#david tack

[kitsunetsuki]

David Tack - Outfits by Sheridan Barnett at Simon Massey (19 Magazine 1971)

[schmweed]

[thebadtimewolf]

can we point out that 15 in one ep did what martha did in s4 and sat a tennant doctor down to talk out their trauma and then she left them alone with a donna behind to have her own adventures or are we gonna ignore that...

im just saying 15martha is coming

[delphinecormierslexus]

they did my girl so dirty, what the fuck russell I trusted you

[renthony]

Very important PSA for folks born in the 80s who don't want to look like a nazi:

I saw someone make a genuinely innocent mistake about this again, so please take note!

The number "88" is frequently used as neo-nazi flagging. It's a numerical code for "HH," which means "Heil Hitler." You may also see it in combination with the number 14, referencing the infamous "14 Words." If you ever see "1488" tacked onto someone's username, or posted as a comment, or in a tattoo, that person is a neo-nazi. Full stop.

If you were born in 1988, don't put "88" in your social media handle. People are going to think you are a nazi.

If you didn't know, now you know.

Source: https://www.adl.org/resources/hate-symbol/1488

[ID: a gif of Brian David Gilbert saying “And if you needed me to tell you that...well, I’m glad I told you that.” End ID]

[vague-humanoid]

also it was Israel who chose Hamas

This isn’t a conspiracy theory. Listen to former Israeli officials such as Brig. Gen. Yitzhak Segev, who was the Israeli military governor in Gaza in the early 1980s. Segev later told a New York Times reporter that he had helped finance the Palestinian Islamist movement as a “counterweight” to the secularists and leftists of the Palestine Liberation Organization and the Fatah party, led by Yasser Arafat (who himself referred to Hamas as “a creature of Israel.”)“The Israeli government gave me a budget,” the retired brigadier general confessed, “and the military government gives to the mosques.”“Hamas, to my great regret, is Israel’s creation,” Avner Cohen, a former Israeli religious affairs official who worked in Gaza for more than two decades, told the Wall Street Journal in 2009. Back in the mid-1980s, Cohen even wrote an official report to his superiors warning them not to play divide-and-rule in the Occupied Territories, by backing Palestinian Islamists against Palestinian secularists. “I … suggest focusing our efforts on finding ways to break up this monster before this reality jumps in our face,” he wrote.They didn’t listen to him. And Hamas, as I explain in the fifth installment of my short film series for The Intercept on blowback, was the result. To be clear: First, the Israelis helped build up a militant strain of Palestinian political Islam, in the form of Hamas and its Muslim Brotherhood precursors; then, the Israelis switched tack and tried to bomb, besiege, and blockade it out of existence.In the past decade alone, Israel has gone to war with Hamas three times — in 2009, 2012, and 2014 — killing around 2,500 Palestinian civilians in Gaza in the process. Meanwhile, Hamas has killed far more Israeli civilians than any secular Palestinian militant group. This is the human cost of blowback.“When I look back at the chain of events, I think we made a mistake,” David Hacham, a former Arab affairs expert in the Israeli military who was based in Gaza in the 1980s, later remarked. “But at the time, nobody thought about the possible results.”They never do, do they?

[amostexcellentblog]

Finally watched Wings (1927) for the first time, and oh my, it really is that gay, it wasn't just that one kissing scene taken out of context.

The entire film turns on the relationship between the two men, progressing from romantic rivals to ride-or-die comrades under the duress of wartime. The ostensible female romantic lead is entirely unnecessary, tacked on at the behest of studio executives who wanted to boost box office. She appears in only a few scenes, does nothing to drive the main plot, and is absent from large portions of the film and at all the key moments. The actress, Clara Bow, knew the film was beneath her, once saying it was "a man's picture and I'm just the whipped cream on top of the pie."

I guess Top Gun did not, in fact, invent the military-pilot-rivals-to-friends-to-implied-lovers trope after all.

It's literally WWI Icemav. (Maybe an Ice-Lives AU where, freshly retired and bored out of his mind, Ice agrees to go to a museum exhibit with Bradley and Jake on the history of LGBTQ people in the military, where he stumbles on a picture of two unidentified WWI flying aces, standing close with their arms draped around each other in a way that could be friendly but somehow is more than that. Ice knows the pose and he becomes obsessed with finding out who they are.)

Using his contacts and military history knowledge he's eventually able to verify that the men are David Armstrong and Jack Powell. They came from the same town, but different social classes. Jack was impulsive and loved fast cars. David was more reserved. They were described as the closest of friends by their fellow soldiers. David died in the war, Jack returned home and married his childhood sweetheart, they had no children. When Jack died, he was buried next to David. That's all Ice can find, but it's enough. He sends his findings to the museum, then drives to the hanger just so he can hold Mav in his arms, but first he calls Bradley...

"You need to marry that boy."

"...I thought you didn't like him."

"I don't, but... But if he makes you happy then that... Jesus Bradley, you and Jake are the first ones, the first generation who can live your lives openly. Don't waste that chance, so many of us never got that, never even allowed ourselves to imagine what it would be like."

"Well, good news. I proposed a month ago and we've been trying to figure out how to tell you. We actually thought the museum exhibit might soften you up, but you got so fixated on that damn photo you forgot we were even there."

[charlottan]

Frank Herbert Hypnosis Video- youre feeling very sleepy. you want to colonize soo bad youre dripping with anticipation for your own personalized jihad

Kurt Vonnegut Hypnosis- oooooooohhhhhhh you're going to learn about the truly vile nature of humanity in a funny and humorous way

Terry Pratchett Hypnosis- youre becoming a silly little guy

Douglas Adams Hypnosis- youre becoming a silly little alien

William S. Burroughs Hypnosis- youre going to get very drunk and gay and shoot your wife

J.R.R. Tolkien Hypnosis- you have a QUEST waiting! slay the DRAON!

David Foster Wallace Hypnosis- ouuggghh you want to give ONAN¹ what for.... you want to kill. you want to watch this video forever and ever ok?

Mark Z. Danielewsi Hypnosis- you are turning into a beast

Jack Kerouac Hypnosis- you want to be so mean and not very nice to women. you hate those things soooo much it hjurts

Joseph Heller Hypnosis- just one more hour and then you can stop watching this video ok:) we swear we wont tack on any more time^-^

Charles Bukowski Hypnosis- 12 hours of bar ambience

Hunter S. Thompson Hypnosis- 12 hours of casino ambience

Stephen King Hypnosis- Scary Mask

[thelibrarian1895]

The Bats AKA

So the Bats all have alternate identities, we know this. They have other identities all set in case of undercover operations, stings, and whatever other crime fighting operations might need some sort of name that isn't their assigned at birth legal name.

That being said, I would like to think they also have pseudonyms, names that aren't official anywhere in particular except at some point or another might get listed as their "also known as" somewhere in the depths of some government office. These are the names that they use when they're doing some civilian thing, something that doesn't warrant an ID, something casual, and don't want to be connected to Wayne for whatever reason.

I would like to suggest that Cassandra Wayne, when she doesn't want to introduce herself as Gotham's princess, might introduce herself instead as Cassandra Drake. Sometimes she'll be Cassandra Grayson but Cassandra Drake is the name she likes to use best. She would use Cassandra Kane, and that is Kane specifically, but since it's too easy to hear as Cain, she won't do that.

Tim, of course, can get away with Tim Drake when he doesn't want to deal with the immediate recognition that the Wayne name gets. The Drake may have been rich but they weren't at Wayne levels and most people outside of academic circles forgot about the Drakes after the death of Janet and the fall of Drake Industries and then the death of Jack. In the business world, he always has Wayne tacked onto his name. Tim would go with Tim Cain except neither he nor Cassandra want anything to do with David Cain so even that connection is something he'd avoid. He might, on occasion, introduce himself as Tim Grayson. However, Alvin Drape and Tim Drake remain his go to names.

Jason, in the occasion that he suspects someone might recognize the name of the dead son of Bruce Wayne, would probably go with a literary reference. He has been Jason Dashwood, Todd Austen, Jay Fitzgerald, though his favorite tends to be Jason Bennet. Eventually he might allow Jason Drake or Todd Grayson. On a few occasions, usually in space adventures, if he has to go around without his mask and he's pressed to do something spectacularly stupid, he'll introduce himself as Bruce Wayne.

Damian is very proud of his heritage, even if some of that pride is more than a little brittle, and hates the idea of introducing himself as anyone other than the son of the Bat. However, if necessary, he'll go with some amalgamation of his siblings' names: Timothy Todd, Thomas Grayson, Duke Brown, and Jason Pennyworth are all rotated as needed.

Duke tends to default to Duke Todd for the similarity in his own name for ease of recognition but might go with Duke Grayson on occasion or Thomas Drake. It hasn't come up all that much just yet.

Stephanie is rather smug that she's not famous enough to need to be anyone else but if she's going to do something that she doesn't want directly coming back at her, she tends towards Stephanie Todd, Stephanie Wayne, or Barbara Brown.

Bruce won't use any of the surnames of his children for various emotionally complicated reasons that he doesn't want to address. He tends towards Bruce Kane, until he saw Cassandra froze minutely when she heard the name, and so goes with his other aka name: Bruce Pennyworth.

[taskmastercaps]

[ID: Two screencaps from Taskmaster. A small figurine of Michelangelo's David is stuck to a whiteboard with Blu Tack. A timer counts down in the corner of the screen, currently on 49 seconds. Steve Pemberton watches the figurine with his hands clasped intently, and says, "This is... this is great television." End ID.]

[we-are-inevitable]

i have such a vivid thought in my mind of canon era davey being queer but obviously his family doesn’t know, or at least he thinks they don’t know. but he’s an odd boy, and they know that there’s something… different about him, whatever that may be, and i think that they love him despite it.

i keep thinking about mayer suspecting but never pressing it further, because that’s his son, and he loves him, but being a queer in a time like this is a death sentence- it’s something mayer can’t wrap his head around. i keep thinking about les, already dreaming of finding a wife and settling down one day, asking david about it and being confused that his older brother doesn’t really want a wife— right now, at least. not right now. maybe someday, david says, always tacking on hope, but les has his doubts. and i keep thinking about sarah seeing her brother’s longing, seeing how his smile falters when he stares at couples on the street and how he never seems to be happier when he’s shoulder to shoulder with a certain newsboy. sarah sees it, and knows it, and she wishes he would talk to her about it. she doesn understand it, but she wants to. and i keep thinking of esther knowing. knowing in her heart that her baby, her loving boy, hopes and dreams of a life he can’t live, not now, maybe not ever. esther seeing the way his shoulders tense when family friends ask if he’s found any girls to woo yet, seeing that singe of pain on his face when an older woman at their synagogue says she has a darling granddaughter she would love for david to meet, seeing the way he resigns himself, putting up a wall between himself and his family, singling himself out and shutting himself off without anyone else pushing him to. maybe, just maybe, noticing that the way he looks at a certain newsboy is the same way her brother used to look at his best friend- a brother she has no contact with, a brother she hopes is happy and safe and loved. a brother she will never understand, a brother whose life is something she was taught to condemn, but she would rather have a queer brother than a lost one, and the same applies for her son.

and i keep thinking about david jacobs having very big feelings inside. feelings of hope, that maybe he can one day share this with someone he cares about, not just someone like him. feelings of despair, like he will never be happy, or safe, or loved. feelings of fear, fear for being suspected on the street, fear of fists and police and a jail cell to rot in. feelings of defiance, because he’s a person too, and he deserves happiness too, and if he has to find that happiness away from the public eye, if he has to find it in alleys and molly houses and behind closed doors, then so be it.

feelings of guilt, for not being the son he should have been. but feelings of acceptance, too, because his family recognizes that something about him is different- whatever that may be- and loves him anyway.

[kitsunetsuki]

David Tack - Outfits by Lee Bender at Bus Stop & by Angela at London Town (19 Magazine 1971)

[the-guilty-writer]

Never Grow Up

Agent Rossi-Reid

Anthology Masterlist

David Rossi x daughter!reader,  Spencer Reid x reader, Criminal minds x BAU!reader

Summary: The role Gideon played as Rossi-Reid grew up.

A/N: This is sad. This is really sad. I don't apologize. Embrace the sad.

Based off Taylor Swift's Never Grow Up

CW: typical criminal minds talk of murder, very sad and angsty

---

Your little hands wrapped around my finger And it's so quiet in the world tonight Your little eyelids flutter 'cause you're dreamin' So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light

---

Dave looked down at the little bundle of blankets that rested in his arms. It was a big day for the newest Rossi family addition- the team had come over to meet you for the very first time. It had been a lot for Dave, too. He thought profiling was the hardest, most time consuming, soul-sucking, job in the world, but you had proved him wrong. Turns out that the hardest, most time consuming, soul-sucking job in the world was being a parent.

But the joy you brought him made up for it all.

For about an hour the BAU agents had passed you around and Dave was grateful that after all the action you were dozing off in his arms, one of your impossibly small hands wrapped around his pointer finger. He smiled tiredly, knowing he had to put you down in your crib soon before he spent another night admiring your adorably tiny features. He sighed quietly and sent you down, hoping that you wouldn’t wake up. Your eyelids fluttered- hopefully with good dreams- but other than that you didn’t stir.

He walked over to turn on the nightlight; it was a gift from Gideon. The tiny plastic sparrow illuminated the room the perfect amount, but Dave couldn’t get over his closest colleague’s strange fascination with birds. Of course, you loved the little plastic bird- when you awoke at night you’d cry at first, but by the time your dad got to your room you’d be goggling at the feathered figure.

“Mio Passerotta.” It slipped out before Dave even had a chance to think about it. The Italian nickname was common enough that no one would think it was odd, but it felt more right than that. Gideon had named his son Stephen, in honor of Dave. It only felt right that your term of endearment- something your dad had thought about more than your actual name- was an ode to his friend. “Sogni d’oro, my sparrow. Ti voglio bene.”

---

To you, everything's funny You got nothing to regret I'd give all I have honey If you could stay like that

---

“Uncle Jason!” Your little legs carried you towards Gideon’s desk as fast as they could. “Uncle Jason look!”

“What is this?” he said in an exaggerated voice as you handed him a piece of paper and climbed into his lap. Your preschool and daycare were closed due to a holiday, but work never stopped at the BAU, meaning your dad had no choice but to bring you into the office. None of the agents minded- you brought a joy to the space so pure that it almost made the horror of their jobs disappear, even if it was only for the day.

Lucky for them you were now three years old and had recently discovered a love for drawing and coloring, which meant scrapped preliminary profiles that were blank on one side could be recycled into canvases for your artwork. Gideon couldn’t decide if it was right or not- having you put images of rainbows and butterflies on papers that had lists of victims names on the other side- but he tried not to think too hard about this.

“Wow!” Gideon held you steady on his lap with one hand and your drawing of… something… in the other. “Is this for me?”

“Yes!” You smiled up at him. “It’s a bird cos you like birds.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll hang it right here.” He tacked the picture up on the bulletin board that sat on his desk, next to the other three drawings of birds you had done that day for him.

“I should draw one wearing a hat!” you giggled. Gideon wasn’t sure what was so funny about the idea of a bird wearing a hat, but it made him chuckle anyway.

“(Y/N)!” your dad called for you.

You turned to Gideon. “I have to go, but I’ll be back!” You ran off towards your dad’s desk.

Gideon watched to make sure you didn’t fall. He opened up the file he had been so careful to close before you came over. Inside were pictures of young women with your same hair and eye color, each assaulted and murdered in cold blood. With a heavy heart, he looked over to you, innocently drawing another picture with your crayons.

Oh what he would give for you to stay like that.

---

You're in the car on the way to the movies And you're mortified your mom's droppin' you off At fourteen, there's just so much you can't do And you can't wait to move out someday and call your own shots

---

Aaron Hotchner was a man known for his calm and cool demeanor, but he was also known for his ambition, and occasionally that ambition made him more excited than normal. Recently, his ambition had led him to become an agent at the BAU. It was something he’d wanted since he first heard about the unit, and though he managed to make himself look poised on the outside, he couldn’t hide the fact that he was probably shivering in his suit. They really should warn the new agents that the basement, which served as the unit’s headquarters, could go from being a sauna one day to the arctic tundra the next day.

The heavy metal doors of the BAU opened, letting the cool air from the hallway sweep across his desk. He shook off the need to chatter his teeth and went back to his paperwork. It was beginning to feel tedious, doing the grunt work of all the agents above him. He knew that next week he would get to start looking at actual cases. After a few months he would be allowed to consult on simple profiles over the phone with small police stations that called for help. Maybe even if he worked hard enough he could make it into the field before he hit his first year-

“Agent Hotchner, over here!” Someone called to him from the outskirts of the space, where the senior agents had their desks. He suppressed a groan at the idea that another file would be added to his seemingly endless pile, but when he looked over at the person who had called him, they weren’t holding out a file.

David Rossi, the senior agent who approved Aaron’s request to join the unit, was walking towards him. Next to the senior agent was you. Aaron had seen you before of course, but he had never taken time to really look at the 14 year old that came into the BAU around 4 PM every day. But now there was no doubt in his mind that you were David Rossi’s daughter- your facial expressions, posture, and the way you walked was nearly identical to your dad’s.

“Agent Rossi,” Aaron stood up from his desk as the two of you approached.

“Please, Aaron,” Rossi said. “Just call me Dave. Now, this is my daughter, (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Agent Hotchner. Now, I have a flight to catch for an emergency case and the TSA is going to be a pain in my ass like they usually are.” He handed Aaron a key. “This is for SUV number 4 in the parking garage. Don’t crash it, but (Y/N) has to meet her friends in 25 minutes and the movie theater is 30 minutes away. Thanks.”

Dave gave Aaron a quick pat on the shoulder and then walked past him, his go-bag in hand, leaving the young agent alone with his daughter. Aaron honestly wasn’t sure whether he should be offended or not.

“Sorry you got put on babysitting duty,” you said, though you didn’t sound apologetic. “But we have to go.” You began to walk off.

Aaron blindly shoved papers into his brief case before following you out the doors of the BAU. “I’ll uh-” He looked down at his watch. “I’ll have to ask where the SUVs are kept-”

“No need.” You walked easily into the elevator and pressed a button. “I know this place like the back of my hand.”

You seemed confident enough in your manner that he didn’t question you. Aaron took a deep breath to try to compose himself. He was usually good at working under pressure, but something like this had never happened to him.

The elevator stopped and you walked off. Aaron followed you. Surely enough, you knew exactly where the SUV was kept. As he drove, you tried to get him to take short cuts to the movie theater, but he refused to listen. Still, you got there on time. He was about to pull up to it when-

“You can just drop me off here,” you said. The theater was about a block away. “I’ll just walk.”

Aaron shook his head. “Your dad trusted me and-”

“And I get made fun of every time I get dropped off somewhere in a government vehicle.”

Aaron looked over at you. The confidence that had shone through before dimmed just a bit. Aaron remembered being 14… thinking about all the things he wished he could do but he couldn’t. He knew that teenage desire to have independence; to be able to call the shots in your own life. 

Honestly, he was experiencing a bit of it right now being new at the BAU- having this need to look good for everyone, wanting to impress those around him, hoping that they’d loosen his leash just a little bit…

“One day what the other kids say about you won't matter,” he said and pulled up in front of the theater to drop you off. “Do you have a ride home?”

“Yeah, my actual babysitter will be here soon,” you replied. “Thanks for the ride, Hotch.”

“Don’t call me that,” he retorted.

You smirked at him before shutting the car door. You walked into the theater, but saw that Hotch was lingering around, just to make sure you really were okay, before finally leaving.

You hurried out to the payphone in front of the theater and dialed the number. “He stuck around for an extra seven minutes,” you said into the phone. “Trusted me enough to follow me to the SUV but didn't budge when I told him it'd be quicker to take the short cut. I'd give him a B+. Maybe an A-.”

You knew that Jason Gideon was smiling on the other end of the phone. “I guess he passed,” your uncle said. “I'll be there to pick you up soon.”

You hung up the phone, your part in the BAU new agent hazing ritual complete. Agent Hotchner had taken enough command, trusted you but not too much, and followed through with your saftey.

Part of you wondered if there was more to the "test" than just a good laugh for Gideon and your dad. Maybe you'd find out one day.

---

So here I am in my new apartment In a big city, they just dropped me off It's so much colder than I thought it would be So I tuck myself in and turn my nightlight on

---

After finding the letter at Gideon’s cabin, you held Spencer for what felt like hours as he cried. You wanted to cry too, but the shock of it all was too much. It wouldn’t sink in, like your body and mind refused to accept that it had happened.

Spencer left for the bathroom to take a shower. You knew he was probably standing under scorching hot water, trying to wash away the pain of it, or feel something other than grief. Normally you would have gone in and turned the temperature down, but your heart wouldn’t let you.

Right now, all you wanted was some sleep.

You slipped on your most cozy pajamas, tossing your tear-stained clothes in the hamper. The entire apartment felt colder than normal. You went to tuck yourself into bed, but stopped before you could get comfortable. Spencer would get out of the shower eventually and being the gentleman he was, he wouldn’t turn on the light in an effort not to wake you. You slipped out of bed and padded over to the nightlight to turn it on.

The little sparrow had faded in color, but it was still your favorite nightlight. You went to flip the switch, but it didn’t turn on; and for some reason, you knew that it wouldn’t matter if you changed the bulb or not… it wasn’t going to light.

It would never light again.

Whether your heart or your legs crumbled first, you weren’t sure, but you were on the ground. Your body shook and tears fell, but you made no noise. You stayed there, on the cold wooden floor, your head buried in your arms and your legs tucked up to your chest, until a hand fell on your shoulder.

You looked up in the dark to see Spencer, and then turned back to the sparrow that had lost its light forever. He sat down next to you and let you lean into him, his arm wrapping around your shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked quietly. It was his turn to take care of you now, and he knew that. Sometimes that meant asking you if you wanted to say something, even if you said nothing at all.

You looked at the bird in the darkness, remembering your life… your childhood room, the sound of the door opening when your dad got home, the way your footsteps had grown against the concrete floors of the old BAU headquarters, the wise words that Gideon always spoke. It was before your heart had been broken, before you had been hurt and scarred, before you had been deserted; back when everything was simple.

“I-” you started. “Sometimes I wish I never grew up.”

---

Taglist:

@doctorsteeb@saturnluvvr@padsfirewhisky@staygoldsquatchling02@mycoolusernamesstuff@reidstileschishiya

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Welcome to the Blood Drop ~ Part.1

Summary : A new brothel opens in Santa Carla and the four boys soon find not only a quick snack in front of it to have fun with. They also find that this snack is the leader of another coven of vampires. Can a human really lead a group of vampires or is there more to the brothel than meets the eye. Well, let's just say, after a little conversation, the boys are not the only ones who want a snack that night.

warning : implied smut (that comes in the next chapters), mention of death and killing, flirting, a kiss on the hand, no use of Y/n, reader is female

Lost Boys x femreader

masterlist

Part.2 (Paul), Part.3 (Dwayne), Part.4 (Marko), Part.5 (David)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was nighttime, but the town of Santa Carla was not asleep - on the contrary, it seemed livelier than ever. The nightly parties on the beach around a campfire with beer and sausages.

Or at the funfair on the big footbridge on the racing bike or the little roller coaster, just letting yourself go. Or even on the hills in the car, where you can do more than just kiss and make love to your loved one. The city was also full of life with clubs, bars and shops open to serve their customers.

Among them was the newest addition to the night scene, the Blood Drop Santa Carla's newest and only brothel with a strip club and its own dungeon in the basement ready to take in its members.

A business that was rumoured to have opened only one night before and seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. But who could say for sure, the previous night was just too dark, wasn't it?

The nocturnal sounds were only broken by the roaring engine of the hearse that was on its way to the city. Fingernails painted with black nail polish tapped lightly on the leather steering wheel. Tacked to the music coming from the radio, a small smile lay on her red lipsticked face.

The anticipation that went through her body and seemed to drive her heart made her more than just happy. At last the time has come she thought and drove even faster as she had finally achieved what she had always wanted for herself. Finally she had created a home for creatures like the one she was trying to protect.

What did it matter if there was a body in the storeroom, more or less? What did it matter that it was the second single husband without a family who had mysteriously died. What did it matter that her account was several hundred thousand full as long as she could pursue her dream. It would all have been a temporary pleasure anyway.

Looking in the rearview mirror, she saw the leather bag with the two objects inside that would soon adorn her desk. A simple creepy cover or something more? Whatever it was, she knew it wouldn't matter in the next few hours. She had other goals and plans that she was pursuing. Goals and plans she had finally realised in Santa Carla.

Before she looked back at the road, the headlights of her car illuminated it before she saw the big sign of Santa Carla that told her she had finally arrived. ,,Finally," she murmured as she turned into the streets and moments later was surrounded by the nightlife of Santa Carla.

The coloured lights, the music that seemed to drone from the beach into the city and the crowds of people - it was perfect. Before she turned into the dark street and her car came to a stop a few metres from the entrance to the bordel. Turning the key and bringing the car to a stop she reached into the back seat and took the bag with her before getting out.

Before the slamming of her door died away and was replaced by the clacking of her heels on the pavement. It was only a few metres to the establishment and yet she saw the potential customers already loitering in the area.

They all seemed to be waiting for the neon lights at the entrance to turn on so they could enter and give free rein to their lust. Not only paying customers but also paying dominatrixes who wanted to rent their private area.

"The Blood drop had everything for everyone...to die for was her thought with a smile before she came to a stop in front of the black entrance door. The rustling of her key sounded before she began to unlock the door but the feeling that someone or something had been watching her since she got out did not fade.

On the contrary, the longer she did not move and listened to the silence, it seemed to increase. Coming closer and closer, bringing the darkness and cold with it and creating a slight gust of wind. Before it turned unerringly to the left into the darker part of the street. I thought so, it flashed through her mind as she saw the four figures standing in the shadows, slowly emerging.

A small group of four men and yet they seemed to know exactly what they wanted. Her. In other places, everyone would probably have had a queasy feeling, alone at night, not safe, as a woman or a man, and a group of four guys coming towards them. But not her, she knew better.

She had long since learned the truth, protected them, killed them and helped them. She had no fear, only deep respect and fascination. But fear, no, not because she had to kill her loved one. It was pain she felt at the same time, but never fear. ,,A night just as pretty as you," she heard the blond with white trousers murmuring and the little blond giggling at her.

She briefly caught the gaze of the tall black-haired man who never took his eyes off her. He seemed to be watching her closely in case something might happen. Or what would happen in the next few moments. But the slightly arrogant look in the ice-blue eyes of the apparent leader was where she stopped.

She had found her observers just as they had found her. ,,Makes you hungry, don't it, boys?" the leader smirked and laughed with his friends. But for how long would they continue to laugh? ,,Yes, I'm a little hungry too...aren't you, my dears?" she asked and saw a short curiosity run through the group.

As if they were assessing what their prey meant before they giggled again. But the footsteps of the four continued to come towards her, more towards the beating of her calm heart that was still driven by anticipation. Only a few metres separated them and she knew that under other circumstances the four would have already buried their fangs into her body.

But it wasn't those other circumstances. ,,A little snack and then four sweet ones like this," another female voice suddenly said before ten people emerged from the shadow of the flickering lantern, seemingly out of nowhere. They stood behind the lady in charge and all had a little smirk and smile on their lips. Some more and some less.

The mood changed and despite the reactively cool night, it only seemed to take a spark for the two parties to clash. ,,This is our terretory," said the leader, his tone clearly tinged with disapproval, and she saw the flash of his pointed teeth.

His members didn't seem to think much of the other vampires either. But she did not resent the four of them. It would only be a matter of time before the two groups met. ,,My pretty bats know that, don't worry," she began and this time she dared to approach the vampires.

She knew she didn't have to be afraid, on the contrary she wanted to see how far she could go before they had enough. They could no longer control themselves and the instincts of hunger replaced those of the mind.

They defended their territory like wild animals. The clacking of her shoes began again as she continued to walk towards the four. She saw exactly how the leader's bright ice-blue eyes watched her and the cigarette landed demonstratively on the ground between his lips.

Crushing the drug with his boot as a warning of what was to come. But she ignored him, seeming to know it was the attention, the control he wanted. The control she had, however, not only in numbers but in other ways. She would come back to him, that much was certain, one way or another. But the brief pause of his gaze at her lips was quite noticeable.

A wild animal and yet still driven by hunger and lust. Pulling past him, she arrived at the tall, silent man. Like something out of a sex dream she thought and smiled as she slowly reached out her fingers. She saw exactly how he watched her but did not move.

He let her. Seemed to know exactly what she was up to and was perhaps a little fascinated by her. Before her fingers trailed over the cold leather of his jacket, looking at the cat of prey on it. Before she saw the rip-toothed earring and nudged it, causing the jewel to vibrate briefly.

But the small smirk on his lips was not lost on her as her fingers moved away from him and she let a demonstrative long look wander over his body. But she moved on and arrived at the one who made the first comment. The bigger the slut, the more in need of devotion she thought, glancing briefly at the fishnet top that showed his body.

Not as clear as the previous one, but it more than gave a hint of what he had to offer. Daring and yet playful she liked it. ,,Hey good-looking" he purred with a broad smile and suddenly took her hand in his to place a kiss on it. In return, she let her fingers glide through his soft, pretty hair for a moment before tugging on it lightly.

This brought a surprised expression to the older man's face, but the look of arrogance was gone. ,,Pretty boy," she murmured before she pulled away from him, leaving a vampire standing slightly beside himself.

But she would certainly come back to him, not least to teach the sweet one some manners. But there was a first time for everything. Before she arrived at the last member of the group, the small grinning one who either wanted to kill her with his gaze or undress her. She couldn't quite tell the difference. But he didn't bite at her or back away, he just seemed to grin at her.

Instead, she watched his jacket, which he must have made himself. She looked at the patches and pins and the self-painted thing. A creative mind she thought and slowly reached out for the jacket. She was only a few centimetres away from reaching the fabric when he suddenly grabbed her wrist.

The grip was firm, almost painful, but their gazes did not leave each other. Where his madness met her fascination seemed to be the reach of creativity. ,,A pretty heartbeat" he said and she knew it must sound like music to him. How with every beat of her heart the organ pumped the blood through her body's circulation.

But when she wanted to release he didn't let go, on the contrary he pressed harder and harder. As if he finally wanted a real reaction from her. The more he pushed, the harder it became for her to keep the little smile on her lips. She had to endure a lot, but she could do without a broken hand, especially today.

She was about to signal to her bats when the leader said a simple ,,Marko, don't break her hand" and the person she was addressing continued to look at her. But for her taste of control, the blond took too long to finally let go. But his grin had only grown. Turning away from the little blonde, she finally approached the leader.

She saw satisfaction reflected in his eyes as he seemed to expect a thank you from her. She, on the other hand, only gave him an amused smirk before she said, ,,You have a nice group...but it lacks discipline and control" before she turned away from him and went back to her group.

They enjoyed the whole thing with obvious amusement before the mistress finally opened the door of the brothel and let her protégés in. ,,Come with me," she said to the four of them before she disappeared into the doorway and the four of them remained on the street for a moment. ,,They always come," she heard one of her bats say as he turned on the dim red lights in the main area. Before the pack moved to the areas where they were "working" at least until the food came. And the food always came quickly.

She heard the impressed whistle of the blonde and later behind her as she saw the four enter. The dark red velvet interior with black leather and dark lights seemed to suit the four of them. But this was only the main area with the strip area, the dungeon would be in the basement and the rooms in the back.

But a small tour could wait. ,,There's still time for a tour, I think we should discuss the matter in my office, don't you think?" she asked, but didn't wait for an answer. By then she had started moving again and had passed the strip area and disappeared behind a curtain.

Walking through a dark corridor, they finally arrived at the door of her office, which she entered. The bag still in her hand was finally placed on her desk. Sitting down on the leather chair and sighing slightly, the group entered her office seconds later. With a leader who seemed to be driven by irritation and anger and loss of control.

She saw the tall black-haired man leaning against the wall, his gaze sweeping the room. But she knew he would soon be on top of her again, always would be. The little one, who she now knew was called Marko, sat down on the small two-person couch. But he managed to take up so much space for himself that a second person wouldn't have fit.

At least he hadn't lost his grin, but she didn't know whether that was good or bad. Maybe it was both. The other blond with the white trousers looked around her office, smiling happily. As if it were his room, he touched everything, commented on it and seemed to enjoy it. A true lack of obedience she thought and sighed slightly as he took a mask from the wall and tried to scare Marko.

Before her eyes went back to the leader who was sitting opposite her on the chair that was also meant for that. Calmly lighting a cigarette, he seemed to enjoy making her wait. She pushed the ashtray towards him and turned to her bag instead. Taking out the two items, she placed them at the corners of her desk. ,,Nice set," Marko chuckled, making the other blonde laugh as well.

The two of them seemed to find the human skulls more than just funny. She didn't hold it against them, but she couldn't suppress a grin either. ,,Pretty, isn't it? That's my real project financiers Jared and William my ex-husbands tragic story" she stated and let her fingers glide over the skulls.

Cold and bony severed from the body that was rotting somewhere. No one would look for them not after what had happened. The two seemed to take this as a joke at first, but when she didn't change her expression, she saw them give each other a meaningful look.

She heard the leader blow his smoke in her direction before he pushed the cigarette almost too hard into the ashtray. ,,Let's make this quick, you get out of here with your pets because I was here first," he said directly and crossed his arms, his patience for the whole thing clearly waning. He's afraid of losing control she thought, setting the bag down on the floor unperturbed.

Before she came back up and saw that he had propped himself up on the table in front of her. He wanted to intimidate her and tried to chase her away. She said, ,,In short, no, you were here with your friends first, that's true, but I have more vampires, which means you would lose".

She saw the anger flashing in the lights and heard the protest of Marko who didn't seem to like it either. He rose from the couch and stood behind his leader. ,,We can try it out," Marko muttered and she swore that if he didn't jump over her desk in a few seconds to rip her throat out.

He would leave everything here in ashes. Definitely an aggression problem she thought and made an annoyed noise. As she began to realise that it might come down to an argument with toddlers. ,,Calm down, my little ones, my protégés do not encroach on your terretory. On the contrary, they will hunt and eat only here in the Blood Drop," she explained, pointing to a framed drawing that hung on the wall. Self-drawn with the help of her loyal friends and protégés.

Designed to get rid of bodies in several ways, camouflaged in the dark places of the city and discreet enough that the police and the press and the residents don't care. ,,Will that be enough?" the black-haired man asked in a calm but slightly worried tone, but he remained standing against the wall.

She knew she was worried, she was aware of the risk herself. There would always be times when there were not enough customers, but those were over.

Every night there would be enough to feed the ten. At least until the next night. ,,It will be, believe me, it's not called selling sex for nothing. The night has many needy customers and I have exactly what they want. Why do you think I chose the city because no one cares about the disappearance?" she defended herself, seeing the tall one nod briefly before she saw the leader seem to be thinking.

She knew she almost had him, almost had him agreeing. It would have advantages for both parties. ,,David, she's right" she heard the black-haired man murmur to David, whose name she finally knew. But the leader, still thinking, lit another cigarette and took a quiet drag before leaning back in the chair.

A sigh came from his lip before he replied, ,,All right...but I have one condition," he posed and she suppressed a roll of her eyes. It was indeed like arguing with a child who wouldn't take no for an answer. Whereas David just didn't seem to know any no. Signalling him to keep talking, she leaned forward slightly to get closer to him.

Taking in the smell of smoke and leather and the sea that always seemed to be all over Santa Carla. ,,I want you," he said with a grin when he saw the surprised look on her face before she recovered herself after a moment and laughed.

Her laughter seemed to infect the two blondes, who also giggled, but seemed to confuse David and the black-haired man. ,,All right then, as a condition, I want you all four as well," she set the condition and saw the mixed reactions, ranging from complete irritation to amusement.

But David, after regaining his grin, seemed to agree with a nod and leaned back in his chair again. But she saw exactly how the four of them seemed to slowly become more or less aware of what this meant.

Before the lost boys could take a step back, she rose and walked around the desk before opening the door and saying, ,,Who wants to go first?" and letting her gaze wander to the four who had suddenly become very still and quiet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ghoulgeousimmaculate (I especially hope you like it after I saw your adorable message from the reblog Ps : I really like your idea you need to write yours too please ), @adharafirenze , @ria-coolgirl , @hypocriticaltypwriter , @lazywerebat , @misslavenderlady, @paranormal-fool

[goldenbell]

I have seen some people say that they feel like Ncuti Gatwa was under served in the recent episode and while I can kinda understand where they are coming from I also couldn't disagree more.

The fifteenth doctor got to play a key role in the conclusion of the episode instead of the usual tacked on regeneration scene at the very end of an episode that other doctors get. I thought he did a very good job of standing out in all of his scenes which honestly is a pretty hard job when your scene partner is David Tennant! Plus his regeneration got to be solely joyful instead of also a goodbye.

Some people also seem upset that he won't be doing the usual post-regeneration stuff of figuring out his body and choosing a new outfit. But honestly I have never really like the post-regeneration episodes. They feel very old hat and kinda boring to me. Like do we really need 45 minutes to say "yup still the doctor"

[shelyue99]

Captain Nixon, a blasé young man who made quite a thing out of being a Yale man—I never let on I went to Harvard-arrived after we had waited about fifteen minutes. A dark person with a heavy beard, he looked as if he hadn't shaved for at least three days. This was his usual state.

Captain Nixon was alleged to hale from a place called Nixon, New Jersey; his family was supposed to own half the town.

"Tenshun!" shouted one of the S-2 men, springing up.

I started to rise reluctantly from the floor, where I had been chatting with Wiseman and Lyall, but the captain raised his hand and told us to be at ease. I sagged down again.

"Come in here with me, men," the captain said, leading the way into the adjacent room, where a map was tacked to the wall. We followed him. My fears had increased greatly in the wait. I began to sweat and swallow hard.

Captain Nixon, who slouched and never raised his voice, oriented us by pointing to the location of Uden on the map. "The Dutch Underground has told us that the Krauts have moved into the village of Volkel, near here," he said. His finger went south along the Eindhoven road, then cut east to a cluster of eight or ten houses almost three miles from Uden.

"I want you men to go down there and find out if the Krauts have really moved in. They may be planning an attack from that direction. This is a reconnaissance patrol; don't shoot and don't get in a fight if you can help it. Just look around and come back."

He introduced the two S-2 men who were to lead us, then described our route, which was essentially that traced by his finger.

—Parachute Infantry by David Webster