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ganymedesclock · 3 years

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Ooh ooh ooh, how about your version of Sonic for the powers thing?

You see, Sonic is fast, because if he doesn't keep ahead of his problems, he'll have to actually think about them, and then he'll have a crisis.

This is partially a fun opener joke and it's also not. I'll let you decide how much of each it is. In the meantime, I'm going to talk about what my reads of various canons inspire in me, and how that informs Worlds AU, a bit more than talking about Worlds AU itself.

So Sonic in the initial game canon, started out with an extremely simple conceit. You can see this mirrored across all of the non-Amy classic characters: Sonic runs, that's his thing; Tails flies, Knuckles punches, Eggman makes robots and also problems, which sort of condenses into one thing considering the role robots have in the classic games.

(that damn caterkiller has cost me SO many attempts at a chaos emerald...)

This sort of got to be a problem as the games advanced. In particular, the Sonic game I started on was Sonic Adventure 2, which pitted Sonic very prominently off of Shadow. At this point, character concepts are no longer about simple capabilities, and every other member of the cast has grown up. (even Amy... though not too much. sorry Amy). Tails is now building robots to go with how his flight allows him to reach unconventional 'tricky' routes; Knuckles is now more of an adventurer, explorer, and even a mystic given his history and relationship with the emeralds. This earthly pugilist sense grounds him in a more versatile skill-set.

Sonic... basically his gimmick was remaining true to the classic formula- he was still the one going fast, popping those shuttle loops, and tumbling through a chaotic universe. Yes, they absolutely polished this and put flourishes on it- now he's grinding rails and flipping on poles, this sense of street-smart parkour that carries him cheekily through any environment...

But he's played off Shadow, where the thing about Shadow, especially in the first game, is Shadow is a person who suppresses most of his personality for his context. Not in an inorganic or badly written sense, mind- but he outright says to Rouge at one point that it doesn't matter if anything he remembers is fake- in essence, that it's more real than he is, and a dead person's wish is more important than his life.

Shadow is a soldier, is an alien, is a bioweapon, is a teleporter and he shoots lasers. We are beyond the days of simple conceits; if he was conceived in the classic era, he'd have probably been either only a jet-skater or a teleporter, and that one conceit about how he moved through the world would've been through everything.

Sonic picks up the chaos control from Shadow- in direct reaction to Shadow- and this is commented on. In this scene, Sonic not only rejects Shadow's unhealthy obsession with context- that where he came from was everything- but mirrors it with an attitude that, frankly, to me, rings just as unbalanced- Sonic basically denies having a backstory whatsoever.

"What you see is what you get!" he says.

And that flew in the classic era. We didn't really have a consistent or strongly-drawn backstory over why Sonic was fast. Most continuities around that era point it to either an accident or a happenstance synergy with an outside force. But we didn't really need a story over why Tails can fly or why Knuckles had spurs on his fists.

But in the modern era... there's context. Many characters have superpowers. And more and more, there was a sense that those superpowers had context and history, whether the outright spelled, like Shadow (he was engineered to be capable of this; if you look at him, he has most of the abilities you'd expect of a boss fight in Resident Evil, minus the squelchy, infectious sorts and the Black Arms imply he could well have those and just not use them)

...or the simply alluded, such as Blaze's ominous comment that her flames are the reason she was always alone.

Sonic... clearly has powers. He's been reframed to keep up with he setting as it changes. But that exchange between him and Shadow- where Shadow looks at what Sonic is capable of, looks at him, and asks, verbatim, "what are you," and Sonic delivers a non-answer so naked and so certain that there's not really anything to say to that.

To this end, while I think it's highly intuitive that they picked the wind as the motif to spice Sonic up to- with its sense of freedom, and with its association with speed- I think there's also something about air in general that connects to Sonic.

Air is... omnipresent. It has an extremely complex seething system high overhead. Enormous paths and belts and spirals of wind curl over us all the time, pushing clouds the size of entire states around like it's nothing. When you look at the sky, it looks stationary. But wait, squint- it's actually moving. It's actually moving really fast.

One of my absolute favorite characterizing moments of Sonic is in Archie Comics, specifically the post-reboot series. To keep context minimal, Tails confides in Sonic that he's losing his memory of a certain incident that affected both of them, and he's worried; Sonic reassures him, typical hero big brother best friend, and gives him a big hug. The scene is warmly lit.

The very next panel is literally in the shadows, over Tails' shoulder and behind his back. And Sonic's expression is... troubled. Telling. We immediately understand from that alone he just lied, and has no ability to 'just remember for Tails'.

Sonic is not a vacuous person. He's not empty, he's not innocent, and he's certainly not just your same good nostalgic friend who never changed or got complicated so you don't have to reevaluate all of those things- the guy you can always count on, just like the sky is always there- but he sure pretends to be all of those things, and tries to keep the stormy weather as far away from other people as possible.

This is given another heroic-sounding-but-actually-concerning context in Sonic Unleashed, one of several games in which Sonic shows a maybe suspicious but profound aptitude for darkness where he guzzles and serves as a very powerful conduit for the energy of Dark Gaia, who is strongly connoted with rage, despair, denial, and other states considered bad for your health.

Sonic asks Chip- who he's just found out is Dark Gaia's counterpart- if it was his protection that kept him from losing his mind the entire time. Chip denies this, and states instead it's that "you never let the darkness win."

The thing is... anger and sadness are actually pretty important to feel. And it's actually not true that Sonic as a character doesn't feel anger- there's a few rather notable scenes in which he really loses his cool, some of them within Sonic Unleashed itself (he actually scares Eggman at the culmination of the Egg Dragoon fight) and in the game Sonic and the Secret Rings he actually achieves a super form powered by negative emotions- and that game also ends on a surprisingly melancholy note, where Shahra, when leaving Sonic, specifically gives him a bunch of tissues, a nod to how they met, and specifically "So you can cry as much as you need to."

Sonic is a good person. But Sonic is also... kind of a liar. He has this powerful connection to these highly destructive and dangerous entities- Dark Gaia, Chaos- and this is a thing he, pointedly, doesn't wonder about. And it's not arrogance, or an inability to consider the possibilities- in Sonic Colors he is very real with himself that he can't outrun a black hole, but only admits that once Tails is out of earshot on the one safe ride away from it- and while gearing up to try to do so anyway.

Wind is a contradictory thing. In the sky, we consider the possibility of ultimate freedom; flight and wings are often depicted as symbols of enormous power and efficacy because the very notion of being able to go wherever you want to captivates us.

On the other hand, though, a state of freefall is terrifying. In the unparalleled freedom of the sky, absolutely nothing can catch you if you fall.

(you know, except Tails, if you're fighting Eggman in Marble Garden- I'll leave)

We can talk about a bolt from the blue, a sudden storm or a just-as-sudden clear blue sky... the mechanisms of the air around us are often very hard to perceive for their superficial simplicity. And on sunny days when the wind lazes slowly through the leaves, it's hard to think of it as capable of hurricane forces.

I guess the note I want to leave this on is, it's pretty interesting how Sonic genuinely likes running, but he also tends to either outrun or fight anything that stresses him out- and "what he is" and "what he's capable of" is something he really doesn't like talking about even if he's happy to show or compete it.

#Sonic the Hedgehog #Sonic worlds AU #readmore

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stillness-in-green · 3 years

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Ahistorical, Absurd, and Unsustainable (Introduction and Part One)

An Examination of the Mass Arrest of the Paranormal Liberation Front

INTRODUCTION

The title states my premise here: the breezy way My Hero Academia presents and resolves the mass arrest of the Paranormal Liberation Front is ludicrous. If taken as presented and allowed to stand without being further addressed, it serves as a breaking point from which the series will be incredibly hard-pressed to recover. Why, you ask?

From a logistical standpoint, it strains credulity. From an ethical standpoint, it suggests deeply troubling problems with the state of Hero Society. From a thematic standpoint, it unravels whole portions of the narrative’s spine. I’ll be looking at each of these facets in turn to discuss the questions they raise which My Hero Academia has not yet seen fit to answer. Many in fandom don’t seem to be thinking about it too hard, so I’d like to lay out—in exhaustive detail—all the reasons I find this plot element so wildly out of touch with causal reality.

Please note that while they are discussed when relevant, this essay is not principally about the named characters in the League of Villains or the erstwhile high command of the Metahuman Liberation Army. The sorts of consequences Shigaraki Tomura or Re-Destro would and should be facing in a courtroom are orders of magnitude beyond what Random Liberation Warrior X would be, but it’s the mass numbers of Random Liberation Warrior Xs that this essay is most concerned with, as they are the ones most in danger of being swept under a rug and forgotten by the series in its current state.

Further, be advised that this essay in its full form is both very long (about 21K words excluding Sources and Further Reading) and will contain extensive discussion of real-life Japan—comparisons to historical events, minutiae of its legal and carceral systems, and general cultural views on criminality. This will include references to imprisonment, government oppression, and incidents of terrorism both real and in the context of My Hero Academia.

Being as it is about quite a recent event in the series, it will also contain heavy spoilers all the way up through the most recent chapter as of this writing, Chapter 310. It likewise contains spoilers for the spin-off series My Hero Academia: Vigilantes up through Chapter 95.

The essay will be posted in parts on tumblr and in full on AO3. For the tumblr posting, I will provide links to other tumblr posts as I reference them; however, as I would like this to actually show up in the tags, outside links containing my sources and further reading will be provided in a separate post following the conclusion of the essay.

Lastly, I spent an entire month writing this as a fan who is sympathetic to the villains in general and the MLA in particular. If your response to the very concept of this essay is anything to the tune of, “Who cares what happens to a bunch of disgusting quirk eugenicists?” know that you and I have radically different views on the MLA, and the role of the justice system in general. You are, of course, welcome to read the essay anyway, but, having said my piece about the MLA and their relationship with quirk supremacy elsewhere, I will not be engaging with arguments or gotchas on that subject here.

PART ONE: The Facts at Hand

Before we get too deep into things, let’s lay out the basic facts: how many people are actually involved in the arrest, as well as some comparisons to real-life events to contextualize that number and provide some referents for the issues the arrest raises.

Re-Destro gives the numbers of the Metahuman Liberation Army as 116,516. A lot of people go on to die in Deika, though we’re never given a solid count. The biggest batch we see killed in a single go are the press of sixty or so people Shigaraki decays, then the sixteen-ish Toga drops, though some of those might possibly have had quirks that allowed them to survive. Any number of people certainly died as well simply in the moments we didn’t see, and who even knows how many were caught in the radius of Shigaraki’s last attack.

Further, there may well have been a measure of organization bleed when the MLA became the PLF (though I imagine trying to leave was a very dangerous proposition, giving an additional reason to stick it out on top of the general cult-like mindset the MLA displays); likewise, I find it hard to believe that there wouldn’t have been some deaths at the Gunga Villa, be it from Gigantomachia’s departure, Geten cutting loose, or combatants—be they hero or comrade—overcompensating somewhat in the middle of a chaotic melee.

I suspect it’s overestimating the depletion, but for the purposes of simplicity, let us call it 115,000 remaining members at the time of the raid.[1]

We are told that, in all, 16,929 people were captured at the villa—just about 17,000. 132 escaped in the confusion; this is a fairly negligible number, save for the fact that it includes high-ranking advisors, but not Machia and those of the Front that were with him.

We are further told, and I quote, “Their bases scattered around the country were hit too, and the sympathizers rounded up.” Horikoshi did not provide any solid numbers for this,[2] but if we’re to assume that it is just the rest of the group (more on the logistics of that bit of spycraft later), “the sympathizers” would be 98,000 additional people.

However, 98,000 may be a significant underestimation. It’s based, after all, on a number Re-Destro cites to describe “warriors lying in wait, ready to rise to action.” This begs the question: is Re-Destro quoting the entire membership of the group, or only those who actually are ready to take action? In other words, does his number account for non-combatants? Is he counting young children? I tend to assume the MLA doesn't have a retirement age as such,[3] but if they do, does his number account for the elderly?

How many more people might be “sympathizers” to the PLF insomuch as they are e.g. the six-month-old infant daughter of an MLA couple? What about the ninety-year-old man in the retirement home whose only real act of war these days is tying up the phone line at City Hall to complain about repressive quirk use laws? How about the fired-up fifteen-year-old that was going to get their official code name next month, just in time to join the first wave of attacks? If he’s being literal in his usage of “warrior,” the actual count of the MLA could easily be twice as high as the number he actually gives.

But okay, maybe Re-Destro’s number does include absolutely everyone. Maybe he’s just being rhetorical—maybe, in his mind, even the six-month-old is waiting to rise to action; she’s just going to have to wait a bit longer than the rest, is all. For simplicity’s sake, let’s stick with the numbers we have: a low-end of 17,000, a high-end of 115,000, captured not merely in a single day, but allegedly in the span of a few hours.

I’m sure I don’t need to stress that that is a lot of people. But how many people is it, practically speaking? Is there a precedent? Anything we can look to for guidance on how this kind of thing would go in real life?

Comparative Analogues

The PLF is tricky to categorize for the purposes of real-life comparison, especially compared to how they’re treated in-universe. In some lights, they resemble a protest movement; in others, a terrorist group. Just looking at the way the government reacts to them—and certainly in terms of their combat capabilities—they might as well be an all-out insurrectionist uprising! Below, I’ll examine a handful of historical incidents that cover that spectrum; they will continue to provide useful reference points throughout the rest of this essay.

The March 15 Incident

In the first half of the 20th century, Japan saw a huge uptick in socialist and communist activity, much to the general dismay of the ruling powers. In response, they passed a series of laws commonly referred to as the Peace Preservation Laws, designed to better enable authorities to suppress political dissent and freedom of speech, particularly that of leftists and labor movements.

The Japanese Communist Party was founded in 1922, but outlawed in 1925. This merely drove members underground, however, from which position they pointed supporters towards the numerous other parties with more legally tolerated leftist policies that had cropped up in the wake of the JCP’s dissolution. Following the February 1928 General Election (the first in Japan held with universal male suffrage), those parties supported by the JCP saw enormous gains in representation in Japan’s National Diet. Alarmed, the Prime Minister declared the mass arrest of known communists and suspected communist sympathizers. Accordingly, on March 15, 1,600 people were arrested throughout Japan.

Over the course of twenty years, some 70,000 people would be arrested under the auspices of the Peace Preservation Laws, the majority of them in 1925 through 1936. The laws would eventually be repealed by American occupation forces after WWII, and the JCP allowed to operate openly once again.

The Rice Riots

In 1918, an inflation spiral had driven the price of rice out of control, exacerbating economic insecurity and hardship. Farmers were being paid a pittance of the market value of their crop by rice buyers and government agents, while urban consumers were being charged an exorbitant price for the staple food, as well as a great many other consumer goods, and their own rents. In response, a series of riots ripped across Japan in late July through September. Beginning with peaceful protesting in a small fishing town in Toyama Prefecture, the unrest escalated to involve riots, strikes, looting, even bombing in demonstrations that reached major cities like Tokyo and Osaka. The scope was and remains unprecedented in modern Japanese history, seeing some 25,000 people arrested.

The Sarin Gas Attacks

If you’ve heard of any of them, it’s probably this one. On March 20, 1995, members of the cult Aum Shinrikyo released sarin gas on five different Tokyo Metro trains in the middle of morning rush hour. Thirteen people were killed and over 5500 injured, about a fifth of them moderately to severely so. If not for small errors in the production of the gas and the rudimentary distribution method thereof, loss of life might easily have been catastrophically higher.

Aum Shinrikyo was a doomsday cult, but the motives for that particular attack were much baser than bringing about the Apocalypse: at the time, the organization was under police investigation for its involvement in the kidnapping of a public official. Its leader, Asahara Shoukou, hoped that the attack would divert police’s attention from a planned raid.

It did not do so; police executed raids on numerous of the cult’s compounds, arresting many of its senior members both immediately and over the course of the following months as the investigation unfolded. In all, over 200 members were arrested of an organization that counted its membership prior to the attack as numbering 11,000 people in Japan.[4]

The February 26 Incident

There have been a significant number of uprisings and violent protests in Japan’s modern history; when looking for a representative example, I focused my attention on the military coups of the 1930s and 40s, largely because they took place in what was closest to the modern Japanese legal context.[5] Of that subset, I chose the February 26 Incident for the severity of the government response. The others disintegrated before they could be properly carried out or were met with sympathy for the dissidents despite the obvious illegality of their actions. The February 26 Incident, however, was when they finally became too troublesome to dismiss, and the Emperor himself ran out of patience.

In this period, the Japanese military had become drastically factionalized into two main groups—an ultra-nationalist group, largely powered by a group of young officers, which supported the Emperor and wanted to purge Japan of Western influences, and a more moderate group mainly defined by their opposition to the above faction.[6] Occurring in 1936, the February 26 Incident involved the young officers, believing that they had tacit approval from higher-ranked officers of their own faction, launching assassination attempts against the nationalists’ most prominent enemies in the government (six assorted Ministers and former Ministers in the Emperor’s Privy Council and the Diet) and a bid to seize control of the administrative center of the capital and the Imperial Palace, after which they planned to demand the dismissal of more officers and the selection of a new Cabinet.

The seven ringleaders had convinced eighteen other officers to lend their forces to the attempted coup, a total of around 1,500 men, calling themselves the Righteous Army. Several of their assassination attempts failed, however, and while they succeeded at taking the Prime Minister’s residence and the Ministry of War, they did not manage to secure the Palace. The outraged Cabinet demanded the Emperor take a hard line with the rebels, and by the 29th, the Righteous Army was surrounded by 20,000 government troops and 22 tanks. In this hopeless situation, the officers dismissed their troops; two committed suicide (a third attempted it unsuccessfully) and the remainder were arrested by military police.

International Examples

For obvious reasons, I prefer to limit my examples to events that happened in Japan. However, I will also be briefly referring to a few international incidents of mass arrest, taking place in India, the U.S., and Egypt, respectively.

In the following parts, I'll use these facts and comparative analogues to take a closer look at what readers were told became of the Paranormal Liberation Front.

Part Two

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

Footnotes (Part One)—

[1] Over three months’ time, they likely gained some new blood also, simply in the course of their usual recruitment tactics. You don’t get an underground organization that size by sitting back and waiting for people to come to you, after all. I don’t know a practical way to calculate that, though, so just bear it in mind for when I talk about new members later.

[2] Possibly because he was aware that 17,000 people captured in one fell swoop was difficult enough to swallow without adding on more than five times that number.

[3] We do, after all, see some very aged people fighting in the streets of Deika.

[4] They were considerably more international than you may have heard. They had 50,000 members at the time, some 30,000 of them based in Russia.

[5] The Meiji Constitution was ratified in 1889; universal suffrage (for men) was granted in 1925. The modern constitution was enacted in 1947.

[6] More moderate, mind, in the context of the Imperial Japanese military. Neither of these factions had any time whatsoever for leftist movements, hence all those suppressive crackdowns.

#bnha analysis #bnha meta #paranormal liberation front #meta liberation army #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #bnha spoilers #my writing #plf arrests #stillness has salt

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dani-of-the-cosmos · 4 years

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*how the signs are acting during quarantine*

~with a touch of unsolicited advice: my venus in cancer’s specialty~

<3 pick your sun, moon, rising, mars, mercury, venus, or dominant sign <3

aries

overall, restless. the day seems to drag on and on, and they cope with it by playing video games and snapchatting someone every 20 seconds. self-hatred lingers in the back of their mind, because of all the time they have to analyze themselves. at random times (usually at night), they may be hit with big waves of profound emotions, where they just need to cry it out and acknowledge how lost they feel. may wonder what their purpose is, or where they fit in in the big scheme of the world. gets philosophical, but not in that condescendingly vague, optimistic way--they truly want answers, because the nothingness is just getting to be too much.

taurus

is actually doing pretty okay. is reading a lot about how they can improve themselves, and probably have a few google docs open with plans on how to upgrade their life. they’ve probably started a garden of some sort, or bought some plants to take care of. the day may seem to pass by quickly for them. they fill their time with watching movies and discovering new recipes to cook. has started getting more sleep, which makes their alluring eyes even more beautiful. the downside is that they may feel a bit groggy, or their head feels heavy, because even the most security-loving, routine-oriented zodiac sign needs some variety.

gemini

getting really excited about all these new methods for self-improvement: exercise, mental health, new projects, clearing their skin, etc. is consistent with these newfound activities for a few days, then gets annoyed when they don’t have 45 inch hips, a 22 inch waist and graceful, 11-shaped abs after less than a week of the chloe ting hourglass program. talks on the phone as they sit on the toilet. watches youtube videos about how to achieve the glow-up that they crave, but can never commit to a single video’s advice. wants something exciting to happen in their life, so they lean into their big emotions and taboo curiosities to compensate for the lack of stimulation. on their phone a LOT.

cancer

has gotten even more beautiful since the quarantine started. loves the simplicity they’re getting accustomed to, but also constantly worries if they’re “making the most” of all this free time. probably will scold themselves after all this is over for not being more disciplined during self-isolation. goes on walks outside a lot, and finds that connecting with nature significantly boosts their mood. observes the quiet beauty around them as a way to cope with the universal chaos of our world. since cancer tends to be a very empathetic sign, they may feel like a sponge for fatigue and suffering whenever they read the news. being aware of the world is great and necessary, but take care of yourself, cancer. know when to take a break from the news.

leo

is really excited about reinventing themselves--they want it all! new clothes, improved mindset, cleaner room, a kinder social circle, new hair--the works. they want to bust out of quarantine looking even more striking than before, with a wardrobe reflecting their new style. probably has either already done something drastic to their hair (like dying it, or the dreaded 2 am impulsive bangs cut), or is at least seriously considering it. really wants to get out of their house and camp out on the beach or something--they miss seeing their friends face-to-face, and try to make up for it by calling them to hear their voices. is irritated that they happened to be born at a time where the pivotal years of their life are being wasted by such an awful series of world events.

virgo

has upgraded their bedroom to look as aesthetically pleasing and soothing as possible. their social life has most likely downsized to 2-3 super close and genuine friends that they call, text, and/or facetime with daily. since virgo is a mutable sign, they’ve probably done a great job adjusting to their surroundings and are helping their family with domestic tasks. however, they may feel anxious, and unsatisfied with their current mindset and resources, so they feel the urge to expand their horizons and feed their genius mind as much as possible! it may be hard to find motivation, virgo, but the world needs a physical manifestation of your potential right now. if you have an idea you want to pursue but are too scared to, take the plunge. this sounds cheesy and cliche but, this is your sign to start!

libra

reminisces a lot about the past. thinks about how they would have handled past situations differently, and mentally shames themselves for it. is probably doing a lot of self-reflection, which is good for their sweet hearts and furthers the progress of their mental health, but also depresses them, as libra energy tends to be highly critical of itself. sleeping in too late and talking aloud to themselves at ungodly hours of the night. finds their mind going on the philosophical route more often than usual. might be posting passive-aggressive mood quotes on instagram

scorpio

is actually exercising pretty consistently like they said they would. their body has been getting curvalicious and toned, and to that i say WOOHOO GO SCORPIO! however, they’ve probably completely messed up their entire sleep schedule, and may be practically nocturnal some days. probably feels really emotional at the moment, and is overwhelmed with the amount of pain in the world that they wish they could singlehandedly stop. may be pretty loner-ish at the moment, and is probably not very active on their social media, because they’re realizing who their truest friends are. scorpio does well with transformation (they’re ruled by pluto, the planet of regeneration) so rest assured, they will emerge from quarantine new and improved!

sagittarius

is eating too much junk food. sagittarius, if you’re reading this right now, PUT DOWN THE CHIPS BUDDY BOY. is probably finding ways to hang out with their friends in person, like yelling across the sidewalk to them while wearing a mask. has been super active on social media regarding current social justice issues. feels enormous compassion for the oppressed and has been signing petitions at the speed of light. probably getting in fights with their family and being a little feistier than usual. i can’t blame them though...sagittarius is a sign that needs entertainment, so they’re gonna be a little punchy in this stagnant yet catastrophic time.

capricorn

has established a daily routine that keeps them feeling grounded and stable. they may realize how little they’ve actually prioritized their own joy in the past, and they’re using quarantine as a way to get to know themselves again. purchases luxury pajamas and is most likely drinking a hot beverage in a mug right now. probably on a health kick. is getting even closer with their closest friends, and basically forgets about acquaintances. cuddling their pets a lot (or fantasizing about adopting a pet if they don’t have one). misses putting on mascara and stepping into that cute skirt, because that sPeCiAL pErSoN isn’t there to see it lol

aquarius

thinking about ways they can make money. getting bursts of hyper inspiration to flip their life around and start working super hard for their dream life. is masking hopelessness, and finds themselves pondering the fragility of human life. may experience thoughts of nihilism that they don’t act on, and is increasingly worried about the state of their environment. is stuck between feeling motivated and believing in their ability to positively transform, and getting depressed and detached from their earthly obligations.

pisces

probably painting their nails a lot. is finding ways to put a little spice of excitement in their life--like making a nice breakfast (at 4 pm, which is like an hour after they wake up lately), giving their pet a concert of them, naked, singing ski mask the slump god songs into a hairbrush they’re pretending is a microphone. stares at themselves in the mirror for too long, letting their insecurities get the best of them. has probably gotten in touch with their grandparents (or any other relatives they usually don’t keep in close touch with) over the phone. may be dealing with worsened anxiety and feelings of depression at this time, and sleeps a lot to try to escape it. their room might be pretty messy at the moment as well, which they’re overly hard on themselves for. pisces: you are such a uniquely sweet and tender soul. take it one day at a time and never underestimate the power of reaching out to someone <3

#aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #the signs during quarantine #covid-19 #quarantine #unsolicited advice #i'm psychic i know #astrology #astrologytrash05

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katherinemallory · 3 years

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#10 The roulette of feelings

Hell is empty and all the previous chapters are here: #1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6 #7 #8 #9

After a few days in London we caught our flight to Monte Carlo. I’m not sure how long we stayed there. This mission felt like a long holiday since the very beginning.

Still on board we agreed that Bond would be the one to play poker and I would pose as his wife, or, as he has put it, “a crown jewel”. Usually I don't like being treated as such, since my experience in behaving like a damsel is close to a bare minimum, but this time I really enjoyed it. Bond was clearly pleased with his leading role in this show, and - while sitting at the poker table - he started to take chances more eagerly. He boasted about his poker skills all the time and I kept working from the shadows, observing him and our rivals, and making sure that we don’t expose ourselves too much. A win-win situation.

We were quite busy spending time at the casino, discussing the tactics, or using all the possible attractions offered by the city of Monte Carlo. The only contact I had with the outside world during the first week were my reports to MI6 which went directly to M, delivered to him by Eve Moneypenny.

One day, while Bond was on the meeting with our liaison (it's amazing the SIS has got its people... everywhere), my phone rang. I picked it up and sat on my bed, crossing my legs.

"Hi Eve. It’s nice to hear you. Did you... find out anything?"

"Not yet, Kath, but I'm working on it," she reassured me. "I just wanted to know how you're doing. You haven't been in touch for *days*. I’ve only noticed your daily reports."

"I'm more than fine, thank you. And I’m sorry for not being in touch... I have to admit I've been kinda busy, but... I won’t complain. Finally I do all those things I needed to recharge my batteries."

“I can’t believe what I hear! Does it mean I should become a double-0 if I want to feel more relaxed?” she teased me.

“You definitely should try it,” I replied, smiling. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s absolutely true. I enjoy the high-life more than I expected... All those fancy parties, drinks, wealthy men, late-night strolls around the streets of Monte Carlo... You get used to it pretty quickly," I replied in delight. "Sometimes I forget that I am here for the purpose of work.”

“It’s great to hear that, Kath. You deserve it, especially after what happened in Geneva,” said Eve and hesitated. “And... And w-w-what about Bond...? I guess it’s him who takes you on these late-night strolls?”

I laid on the bed, putting one pillow under my head. I looked straight at the white ceiling.

“Well... We spend each night at the casino, pretending to be a husband and a wife who just want to enjoy themselves... In the mornings Bond tries to teach me how to play poker. I fail miserably every time!” I chuckled. “We share a suite. I had some concerns before, but so far he behaves."

Eve's voice went up really high.

"You mean he did give up on you?”

I tilted my head to the right, placing my cheek on one of the pillows and pressing the phone to my ear.

"He didn’t. We flirt regularly," I replied, as I scratched my forehead with my left hand. “But he’s more patient now, I reckon. And more self-confident. He knows I can’t pay much attention to the other men at the casino, cause it would blow our cover immediately. He knows I wouldn’t do that... This is what makes him... erm... powerful. And he probably thinks I will fall for him eventually,” I added, rolling my eyes. “And I’m afraid he’s right.”

“Uh, you don’t really *mean* it, do you?” she asked, concerned. “There’s no pressure... This mission won’t last forever.”

“Honestly, Eve? Sometimes I feel like it will last forever... And Bond’s presence gets more addictive every day,” I said, lying on my back again. “I used to make fun of it, but I’m afraid I can’t resist Bond much longer. I mean... Not because he’s irresistible, but because... I really start to feel something for him.”

I took a deep breath and then continued:

“It all depends on what you find. If Mallo... erm, if the man I asked you to spy on... is married, then I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t have an affair with Bond...”

“Fair enough,” commented Eve. “At least you know what Bond wants from you. Suppose that’s something. But didn’t you admit the other day that you loved Ma...”

“It’s more complicated than you think," I interrupted. "When you spend all days in Bond’s company, it changes your perspective entirely... You’d better hurry then. I am so confused recently...” Damn, I thought. There is no need to burden Eve with all of this... I should probably change the subject. “... but you didn’t tell me anything about yourself, how was your day at the SIS? Any news?”

“Business as usual. I can’t share much detail, but it seems like Amanda’s got reassigned as she had requested.”

“Good for her. Send my love.”

“I will. And I promise to get in touch as soon as I find out anything about... *him*.”

...

The upcoming days passed so fast that I didn’t think about anything apart from what was going on in Monte Carlo. Intuitively both myself and Bond concentrated on the everyday tasks of the mission, but it turned out most of the time we just had fun, which meant our Walther and Beretta were absolutely useless.

Since the only moments I had only to myself were those just before going to bed in the evenings, I often spent them on analyzing my own feelings and, as a result, I developed a certain kind of insomnia. Or, I should rather call it “a difficulty with falling asleep”.

My thoughts were centred on Mallory. I miss him. I miss him dearly, but only when I have time to think about what he's doing in his old-fashioned office in London. When Bond is around, it’s only him who matters to me. Why is that? What the hell has happened to me? I don't know, but it's disturbing. And I get tired every time I try to sort things out in my mind... Can I really sleep with Bond if Mallory’s married? It’s not about giving up on a married man (which is an obvious decision from my point of view, as I would never break up *anyone’s* marriage), but about being honest to myself. Do I really love Mallory if I can fantasize about Bond? Or do I really feel something for Bond if my next move depends on Mallory’s marital status?

After a few evenings of such intense thinking I realized that no matter the arguments, such analysis is pointless. I could be thinking about this for a year and still didn’t come up with a right solution. I decided to wait and see how the case would resolve itself.

On the last day - it was one of those splendid days in June when you feel the most alive - we went to the casino for one more time, looking more dashing than ever. Little did we know, when we walked hand in hand into the casino - Bond wearing a black dinner jacket and me in an evening scarlet dress - that Bond would win the night’s poker game, gaining an enormous amount of money.

Late at night, around 3 A.M. I went straight to the poker table and brought Bond a dry martini (I've already had a few of them myself to relieve the boredom).

"Congratulations," I said, handing him a martini.

"Thank you," replied Bond and drank half of his glass.

I looked at him with aroused interest while he was drinking. I was never good at poker and, as much as I didn't want to, I had to admit the way he played that night impressed me.

"What do we do now?"

For a while, he observed the olives that seemed as if they were swimming inside the glass, and then gave me a quick glance.

"We pack and come back to London."

"Is that so? What about the winnings?" I asked in disbelief, expecting some kind of joke rather than a matter-of-fact response.

"I will have to transfer them to MI6. I have already contacted M, he should send me the instructions in the next few hours."

"You've already contacted M? Someone's in a hurry. Was your time here *that* bad?” I taunted him.

Bond smirked, but didn't say anything. I glanced around the room. The people started to leave the place.

"So, it means we came here broken and we leave broken, despite the win?" I asked, laughing.

"One could say that," Bond agreed. "But I can still afford a dinner and a drink. Would you join me tonight for a humble celebration?"

"With pleasure. Let's enjoy our last hours in this marvellous place,” I said, taking him by the arm.

After the dinner in one of the restaurants at the casino, we went for our last walk around the streets of Monte Carlo. Both me and Bond became unexpectedly talkative, probably because of too many drinks we had to celebrate the happy ending of the mission.

It could have been around 5 A.M when the walk started to feel too exhausting, and we went back to our shared suite.

"Would you like another?" asked Bond, pointing to the bottle of bourbon at the table, just after we locked the door to the suite.

"Yes," I replied. "The last one for tonight."

I have no idea why I agreed to this, cause I've never been drinking much or mixing alcohols in the past. After Bond handed me my glass, I let my hair down and rushed to the balcony. I need to see this amazing city just one more time before I go to sleep, I thought. I observed the skyline, waiting for Bond to join me.

"To the king and queen of Monaco," said Bond and we clinked glasses, standing next to each other.

I smiled at him and drank the whole glass with my eyes closed, but I still could tell he was staring at me.

"You know, Katherine, it's been one of my favourite missions so far."

"Really?”

"Yes... It’s the simplicity of it,” he took off his dinner jacket, thrown it on the nearest chair, and then continued. “The task I'm really good at... the fairy-tale location, no rush... and the right woman. You," he said in his deep, smooth voice and put his glass on the floor.

Then he put one of his hands on the railing and turned to me, but didn’t say a word, as if he intended to find out how close to me I would allow him to move.

“It’s an honour to hear something like that from such an experienced double-0,” I said timidly, still holding the empty glass in my hands.

Bond gazed at me for a few seconds.

"It's true, I've been a double-0 for quite a while," he said and turned his head to look at the skyline of Monte Carlo, "but rarely did I feel this close with another agent. It's strange. I’ve always tried to avoid being emotionally attached to anyone. Cause of the job's nature and all that stuff."

This time it was me who stayed quiet. I just kept listening to him, realizing how much I *love* his voice and how could I listen to him talking *forever*. It occurred to me how beautiful his magnetic blue eyes were, especially in the middle of the night. One could say the same about Bond's face which now seemed to me like the face of the most handsome man on the planet. It should be illegal to be *that* handsome, I thought.

Bond turned his head to me.

"Then I've met you... and it seems I forget about all of those rules in the blink of an eye... it seems I don't control myself anymore."

I don't know how it happened, but in the next moment I found myself in Bond's arms. I felt his embrace, so tight, as if he wanted to protect me from all of the threats of this world. The glass dropped out of my hands and probably broke up, but we didn’t hear anything apart from the sound of our pumping hearts. I placed my hands on Bond’s chest, and we began to kiss, not being able to control the lust that started to fulfil our bodies. I quickly moved my hands to his neck and then the back of his head. I caressed his hair, which felt like the most pleasant material I have ever touched.

"You're the woman of my dreams," whispered Bond, when he started to kiss my neck. In response, I tilted my head back, but continued to touch his hair.

Out of the blue Bond picked me up and headed towards the bedroom. He was in a hurry, wanting to put me on his bed as soon as possible. He took off his shirt and laid down on me, holding my waist and passionately kissing my neck.

"Oh, James," I moaned, as the touch of his lips and hands started to turn me on. “Keep going... umm... And use that nice, deep voice of yours.”

“Like this?” he asked, lowering his voice and biting my ear. “Do you like it?”

“Yes...”

Oh my, I am in heaven. If he doesn't stop, I'll melt, I thought. I let Bond kiss me a few more times, but then moved to the other side of the bed to undress. Bond watched me hungrily as I took off my dress and stockings. And there I was, lying on his bed and wearing only my sexy black lingerie. I thought that he would eat me if he could.

I encouraged Bond with a sensual gesture, touching myself where I wanted to be touched the most. He couldn’t stand watching me for long, and came closer to kiss me again. He slowly moved from my belly and breasts to my neck.

“I've been waiting for this moment since the day we've met," he murmured, while kissing my collarbone.

I closed my eyes to double the thrill and make the experience more intense. My hands moved to his back and held him tighter.

"You drive me crazy," Bond whispered into my ear.

A fast thought crossed my mind. It's true what they say in the Service... nobody does it better... he's definitely a great lay... to hell with “the revenge plot”, go for it, Kath. I was just about to take off my bra, when I heard something was vibrating. I got a text. Great timing. I opened my eyes and reluctantly sat on the bed, bending down to the bedside cabinet.

"Oh, Katherine, just ignore it," said Bond who still caressed my waist with his right hand.

"Look who’s talking," I replied. "The most professional man in the Service... There’s no need to describe this to you..."

I looked at the screen and in that exact moment my adventurous mood was gone. I felt as if my heart stopped for a short while.

Hi, just wanted to let you know that I have some evidence. He's not married anymore. Love, Eve

I quickly locked the screen to prevent Bond from seeing the message, as I felt his touch on my back. He hugged me from behind, kissing my left shoulder.

"Shall we continue?" he asked in his naughty manner.

I froze in my tracks. What about M? How can I fight for him if I sleep with another man right now? I promised myself to fight for Mallory and I have to be consistent. This was fun, but... I love Mallory, right? It's high time to stop playing games... and to finally forget about Bond. Perhaps it's a good sign I got this message before we did antyhing reckless.

I stood up with my back to Bond, still holding the phone in my hands.

"I'm sorry James... but I can't do this,” I declared as seriously as I could.

"But why?" he asked calmly, but his voice was full of disappointment and sadness. "Was it something I did?"

Oh, dear James, I thought. If you only knew how perfectly you did everything...

"No," I replied and turned to him. My voice was shaking a bit. "It was... it was a wonderful night, but I've never slept with a co-worker before... and... I've just realized it would be wrong. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for this," I blurted out and felt a tear doing down my cheek.

Bond seemed not to believe me.

"You've *just* realized it? *Just* after you've got that message," he said, pointing to my phone. "I don't know what this is about, but... we've had such a great time here, why not celebrate it tonight? It doesn’t matter at all that we work together."

I turned my head in embarrassment, trying not to look at him. He stood up and came closer to me.

"I know that you like me," Bond said and placed his hands on my arms. "You can't simply deny our chemistry. You've seen what kind of magic it can cause... you don't have to ruin it."

I took his hands off me and went to the other side of the bed to grab my clothes.

"I'm really sorry, James. It's over."

"It's over before it even started... Strange, isn’t it?"

I ignored him, as I headed toward to the door leading to my part of the suite. I must have looked miserable in my sexy black lingerie, holding my evening dress, and being on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"I don't want to hurt you *again*," I said quietly with my hand on the doorknob.

Bond shook his head.

"You will hurt me if you leave,” he said calmly, but I knew he was full of anger. His eyes told me he was suspicious of everything I’ve said.

As I knew he had the very right to be suspicious, I turned my back on him, trying to get inside my part of the suite. My hands started to shake, making it impossible to quickly open the door.

“You still think about *him*, don’t you Kath...?” Bond asked in a raised voice, with his hands on his hips. “Why do you keep deceiving yourself? He’s not cut out for it! He doesn’t see you this way... and even if something happened between us he wouldn’t care!”

But I would, James. I would, I thought, going inside my part of the suite through the door. I couldn’t bear to look at those cold blue eyes again.

I went up straight to the bathroom and locked the door. I could not think of anything else than just bursting into tears.

You're so stupid, Kath. Mallory thinks you're responsible, but you're just stupid, I thought, looking at myself in the mirror. What was that for? Bond might be a womanizer, but no one deserves to be treated like that. No one. Does he use other women? He does. But it’s none of your business, Kath. You don't offer someone the pleasure and then deny it. You just don’t...

I spend a few minutes sitting on a bathroom’s floor and crying.

But looking on the bright side... at least I got my backup story. Everyone will see something’s happened between us, but no one will ask questions. And if there is a slightest chance M cares about me, he’ll get the message.

I can’t wait for this mission to be really over. By this time tomorrow I shall be in my apartment in London. Alone.

***

To be continued.

#fanfiction #james bond fanfiction #002 #007 #james bond #bond james bond #m #gareth mallory #katherine mallory #eve moneypenny #casino royale quote #the spy who loved me song quote #nobody does it better

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ibijau · 4 years

Note

jin ling / oyzz 32 pls!! :3c ❤️ u!!

so blocked on other things that I’m finally getting back to my prompts yay

If there was one thing Jin Ling had learned early on, it’s that fate hates him. His familial situation is good proof of this, though it is his love life that makes it the most obvious.

At twelve, he developed a crush on a girl from another sect who was staying in Jinlin Tai as a guest disciple. She was about two years older than him, pretty as the sunrise on Yunmeng’s lake, and strong enough to break a fierce corpse’s neck with her bare hands. It took Jin Ling weeks to decide how to talk to her, and when he finally did, an enormous pimple appeared right in the middle of his nose, disfiguring him. Jin Ling tried every remedy he could buy to bring his face back to normal, but only managed to make things worse. He never had a chance to talk to that girl, and she soon returned to her own sect, leaving Jin Ling completely heartbroken and ready to swear he would never love again.

A few months later, at thirteen, Jin Ling fell in love with a Yunmeng Jiang disciple. He tried to impress the older boy by showing off his diving skills. It was a common game for his uncle’s disciples, and Jin Ling had played it often enough as well. He liked to think he was good at it. His uncle had said he was good at it! And yet when he tried to dive in a very cool way to impress that one Jiang disciple, Jin Ling hit his head against something and nearly drowned. After that, he refused to come again to the Lotus Piers for ages, not until his uncle dragged him away from Jinlin Tai and forced him to go to a rather ill fated Night Hunt that changed his life.

If Jiang Cheng hadn’t taken Jin Ling to Dafan Mountain, he wouldn’t have met Mo Xuanyu. If he hadn’t met Mo Xuanyu and been rescued by him, he wouldn’t have had a debt toward him and helped him run away from Jiang Cheng in Qinghe. If he hadn’t angered his uncle like that, Jin Ling wouldn’t have needed to lay low for a while, and he wouldn’t have stumbled upon a group of juniors from various sects. And then…

Then he wouldn’t have met Ouyang Zizhen.

Meeting Ouyang Zizhen had been both a blessing and a curse. Well. Mostly a curse, actually.

Jin Ling, fourteen, with a bad ego, an even worse temper, and about to be hit in the face by more family secrets than any fourteen years old boy ought to have dealt with, just didn’t need the added horror of being in love again. It really was unfair and needlessly cruel of Ouyang Zizhen to be just that perfect, and handsome, and eloquent, and kind, and…

For a good while, Jin Ling managed to keep himself under control. He had bigger things to worry about, such as not getting killed by Xue Yang, or not getting killed by fierce corpses, or not getting killed by his uncle, and also discovering that his family was an even bigger mess than he’d ever realised, which was really saying something. And yet even with all those much more important things to keep him busy, Jin Ling couldn’t stop thinking about Ouyang Zizhen’s smile, his heartfelt tears for that ghost girl in Yi-City, the fierce way he’d fought in the Burial Mounds, how he hadn’t hesitated to stand up for Wei Wuxian… and also how he had firmly sided with the Ghost General against Jin Ling.

It really was Jin Ling’s fate to be eternally unlucky in love, he’d thought after that. And then, when he’d learned what kind of men his uncle and grandfather were, he’d figured that maybe his bad luck was just so his family would end with him, and stop making a mess of things.

And yet, in spite of being clearly cursed with the worst luck in the world, a few weeks after suddenly becoming sect leader, Jin Ling had received a letter. Not just any letter, either, but an invitation to join some other boys on a Night Hunt, among which Ouyang Zizhen who had been the one writing that invitation. Jin Ling’s broken heart had mended on the spot, delighted to find that Ouyang Zizhen had thought of him for this. Considering their last interaction hadn’t been too great, it had to mean something if he was invited, right?

It took some effort to convince the Jin elders, but in the end Jin Ling was sect leader now, and so nobody could really stop him from going wherever he pleased. He flew as fast as he could after leaving Jinlin Tai, and arrived less than a day later at the residence of the Baling Ouyang sect where Ouyang Zizhen welcomed him with that beautiful smile of his.

“You arrived a little early,” Zizhen said as he guided Jin Ling inside. The Baling Ouyang sect wasn’t very big, nor was it very rich, so the place they lived in was not much when compared to Jinlin Tai. Yet because Zizhen was there, Jin Ling found that simplicity charming, and that smallness cozy. “My father has a guest with him,” Zizhen explained, “but they’ll be leaving to their own Night Hunt soon enough. Well, they say Night Hunt… mostly Yao zongzhu and him like to head out and find a nice place to drink without my mother and auntie Yao bothering them.”

Jin Ling grimaced. Sect Leader Yao wasn’t very high on the list of people he liked to deal with. Zizhen noticed his expression of course, and laughed.

“I know, I know,” he said, leading Jin Ling inside a reception room decorated with rustic charm. Or at least, so Jin Ling chose to call it. “Jin zongzhu, just wait here and…”

“You can call me Jin Ling.”

“Wouldn’t that be disrespectful?” Zizhen asked. “I imagine people already give you a hard time for being so young, I don’t want to be too familiar and undermine your authority.”

Jin Ling’s poor heart started beating faster in his chest. Ouyang Zizhen really was too perfect, kind, courteous, clever… Even other kids in Lanling Jin were sometimes making a fuss about using Jin Ling’s title, especially those older than him, but here was Ouyang Zizhen, worrying about his image!

“I don’t care what others think,” Jin Ling said with all the haughtiness of a teenager with too much power. “You are my friend, so you can call me as you like.”

“Then maybe Jin Rulan?” Zizhen suggested. “It would be less…”

“You can call me anything you like, except that,” Jin Ling promptly corrected.

“Ah. Well, Jin Ling it is then,” Zizhen said, giving in. “Listen, I do have to tell my father that you’re here, or he’ll be cross later. He’ll probably want to drop by, but I’ll do my best to make sure it’s short. And then… it’s still early, and I don’t expect anyone else to arrive until tomorrow, so we could try to have some fun in town together?”

Jin Ling eagerly nodded at that proposition. Time alone with Zizhen sounded like the best thing ever. If he played this right…

While Zizhen left to go see his father, Jin Ling started pacing the room, trying to plan a course of action for the evening. He didn’t know what they might end up doing, since he’d never spent any time in Baling before, but surely he could hazard a few guesses. They’d have to eat, for example, and Jin Ling would of course offer to pay. Zizhen might protest, being the host, but Jin Ling would use the rank card and treat the other boy to any and all delicacies could be found in these parts. And surely there were interesting sights to see, or a scenic place perhaps? If they could go walk somewhere pretty, then Jin Ling would just have to take Zizhen’s hand and…

Or would it be better to talk about his feelings before? Jiang Cheng always said it was better to be direct in those things, so there could be no misunderstandings. Of course Jiang Cheng was terminally single, so perhaps not the best example to follow. But directness had seemed to work pretty well for Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji in that temple in Yunping, so clearly there was a merit to that idea. But how to confess? Zizhen was an eloquent person with a poetic turn of mind, whereas Jin Ling… well, Jin Ling knew where his strength laid, and it definitely wasn’t in eloquence. It ran in the family, apparently.

On both sides.

It was fine though. There was no shame in having a practical turn of mind. When they were married, Zizhen would be eloquent in his stead, and Jin Ling would do the accounting, and they’d be a perfect team. For that reason, it made sense that his declaration should be a reflection of his personality: direct and to the point. He just needed to stay calm, find the right words, politely express his intentions, and everything would be fine.

Jin Ling just needed to keep his cool.

All things considered, he should have remembered that this was not something he’d ever been good at.

So when he saw the door start to open again, when he caught a first glimpse of Zizhen’s beautiful smile, of his elegant eyes, Jin Ling panicked.

“Zizhen, I like you a lot!” he shouted. “Please allow me to court you!”

Ouyang Zizhen froze on the spot, while the door finished opening, revealing sect leader Ouyang and sect leader Yao behind the teenager, both of them staring at Jin Ling in shock.

Realising what he’d done, Jin Ling nearly fainted.

This time his reputation was ruined for ever, and he was never going to live it down.

#ouyang zizhen #jin ling #no idea the ship name sorry #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #Anonymous

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harryandmolly · 5 years

Text

Complicit // 3

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW, a TLWH easter egg

WC: 7k

-----------

Shawn Mendes & Bex Spotted Canoodling in Toronto -- The Sun

Did Shawn Mendes Take Bex Home To Meet The Parents?! -- JustJared

Fallin’ All in Bex! Shawn Mendes and Bex Hit His Hometown For A Romantic Weekend -- TMZ

Penny steps back from her magnifying mirror, mashing her mauve lips together after a good blot and decides she’s ready. She smoothes her manicured fingers down the front of her ice blue Vince slip dress and reaches for the handle of her suitcase, packed with one of her favorite clients in mind, who has a fondness for vibration.

As she turns, she’s stopped in the doorway of her bathroom by an enormous German shepherd, sitting patiently, watching her like a little girl studying her mother putting on makeup. Penny scrunches her face affectionately and squats a little, cupping the dog’s big soft head in her hands.

“My baby Pammy,” she coos, leaving the dog with a kiss on the nose that makes her sniffle and sneeze, “I’ll see you early tomorrow morning. Maybe we’ll go up to Wildwood Canyon for a hike.”

At the word ‘hike,’ Pamela’s head tilts dramatically. Penny laughs and heads for her front door.

Gus is standing on her porch with his arms folded behind his back, admiring her view. When he hears her front door open, he turns with a soft smile.

“Hello there.”

Penny rises on her toes even in her strappy sandals to reach his cheek for a kiss.

“You look lovely as ever. We’re heading to the Roosevelt tonight. Can I take your case?”

Always the same routine. Gus greets her, compliments her, tells her where her date is (though she already knows) and offers to take her luggage. His professionalism is somehow comforting. Penny nods and passes over the suitcase, allowing him to open her door in the back of his Tesla (the agency used to have a small fleet of towncars but went electric last year for the environment).

The car is cool and sleek and silent. Instead of the music some of the agency women prefer to play on the way to a date, Gus and Penny talk. He catches her up on his week, tells her that his daughter Jamie is trying out for freshman soccer and they’ve been running drills in their backyard in Pasadena. His partner Ty is running another marathon, which Gus shakes his head at. Wasn’t one enough?

Penny craves the normalcy she gets a peek at in Gus’s world. Her life is beautiful -- glamorous and exciting and full of color, but Gus has a family to come home to every night that loves him and misses him when he’s away.

She gazes out at the rippling lights of West Hollywood as they zip past. She makes a choice every day to pursue a life she’s not ready to share with someone else. The truth is, her job fulfills her so much more than dating ever has. When she started working as an escort, she still tried to date. No one was ever worth leaving her work behind for. No one was worth giving up the satisfaction of helping, of relieving, of healing. She resigned not to stop working until she met that person, if they ever came along.

Gus leaves the car in the back lot, taking her case with a wink and a smile.

Penny waits.

The room is cool. The doors to the balcony are open. Penny makes a mental note to shut them for privacy later. They may be in one of the penthouse suites, but this client is extra concerned about discretion and pays a premium for Penny’s sealed lips.

The delicious thrill of an evening with a client crawls up Penny’s smooth back. She reaches out and cups a pair of full hips facing the quiet night. She uses her lips to brush away the soft red hair at the nape of a neck.

“Hello, Julia.”

The woman in her arms reacts, relaxing palpably, sighing and closing her electric green eyes.

“Where the fuck have you been in the last sixteen days?”

Her voice is teasing. Penny grins against her freckled skin, nipping to feel Julia’s perky ass grind back against her hips.

“You were the one who’s been in Moscow shaking hands and playing nice with the big boys,” Penny reminds her, stepping closer and sweeping her hands up Julia’s stomach, teasing the undersides of her breasts beneath her silk blouse.

Julia comes down another notch, her shoulders dropping as she slowly gives in to Penny’s touch. She sighs again, louder, reaching for the wall to steady herself.

“Wish I could fold you up in my pocket and take you with me.”

“Mmm, you haven’t taken me on a business trip in a while,” Penny hums, remembering Rio de Janeiro in January fondly. She slips her fingers over the generous swell of Julia’s breasts, digging her nails in slightly to get her coming all the way undone.

Julia rolls her head back against Penny’s shoulder, blinking slowly. “That’s because you fucked me so hard with the strap-on I looked like an idiot meeting the Brazilian president. I couldn’t… walk.”

Penny drops a hand back down, gliding past her Prada trousers and into what Penny is sure is La Perla lingerie to press her fingers against Julia’s wet cunt. Julia gasps and grinds down into Penny’s touch.

“Worth it, though, right, princess?”

Julia whines, loud and breathy. Penny knows the sound well. Julia Granger, Fortune 500 CEO and one of the richest, most powerful women in the world, is willing, desperate putty in Penny’s hands.

“So worth it,” Julia replies, her voice an octave higher than her soft mumbling moments ago. Penny smiles, rewarding her with a rough roll of her fingers. Julia squirms and stares at her.

“Is that what you want tonight? You wanna fuck my pussy with your pretty cock?”

Adrenaline flares hot and heavy through Penny’s entire body. She drops her head back and closes her eyes, reveling.

“Maybe if you’re the good girl I know you can be.”

Julia coos, rolling her hips between Penny and her hand. “Gonna be a good girl for you. So fucking good, Penny. The best.”

Penny’s free hand cups the back of Julia’s professionally blown out hair and drags her in. She tastes like red wine and woman. Penny groans appreciatively, loving the way Julia softens and waits to follow Penny’s lead, never taking more than she’s given, totally willing to offer her considerable power. Drunk on it already, Penny bites hard on Julia’s lower lip, swallowing the sweet, silky moan.

Penny pulls away smiling, pecking the skin she just abused, eyeing the open balcony doors.

“Let’s close these before I get you screaming for me.”

Penny scurries on tiptoes toward her VPI HW-40 turntable, a lavish gift from a client, to turn down the silky crooning of Patti Page. In her free hand, she hits the “Accept Call” button on her phone.

“Hello, stranger.”

“Ciao, bella. How are things?”

Penny looks over the warm, angular face of her brother Peter and pads back to her loveseat. She settles in, sweatpants and hoodie on in full post-date hibernation mood.

“Things are good. I’m recovering from last night.”

Peter smirks and leans back against the blank white wall behind his dorm bed. “Who was it?”

“Julia.”

Peter cocks his head and grins. “I loooove Julia.”

Penny barks a vibrant laugh. “She’s your style icon.”

“She is,” Peter admits freely, widening his eyes to show his sincerity, “She was photographed in this vintage Chanel suit last month in Page Six, I think it was from the 60s, and I swear to god--”

“Pete, you know I usually pay more attention to what’s under the suit,” Penny interrupts dryly, lifting a brow.

Peter pauses and rolls his eyes. “Then you found the perfect profession.”

“I really did, didn’t I?” she teases, wrinkling her nose, “So, how’s school?”

Peter grunts and slouches down into his twin XL, picking at his Target-purchased jersey sheets. “‘S fine. I’m taking on an extra project in my Mathematical Economic Modeling class. Gets me more face time with that professor with the Apple connections, Dietrich. And the TA is gorgeous.”

Penny’s smirk is alarmingly similar to Peter’s. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She gestures to herself.

Peter snorts. “You’re not my tree.”

“I’m as good as. How is that tree of ours, anyway? Have you talked to them?”

“They’re fine. I talked to dad and Kris on Thursday. They’re going to Miami for fall break so they asked if I could stay with mom and Frank. I told them I was flying out to visit you instead.”

Penny pauses her fiddling with the cushions on her sofa and looks at him through the phone. “Are you?”

“Ugh, don’t look so horrified. I’m going to Sasha’s. Her family lives in Delaware and they have a boat.”

“First of all, I’m not horrified, I would just need to move some shit around in my calendar. Second, why don’t you just tell them that?”

“Oh my god, I’m not gonna, like, cramp your hooker style. Just leave me on a beach I’d be fiiiiiine,” Peter whines. Penny narrows her eyes.

“I don’t live anywhere near the beach and your ass still can’t drive. Why do you care if they know you’re at Sasha’s?”

“Oh my god, I know, my useless gay ass really needs a license, what the fuck,” Peter laments.

“HEY!” Penny yelps for his attention, “Why does it matter if you’re in Delaware?”

Peter grunts and rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t. I just don’t need them knowing shit about me, you know?”

Penny’s lips fasten. She nods. She can’t argue with that, it’s the same approach she took with their parents while she was growing up with them in the suburbs of northern Jersey. She didn’t have a shitty childhood or anything. In fact once her parents got divorced and quickly remarried wildly different people, things ran much smoother. But the family isn’t close. Her parents were very preoccupied with their own lives and never paid much attention to Penny or Peter. So they made their own family. And in that family, the less others outside it know about them, the better.

Penny feels an overwhelming urge to hug her little brother, the super genius, the boy who got into MIT at 16 to study Computer Science, Economics and Data Science. Their parents barely noticed, but Penny did. She pays his tuition bills and housing to remind him financially of how much she cares. She tries to remind him in other ways, too, like this, their (usually) weekly FaceTime date.

“Well, you’ll be out here for Thanksgiving, right? We’re gonna order Chinese and get high in Big Bear?”

Penny sounds laughably eager. She doesn’t mind. Peter deserves her eagerness and her care-giving instincts. He always has.

Peter smiles, hugging a stuffed hippogryff pillow into his narrow chest. “Course. Better you than the stepmonsters.”

Penny rolls her tired eyes. “I’m flattered. Email me your holiday schedule this week so I can buy your flight, ok?”

Peter nods and watches his sister yawn and collapse back into her pillows.

“Julia wore you the fuck out,” he laughs.

“She did. I’ve had a few very long nights over the last couple weeks, actually. And doing all the end of month stuff for Silver.”

“Silver, OMG, my mom.”

Penny continues, ignoring Peter’s extremely gen Z interruption, “And before that I was with Victor in the Caribbean.”

“Has Julia been hogging you since then?”

Penny glances at the record player, shrugging. “New client, actually.”

“Ooh, we love. Anyone I know?”

Penny doesn’t have to tell Peter to keep a secret. She also knows better than to play coy for too long. She tells him everything.

“Shawn Mendes.”

Peter’s eyes go wide. His jaw drops. He makes a squeaking noise and falls dramatically into his pillows. “Dead. Bitch, I’m dead. What the fuck?!? Are you… oh my GOD!”

Penny’s familiar with the reaction. She got almost the same one when she had a few dates with Timothee Chalamet last spring. This one is even more… Peter.

“Truly, this is the highlight of my life and it’s not even mine. What a moment. Can we just pause and take this in? Oh my god. You’re… oh my god. How many times have you seen him?”

“Twice.”

“Oh sweet god. Tell me everything, holy fuck.”

“I’m not going to tell you everything. I never tell you everything,” Penny reminds him.

She’s been open about her profession with her brother since he was 14 (with the maturity of an 18-year-old) but long ago decided he didn’t need to know all the details of her escapades. Some things have to remain just hers.

Peter whines loudly. “But this is different! He’s… god, an Adonis. The best looking man on the planet. Seriously, he has no business looking like that.”

Penny nods solemnly. She doesn’t disagree.

Peter’s lips purse. His eyes narrow. “But you like him, right?”

“I do. He’s very nice. And… he’s a very good boy.”

Peter lifts a cushion to his face and screams while Penny laughs, curling into a comfy ball on her couch.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Mendes?”

Shawn blinks. His stomach drops into his shoes and his fingers tighten around his phone. “Uh… yeah? Hi.”

“Hello, this is Colette. May I have your verbal password for security purposes?”

Shawn presses a hand into the hair he forgot he was doing up and frowns. La Splendeur has never called him before. He has to give his verbal password when he calls the service, but he’s a little thrown off at being the one getting a call. He clears his throat.

“Um, it’s “Ireland.””

Shawn wasn’t prepared to have to create a password when they first asked him for one so he spit out the first word he thought of, and Niall was the one who gave him their number, so…

“Yes, thank you. Mr. Mendes, I’m calling regarding your appointment tonight with Penny.”

He has the sudden urge to throw his phone on the bed and punch a pillow, throw a little temper tantrum. She’s cancelling. He can feel it. He’s been in Toronto sexless and desperate for 10 days thinking about seeing her again, feeling her again, making her come again. And now she’s ditching him.

“Yes?” he croaks miserably.

“There’s been a change of venue. Penny and her driver will meet you at the Bel Air Bay Club in the Pacific Palisades. We have texted you the address. Penny apologizes for the last minute change in plan and hopes you’re still able to join her.”

The roller coaster he seems to be on brings him back up to a peak. He grins and nods until he remembers Colette can’t see him through the phone.

“Yes! Yeah, no problem. 8:00 still?”

“Yes, 8:00. Thank you, Mr. Mendes. Enjoy your evening.”

Shawn is about five minutes from the turn off to the Bel Air Bay Club when the radio station he has on to block out the static in his head starts playing the Lost in Japan remix. He flinches and hits the off button on the stereo, looking around at the red light like he’s worried people stopped around him might think he’s listening to his own music. Truthfully, he doesn’t want anyone around him to notice him for any reason tonight. He feels safe enough for now.

He was immediately relieved when he realized Penny was not cancelling their date, but became slowly unnerved trying to riddle out why she didn’t have the service book a hotel room like their first dalliances. She’s changing the game. Why is she changing the game?

He knows he’s not in charge. That’s literally the point. Seeing her means seeing her on her terms and bending to her will and whims. So if driving out almost to Malibu is what she wants him to do, he’ll do it. But just when he was getting comfortable with this, or as comfortable as he can be when he’s regularly utilizing the services of a high priced call girl, she’s got him on edge again. Maybe she’s doing it on purpose. Maybe it’s a whole “domme” thing -- luring him like prey into a sense of security and then teasing him, faking him out to keep him on his toes.

He might be thinking too hard about this. Penny’s always trying to get his mind clear, not confuse or upset him. She wants to take care of him.

He swallows as the light turns green and he eyes his turn off a few hundred yards away. He hopes he’s dressed ok. He googled the Bay Club and it seems to just be an event space, not a restaurant or a hotel, which threw Shawn even further down the loop. He’s in black jeans, the good ones, the ones he wore before the Calvin Klein partnership that don’t have the big obnoxious CALVIN KLEIN JEANS patch on the back waistband, and an off white oxford with some embroidered detailing on the inside of the collar and the shirt pocket.

Are they staying here? He wonders as his Tesla hugs the curves of the road heading up the bluff to the Spanish style country club. Is she taking him to some kind of event? That would be weird. People know him. She can’t take him to stuff and expect him to be incognito. She wouldn’t do that, right? She’s been doing this a long time, she probably has had lots of famous clients that insist on staying under the radar.

He begins to spiral as the road does, dropping him right into the valet lane in front of the grand main building complete with cascading bougainvillea and an ornately sculpted fountain. He spots Gus standing under an overhang with his arms folded professionally looking like expensive private security. Shawn supposes that’s exactly what he is, actually.

The car rolls to a stop. He chokes down an inhale and rolls his window down when Gus gestures to him.

“Good evening, Mr. Mendes. Miss Penny is in the parking lot just around the corner there. May I see your--”

Shawn holds up the screenshot of his bank’s transfer confirmation on his phone with what he hopes is a smile and not a grimace but his whole stupid body is churning. Gus looks it over and nods, waving him toward the lot.

It’s nearly empty. There’s no event here tonight. It’s near sunset on a Tuesday in early June, but the dreaded LA June gloom is nowhere to be seen. Maybe Penny did away with that for them, Shawn muses absurdly as he steers the car toward the lot. She has power he doesn’t understand.

He stops the car in the middle of the lot, hitting the brakes a little too hard. He can’t even be bothered to park.

Propped up against a sleek black Aston Martin Vanquish S in a little white dress and beige leather driving gloves is Penny, looking somehow more like James Bond than one of his Bond girls. His brain pops and fizzles, giving out entirely. He swears he’s already hard in his jeans just from seeing the car. He releases a whimpered breath and gets his shit together enough to park beside her, not directly next to her for fear of bumping her car with his door.

He steps out on jello knees and stares at her, a burst of shocked laughter rumbling from his chest.

Penny grins and pats the hood affectionately.

“You wanna go for a ride?”

Does he ever.

The car growls as she shifts gears once they’re back on the PCH, cruising past ridiculous beach homes on their right and the Pacific on their left. He keeps looking down at her lap and the way her leg muscles flex and release as she works the pedals easily, like she’s been driving hundred thousand dollar sports cars since she got her license.

“How long have you had this?” he murmurs, gazing around at the blonde leather interior appreciatively.

“Two years. It’s my dream car.”

She strategically leaves out the part explaining that it was a gift from the North American president of Aston Martin for her birthday while he was her client. That’s need to know information.

“I think this is everyone’s dream car,” he snorts.

“I like your Tesla though,” she comments, shifting again, swerving around a couple hippies in a Jeep Wrangler without doors as easily as if she were brushing an ant off a windshield. Shawn’s stomach lurches in response and his skin tingles. There’s something incredibly sexy about a practiced, fearless driver.

“Yeah, it’s a good car,” he chirps, feeling silly about the boyish pride he felt when he bought it, like he was hot shit. Teslas are everywhere now, especially in LA. Aston Martins remain eternally cool. He finds himself oddly jealous.

“I don’t let just anyone in this car, you know,” she says, easing into a stop at a red light as they head north to Malibu. He looks over at her.

Her berry pink lips spread. He flushes.

“Oh no?”

He picks up on the implication that she means she doesn’t often take dates in this car. Where there was a hint of childish jealousy there’s now a swell of pleasure and pride.

“No, definitely not. There are many powerful men that are comfortable enough submitting themselves to me for sex but still can’t stomach being driven around by a young woman who’s a better driver than they are in a car that’s nicer than theirs.”

She lifts her leather gloved hand gracefully from the gearshift and drops it against his mid thigh, mashing her lips together as they enjoy the breeze coming in from the window.

“You’re saying you think I’m secure enough in my masculinity?” he jokes, but he feels himself flush a little.

Penny squeezes her fingers enough to make his whole body stiffen. She lifts the corner of her mouth in a smirk at his reaction.

“Exactly.”

Her voice is smooth and controlled, just like her driving as she springs forward on the green light. Shawn’s head tips back against the seat from the acceleration. He misses her hand as soon as she takes it away to attend to the gearshift.

He turns his head to watch her shamelessly, pressing his cheek into the warm leather headrest, admiring the way her dark hair flutters in the breeze.

“So where are we going?”

She smirks again in that way that always makes him ready to drop to his knees in surrender to her. That smile means she knows everything and controls it, too. He loves that smile. That smile is his freedom.

“Oh, you noticed this isn’t a hotel room?” she teases.

Shawn rolls his eyes and looks forward, watching the colors spread like spilled paint on a canvas as the sun begins to dip below the watery horizon. “Don’t need a hotel room to make you feel good, Penny.”

He feels her eyes and looks over to see her watching him, swiping her soft wet tongue against her lower lip. “Good to know.”

She dips around a curve and slows at another light, drumming her long slender fingers against the wheel. He watches them and can’t help but think about the last time they were together when she so generously let him watch her fuck herself and suck on her fingers after.

She seems to sense his antsiness and clears her throat. “Well, we are headed for a hotel room. I just wanted to take you on a little drive first. It’s not often I show off this car, like I said. And I like this part of the PCH.”

He settles, knowing there’s a bed for them at the end of this little journey. “Do you like the beach?”

“I love the beach,” she answers, nodding, “My favorite beach in the world is on Laucala Island in Fiji. It’s dead quiet and the snorkeling is the best I’ve ever seen.”

Shawn smiles. “So have you been, like, everywhere?”

“Well, I’ve been most everywhere on the Conde Nast Traveler’s Best Of list. There are still a lot of other places I’d like to visit.”

“Like where?”

“Like… Chicago. I’ve never been to Chicago,” she chuckles.

His eyebrows lift. “You’ve been to Fiji but not Chicago?”

She shrugs. “I know. Imagine missing out on all that deep dish pizza.”

Shawn laughs. “It makes sense though. Clients would rather fly you somewhere sexier than Chicago.”

There he goes, acknowledging the elephant in the back seat of the sportscar again. Penny nods appreciatively, but stays quiet. She still isn’t quite sure what to do about his insistence on reminding them both that she’s here with him in a professional capacity. He doesn’t even sound bitter or awkward about it, that’s the weirdest part. He just treats it like it’s a part of her life, and maybe he’s interested in her life and not just the insane orgasms she can dish out.

“What’s the craziest trip a client has taken you on?”

Penny chews on her lip. Shawn expects her to come away with lipstick on her teeth, but nothing. Figures. She’s perfect.

“I think… well, I can’t tell you who, obviously, but someone flew me to Mustique once on about four hours notice. I had to pack and get myself to LAX to catch the flight. And then we couldn’t get back for almost a week because of a hurricane on the east coast. But honestly, if I had to be stranded on any private island, I’d pick that one.”

Shawn grins and launches into a story about getting hounded by paps in Mexico with his family once. While Penny listens, she quietly marvels at how easily he handles her honesty about her job. She understands she’s not getting into the nitty gritty, not describing how many influential businessmen, politicians, musicians and actors she’s had on their knees for her, but still. Given the way he reacted the first time she flubbed and made mention of their professional arrangement, he seems oddly relaxed about it now.

She likes hearing him talk. She can see the way he settles down when he’s rattling away about something. He talks about his family and his crew and bandmates, weaving in and out of tangents with each breath. He doesn’t question it when she flips on her turn signal and edges them up a canyon path that leads up into the craggy hills, climbing away from the sunset.

He’s even still chattering when she shifts the car into park at the top of a bluff with a deserted lookout point that she knows and loves.

“... and anyway, I think the festival thing will be good, ya know? It’ll take my mind off all the shit leading into releasing the next album. Or, hopefully it will.”

He looks around and registers that they’ve stopped. He clears his throat and smiles sheepishly, tilting his head back against the headrest. His curls flop boyishly over his forehead, bathed in violet light from the sunset.

“I haven’t shut up for fifteen minutes at least, eh?”

Penny shakes her head, amused. “You haven’t, but that’s perfectly fine with me.”

Shawn understands that. It’s better if he talks than if she does. Her job is probably one that she tries not to put too much of her real self into. He imagines he wouldn’t, if he were in her position. Too messy.

He tries not to feel the pang of… something that flares in his chest when he looks at her and wonders how much of the little she shares of herself is real.

“I wanted you to see this view while the sun was still setting.”

He nods and settles in. They unbuckle their seatbelts. She reaches for her phone that’s plugged into the stereo and selects a playlist. Shawn closes his eyes, stretches out his legs as much as is possible in the sleek sports car and sighs.

“This is nice. I feel, like… really good around you.”

He doesn’t even flinch when he feels her fingers on his neck, the soft buttery leather tracing up his jugular vein to run along his jaw and tangle in the hair at his nape.

“That’s good.”

He keeps his eyes shut and breathes into her touch, letting Frank Sinatra’s voice flood out anything that isn’t Penny related. His aching brain welcomes the cleanse.

“Do you feel good around me?” he hums.

“I do,” she responds, pulling her hand back from him. He opens his eyes to see her carefully slipping out of her driving gloves. The action is erotic in a Victorian sort of way, despite the fact that if he glanced down he’d see a lot more leg than was ever shown in that era. He loves her hands, though. They’re fucking gorgeous hands. He thinks about them on a piano or a guitar and it makes him breathe a little harder.

She tucks the gloves away in the center console. Shawn swallows and blinks at her, hoping his big brown eyes can entice her into touching him with her bare fingers. He doesn’t even care where, not yet.

“So you like Sinatra?” he rasps.

He gets a nice little smile out of her. “I love Sinatra. I listen to a lot of that kind of music. The Rat Pack, anything from the 40s and 50s. My best friend Silver tells me I have an old soul.”

“Silver. That’s a cool name.”

Penny wets her lips and pushes a hand through her floaty blow out. “I’m not sure it’s real, but I don’t mind. She runs La Splendeur. We’ve known each other a long time.”

Shawn squirrels away this piece of information, knowing somehow in his gut that it’s the truth. He doesn’t think Penny lies to him much, if ever -- she just doesn’t offer a lot of specifics. When she does, he hoards them like a starving man.

“I thought about you so much in the last week,” he sighs, sounding resigned. As he keeps his eyes down at his lap, he sees her hand appear again, resting on his thigh. It’s warmer without her little glove. He takes a chance and places his on top of hers, massaging her wrist gently with his rough fingers.

“What did you think about?” she asks.

He looks up at her and sees all the little details his brain failed him on when he was away from her. She has little freckles on her shoulders, bared by the thin straps of her dress. She has a little scar on the cut of her jaw. Her lips are full and round but slightly uneven so when she purses them a certain way it looks like a sexy little scowl.

“Thought about touching you,” he muses, letting his greedy eyes rake over the rest of her, “Tasting you. I really… I love the way you taste, Penny.”

She slides down in her seat, sighing heavily, letting her legs fall open as much as the footwell will allow. Shawn’s mouth goes instantly dry.

“I wonder what you’ll do for me if I let you have another taste.”

She looks over to see Shawn’s eyes looking wild and needy. She has to tamp down a satisfied grin to keep her facade.

“Anything you want, Pen. I’ll make you come so good. As many times as you want. It can be like the other night, you know? Or… or whatever you want.”

Penny reaches out and cups his chin in her hand. He leans into it like an attention-starved house cat, practically nuzzling into her palm as his eyes flutter.

“Anything I want?” she purrs, pressing her fingertips into his jaw teasingly. He swallows a moan and nods as much as he can in her tight grip.

“Anything. Wanna be so good for you, Pen.”

She licks her pillowy lips and releases him. He inhales sharply, watching as she pushes her door open and steps out. Before he can react, ask what she’s doing or even open his door to try to follow her lead, she steps out of her vibrant pink Manolos and easily unzips her dress all the way to the hem, pushing it off her shoulders until it lands in the dust at her feet. Shawn groans at all her sweet soft skin, still evenly bronzed, her tight brown nipples puckering in the cool evening breeze. Her nude satin thong joins the rest of her expensive clothes. Shawn’s eyes focus on her, on the soft little patch of dark hair that crowns her pussy, on the memory of how wet he got her the last time they were together. He struggles to keep himself together.

She leans into the driver’s side, her breasts swinging as she lowers her head to kiss him. He sucks at her lower lip and hums into her mouth, the first taste of release as sweet as he remembers.

“Come here, Shawn,” she says firmly, jerking her head as she drops herself back into the driver’s seat, this time with her back to him, seated sideways facing her open door.

Shawn leaps out of the car, slams his door and hustles around the hood, barely slowing as he drops to his knees in front of her.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she chastises, plucking his hungry hands off her thighs as he braces himself to bury his face in her.

He looks up, bewildered but willing. She presses a finger to his lips, watches him kiss her skin while he stares up at her like it’s second nature to him.

“Stand up and turn around.”

His jaw snaps shut, the muscle twitching in protest like it does when he doesn’t get what he wants right away. Ever obedient, though, he stands and turns away.

Penny reaches into the glove compartment and comes out with a white silk tie from her favorite fetish set. She drops it in her lap and reaches for his hands, clasping them together behind his back. She binds him wrist over wrist like an expert.

His exhale whistles through his nose as his chest deflates. “Jesus, Penny.”

“I know,” she whispers soothingly. She’s been watching him all night. She knows how badly he wants to touch her. Taking that away is almost cruel, but it’s for a good cause.

With a gentle push from her, he turns and kneels again, watching as she props herself up, spreading her legs for him, arm up on the center console.

Shawn keeps his eyes on her despite how badly he wants to stare at her body. Her nose twitches against a powerful smirk. She rolls her hips forward slightly and watches him suck in a desperate breath.

“Want my pussy, Shawn?”

He nods almost frantically.

“Use your words.”

“Yes,” he croaks, his eyes flashing at hers, “Please. I need your pussy.”

She casually shrugs a hand into her hair and sighs. “Good. Because I want your mouth.”

Shawn lurches toward her, his shoulders pulling together as he buries his face in her warm wet folds. She mewls, smiling at his eagerness, rolling her hips slowly as he whimpers into her, trying to get his bearings before he can get totally lost in her perfect cunt.

He eases back slightly to focus on sucking on her outer lips, lifting his eyes to look at her as he tastes what he missed so much in the last week.

“That better, Shawn? You feel better now that you’re tasting me?”

He nods without lifting his head, swiping his tongue out to take long, broad licks of her, sweeping up all he can. When he can look up at her, her abdominal muscles quake, reacting to the heady desire in his eyes. She grunts, lifting her chin to urge him on.

“Yeah, feels so fucking good,” she mutters, letting her head fall back as she basks in it.

He knows what she likes now. After spending hours worshipping her pussy before he left for Toronto, he’s learned all the tricks, experimented carefully with pressure and position and speed and anything else he could think of to watch her perfect fucking thighs tremble next to his head and hear her make her pretty noises. Once she got comfortable with him between her knees, she started to talk dirty, praising him, swearing, generally moaning filth. He thinks he likes that maybe even more than her little whimpers.

But nothing’s better than when she screams.

Shawn starts slow, warming her up until she’s absolutely dripping on his tongue. He courses slow, deliberate circles around her entrance, just dipping inside and watching her chest rise with her inhale before he swipes at her lips some more, humming to drive her a little crazy. She likes the teasing, though. She likes the slow burn. He gives her what she wants.

“Like watching you suck on my clit with your pretty pink lips,” she half-whines, her foot slipping a little as she starts to fade closer to orgasm. He takes the hint and flicks at her swollen bud once, twice with his stiff tongue and then sucks it into his mouth with a satisfied groan.

“Yes,” she hisses, gripping his hair in one hand and the edge of her leather seat with the other, “Fuck, that’s so good. You’re so good for me.”

Shawn preens, sucking harder, then letting up on pressure, then going hard again. He can feel her orgasm coiled in her abdomen. She just has to let him release it. He alternates sucking and brushing his tongue against her entrance until she’s yanking at his hair, sitting up straighter.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come on your tongue,” she chants, nodding, eyes squeezed shut.

She opens them, looks down to see his hands straining behind his back, still bound for her as he sucks at her pussy like it’s the fucking fountain of youth.

She explodes. She holds his face down against her, rides it out against his mouth. Her legs spasm, feet slipping from where they’re propped beside him. Her cheeks are flooded red, her eyes glassy and dark as she swears his name. He doesn’t let up until she’s pulling his head away with a fist in his hair. He licks his lips and smiles -- it’s not a smirk or a simper. He smiles at her like he’s never been happier to see her. She grins back, giggling effusively.

“How was that?” he grunts, even though he knows. He wants to hear it. He deserves it.

“Perfect, Shawn. So… fuck, so good. Your mouth is amazing. You make me feel…” she sighs again through a drowsy grin, “You get me so high, baby.”

Baby.

His ears go as red as his cheeks. He ducks his head shyly, feeling his chest burn as his heart rattles like an angry kettle in his chest. One word, a word he’s been called a hundred times, a pet name he sings in songs he writes for women that don’t exist, and it has him reeling. He manages to raise his eyes again. She’s watching him fondly.

“You like that?” she whispers, cradling the back of his head as she reaches down behind him to free his hands. They go limp at his sides. He makes no move to touch her.

What a good boy.

He nods, uncertain. “I like that.”

“We all want to feel wanted, Shawn,” she coos, nudging him back up on his feet. She grins at the patches of dirt on the knees of his dark jeans. She offers him her hand and he helps her stand now in the crisp blue light of new dusk.

“Kiss me, baby,” she breathes, reaching for his waist. A weak noise of eagerness slips from his throat as he pulls her in, tucks her warm, orgasm-flushed body against his and lets her taste herself on his tired tongue. Just as he’s settling in, just as he gets comfortable and starts toying with tangling his fingers in the ends of her hair and massaging her cheek with his thumb, she pulls away, poker face firmly in place.

“Can you get my coat from the trunk?” She seals her request with a perfunctory peck against his lips.

He nods, letting himself look her over, naked and proud on this bluff above the ocean like there’s no one around for a thousand miles. He pops the trunk and opens her suitcase. A Burberry trench coat sits on top. He blinks and lifts it out. He’s about to ask if this is all she plans on wearing tonight when he catches sight of what else is in the suitcase.

He peeks his head around the trunk to look at her.

“Is… that for me?”

She places a hand on her hip and shrugs. “Dunno. Guess we’ll find out tonight.”

Shawn’s heart bounces into his throat. His fingers tighten around the jacket.

“Jesus… Christ.”

Penny smiles and looks down at her feet as she takes slow steps toward the back of the car. She pries the jacket from his clawed hands and slips it on over her bare body, tying it at the waist.

She looks up at him under soft, hooded lids. She sinks her teeth into her lower lip and cocks her head. “Ever tried one?”

He swallows like a fucking cartoon character and shakes his head.

“I think you’ll like it,” she purrs, flipping her hair out from under her collar and turning on her heel. She crouches, gathers up her dusty clothes and tosses them into the backseat. She slips back into her heels and lowers into the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition.

The car growls. Shawn shivers. She pops her head out the driver’s side door and raises her eyebrows.

“Coming?”

Definitely.

----------

Hello! Thank you for continuing to support my smuttiest series ever. If you’d to further motivate me, consider buying me a Ko-fi (link in bio)!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280 @bensbuttercup @shawnsmusical @paigeasourous @tell-me-when-ur-ready @softmendesss @tnhmblive @greedydevil @tamegray @meltingicequeen @havethetimeeofyourlifee @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o @hannahlouiseee @sarahlauramendes @shawnsmoose

#shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes series #shawn mendes smut #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes drabble #shawn mendes one shot #sub!shawn #shawn mendes fiction

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rantshemlock · 5 years

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It: Chapter 2

It: Chapter 2 is an almost three hour movie in which just about nothing of value happens

this review contains implied spoilers for the movie! if that bothers you, don’t read ahead.

It (2017) had some incredible setpieces with brilliant monster designs and fantastic practical effects, bolstered by a couple of excellent performances from the show-stealing Finn Wolfhard and Jack Dylan Grazer, along with an outstanding performance by Bill Skarsgard as Pennywise. this, and the simplicity of the plot, make up for the fact that the character writing was often shallow and the dialogue laden with exposition.

It: Chapter 2 has almost all of those qualities, but also one major flaw: it's a bad movie.

there’s a lot to unpack when it comes to why exactly It 2 is such an extreme drop in quality to the first movie; the biggest is the story, which is a mish-mash of new footage of the child actors and the characters as adults, and is probably the biggest pisstake in film history in terms how much of an extreme waste of time it is. for a film to so thoroughly enforce the idea that the characters’ actions are pointless and serve nothing is unbelievable. as a movie that should be a triumphant ending to the saga, we’re given what is explicitly told to us to be pointless.

It 2′s sin is that it doesn’t build up to anything. not storybeats, not relationships, often not even scares. things are laughably obviously telegraphed, even more so than It 2017′s often heavy-handed exposition. the movie wants us to care about the characters because of their past together, but rather than building off the first film’s two hours of story it instead patches in new settings and scenes that no viewer has any attachment to.

“remember the club house? you love the club house!” the film says, showing us to a set we’ve never seen before and have no reason to care about other than it dictates we have to now care about it. the first movie was incredibly well received and is now beloved, it has more than enough emotional moments to build off of, but the film rejects all that in favour of bringing up new ideas, new concepts that hardly get built upon. it demands you care, but doesn’t earn that compassion or attention.

unresolved issues is the name of the game in this movie; characters are constantly shown to have problems, huge, serious problems. Beverly is being abused by her husband, something we’re shown in overly graphic detail. Mike is suffering from untold trauma from standing vigil over Derry for years. Bill is fucking up his movie and his relationship with his wife. Richie is living a lie, deep within the closet. what’s most egregious is not just that these issues don’t get resolved, but that they never get addressed.

we are meant to believe that these characters care about each other, care deeply, have a connection that would drive them to die for each other, but no one notices that Bev is covered with bruises and is desperately avoiding home. no one questions Mike’s erratic, terrified behaviour. Bill forgets his wife exists. as i watched the movie i found myself asking, if Ben loves Beverly so much, why can’t he see her pain?

in the first movie, the characters’ issues were deeply entrenched in their psyche, were part of what Pennywise used to manipulate and attack them. in this movie, they haven’t moved on from their childhood issues and their adult issues are merely tacked on, lip service to the idea that they have grown up but a refusal to actually spend time examining what their issues as adults are. all the characters are suffering in some way, but they never share these things. for all their love and trust, they never developed past their childhood and they never learned how to be adults. their arcs from the first movie are reset completely; their development in that film never happened. for how little that film ties into this one and how much this one wants to retell history with new content, it might as well not have existed at all.

if It: Chapter 2 lacks anything, it’s tact. it’s carelessly violent and shallow, throwing around horrifying concepts and spending no time to flesh them out. while the idea in the book that Pennywise’s presence leads to more violence, abuse and bigotry deserves criticism, this film manages to do an even worse job. what in the book might be questionable and in need of updating becomes uncomfortable and thoughtless in the movie. the gay hate crime at the film is one of the most prominent examples; always a horrifying thing to read in the movie it serves even less purpose, exposes even less about the town, adds nothing, means nothing. goes nowhere.

let’s talk about being gay. let’s talk about Richie.

here’s a fun fact; discounting Nightmare on Elm Street 2 (as painful as it is for me to say this, as someone who fucking adores that movie) It: Chapter 2 is the first horror movie in a big franchise to have a gay hero, unless there’s some information i really badly need to be updated on. making Richie gay was a good move, and i think Richie was the perfect character to pick for it. he’s by far one of the two most likeable characters in the film, the most memorable, gets the best moments and the best lines.

but the conclusion the film gives him, combined with the hate crime earlier in the movie, after he spends the entire film in the closet letting no one know he is suffering, is that he will never be happy. he can’t open up to anyone about what he’s feeling; he never tells any of the others, even Eddie, the character strongly implied to be the love of his life. while Ben and Beverly are given one of the best and most visually striking setpieces of the film to reunite in, there is no such moment for Eddie and Richie. there is no catharsis for either of them.

while making Richie gay was an excellent idea, to try and throw a bone to us starving gays to have someone to cling to, but the ending of the movie left me feeling completely hollow. i did not want my takeaway from his character to be that he is traumatised beyond the point of any healing.

the politics of gay representation in this movie are bad, and so is race.

Stephen King is a writer with a dirty reputation for his habit of using “native americans” as shorthand for something magic and not understandable, and this film manages to not only dig up the few traces of this from the book but also make it worse, turning the ritual of chud (something that the book implied only worked because the characters believed in it and had no tie to native americans) into the act of ignorant, misinformed indigenous people who get not a single line to explain or defend themselves but are only allowed to be set dressing to later be ridiculed and demonised.

Mike, the sole black character of the movie, is served horribly in this film. while in the novel he was one of the most important characters, a thoughtful librarian and historian carefully gathering the history of Derry to research the truth of It’s influence, he was given no screen time in the first movie and in this one is the detested outsider of the group. he is pushed into the position of mentor and guide, rather than friend, and comes across almost like the old stereotype of the magical black character, someone who is only there to provide guidance to the white leads through insight he mysteriously and magically possesses. the film stripped away his position as historian and researcher from the first movie and now scrambles to make up for that, leaving him without the history and characterisation to allow us to understand who and why he is.

on top of this, despite the enormity of his sacrifice to stay in Derry and the clear mental strain it’s put him through -- Isaiah Mustafa gives Mike more depth and thought than anyone else did and brings in his performance layers of subtlety this film doesn’t deserve -- the other characters are mocking and derisive of his attempts, don’t trust him and accuse him repeatedly of lying to and betraying them. these moments go nowhere, also. he is always immediately ‘forgiven’ without any thought as to his own suffering or the continual selflessness of his actions. he’s the thoughtless punchbag to a film in which the character continually martyrs himself for the comfort of others.

he isn’t even given the dignity of being called the leader of the group, despite doing everything for them and coming up with every idea. for some reason, the leader is nominated as Bill, despite James McAvoy’s performance being lackluster to the point of fading into the background entirely and the character of Bill doing next to nothing in the film at all.

but again -- the characters in It are not allowed to care about each other’s pain and suffering outside of a few moments. they come with their mental turmoil and they are either completely cured of it or allowed to remain in it, unmentioned again.

there’s not a bad actor in this -- James Ransone is astonishingly good, pitch-perfectly recreating Jack Dylan Grazer’s every mannerism, Bill Hader is both funny and heart-rendering when needed, Isaiah Mustafa moves mountains to make the script give him some depth, and Bill Skarsgard is again incredible as Pennywise -- but there’s also not an actor who isn’t horribly, horribly maligned by the script. Jessica Chastain, an actress of tremendous power and presence, is given next to nothing to do or say. more thought and care is given to Stephen King’s cameo as a shop owner than the role of Henry Bowers.

the film has its moments. Richie and Eddie are a delight, and the monster design and practical effects are again top of the line. it’s just a painful shame that so much talent and craft, the skills of the incredible artists and designers, the hard work of the enthusiastic and engaged cast and the intricacy of the sets are wasted on a movie that has no direction, no idea where it’s going and no point to make about anything.

also, it’s pretty fucking galling for a movie to continually make jokes about how despised a writer’s endings are only for it to take the far better ending of the book and discard it for something so ridiculous it was a strain not to laugh in the theatre.

It: Chapter 2 has no reason to be as bad as it is, but all the goodwill in the world can’t save a story this fragile, this pointless, and that refuses to engage with any of the subject it brings up to this degree. It wants us to take it very seriously indeed, but there’s nothing here to latch onto; this movie is someone screaming ‘oh the horror’ in a beautiful room filled with set dressings that crumble to ash.

#rantsfilmwatch #my writing #it 2017 #it chapter 2 #justice for richie :(

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deadtoortle · 4 years

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Best Meat Grinders 2020

At the point when you think about a meat processor for your kitchen or for your business endeavor, a couple of meat processors will clearly spring up on head of your rundown. The following is an accumulation of probably the best meat processors in the market today. This rundown has been absolutely picked from various other meat processors since they are helpful, simple to deal with and in particular can deal with your ordinary meat granulating requests easily.

1. LEM Products W780 #12 Big Bite Electric Meat Grinder

LEM W780 Big Bite Meat processor

Key highlights

Hardened steel finish

Calm apparatuses and overhauled execution

Number 12 cutting sharp edges

Enormous meat container

Steel gears

Do you long for a ground-breaking yet calm meat processor? All things considered, we could possibly have the ideal meat processor for you. This Big Bite meat processor is among the most impressive processors of its group accessible in the market today. Its the most ideal decision for your consistently use. Its 0.75hp engine gives it enough capacity to granulate around 11lbs of meat every moment. This processor packs so much force that it without a doubt cuts your crush time considerably. The huge nibble innovation joined here permits the drill to take an extra enormous chomp of the meat and move it

The Big Bite meat processor has a lodging, drill plate and an edge all made of tempered steel permitting you to clean the unit without any problem. The processor additionally accompanies three stuffing tubes that can be utilized to stuff gave sacks and housings. The meat processor's engine is for all time greased up to make it a calmer bit of hardware that flawlessly fits into your kitchen.

The LEM Products W780A is just as proficient and durable as it feels to guarantee that you have the best experience when utilizing this processor. It accompanies a multi year guarantee and lifetime client service.

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2. W781A #Big Bite Electric Meat Grinder

LEM 781A Big Bite electric meat processor

Key highlights

Tempered steel engine lodging

Execution; Grinds 13 pounds of meat for each moment

Simple to clean yet not dishwasher safe

Balance; bigger distance across throat

110 Volts for all time greased up engine

In the event that you are searching for a meat processor with more yield for your home kitchen or business foundation then the W781A Bg Bite merits considering. The meat processor is a 750 watt which runs at a recurrence of 60Hz. The 1 HP engine improves it such a great amount for you since it handles your crushing needs effortlessly.

The Big Bite meat processor is intended for overwhelming use. The huge plate permits you to stack more meat which is then prepared rapidly on account of the Big Bite drill and the more impressive engine. The hardened steel finish on the meat processor gives it a predominant look as well as makes cleaning it a little assignment.

One other thing that makes the enormous nibble electric meat processor worth of your thought is the silence,it is incredibly quiet. The engine is forever greased up with better oil detailing. Contrasting its engine with different engines this was a standout amongst other quiet engine I went over.

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3. Weston 10-2201-W Pro Series #22 Meat Grinder – 1.5 HP Silver

Weston Pro Series

Key highlights

Ground-breaking, forever greased up, air-cooled engine

Exact designed riggings

Electrical switch fitted for security

Execution; Grinds 9-12 pounds of meat for each moment

Hotdog stuffing pack

A reasonable and viable meat processor is the thing that this is. Weston star #22 meat processor is extraordinary compared to other meat processor for both your home use and business purposes . It has a 1120 watts engine creating 1.5 Hp of intensity. This hardware has a capacity of granulating 9-12 lbs of meat for every moment and its an all metal construction(stainless steel).

The processor accompanies a for all time greased up air cooled engine making it quiet when you are granulating meat. It additionally has worked in electrical switch, and a plate monitor for included security in addition to a converse capacity switch. The plate and processor blade are made of treated steel making them solid and simple to clean.

This processor is one of the most solid meat processors in the market. The Weston master genuine is additionally good with the Weston 44 lb meat blender, another thing to note is, it accompanies a multi year guarantee.

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4. STX - 4000-TB2-PD International Turboforce II Electric Meat Grinder – Size #12

STX 4000 Turboforce

Key highlights

3 tempered steel cutting sharp edges

Discretionary foot pedal control

Bolted engine wattage; 2000 Watts of pinnacle power yield

Execution; Grinds 175 – 225 pounds of meat for every hour on rapid

3 speed switch framework; high, low and opposite

What do you search for in a meat processor, usefulness? Force maybe? Indeed, this meat processor is incredibly utilitarian as it conveys enormous measures of intensity empowering you to pound meat rapidly and with next to no object.

The STX 4000 Turboforce TB-2 is one incredible meat processor made for you by the STX International organization. It is by a long shot extraordinary compared to other meat processors available accessible for you. With an advanced structure, it packs a ground-breaking engine with 2000 watts of pinnacle yield power.

With such force, you can granulate 175 to 225 lbs of meat for each hr on rapid . This hardware likewise has a three speed setting, high, low and opposite explicitly made to make your every day meat granulating as smooth as could be expected under the circumstances, its without a doubt both a marvel for your kitchen and a mammoth to achieve your assignments.

This meat processor accompanies an inbuilt electrical switch and has 4 air cooling admissions which makes up this present processor's protected quad air cooling framework. The STX 4000 processor has 5 tempered steel crushing plates, 3 hardened steel cutting sharp edges and 1 arrangement of 3 wiener stuffing tubes which comes a connector, this is produced using top notch treated steel. The completion makes it mix in as well as very easy to use. This implies, it is simpler to clean and handle.

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5. KWS SL-8 Commercial 450W 1/2HP Electric Meat Grinder

KWS SL Commercial Electric Meat Grinder

Key highlights

On-Off switch with waterproof spread

Execution; Grinds 176 pounds of meat for each hour

4 – Sausage stuffing tube

Top notch tempered steel material

Tempered steel meat plate

The Kitchen Ware Station SL-8 is one flawless meat processor that is appropriate for making ground hamburger and hotdogs. The fabricates of this meat processor are masters underway of top notch kitchen machines and in this manner, they have made this meat processor from unadulterated hardened steel endorsed by the CE, LFGB along these lines making it entirely strong and you wouldn't need to stress a lot over breaking it when crushing.

This processor comes outfitted with a 1/2 drive engine with a crushing limit of 176lbs of meat every hour. On the issue of warming up when pounding, stress not on the grounds that this processor has two lines of openings on either side of the body that assists with dispersing the warmth off rapidly.

The producer has likewise water sealed the on - off change to maintain a strategic distance from occasions of electric shock, this makes it an absolute necessity have for your regular normal utilize both at home or at your business. When building up the meat processor, Kitchenware Station comprehended that simple cleaning and activity is a need for some thus they made it simple to fit this profile for you.

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6. Happybuy Electric Sausage Stuffer 1.5HP/1100W

Happybuy Electric Meat Grinder

Key highlights

Treated steel plate

Execution; Grinds 450 pounds of meat for each hour

Double warmth scattering structure

Removable granulating head and taking care of plate

Force line plug hostile to shedding

Toughness, simplicity of cleaning and usefulness is the thing that this meat processor has in its collection. The Happybuy Electric wiener stuffer is an extremely high performing meat processor made by the Happybuy Company to suit your regular meat taking care of requests. The meat processor gloats of a 110 V, 60Hz engine, with a wattage of 100W, that is equipped for 220 Rpm edge speed, and a limit of 450 Ibs every hour.

Having an extra plastic pusher, a meat plate and two processor plates, these adornments help in facilitating the utilization of the happybuy electric wiener stuffer. These electric hotdog stuffer can undoubtedly deal with various sorts of meat and give you excellent ground meat for your shop store. Happybuy electric hotdog stuffer is anything but difficult to keep up owing this to its embraced treated steel finish.

The happybuy electric stuffer is a durable processor making it a proficient bit of hardware appropriate for your huge meat burden and wiener creation. This electric wiener stuffer is an item intended to give you an all-inclusive help life party because of its double warmth dispersal structure that broadens its administration life setting aside you cash.

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7. Follow Commercial 1100W Electric Meat Grinder Mincer

Follow Meat Mincer Grinder

Key highlights

Tempered steel development

Two crushing plates

Balance head structure

Execution; Grinds 396 pounds of meat for each hour

Fine and coarse crushing plates

The Ensue meat processor is a first in class meat processor that is an unquestionable requirement have for your kitchen or business. With a limit of 450lbs, this 1.5hp meat processor is simply power stuffed. The 1100W engine conveys enough capacity to tear through the hardest meat easily.

Follow electric meat processor accompanies a remarkable treated steel configuration to make it simple to spotless, tough and for simple support. It accompanies two granulating plates for coarse and fine meat crushing purposes. These plates guarantee an assortment of minced meat items.

The follow electric meat processor plates guarantee that you will meet all your formula recquirments when you are managing meat. The fine plate delivers the absolute best wieners and burgers. It has a sharp edge speed of 220 rpm, permitting you to pound much more meat in a shorter timeframe when contrasted with other meat processors of its group.

Its additionally FDA guaranteed, this carries it to the first in class among its group of meat processors. The Ensue electric meat processor mincer is ea

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thecardsimagine · 5 years

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The Tale of the Fog Village

Summary: Venturing out of your foggy village, all you wanted was to save everyone from the looming threat that cowered in the forest. No one could have known what you would encounter in your quest to achieve that, how much you’d gain, and what you would lose. Not you. Not him.

Pairing: Lucio x Reader (Nonbinary) Rating: Mature because of swearing and suggestive content Warning: Blood, Death Genre: Romance, Drama, Fantasy, Action, Alternate Universe

Back to the Prologue / [Read on Ao3] / Next Chapter

____________________________

a/n: I currently really need to get to plotting the future story. I have another finished chapter but then never got farther >-< Feeling a little unmotivated at the moment, so I’d appreciate any kind of comment on this chapter! Let me know what you think, please! ____________________________

Chapter 2 - Explosive Experiments

Lungs stinging, you finally managed to reach even ground again. Your ascent to the top of the hilly forest had taken its ultimate toll on you. Every part of your body was shaking, and every time your mouth drew air in, it felt like needles to your throat. You couldn’t help but topple over, holding your torso up with your arms stemmed into your thighs. The muscles in your body felt like they were burning, and if you hadn’t had too much respect from what lingered on the ground, you might have laid down right then and there.

By now, it was remarkably dark in the forest, a fine night without a doubt. There were still no signs of fog, and only the crickets remained to tease you with their presence. Even if you felt like you had been run over by a horse, when you looked up, you could see the sparkle of stars in the gaps of the tree crowns, giving you some feeling of achievement. The light of the moon was all that kept you path lit too. Maybe, if you hadn’t been on this important mission, you would have really enjoyed lying down and star-gazing for a while. But all you could do now was concentrating on not accidentally lose track of your path or step into another fairy circle.

You didn’t know how late it was or how far away you were from your village, but even with all the optimistic talk just hours ago, you felt more and more tempted by the idea to just go back, forget about all of this. It was ridiculous, after all. You had been on your feet for so many hours now, and there was no sight of any strange buildings or even anyone lingering around. Just trees and trees and trees…

All your hopes left you as you breathed out the though to swallow air, looking up ahead on the path that lied before you. This all seemed to meaningless, now, that you weren’t going to find anything. Swallowing hard, you let your thoughts circulate through your mind, scenarios popping up here and there.

If you were to go back now, maybe no one would be too angry with you. Perhaps you could just sneak back into your home and pretend you’d been busy the whole day? There was no way you could imagine what the village would do when you strolled back idly and told them that you ventured out into the woods on a whim. A few cruel thoughts crossed your mind, too, and you were quick to banish them. You did not want to think about it, after all.

Letting out a long, deep sigh, you felt the defeat overtake your body. You had come so far, challenged yourself so much. Everything that hurt beneath your skin - which was literally, everything - was proof of your achievement and yet, you had nothing. Nothing to prove and nothing to preen yourself with. It was not that glorious, beautiful feeling you had anticipated when you started your journey, and you felt your stomach twist when you thought about going back to your ‘useless’ life.

If this was how the most significant undertaking in your whole life would end, it was unnerving.

Shaking your head at your own miserably, you turned, taking the first step back on the road you had come from. Maybe, if you took all the strength you had left, you’d be able to make it by the rise of the sun. You’d cozy up in your bed and pretend to have come back home late, afterwards keep yourself awake for another day and no one would even suspect anything. But that was not what should have happened.

Even before you could shift your weight on your backtracking feet, you got hit by a lash of wind, so strong it felt like a whip clashing into you. You tumbled back, falling to the ground with a suffocated yelp and shielding your eyes instinctively with your arm. When you let down your guard and looked up and felt yourself shudder from the sight.

What had you expected? This was the forest to a foggy village after all.

You could see the gray mist rise from the ground, taking over your view down into the forest’s valley from which you had just come from. In less than seconds, it was almost close enough to the edge that you had reached after all the climbing up. Ominous, scary it seemed to loom, and suddenly it dawned on you that you would never be able to get back with it blocking off the sight. If you were lucky, you’d probably have a range of view from the tip of your nose to the fingers on your hands when you held up your arm. The fog was that thick.

Had it ever been so threatening to see the fog? Aside from how fast it had come up - minutes before, you had still thought about peacefully watching the stars twinkle - the mist seemed to move almost, staying away from the ground you were situated on, but enveloping you as if it was urging you forward. You could not remember if ever before in your life it had made this impression on you. Maybe you were just tired. Maybe it wasn’t real. Imagination was a powerful thing.

Nonetheless, you stumbled to your feet, suddenly taken by a feeling of uncomfortableness. Only a few steps backwards and you were pressed against a tree with your backside. The more space you gave away, the more the fog seemed to catch up with you, crawling over the ground and inching closer slowly like an insect to a flower. You could not help but feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up straight while goosebumps hushed over your arms and legs. This all seemed unnatural and unreal to you, but you slipped past the tree, continuing on your way with your eyes always on the fog that seemed to follow you.

Somehow you felt like it didn’t want you to go back, though you could not decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

Swallowing the fear in your muscles, you turned around and moved forward. Intuition was what had brought you here. If it was going to tell you that the fog didn’t want you to go back, then you were leaning towards agreeing with it once more. Maybe all you needed was to trust yourself, even if you found it hard to do so.

With another shudder, you looked back over your shoulder, eyeing the gray mist suspiciously. However, the further you got, the less it seemed to come after you, dispersing slowly but surely into the air again. You rose a confused eyebrow at that, though you shrugged it off and looked forward again. Some things were better left without pondering about them, after all.

After that strange occurrence, you completely lost track of time and orientation. With you getting away hastily, you had lost the muddy patches you had always followed before and noticed way too late you went off-track to get back to them. Still a little unsettled and with a lingering feeling of helplessness, you moved onwards, eyeing every movement in the trees or on the ground that you could make out in the ever-growing dark.

That’s the way your existence would find an end, you figured. Alone, lost, in a place you shouldn’t be. Suddenly, every punishment that could have expected you back home seemed endurable compared to this, and you caught yourself more than one time choking back tears that formed uncontrollably. You were just tired and exhausted that you were sure off. Right the next morning you’d find your way back, just tracking your footsteps or something. With all the books you had read in your life, there must have been one to prepare you for getting lost in an unfamiliar forest, right?

Surprisingly, these thoughts calmed you a little, and you decided to be more rational about the situation. Maybe you could find a small cove or somewhere shielded to take a nap, so you’d catch up on a bit of energy before you tracked back the next morning. Unsurprisingly, by now, camping out in the forest didn’t sound so bad, after all, this was a completely normal, peaceful forest. That’s what you tried to tell yourself even after all that had happened.

Coming to a halt, you took a second to scan your surroundings, trying to figure out where to go. One place caught your eyes, dimly lit in the distance, and though you didn’t want to stray too far in case you really could backtrack to the path, you figured it would be nice to see a little bit more than the bare minimum in front of you. Carefully, with unsteady feet, you made your way towards it, hoping it was what you needed after this long, straining day.

And it was. In some form.

You could not hold back your jaw from dropping as you laid eyes upon the enormous brick building that rose up in front of you. With only the moon shining down on it and revealing it’s massive form to you, it looked far more intimidating than you had expected it would. In its simplicity, brick after brick, row after row, it seemed so out of place, you were immediately hit with another wave of chills.

Rarely you had seen bricks being used in building things before. It wasn’t the material typically used by your village, except for a few small things like fireplaces, so seeing something as big as the trees stand up in front of you made it even more intimidating. In a hint of naive curiosity, you wondered what it would feel like. Would it be warm? Or cold? But you kept your hand on the tree beside you, warily standing in the dark parts of the forest. Even you knew something like that wasn’t erected by just anyone, and you did not want to run into who build it.

Finally, you thought. You had reached it. The thing you had been searching for the whole day was presenting itself in front of you now, gloomy and unnaturally to a forest. Not at all how you knew buildings from back home, it seemed so foreign and unfamiliar to you. If anything, the only word popping into your mind to describe it would have been ‘advanced’ though you weren’t sure in which way this was applicable.

You did it. You really did it. Even with all your confidence and determination almost lost, you had followed the feeling that every rumor you had heard before was real. And finally, you were rewarded for it. Instead of the dull taste of defeat, you could feel your fingertips tingle, and you almost let out a small, victorious outcry. Sudden excitement rose in you, but you were quick to push it down into its place again. After all, you hadn’t achieved your true purpose to come here yet.

Yes, you had been right, and yes, you had managed to reach the building, but there was something other left to do. Something that needed to be done in order to achieve the peace you wanted to bring back to your village. You were the only one to do it, everything rested on your shoulders now. Right there and then, you could end it - and go back victorious like you had planned from the start. No one would ever call you useless or the like again when you’d show them what you had accomplished.

Huffing in encouragement to yourself, you reached deep into your bag, taking a few seconds to search for what you needed in the dark. You felt all the different kinds of surfaces that lingered inside, all of them necessities you were sure would come in handy and had packed in advance. But it wasn’t the time for them yet. Instead, your hands stopped at the feeling of a cold, thin material, carefully tugging it out of its secure place between some pieces of fabric. You had not dared to risk accidentally smashing one of these glass bottles on your journey, so you had packed them carefully.

But now it was time for them to shine and you pulled one out, holding it in your open palm for a few seconds and inspecting it. With the moon shining down, you could see the dark, black fluid shifting from side to side, it’s consistency thicker than water, so it glued to the walls of the glass bottle. Nervously you watched it as it moved, revealing streaks of red appearing every now and then, the fluid reflecting in the moonlight.

You could not deny how nervous you were to yourself. Even though it should work, you had no proof it would. When you were little, your father had taught you how to make these potions, instructed you on the harvesting of the ingredients and how to put them together without blowing yourself up. Alchemist, that’s what people who needed his help called him. A moron, was what everyone else said.

But were you still able to use his knowledge after all these years? You had practiced secretly, put together everything as he wrote in one in his books which your mother had hidden away in the attic from your siblings. And it looked like what you had fabricated in the past, even if your memory was hazy. You couldn’t help but feel guilty when you thought about what you were going to do now. In case there really were people inside you’d make quite a big mistake with throwing on of the small bottles.

Screw it, you thought. In the end, the threat remained, and while you prayed silently that everyone would be able to escape if it worked, you leaned back to take a big swing forward. You’d never know if your creation worked if you didn’t try and you’d never be successful if you didn’t know. For a second you sent another silent prayer to whatever there was, wishing that this would work as you expected it before hurling the little glass bottle forward, waiting for it to inevitable smash against the brick wall of the strange building before you.

There were less than seconds between the sound of the glass shattering upon impact and the deafening explosion that followed. Jumping in shock, you immediately cowered down as the wave of heat spread rapidly, followed by a gust of wind, making the trees around you sway. Suddenly, the building was radiating its own light, engulfed in flames. They seemed to struggle at first to take hold on the bricks, but soon enough started to rage and move all over it and quickly, the first hints of black appeared where they worked their heat.

Gasping, you could not move as you watched the fire spread with fear in your eyes. Even if you had wanted to go and take something as evidence that you really destroyed the threat, you were frozen while you watched the flames reach out to everything around them. The potion you had made had done this. Just like you had wanted to expect from it, though you felt more and more guilty for what you had created too. Never before had you done something socially tabooed like burn down anything and here you were, setting such a tall and sturdy building aflame. You realized now much too late you really didn’t know anything about it.

Shaking your head desperately, you tried to get yourself out of your weird state of mind, finally getting back onto your feet with the help of a tree nearby to hold on to. For another minute you watched as the flames went higher and higher, even spreading on the ground around the building - especially where the fluid had leaked - before catching your mind wandering off again and turning around.

Maybe it wasn’t the way you had come from, but you didn’t care. You had to get out of here immediately. Something was urging you to leave this place behind, even if it was just to escape the fire. Panicky, you realized that maybe this fire could burn down the whole forest. It would all be your fault for setting something flammable like grass and leaves ablaze. You banned all the thoughts about what would happen to your village if the forest really did catch fire everywhere. But surely, you would be the first one to get caught in it if you stayed now.

Running blindly through the nightly forest, you could still feel the heat on your back as the fire spread mercilessly. Looking over your shoulder, you saw the orange and red flames lick out to everything around it, ready to devour what it could. Fire was like that. Cruel, ruthless.

You looked back to the front, hoping you’d make it out before it could reach you. The flames already seemed to have caught up with something in the distance in front of you, probably because they wanted to envelop you. Maybe it didn’t want you to leave? Was that the forest scolding you for your doings?

Slowly, you came to a halt. That isn’t right, you thought, squinting your eyes to see better. There was no way that this could be the same fire as the ones in your back. No... No! Absolutely not, that was impossible! These flames seemed to bop up and down, growing and growing as they approached you. No, these were not flames.

These were torches.

Holding back a scream, you clasped your hands over your mouth, looking around you in a panic. Whoever was coming your way wouldn’t be all too friendly when they realized what you had done. Even if it was unlikely, if these were villagers, they’d blame everything on you and do who-knows-what. And if they were not? Maybe that building belonged to someone unbeknownst to you, and then you could expect no mercy after what you had done to it.

Feeling more and more like a caged animal, you weighed your options. Face these people approaching you or go back to the burning building? What should you do, you asked yourself over and over, hoping to press out an answer. Neither of this was ideal in any way, and you didn’t feel like any of these would get you out well and healthy.

Gently, almost like a holy sign, you felt the wind pick up, nudging you backwards to the burning building behind you. You didn’t want to go, this fire seemed way too dangerous to approach again, but your body decided otherwise. Nudged by the wind you took back step after step, feeling as if you got any closer to the fire, it would reach out for you too in an attempt to burn you. But before that happened, your foot got stuck on a vine sticking out from the ground, bringing you to a fall that you could not stop yourself from.

With a gasp, you felt your side fall upon the hard ground, pain stinging you and shaking through your whole body. Confused and scared, you tried to check the situation around you, hoping not to be too close to the fire or the torches approaching. You were glad for the adrenaline pumping through your veins as much as fear did, keeping you from hurting too bad. Softly, the tall grass around you swayed in the wind, as a new sound approached you, loud and hurtful to your ears. It was the sound of metal clanking against each other, paired with loud, thumping footsteps that approached quickly.

Holding your breath, you felt the ground shake beneath you, as they passed, the torches lighting up the area above you. Conveniently, the long strings of grass guarded your body against sight, swaying with the wind in a way that made them hover over you. You felt endlessly blessed by their help, keeping you from whoever could be there to see you, though the panic still took over your body, tears of fear welling up in your eyes.

“Shit,” a human voice growled next to you, presumably from whoever was holding one of the torches. The source of light twisted and grew stronger as the person seemed to move around. “How could this have happened, eh?” it asked in annoyance. Not a question you were going to answer. “I don’t know, Sir,” someone meekly responded instead. “M-Maybe lightning?” You almost felt bad hearing the stuttering voice. It sounded almost as scared as you felt.

“On a cloud-free night, eh? Are you dumb? Skedaddle, boy! Find whatever caused that, or I’ll make sure it’s your head at stake!”

With that, the footsteps continued, a loud and heavy pair followed by smaller, lighter ones. The brightness of the torches faded out too, leaving you behind to adjust your eyes to the darkness again. They seemed to move into the direction of the building, and you finally let out your breath, barely believing your luck. They had not seen you. You were free to go.

However, the happiness inside of you was harshly interrupted as a small chuckle caught your attention.

“That was bold, I’ll admit,” a voice hummed, sounding like it came from behind you. Flinching, you turned around, but there was nothing to see, only the grass shielding you from everyone’s sight and keeping you from seeing much yourself.

“How about it, kiddo? Need some help?” Confused, you looked to every side, throwing your head around to look behind you. Nothing. Just darkness and the cracking of fire in the distance. You wouldn’t have known how deep you were into all of this already, and in your panicked and fearful state, you only added another component to your potion of life, your voice weak and scared as you managed to speak up in a whisper.

“Y-Yeah, I could need some.”

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