you interrupt, though you keep your eyes off him, staring up at the ceiling instead. “I was just—I was just feeling neglected and I wanted you to look at me. I wasn’t trying to get anyone else’s attention, I just wanted you to want to spend time with me, because you’ve been so busy recently and you won’t tell me why,” you finish, your voice quiet. You feel silly even as the final words come out.

“Oh, sweet thing.” Jimin’s voice is warm and gentle. You glance away from the ceiling to see him carefully setting all the clothes and mess to one side, heedless of the tangle of expensive clothing, and he crouches by the sofa to cup your face in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you sigh, nuzzling into his lovely hands, into the now-familiar sensation of his fingers against your cheeks. “I was just being greedy.”

“No, you weren’t, you’re right.” His hair is mussed and his eyeshadow is smudged, as is yours, the two of you vulnerable with each other in ways you never are with anyone else. His eyes are soft and his face is open as he dips down to kiss your forehead, brushing the loose hair away from your face. “I have been very busy and I’ve been unfair by not telling you why.”

“You don’t have to,” you insist, but he shakes his head.

“I’ll be right back, baby,” he says. “Hold on.”

You watch him leave the room and pad down the hallway, past Yoongi’s bedroom and into his own, and you sit up when you see him reappear with a small collection of papers, print-outs that you try to catch a glimpse of before he spreads them on the coffee table for you to see.

“I’ve been going on apartment viewings,” he says. “I was trying to work out which place was best. What’s in our budget, where’s between my work and your garage—I’ve been trying to narrow it down.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. He’s smiling at you in that way of his that you love so much, the one that squeezes his eyes and lets you see his crooked front tooth—the smile that drives home that Jimin is flawlessly flawed, perfect with his imperfections, overwhelming in his beauty.

“Jimin,” you breathe. “You want to move in with me?”

“More than anything,” he says. “I thought it would be nice if you didn’t have to worry about anything because I would have already done all the legwork. I wanted to surprise you.”

Your face crumples. You don’t mean to, but you can feel tears welling in your eyes; Jimin moves instantly, pulling you close to him as you try to swallow down the sudden rush of emotion, overwhelmed. You’re both still naked, your skin pressed against his as he holds you, but there’s no lust behind this touch—it’s all love and affection and you still can’t believe that Park Jimin is yours. You’ve never felt so lucky in all your life.

“You should have told me,” you sniffle. “Apartment viewings suck. I could have helped.”

Jimin laughs, a light giggle that ends up muffled against your scalp when he noses into your hair. “That would have defeated the purpose of the surprise, sweet thing,” he says. He pulls back so he can look at you, and just like when he’d seen you cry before, there’s no judgement on his face—just warm empathy and fondness. “They do suck, though. It’s taken so much longer than I thought. I never meant to make you feel neglected.”

“I was being stupid.” You huff out a breath into his face. “Like—okay, sure, maybe you weren’t spending as much time with me as you normally do, but you weren’t neglecting me. I just got so used to having you whenever I wanted you.”

Jimin smiles. He keeps hold of you, pulled close in his embrace, and you know then that you’re never going to let Park Jimin go. “When we move in, you will,” he says, and you shiver at the promise of future pleasure—not just sex, but closeness, intimacy, a promise to one another that this is going to become more.

But, like, also the sex, too.

God, Jimin is so gorgeous.

You let Jimin thumb your small tears away. You hate crying in front of anyone, hate feeling weak, but Jimin never judges you. He makes you feel safe, like you can be open with him, and you know he’ll never betray your trust. You press a kiss to his Adam’s apple before you peer at the printed sheets on the coffee table, wanting to see the fruits of his labour. “So are these the ones you’ve narrowed it down to?” Your eyes flicker over the pages. “Take me through them.”

You end up curled in his lap, looking through each of his choices together—and hey, if you get distracted by each other halfway through the selection, who can blame you?

---

TAGLIST: @beyoncesdragon​ 

[jwclapton]

Hedy Lamarr, Cyd Charisse, Ronald Colman, Chico Marx

Hedy Lamarr – As a child, did you have one article of clothing that you absolutely loved (like wouldn't take it off type of thing)? What was it?

Not that I can remember, no.

Cyd Charisse – If you had to describe yourself in only a few lines, what would you say?

• I consider myself a live-and-let-live type of person.

• I'm very loyal to my friends.

• I like things to be organized, everything 'in its place'.

• I'm at my happiest when I'm reading, listening to music, or watching favorite films.

Ronald Colman – Do you know any songs/poems/passages from novels or stories by heart? What are they?

No poems or story passages that I can think of, but there are a number of songs I know by heart. For example, 'Running on Faith' by Eric Clapton and 'Somewhere in the Night' by Martha Tilton – two of my all-time favorites.

Chico Marx – Can you change your voice/fake accents?

Very caricatured Irish, Scottish, and Australian accents. And even worse imitations of certain English ones. :P

Thanks as always, and my apologies for the delay. It was having to describe myself "in only a few lines" that kept this waiting. My answer to that one still isn't great, I know…

[chaggle]

did u mean to tag that last post as hermitnsfw

oh whoops- thanks for pointing that out lol

tags is fixed :]

[pie-bean]

21 & 28 <3

Out of the newly added villagers, which one is your favorite?

This one's really hard! I think I like Cephalobot, Sasha and Petri the most but this one's too hard right now when I haven't gotten to know them yet. So I don't think I can answer this question regarding the latest batch of villagers but if I'm allowed to choose one of the new villagers from the launch I'd say Cyd is my favorite! :)

Do you ask for something new or something expensive when Wisp visits?

Always new since that can give you new color variations and the expensive one does not usually lead to things that cost a lot (if I could get grand pianos from Wisp this way I would be more interested)

[ofsinnersandsaints]

once night at every morning after

rating: E (this chapter is E) word count: 41321 chapter: 8/?

AO3

After giving Mel a hug on the porch, Harry walked up to the attic with heavy steps. He could have orbed, but given his mental state, and the extent of his exhaustion, he didn’t trust himself not to end up in Ireland.

When he pushed open the door he was pleasantly surprised to see Macy curled up on the couch in her pajamas with a book, a tea set spread out on the coffee table. His heart, which had been heavy with guilt, and questions, and the weight of all the decision he couldn’t remember making, lightened considerably. “This may be the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

She looked up from the book and smiled. “Need the tea that badly, huh?”

He settled next to her on the couch, instinctively reaching out to put a hand on her knee as he leaned back and closed his eyes. They’d gotten more casual about their touching since he’d gotten back from Hell, and so far neither Charity nor the other Elders had confronted him about it. Either he and Macy had been lucky, and the Elders had no idea, or he and Macy’s relationship was low on their list of priorities.

“I wasn’t talking about the tea, Macy.”

“Do you have a minute to talk?” she asked, and she sounded so serious and quiet he opened his eyes to look at her. Her expression did give him much hope she was about to tell him good news.

“Of course.” His nerves came to attention as he leaned forward and made both himself and Macy a cup of tea. Could she know already what he’d discovered today? He pushed the panic aside, because it didn’t matter if she knew, he’d always planned on telling her anyway. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” she answered, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “Do you remember our conversation from this morning?”

“Oh, the one about death and resurrection and endless cycles of guilt?” he asked, trying to tease a smile back on her face because he didn’t like how pale and hopeless she looked just then.

“That one.” She tried for a smile, but it didn’t meet her eyes. “I summoned the necromancer who brought me back.”

Harry froze, cup in hand. “You what?”

“I needed answers, Harry,” she answered in a rush. “And she was the only one who had them.”

“I’m not mad,” he assured her, because it seemed as if she had expected anger from him and was trying to calm him down before he exploded. “I’m just astonished. What happened?”

Macy gave him a quick recap of what had happened that day, from summoning Knansie to them going after Cyd before the death of the necromancer due to her attacking Parker.

“That sounds like quite the adventure,” he commented, because he knew there was likely more coming. Running around town with a necromancer was unusual, but it was hardly enough to bring such a look of trepidation into her eyes.

“It was, it was also enlightening.” She took a deep breath and then met his eyes, “It turns out Knansie wasn’t just any old necromancer. She’d made a deal with a demon, eternal youth for creating more demons for him, and the way she did that was by using demon blood in her resurrection rituals. Which means I’m part demon.”

Harry had seen the words coming, and had been unable to stop them. He put his teacup back on the table, and as he turned to look at Macy he saw her knuckles were white she was holding herself so tightly. He shifted so he was facing her and reached out to cover her hands with one of his own. “Are you okay?”

She looked down at their hands and then back to him, narrowing her eyes at him. “That’s it?”

He tried not to laugh at her astonishment. “What? You were expecting something else from me?”

Macy opened her mouth and then closed it again, looking off towards the door. “I don’t know,” she finally answered. “I guess shock, at the very least.”

Harry considered his response to the news. Shock was definitely there, along with worry, but he was more worried about Macy’s reaction than anything else. “I’m surprised this necromancer used demon blood, it’s hardly necessary for the ritual, but I suppose it answers a few questions like why Mama Roz saw darkness in you.”

“I feel that darkness,” she told him, pressing one of her hands against her sternum. “I can stop hearts, did you know that?”

“No,” he admitted, but then he’d never been whitelighter to Charmed Ones before. They were said to be the most powerful witches in the world, there was likely much they were capable of, more than anyone knew.

“Knansie had gotten into my head, convinced me Cyd was bad, and that I could stop her. I could protect Knansie and get my answers, and all I had to do was stop Cyd’s heart.” There was pain in her eyes, but Harry knew the best thing he could do was hold onto her and listen.

She shifted her hands so her fingers were linked with his, as if she needed the extra contact. He squeezed her hand once, to let her know he was there. “I could feel her heart, how easy it would be stop it. I felt powerful, Harry.”

Her voice sounded terrified, and Harry understood the fear. It was so easy to believe in moral absolutes, and the certainty one would never cross it. “But you didn’t,” he reminded her because he knew without her saying she hadn’t gone through with it.

“Only because of Maggie,” Macy argued. “If she hadn’t been there, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“You would have done the right thing Macy.”

“You don’t know that,” Maggie insisted.

Harry didn’t know how to convince her he was right. He’d known his fair share of witches over the years, and more than once he’d worried what some of them would do with the power they had. But he’d never questioned that when it came to Macy or either of her sisters.

They might be selfish with their powers, protecting each other over everything else, but they’d never intentionally do any harm. There was too much good in them for that.

But, perhaps, that was something Macy would have to find out for herself.

“Did you she tell you anything else?”

“She told me why my mom gave me up,” she answered, and this time her smile held no pain in it. “It wasn’t her choice, it was part of the bargain. In order to save a life, you have to give up a life. My parents had to give up the life we were supposed to have as a family. Instead, we were only allowed to have two years as a together, and then Marisol and I were never allowed to set eyes on each other again.”

After having learned he’d lost his son, had given him up, Harry fully understood what Marisol must have gone through at the end of those two years. The heartbreak at giving up her daughter, the joy at knowing she’d live a full and happy life. “She must have loved you quite dearly.”

Macy nodded and shifted on the couch, her eyes looking away from him. “If this changes things for you, Harry-“

“Why would this change anything?” he asked her profile.

Her laugh sounded incredulous, and he thought he saw tears in her eyes before she looked away. “You weren’t supposed to have a relationship with a witch, I can’t imagine the consequences of sleeping with a demon.”

“Half-demon,” he corrected because he didn’t want her to focus on the wrong things. “And I imagine there might be a rule or two against that, I wouldn’t know because I’d never been tempted to engage in any kind of relationship with one.”

He put his hand on her cheek and gently turned her face back towards him. “But I find myself very much tempted now. But first, I should tell you why I wasn’t able to help you and Maggie earlier.”

 Macy knew she was probably holding onto Harry’s hand too tightly, but since he didn’t seem to mind she didn’t let go. He hadn’t walked away from her, which she now knew was ridiculous. But when he’d been out of touch and she’d had nothing to do but overthink, the fear he’d end things with her had been real.

“You were with Mel?”

His hand dropped from her face, his thumb brushing briefly against her lip. “Yes, thankfully. She can be quite the level headed person in crisis.”

“Crisis?” she asked, suddenly thinking about all things which had happened to him in the past few months, and what might have occurred when he was too far away for her to help. “Are you okay?”

“Physically, I’m fine,” he assured her, but she didn’t like the caveat. “But mentally, I’ve taken a bit of a blow. You may have noticed that my mind has been… elsewhere lately.”

She remembered the conversation they’d had shortly after he’d woken up from being rescued. He’d mentioned having a son, but he hadn’t brought the boy up since and Macy hadn’t wanted to pry. They had so many threads tying them together, friends, secret lovers, guardian and protected, but she wasn’t sure where any of the boundaries were.

How much was she allowed to push before she crossed the line?

“I had noticed, I figured it was about your son and you’d talk to me when were you ready.”

Harry nodded. “I couldn’t forget him, couldn’t forget how guilty I felt. It was messing with my abilities. When you called me – I’m so sorry, I would have come if I could.”

“It’s fine, Harry, we managed.” It had worried her when he hadn’t come, because she’d so recently gotten him back. It was hard when she couldn’t see him, she was constantly afraid he’d be pulled back down to hell or grabbed by the Elders for some perceived slight. When Mel had finally made contact the panic had eased, but only slightly. “We can’t expect you to save us every moment of the day, it has a cost.”

“Well, Mel and I went to Manchester instead of here.”

She tried for a joke, “Brings a whole new meaning to Freudian slip.”

He laughed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

When he didn’t continue she shifted closer, she was facing him on the couch so she moved until her knees touched his hip. “What happened in Manchester?”

“We couldn’t get back. Mel and I realized I needed to sort out my head before we could come home, so we wandered around until something seemed familiar. A church.” He took a breath and Macy waited him out, let him take his time. “We went through the church records and eventually found a marriage certificate.”

He looked at her then, and she couldn’t imagine what her face must look like.

Marriage certificate.

A wife.

“Her name was Clara.” Macy’s heart stopped. She’d had enough issues with Charity being the first witch Harry had ever broken the rules before, and now she had to contend with a wife. But those jealousy issues had to be put aside, he didn’t need that right now. Were there magical therapists? Because there was no way she could walk into a regular shrink’s office and explain her jealousy over her dead boyfriend’s wife. “Are you doing alright?”

“Yes, I’m just processing.” She paused. “I mean, you said you had another life, I guess I just never thought about the people it must have included. What do you remember about her?”

“Very little,” he admitted, and he looked guilty about the fact. “It’s as if the dragon pulled on a single thread with my son, and it’s the only one I can follow.”

“Were there any records about your son? Were you able to find him?”

“I learned his name from the files,” he answered. “His name is Carter.”

“Carter,” she repeated, and realized she was thinking the son was still a child. But he’d been born in the fifties, hadn’t he? A baby boomer, which meant he was likely a grandfather now. “His name is Carter? He’s alive? Did you meet him?”

“Yes, he is alive, but I didn’t meet him per se.” His eyes drifted off, like he was focusing on a memory. “I only saw him from a distance, saw his grandchildren. We made eye contact and he gave a nod, but obviously he didn’t recognize me.”

Macy couldn’t imagine how painful that must have been, to see an entire life you didn’t get to a part of. Would her mother have felt the same if they’d met now? “Does he think you died?”

“I’m not entirely certain,” he admitted, turning his gaze back to her. “I hope he doesn’t believe I ran out on him and his mother.”

“Wait, I’m sorry.” Macy needed to back up the conversation a few seconds, having just processed what he’d said. “Did you say you saw your son’s grandchildren?”

His smile was soft, and so very sweet it warmed the parts of her which had been cold for hours. “Yes, a little boy and girl.”

“You have a grandchild, and grandchildren.” Macy laughed, slapping her hand over mouth as she came to a sudden realization. “Sorry.”

He grinned as she tried to stop laughing. “You’re amused.”

“I just,” she hiccupped. “I’m dating a great-grandfather.”

“A rather well in shape one,” he pointed out.

“Excellent point.” She tilted her head, still smiling. He was in spectacular shape, not overly muscled, but lean and strong and she reeled her mind back from the direction it was going. Now was not the time. “Carter Greenwood.”

Harry shook his head. “Actually, that’s not my given name. My birth name was James Westwell. So, it would be Carter Westwell.”

“James,” Macy scrunched her face, looking at him. “I don’t know if I see it.”

“Me either,” he agreed. “And for what it’s worth, I’ve been Harry much longer than I was ever James.”

“How do you feel?”

“Good,” he answered. “I hate knowing I missed Carter’s life, and I feel a bit guilty knowing so little about my wife, but he looked happy.”

“That’s important, Harry. Happy is good.” His calm was seeping into her, easing the strain around her heart. She could breathe again without the weight on her chest. “Maybe someday you’ll get the whole story, but I think you know the important parts.”

“What a pair we are,” he leaned forward and kissed her, and it felt so natural and normal she didn’t stop to think about who might be watching. “A 37-year-old great grandfather and a resurrected half witch.”

He said it with such casualness, she couldn’t quite believe it. “It really doesn’t bother you?”

“No,” he assured her. “Does it bother you I had another life before?”

She was jealous, and maybe a little envious someone else had gotten to have a piece of him she’d never get to have. “You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the life you had before,” she finally answered, wanting to be honest with him. “How can it bother me, when it brought you to me?”

“What a turn of phrase,” he answered, leaning forward to kiss her.

Macy reached up to touch his jaw, her fingers brushing along the barely-there whiskers which had grown throughout the day.

Harry suddenly deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding along her lips.

“You’re not healed,” she reminded him, even as she opened for him, her hands sliding to the back of his neck.

“I don’t fucking care,” he assured her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her until she was straddling him. “Lock the door.”

Macy did it without a thought, already suffused in desire. She’d almost lost him, and having him around had almost been enough. But now that she was touching him again, she realized how desperately she needed this physical reminder he was safe and home and hers.

Harry’s hands slipped beneath her shirt, his lips grazing her neck, her shoulder, before returning to her mouth. The tips of his fingers grazed her breast and she heard a deep rumble in Harry’s chest. “You’re not wearing a bra.”

“I was ready for bed,” she explained, the hardness of his erection pressing against her. Instinctively she ground against him, the pleasure just enough to spark the embers Harry’s hands had created. “Are you sure-“

“Take your clothes off, Macy.”

Maybe she would have tried for a sexy striptease if it had been another day, but she had no patience for it. She got off Harry’s lap, and dropped her shirt and pants on the ground. Looking down at his lap she saw the press of his erection against his pants.

Macy had gone without sex for nearly thirty without much of a problem, but the past week without Harry had been excruciating. She’d missed the taste of him, the feel of his body against her, the feel of him pressing deep inside her.

“Come back to me, Macy.”

Coming back to the moment, she smiled down at him and used her powers for purely selfish reasons and undid the buttons of his vest and dress shirt with magic. Harry grinned and grabbed her hand, tugging her back down to him.

Macy settled on his lap, naked while he was still fully clothed. She was intent on divesting him of his shirt, but before she could follow through with those thoughts Harry distracted her with his lips on her breasts.

He tasted and teased her, and in response she could do little but writhe against him. Harry’s mouth traveled back up her neck and Macy finally got the chance to put her hands on him.

She pushed aside his shirt and saw the fading bruises on his chest, her fingers tracing the black veins. She wanted to fuss over the injuries, but she knew he’d had enough of her and her sisters worrying over him. Instead, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his chest, just above his nipple.

“Wait,” he stopped her, and she considered murdering him. “This is the real world, not the orb.”

She realized what he meant. In the orb they didn’t have to worry about condoms or being walked in on. Here in the real world her sisters could hear them, Charity could drop by for absolutely no reason, or a demon could attack without warning.

She dismissed each problem as quickly as she thought about it. “We’ll be quiet.”

He smiled as he kissed her. “That’s not what I meant, Macy.”

“I’m on birth control, and you’re still the only person I’ve been with. So if you’re worried about pregnancy or STDs, we’re clear.”

“You’re on birth control?”

She pointed to her forearm where she’d gotten the implant. “I wasn’t sure how conception worked when one person was immortal, but I figured better safe than sorry.”

“Good to hear, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

He was asking about the risk of Charity or the Elders finding out, but the truth was Harry was taking all the risk here. “I’m in this, Harry. I’m not worried about the risks.”

In response he kissed her, aggressive enough it took her by surprise but she quickly caught up to him. She licked into his mouth, her hands tracing his chest and stomach, finding the buttons to his pants by touch.

“Fuck,” he hissed as she wrapped her fingers around his cock. He instinctively jerked against her hand, and she just imagined the feel of that thrust in her.

“I want you, Harry.” She whispered, guiding her to where she was wet and desperate for him. He hissed as she slid down, taking him deep, filling her up in a way she hadn’t ever felt before.

“Oh,” she breathed. “That feels amazing.”

Harry’s hands slid down her body, to cover her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he lifted her up. “It feels as if it’s been forever.”

Macy knew what he meant. It had been more than a week since he’d been back from hell, and in those intervening days they hadn’t been together, Harry had been too weak. But she could feel his strength now as he lifted his hips off the couch to bury himself even deeper inside her.

Taking a cue from him she raised herself off him slightly and then slid down again, the friction intense, especially when Harry leaned forward to pull her nipple into his mouth. She moved her hands beneath his shirt to put her hand on his shoulder, needing the skin to skin contact.

His hands continuously moved along her skin, teasing at her hips, tracing the curve of her ass, cupping her breast. There was so much sensation as she chased her orgasm.

“Quiet, Macy. Remember?” he asked as he lightly bit the skin at her throat which wasn’t helping her be quiet. She whimpered as her rhythm was thrown by the quick, erotic touch. “I’ve got you.”

Macy kissed him as she kept moving, the hard length of him driving her up and up, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to come in this position. “My leg’s cramping.”

Harry grinned and kissed her neck, right where he’d bit her. “We can’t have that.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her up, shifting so he could lay her back on the cushions of the couch. Macy stretched her legs out, the bottoms of her feet sliding along the soft fabric of his trousers.

“Better,” he asked as he kissed her again.

“Yes,” she kissed him back, her hands sneaking under his open shirt to slide along his back. “I missed you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.

Their lips touched, not enough to be considered a kiss, just a brush of contact. “Are you going to come for me, Macy?”

“Yes,” she breathed. She was so close she almost couldn’t take it; she dug her fingers into the muscles of his back. “Please, Harry.”

She felt him shift above her, his arm moving between them. When his thumb pressed against her clit she jerked against the sudden sensation.

“Good?”

“Yes,” she agreed, but the word was barely a breath as she chased her orgasm. “Again.”

Macy moved against him, the combination of his quick strokes and the hard pressure of his thumb against her clit bringing her to the brink.

When she came, it was a sharp, bright thing.

“Fuck,” Harry bit out, only lasting a few more thrusts before spending inside her. “Christ, Macy.”

She shivered against him, shifting closer to his body heat. “I can’t feel my toes.”

Harry chuckled, the vibration of which she could feel against her bare skin. “Is that a good thing?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Yes,” she sighed, enjoying the weight of him above her. If nothing happened for the next three minutes she’d happily fall asleep right here with Harry’s lips brushing her overheated skin.

Macy was convinced it was that thought which jinxed, because seconds later she heard the doorknob jiggle and then a knock at the attic door. “Macy? Is everything all right?”

Harry muffled his laugh by pressing his face into the curve of her neck. “Everything is good, Maggie.”

“The door’s locked,” her sister pointed out, trying once again to the open the door.

“I know, Maggie.”

There was a significant pause before Maggie, with amusement in her voice, asked, “Is Harry in there with you?”

Harry shifted to look down at Macy and when she nodded he turned his head towards the door. “Hello, Maggie.”

Macy swore she heard her sister giggle. “Okay. Um. Mel and I were going to make a late-night snack, but it sounds like you guys already got a head start on that. So, I’ll leave you to it.”

When she heard the footsteps of her sister heading downstairs, Macy laughed. “I suppose we might not have been entirely successful on the quiet portion.”

Harry smiled down at her, his fingers gently moving her curls out of her face. “I think that just means we need more practice.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Macy agreed, pulling him down towards her.

[sparklywaistcoat]

I find the online version of the 1967 TV Times interview with Diana Rigg unreadable online, so I’m reproducing it here for anyone else who has difficulty with accessibility due to the web page’s design.

The Girl Behind Emma Peel, TV Times, 12/10/1967 (reprinted here from http://deadline.theavengers.tv/tvt1067a.htm)

...the two worlds of actress Rigg... above, as Emma Peel of THE AVENGERS; a series seen in 40 countries; men feast their eyes on her while muttering endearments in 22 languages.  Right, Diana as she is to herself...

Diana Rigg has returned to Shakespearean acting - she is the female lead in a film version of "A Midsummer Night's Dream".

As far as she was concerned, it was the most wonderful thing that had happened to her in years.

She had been Emma Peel's alter ego so long she had to get away - - or else.

"I had become paranoid," she assured me, "with an underlying urge to pack and run.  It is a curious thing.   People who have never been subjected to it can never really understand what it means.

"I can only describe it as a sense of panic that seizes you when you are Diana to yourself and you are walking down the street.   An instant later, you are somebody else to a lot of people who behave as if you belong to them.

"If you are quite a private person, which I am, this seems an intrusion on my privacy.  I just have to run.

"Mind you," she adds, with an apologetic smile, "I am not ungrateful.  I will be the last to minimise what television has done for me.  It is a phenomenon, a miracle medium, that can accomplish in six months what takes years on the stage.  Suddenly, you are famous.  Suddenly, everybody knows you.

"The point is, though, that you are not yourself.  Only the other person you portray in the series.  That person is, of necessity, imposed by television, one-dimensional.  You ask yourself - - is it worth it?

It should be.  In the three years that Diana Rigg has spent in THE AVENGERS she has been catapulted into a position of bargaining power.

Hollywood producers have offered £100,000 to work in one film.  It seem they would go higher, if that is what she wants.  But she has turned them down.

"So far I have not been offered anything I want," she says.  "I don't want a long-term contract.  As an actress I will work where and for whom I want, if the script is exciting enough.

"If a script is good and they have a director I can trust, then I will do it."

Really it is a matter of time.  The big, international film-makers are confident they will have lassoed this high-spirited long-legged English girl long before Emma Peel loses her hold on the masses - if she ever does.

THE AVENGERS is eagerly watched each week in 40 countries, and Emma Peel (Mrs.) is the series' irrepressible whimsical Amazon of the jet set.  Men feast their eyes on her while muttering endearments in 22 languages, and their women try to emulate her - - but they never will, of course.

Consumption of champagne the world over has been increasing ever since John Steed and Emma Peel began toasting each other in bubbly stuff, from the television tube.

"Avengerwear" - - Emma's fancy "cat" suits and things - - is reaching the shelves and racks of department stores all over the world.

"Emma Peel's" international fan mail, still growing by leaps and bounds, promises to assume astronomical figures before the winter is out.

Diana never touches this mail and has enlisted mother, in Leeds, to head the Emma Peel fan mail operation.

Says Diana: "We have this room at home, measuring 20ft. by 15ft., and it is full of letters.  More are delivered each day - all addressed to me.

"I am supposed to answer them.  But I can't, and that worries me deeply.  I get persecuted by the mere thought that there's an obligation which I am not willing to fulfil.

"That is where mother comes in.  She reads, and she answers.  And I feel ashamed.  But I can't help it.

"People have made up their minds to identify me with a fantasy of theirs on television.  In their minds they want to have a relationship with me based on fantasy which can take any form.

"I have heard from my mother that there have been letters from children saying: "You look like my dead mother and so I write to you."  I think that is terrifying."

The story of Diana Rigg is, in a way, the story of two women - the real one and the imaginary one.  They are identical twins.

The conflict within this beautiful and intelligent young woman, who is just a little older than 29, reminds me of the case of Sean Connery, alias James Bond.

In Connery's case, though, there was resentment.  Connery, the man, gradually developing such a passionate hatred for the image he had created that he refused to continue as Bond even at a million dollars a throw.

He made his last two Bond films under protest.  Bond made him a multi-millionaire, but you cannot escape the feeling that he would settle for half this amount if his identity remained - that of himself and not that of the slick, women-loving, superb and deadly Secret Agent 007.

Emma Peel has some of the same qualities as 007, well-screened and suppressed, to fit into a family-watching hour on television.

The innuendo, contained in the name has been a source of Rigg's unconcealed unhappiness.

Asked what innuendo, she blushes and confides in a conspiratorial whisper: "Believe it or not, Emma Peel is a phonetical transposition of "M Appeal", the M in this case standing for Men.  In other words, "Men Appeal."  Isn't it a scream?  Sorry that I blush."

She adds wistfully: "I wanted to be Lady Peel, not for any grandiose reasons, but simply because it seemed to get some rather good comments over on the English aristocracy.  Of course they wouldn't do it."

"They" being the producers who have been running the show like a tightly-run ship.

Not unlike Sean Connery after "Goldfinger", Diana Rigg said goodbye to THE AVENGERS on the last day of a contractual stay at an ITV studio in Borehamwood, Hertfordshire, last August 31st.

"They" were highly hopeful that she would be back, if not immediately, then later.

The production schedule could be stretched to accommodate her, she was reminded.  A new regime was taking command of the series, and this, it was felt, would offer Diana an incentive.

She was not sure.  But on the last day of the last batch at the close of shooting at 5.20pm she produced a bottle of champagne to toast her co-star and co-workers.

They had become a closely-knit family, and she would miss them if she were not to come back.

"I am devoted to Patrick," she says, referring to co-star Patrick Macnee, who plays John Steed.  "I'm frightened of minimising him by talking about him, because it always sounds so glib, but he's an extremely generous and gentle and marvellous man."

They are comrades-in-arms on television.   Off screen they are the best of friends, but that is all.  Macnee married a second time during the series.  Again to quote her, she is "totally committed" to another man.

Diana is simply devoted to a number of other people on the series, including her stand-in, Diana Enright, and her double, stunt-woman, Cyd Child, who resembles her so much that all three directors of the series have dared to have Cyd perform her stunts in full-face and semi-close-up.

Viewers have yet to write to complain that the girl hurling herself through the air at an adversary is not Diana Rigg.

And then, there's Diana's studio chauffeur, John Taylor, who is also her "Man Friday".

"I wouldn't know what to do without him," she says.  A confidante, he also does her shopping while she is working, and has the ability to always be there when needed.

Diana didn't join the series under duress.   She was tested for the role, as were others after John Steed's leading lady Cathy Gale (actress Honor Blackman) left the series - - ironically for a Bond flick, "Goldfinger".

Why did a promising young Shakespearean actress offer her services to a television series Shakespearean actors have looked down on with patronising dismay?  To quote the lovely Diana: "I did it because I had left the Royal Shakespeare Company knowing that if I renewed my contract and stayed on for three or four years, I would have progressed and played good parts, but I was yearning for additional scope.

"To accomplish this I would have to plunge into the deep end, and nothing seemed deeper than this.  I was right.  Nothing is deeper."

Before dawn in a delightfully feminine bedroom the phone jangles.  The young woman sleepily answers.  Then struggles out of bed, just like a scene from THE AVENGERS.

But the call was from the telephone service Diana Rigg instructed to wake her.  It is still only 6.30 a.m.  She gropes through the house, takes her luke-warm bath, drinks a glass of lemon juice.  Into the street by 6.50 a.m. - without a touch of make-up.  "I've got no vanity at that time of the morning."

North London's suburb of St. John's Wood is still fast asleep and there's no one to catch sight of Diana Rigg below her perfectly-groomed best.  Except John Taylor, her chauffeur.  He arrives a few minutes earlier, but his instructions are to wait .... about two lines are incoherent here...

"I'm never late," she shudders, "comatose that I still am, and I hate that sound of the bell - at this ghastly hour."

Off to the studios in Borehamwood, Herts.   She reads the morning paper on the way.

"It isn't my paper," she says, "It's John'.  I don't like it but it's the only paper there, so I read it.  Every morning."  Apparently it had never occurred to her to ask John to bring her a paper.  And so... another day in the life of Emma Peel.

This has been her routine since she became a television star.  Diana moved to this house, a lot more compatible with her status, from an old mews cottage she has lived in for five years.  Not that she was so concerned with status symbols.  Diana Rigg couldn't care less about such things.

She simply fell in love with the old house in St. John's Wood.  And her accountant approved of the move.

At her new address previously lived the artist Augustus John; and once Dame Laura Knight.

There, Diana Rigg now lives in the style and comfort of her private world revolving around a specially designed kitchen and window boxes sprouting home-grown herbs.

The house is out of bounds.  Except close friends.  Not that she is a recluse.  She feels that her life is her "own ruddy business".  But when in the mood, she will readily explain that she is every jealous of preserving her own privacy.

She insists on leading a life she considers right for her; not concerned with what she defines as "other people's social consciousness.  I like to do because I wish to, not because I ought to."

Diana was born in Doncaster, in Yorkshire, on July 20th, 1938.  She had spent the early part of her life at Jodhpur in Rajputna.  Her family was in the Indian Government Service.  Later, she was sent home to school at Great Missenden in Bucks.  Eventually, her parents returned to Yorkshire to settle in Leeds, where they now live.

There, Diana finished her education at Fulneck Girls' School, enrolled at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (The RADA) and two years later graduated to an acting career.  Was she withdrawn as a child?  "No, I don't think so.  I had the ability to withdraw and I still have it.  But above all I always has a strong sense of personal identity.

"One thing that I never did was dream.  I was always very practical.  I grew interested in the theatre when I was small but not because it offered me an entrance to a world of fantasy, but because it gave me a chance to assert myself.  And I loved its freedom.  I thought of it as a challenge."

Diana reflects: "I can still remember the first time I met an audience on these terms.  I was an understudy at Stratford-on-Avon, when I was called on to replace the principal in 'Alls Well That Ends Well'.  Her name was Priscilla Morgan.

"They gave me maybe an hour's rehearsal.  By a coincidence my parents were out front that night.  I didn't tell them that I was going on, so that when I came out and started shaking, they thought I was just walking on.  Then they realised, and sort of clutched each other in absolute fear.

"My fear was of a different kind.  I was simply not sufficiently prepared and so I was annoyed with myself.  Still, the audience was very kind as it always is when an understudy takes over and doesn't want to make a complete mess of the play, and I was led forward and allowed to take a solo bow.

"I played it for about a week, I guess.  And it was about the end of the week only that I began to enjoy it."

Then Diana was 20 years old and earning £7 10 shillings a week.  "To make ends meet, I was living on faggots, scraps of meat put inside intestines you still get at the butchers in the provinces.  Poor people's food.  They cost fourpence each.

"Four times a week, my dinner would consist of two faggots and maybe some potatoes and another vegetable, and fruit.  And you know what?  I was very healthy.  And very happy."

Diana had an old second-hand bicycle for transport around Stratford.  "And not only did I make the £7 10s stretch, but I could never do without perfume.  I guess I was so very young and this particular perfume was very heavy and musky and made me feel extremely sensual ... I never changed my perfume in all these years!"

Her faggot-eating period came to an end when she moved to London to appear in the London productions of the Royal Shakespeare Company.

The bicycle went.  Now she drives a green Mini.  She lived in the mews cottage, all this still modestly.  No more faggots, but all the perfume that she felt was required, by a young actress, not too bad-looking.

She took a small bottle when she travelled to the United States, appearing in 'King Lear' and 'The Comedy of Errors' on alternate nights.

The company also toured the Continent, as far as Moscow.  From her experience on this tour comes Diana's boundless admiration for actor Paul Scofield.

"He's been my ideal since I first saw him on the stage.  I was working with him in 'King Lear' when I became aware of his sense of identity, a strong totally compromising identity."

She says: "The beauty of it is that here is a man who has just won an Oscar in an Oscar-winning film and Hollywood is after him.  What does he do?  He's gone back to Stratford.  Obviously, he doesn't care for the money.  And he's right.  Of course, it's your beliefs that matter.

"In a way I followed his example when I agreed to film "A Midsummer Night's Dream".  Peter Brook was doing it and I believe in him and I grew up with him, so I had to answer his call.  Professionally speaking, I am part of his troupe.

"Even though I think I'm too bad for the part.  The pay?  Obviously a pittance by comparison with what I'm making, but then, money is so transitory ...  I will not forget that I could, when forced to, live on £7 and 10 Shillings.

Tourists at Athens airport could swear that the young woman killing time in the long drab waiting room  by stopping at souvenir counters to inspect, for the umpteenth time, the pseudo-Grecian vases for sale was... Emma Peel.

She wore her auburn hair loose, letting it flow to her shoulders in the manner of the star of THE AVENGERS.  And her mini-skirt revealed a pair of very feminine, familiar and beautiful legs.

"It was not easy to say I was not Mrs. Peel," Diana Rigg recalls, "because I dislike lies.  But I would have had to explain why and what I was doing there, and it was a long story."

Actually, she was changing planes, going from London to a little-known place in Western Greece.

Eventually a shaky little plane which flies up into the mountains over some breathtakingly lovely countryside delivered her there, to make the trip worth her while.

Two days later, she took the same route back to London and Borehamwood, Herts., to resume where Emma Peel had left off.

It was an unconventional way to spend two days off the series.  "I go to the craziest places for the weekend," she said, dismissing all attempts to explain herself.

In the case of the Greek place, a British film unit was there shooting "Oedipus, The King", and lots of friends were there.

One weekend last winter she flew to Zurich, rented a car at the airport and set out, a map in her lap, for Klosters, the Swiss ski resort.

"I drove through the night, with the craziest Swiss drivers whizzing past me over the ice-covered road," she said.   "It twisted its way through the mountains, and I just hung on the wheel and prayed.  I could have turned back, but I didn't.  Too proud."

Until this experience, she had never motored on the Continent before, much less had snow-covered mountains by herself.

All of which seems to indicate that, not unlike Emma Peel, Diana Rigg is a rather unusual person.

It was she - and not Emma Peel - who helped to launch the mini-skirt, in an attempt to be different.

"The designer and the other men were horrified," she said, chuckling at memories of production executives looking aghast at the abbreviated skirt she was wearing and which she wanted Emma to wear.

"They pulled their hair ... said you can't do that, it's impossible ... I argued that one must look forward and not back and by wearing these brief skirts, one was looking forward.

"In fact, one was creating fashion very avant-garde, rather than remaining at the tail end of last year's styles.  And it turned out that I couldn't have been more right."

Not that she has profited financially from the so-called "Avenger-wear" that mirrors her ideas.  After all, she's an actress!

Nor does she care to identify with an image.  "I never wear the clothes in the series outside," she said.

"But there's a style there that I think is common to both of us, and I have no intention of changing my appearance after Emma Peel is no more.  After all, it was I who affected her."

She has no intention either of abandoning the mini-skirt, which, as far as she is concerned, was from the beginning Diana Rigg expressing herself.

Where the tastes of Emma Peel and Diana Rigg meet is champagne.  Emma loves it, Diana loves it.  And, for the record, she loved it before she became Emma Peel.

"I'm always very well stocked," she said, "but I never drink it at the studio.

"The stuff Patrick Macnee and I drink on camera is bubbly lemonade, very harmless.  I don't touch the stuff then.  You mustn't when you work.  At home, well, that's another story ..."

Diana's secret passion is to cook, and to have friends come to her house in London's St. John's Wood to enjoy her meals, without much ceremony, exquisitely prepared with the help of her home-grown herbs.

"I'm not joking," she proudly expounded on the subject of her herbs.  "They are all mine, and they all grow in window boxes outside my kitchen.  Every window has its own herbs.

"Left to right, I have sage, thyme, marjoram, rosemary, which is very beautiful, chervil, and two kinds of mint, sorrel and my bay trees.

"Bay tree leaves are marvellous for fish ... true mine are more like baby trees.  And basil, and fennel, and chives.  And that's it.  Except that they all live and prosper, outside my kitchen windows in London."  The secret passion of Diana Rigg ...

"I had always wanted to grow my own herbs," she said.  "This was my obsession.  So I got the address of a herb farm 95 miles out of town, and one morning I went there.

"A little old lady took me around and she muttered under her breath and said they would never grow in the London smoke.  I said I'd like to try anyway.  So, she shook her head and gave me what I wanted.

"They came in little pots, as I brought them back to London they were all looking sad and sick.

"So I put them in larger pots and stuck them in my window boxes and every day I watered them out of a jug.  And the miracle came to pass."

Diana Rigg has become enriched as an actress in the years at Stratford-on-Avon; on tours and the three years that she has played Emma Peel in THE AVENGERS.

She tells about the director she met at a party who told her he had a marvellous script for her.  She had it sent over.

"Well, if I wasn't the girl who comes tearing through the door with a gun in one hand and a flame-thrower in the other," she reported in mock despair, "I was the sexy siren sneaking through the door in Veronica Lake style.  I lost my temper, for the first time.

"I sent them a message saying that I couldn't do it."

[hannahburley]

1, 8, 9

1: name 11 bands you listen to regularly

The Oh Hellos, CHVRCHES, The Killers, Bleachers, HAIM, The Chicks, Bon Iver, Sara Bareilles, Hozier (I know they aren’t technically bands, but I listen to them more than some above).

8: which song do you think should everyone listen to at least once in their lives?

Hmm. I don’t really have a concrete answer for this, but the first thing that popped into my head was Fanfare for the Common Man (which is a piece of classical music).

9: explain why your favourite song is your favourite song

Although my favourite song tends to cycle and never stays the same for too long - gut feeling right now, my favourite song is probably The Lament of Eustace Scrubb by The Oh Hellos, which I love for a few reasons: 1) I imprinted on it for Regina while me & Cyd were creating our Neal&Regina step siblings au, 2) Something about the lyrics just hit that eldest daughter trauma feeling, and  3) I love the ‘let’s do two verses and then just go HAM with the instrumentals for the rest of it’ style of song.

[killherfreakout]

oooh what about princess cyd???

fav quote:

it is not a handicap to have one thing, but not another. to be one way, and not another. there are no rules of balance.

i think her aunt says this at the big house party but i can’t remember, but i really love this line

if you like this film, you should watch:

First Girl I Loved

it’s bittersweet...but still a wlw story that i love and more people need to watch it!! the performances by the two leads are so raw and heartbreaking but it is a must watch!!

send me a film and i’ll answer my fav quote from it + give you a film you should watch if you like that one