#it’s such a clever little name that’s so packed with so much meaning

[insanesonofabitch]

Today I learned that deancasbenny is sometimes called destiny and God. I’ve never seen such a name for a ship that’s equally poetic as it is ironic. I would’ve called it poetic irony but that would wrongfully imply that they’re given what they deserved. It’s hauntingly beautiful.

[surferblues]

cherry red blow ! ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

dilfelvis! austin butler x fem! reader

notes if you have a problem with 5-10 year age gaps , do not read 😵‍💫 because when i say i like dilfs... i mean DILFS

warnings smut (18+ only, minors dni), unprotected sex, intoxication, dom! elvis, praise, p in v, unestablished relationship, implied age gap, spelling errors, and obviously sexual themes.

Elvis knew who you were. Hell, all he could think about was you. He wasn't the one to get caught up with one girl, he was the type of guy who would sleep with any woman who offered .

And he was Elvis Presley, he could sleep with any woman if he could - all, but you.

He knew best to not fall under the impression you wanted him, that you were doing all that dressing up for him. You were a nanny hired by Priscilla, you made it clear the first day you were hired that you had no ill intentions of ruining the Presley name.

The way you walked around his home with those satin little dresses that covered only so much. The way you covered your lips in that damn cherry red lipstick. He couldn't help to think you knew what you were doing.

You u loved your job. truly, there was good pay, you got on so well with the presley family, the house was big and luxurious. people would kill to be in the position you were in.

You did what you usually did in preparation of coming in for your job. You made sure every hair was in place, you made sure that your clothes came from the finest sellers, and your lips always were layered in that cherry red lipstick.

You had been hired by Priscilla, her hopes of hiring a nanny to watch Lisa from time to time so Elvis and herself could rekindle the faded spark in their relationship.

You had some knowledge of their difficulties of their relationships, as you got front row view to the arguments they shared every night Elvis came home drunk with a groupie under his arm.

The pills, Elvis never being home, and the women were just helping points on why Priscilla found it so difficult to be in a relationship with Elvis. So it was safe to say you weren't surprised when Priscilla packed up her things and left Elvis, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

A part of you was relieved when you found out Elvis was a single man, another part of you was worried about it. Elvis always made it clear he went for younger girls, and with the ten year age gap between the two of you - you knew he had to think of you in such a dirty way.

it started off as a little crush, but you never pursued in actually doing anything with the older man in fear of risking your job. he was smart, and you assumed he wouldn’t ever go for the nanny of his daughter .

that was until you’d catch him eyeing your cherry glazed lips, the subtle touches near your hips when he would pass by you, and clever flirty comments began to slip out of his mouth.

something in your dynamic just... shifted.

it was one night when he arrived home from a long night of partying, and Lisa Marie was sound asleep in bed — he’d find you with a halfway full bottle of wine in your grasp.

your cheeks flushed, your words sloppily said.

"you've been out all night mr. presley."You giggled with a rasp, your eyes look over towards the door where the man stood, the slam of the front door indicating he just got to Graceland.

you took in his appearance as he came into eye view. the dark messy hair that was messy just in the perfect way, the way his tan chest peeked from the behind the white button up that was unbuttoned slightly, bloodshot eyes indicating that he may have partied a bit too hard.

just as you took him in, he took in the sight of you. your red lipstick smeared from your lips ever so slightly, your hair tousled, and the straps of your little dress falling off your shoulders as your back rested the marble table that stood in the middle of the fancy kitchen.

he began walking towards the small island where you stood, your eyes following every move he made.

"wasn't today your day off, darlin'?" he questioned curiously with that thick country twang, letting out a breathless shot of laughter before looking towards the direction where you were. "priscilla asked to me watch Lisa, she had some plans." you admitted.

he walked towards the the wooden cabinet where he kept his liquor, grabbing a empty small glass and a much larger glass full of burning liquor.

some part of you was telling you two remove yourself from the room, get as far away from Elvis as you could - but another part of you was screaming at you to stay, screaming at you to pursue your dangerous urges.

"If you prefer me to go, I can, Mr. Presley." You offered, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you watched Elvis's face for any sign of discomfort.

he stood on the other side of the kitchen island, his body standing right across from you.

you saw the way his jaw clenched at the way you said his name, but that happened everytime the simple saying slipped out of your mouth, "oh, mr. presley."

"no, no, the more the merrier." Elvis's slurred out, pouring a shot of whiskey in his glass, hesitation laced in his voice but he quickly covered it with a shaky scoff.

"you know, it's good to call me just elvis." he met your eyes, cooing out his words. the playful expression that was on his face moments ago replaced with a more hesitant one.

"good for you or good for me?" you murmured out, your lips quirking up so riskily and daringly.

you were writing out a check you couldn't cash.

"it would save us from a whole 'lotta trouble." he raised his brows and tilted his head with a careless shrug, bringing the glass of liquor to his lips. his Adam's apple bobbing as the stinging liquid entered his body.

"trouble? i thought you liked trouble, mr. presley." you cocked your head, your words rolling off of your tounge so surely. you began readjusting your hips, the end of your satin dress riding up with every move you made.

he couldn't read the expression sprawled on your face, but you sure as hell could read his. his knitted brows, his eyes looking at you so intensely... reading you for any source of confirmation that the sinful thoughts in his head weren't only racing through his.

"i like a lot of things, sweetheart." elvis chuckled, setting down the glass of dark liqueur. his eyes taking a quick peek on the dress that was now bunched on your hips - a momentarily peek, a peek that was so quick that he was sure you wouldn't have saw.

"yeah?" you purred, deciding to be the one to make the first move out of the unspoken need you two shared. you decided to grab the glass he sat down moments ago and bring it your lips, the liquor was strong but you wouldn't show him that.

"uh, y... yeah." elvis choked out, clearing his throat as he felt sudden pressure on his cock. "good things cause a lot of trouble." he purred sinfully, he knew what your intentions were, he knew he wasn't reading this situation wrong... the next move was up to him.

he quickly recovered, shaking off the flustered state you put him in and returning to his cocky self. "good girl's, cause a lot of trouble." he teased in a readily manner, he lustfully over where you stood, watching you with nothing but pure amusement.

"oh, mr. Presley, kill me if im wrong. but i would assume your saying im a good girl?" you cooed, you quirked one of your brows, questioning the man infront of you. you sat your body on the counter, legs dangling as you looked at him curiously.

"isn't that you call a pretty little thing such as yourself, a good girl?" he rasped it so readily, his feet moved him few inches, just so he could stand in between your legs and look at your face.

your chest rose up and down in a needy way, your eyes watching the way his slowly wandered towards your bare hips. "i can be whatever your want, mr. presley." you handed him back his glass of liquor, a barely visible coat of cherry red lip stick on the rim of the glass.

"you’re gonna be a good girl for me, yeah?" he purred as he nodded, grabbing the glass from you, but never did he dare to look away from you. keeping his eyes on you as you felt his finger tips tap your soft thighs. those three taps, gesturing for you to open your legs so he could stand in between them.

and you listened, never did you hesitate. he looked down at your parted legs, oh god, how many times has he thought about this exact moment. he didn't know where to start, he just knew by before the night was over he would have kissed every inch of your body.

"how do you want me, baby?" one of his rough hands gently squeezed your hips, while the other finally began reaching the soaking lace panties that covered your pussy.

you felt his duo of fingers applying light pressure to your clit, causing a shaky whimper to leave your mouth.

"i... i just, " you trailed off, you looked down to see his hardened cock poking through his leather pants - you took a peek, a peek so quick you thought he wouldn't even notice.

"just need you inside me, mr. presley." you whimpered, rolling your hips up towards where he needed attention from you most - causing breathy moans to slip from his and your lips as you felt his needy dick rub you through your lace panties.

"that'ta girl." Elvis teased, he began slipping the wet pink lace off, a cocky smirk on his lips as he pickpocketing them. your hands traveled towards the zipper of his black leather pants, the sound of the zipper unzipping could be heard alongside your's and Elvis's needy breaths.

"so eager, baby?" he chuckled, the sound of the leather dropping to the floor - and just as quick as his pants were off, so were his boxers. there was nothing holding him back from fucking you.

precum on the tip of his hard dick, his body telling him he needed this more than anything.

" y'look so pretty like this, mama." he breathily cooed against your neck, placing sloppy kisses all over your collar bones as you and him were chest to chest. you felt his hand gently hover over your lower abdomen, pressing ever so gentle - leaving you slightly confused.

his dick began grazing over the slit of your pussy, his precum mixing with the wetness of your pussy his words he squeezed out of you. your hands gripped his shoulders, getting yourself ready and steady.

he then lined his dick with your hole, he looked at you for confirmation. you nodded readily and quickly, moving your hips that he had been gripping up a few inches. "please." you whimpered, his tip in your hole, you just needed him to completely to enter you.

and as soon as you whimpered, you felt his dick slowly filling you up. his dick was bigger than any other dick that had entered your body before. you felt your walls tighten around him, your nails burying into his shoulders as his hands squeezed your hips.

"pussy was made for me." he didn't move, letting your needy hole get used to the feeling as you both let out incoherent whimpers. his eyes squeezed shut, head buried in your shoulder, and hot and heavy breaths following.

his dick hadn't left your hole all the way when he then snapped his hips into yours, taking you by surprise as you felt his hand lift your thigh around his waist - hoping to get access to the spot that would drive insane even if he slightly grazed over it.

he set a harsh but slow pace, each thrust was better than the other. you felt yourself subconsciously rocking against his, breathy whimpers and moans slipping from his mouth was only encouraging you to continue.

He was making you feel so good, like you expected him to. His dick seemed to be made for you, all of its veins and curves hitting the right spots inside you.

you felt his hand pressed against your lower abdomen again, but this you felt something else other than his hand.

he wanted you to feel him, inside and out. so you saw the bulge of his dick with each time he slammed into you, you could basically feel that familiar Spring coil form.

"s... so damn.. " he cut him self off with a harsh thrust in your pussy, causing you to let out a high pitched moan. " tight, just for ... me."

and just if you thought that was too much, you felt his fingers press against your swollen button. pressing and tracing circles around your wet clit as his dick dipped in and out.

This pleasure filled encounter couldn’t last forever, even if you wished it could. Soon enough your walls began to clench around him, making his thrust slow down to enjoy the way you squeezed. He was choking out moans into your ear, his voice raspy and shaky.

"elvis... m'close." you whimpered shakily, his hands guiding your hips as you felt his dick pulse, the familiar feeling of your pussy getting sensitive with each time his fingers and dick did their most.

and he made sure to touch that g spot, pushing his dick into so deep that you were sure to cum any moment. "fuck!" you breathlessly moaned, everything around you went hot when his dick hit that spongy spot.

"that'ta girl." he pressing down lightly on your lower stomach so you really felt him whilst shushing you.

it was like all of the juices you had been collecting had finally released just by his dick grazing that sweet spot, your vision went white, and your body jerked into his - his arm wrapped against your body, hugging against you as he rode out his high.

you could hear the sound of yours and Elvis's cum mixing, the shaky pants you two shared, something you would never forget.

tag list . . . !

@marinarose12 @rysssaa @domaniquessidehoe @wistoric @givemehickeysplease @mr-aurum @feral4austinbutler @pandora-journey @kissingrhi @ash-omalley @queendelrey @heartsbomb @djarinlgc @austinbutler4life @adoreyouusugar

[bruciemilf]

A crack treated seriously concept that I have just swimming in my mind;

Runaway sugar baby Bruce Wayne AU.

Here's the thing; Bruce and Harvey are married. Bruce may not realize they are! but they are.

Oblivious fucker really went,

" yes, I will have children with my best friend, raise them together happily, occasionally have sex, and wear this cool ring he gave me. Platonically, of course."

I think it all started when Tim came home from school, wearing a bit of a guilty expression, asking with a pinch embarrassment if Bruce could pretend to be a doctor for career day.

Bruce blinks, " I am a doctor, darling." Graduated with flying colors, mind you!

"Well, yeah, but...You know, not anymore. "

True. Ever since he adopted Jason and Tim, he just found it harder and harder to leave home. They were just too precious and he didn't want to miss a moment!

"I just don't understand why he'd lie about it."

"I can," Harvey looks so handsome, arranging his tie. He does a mess of it, but he doesn't look less tantalising,

" Little brats would be...Yknow, mean. They get finicky when they see a weak spot."

He knows it's Harvey because there's no accent melting like whisky on his mouth. " Weak spot?"

" doll, cmon, --"

" I do work, Harvey. Just because it's not defending criminals doesn't mean it's less vital."

" I knowthat. But you're also a rich guy who, let's face it, wouldn't need to work a day In his life. And that's fine by me. "

because Harvey HATED seeing his mom break her back to support their family when his father was drowning face down in debts.

He wouldn't put anyone through that, let alone his pretty little husband. But Bruce doesn't take this well.

" well! I'll show you! I'm more than capable of making it on my own, I'll prove it!"

Now. Bruce doesn't think too much. He's not an expert in it. Man can stitch up a 5 inch incision with floss, but his own well being? Leave it to Alfred.

But he'll make them proud. So next time, they don't have to lie.

He just packs up way too many luggages, packs Damian up too, and leaves while Harvey's at oh his back breaking, gruelling office job.

It's only when he's on a bus that he realizes he forgot the rest, but that'd be cruel! Their boys loved their father.

Dick, who's in his I Hate Dad phase, is extremely hysterical while they leave to find Bruce. Only stopping occasionally to fix his eyeliner, then start over again.

Jason, Harvey's second oldest, drives beside them on his motorbike.

He guesses its an extra middle finger to him to not wear a helmet. His beloved little hellion, raised on the devil's edge.

"Listen to me; If I find him, I'm moving back home. If I don't, I'll put you in the ground."

" I'll let you."

Now; Bruce does find a place. It's a little town with big characters.

Harley has a diner that she's more than happy to welcome him in, even if Bruce, Spoiled Spouse of the Year, can't quite pick up.

Anything for old roomies.

But there is someone in there who catches Bruce's attention. Towns mechanic.

Clark, his name tag says, who played with Damian behind Bruce's back while he talked to Harley.

He smells of salty motor oil; Fresh sweat, smoked apple pie. His eyes are dreamy blue, rendered with sharp cleverness. And Clark likes him.

Clark recommends him a good motel, brings Damian some toys to play with, even brings his own babies so they can have a playdate. " They're not mine. The toys! These two are. I have a receipt from the hospital."

"...A birth certificate?"

He's delightfully awkward.

When Harvey comes to pick him up, when Bruce jumps in his arms, claws at a pristine shirt stained with his brand new blisters and cracks and worked hands, he's not awkward.

He's disappointed; Like Bruce strangled the joy from his soul.

"You're...Married?"

When Bruce and Harvey respond, in perfect, consice sync, " Oh no, darling,--" " Yes he is, four eyes--" they're ALL confused.

"Oh, dear..."

[liyawritesss]

ɪɴꜱᴏᴍɴɪᴀᴄ! ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ + ʜɪꜱ ᴏᴡɴ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴄᴀᴛ

Characters: Insomniac!Miles Morales x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: headcanons

Synopsis: What would Miles’ life be like if he had his own Black Cat? With Felicia Hardy gone, someones gotta be the elusive, sweet-worded kitty cat to the all too pent up Spider-hero.

Warnings: A little bit of flirting mentions, but that’s about it!

A/N: Wow, I had this idea for the longest time, and somebody actually read my mind! I def wanna make this into a bigger thing, but for right now I’m just easing myself back into writing since I had a real bad writer’s block. Maybe with some time, I’ll be able to develop this into something more!

Edit: for some reason I had trouble posting this with the ask attached that requested this originally. And it was anonymous so I can't at the requester, but if you're still around, I hope this satisfies you!

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @lulu-network @niyahwrites @marsfunzon22 @briology @honeybleed @romiantic @queenofthespiderverse @onlyperc @starsoir @yasminisbroke @asensitivecookie @kdyance @sussybaka10 @famedrs-blog @movie-enhusiast22 @l0stari @milesismyhubby @foreclosure--of--a--dream @bayb @ykimobessed @soilmayo

Tag Notes: If your name is not greyed, I couldn't tag you for some reason! Sorry about that. Also, I will now be including Insomniac!Miles in these Spiderverse! tags I have!

Sign Up For My Taglist Here

First and foremost I think that Miles would want to think you’re cool as hell, but given what he knows about Felicia Hardy and subsequently Peter and her’s relationship, homeboy is trying NOT to have history repeat itself with you. Because no matter how cool your outfit is or the fact that you pack a mean punch, you’re bad news and he needs to keep you at arms length. But when he gets to know you, that obviously becomes harder and harder the more the two of you cross paths.

I like to think that you guys meet in school first. You’re a new student this semester, placed right in Miles’ homeroom. You weren’t hard to notice with your striking white hair, always had earbuds in your ears, and could be caught humming tunes throughout the day. You become friends due to your shared love for music and art, and when you start using the same excuses he’d use for his friends and family about why you couldn’t hang out as often anymore, he’s too blindsided by your friendship (and the teeny tiny crush he’s developed) to question it

Though when the two of you meet mask to mask, however, it’s a different story. You play this elusive and secretive role so good as much as he considers you a rival, Miles also finds himself admiring the way that you’re so graceful with your getaways, and the fact that you are always teasing him doesn’t help either.

You laid it on thick, but after a while of swinging around the city trying to catch you, he’d gotten used to your flirting and the jabs you’d take at him, even throwing back a few of his own. He’s a smooth kid, learned the game from his uncle of course, and just as hot as you’d get him under the mask, you found yourself trying to keep down the heat rising to your ears whenever he came back with something clever and sweet. It was a sweet cat and mouse game the two of you played - even though technically one of you wasn’t a mouse.

The jig is up, however, when a bigger threat the city is posed and you’re caught in the middle of it and are badly injured when trying to fight it off. Miles is quick to rescue you, but the pride he feels from saving the elusive Black Cat is short-lived when he realizes that the face of the vigilante behind the half torn mask is none other than someone he considers one of  his best friends.

It gets awkward after that, and you’re quick to catch on as to why, because you, having deduced who the black and red-clad secondary Spiderman of New York truly was, knew how this would go if a conversation wasn’t had. And you tell him straight up that this life isn’t a game to you; you’ve been brought up in it and know the dangers and the risks, so he can’t talk you out of it. And if it was a deal breaker to your friendship, then, even though it would hurt like hell, you would have no problem in cutting Miles off.

And just like that, what Miles feared had come true - it was the same story with Peter and Felicia all over again - and yet, he still made an effort to try and see things from your perspective, to make it to where history didn’t HAVE to repeat itself, knowing that any feelings he’d have for you were no good in his line of work.

You know it too, though. Whatever budding feelings that were happening between the two of you couldn’t come to fruition, because Miles was a superhero for the people, and you were just a street cat looking out for yourself. There was a stark difference in the way each of you looked over your shoulders for constant threats to your existences, yours debatably being worse than Miles’ and you couldn’t drag him down with you.

But there still was this string that kept the two of you together. Perhaps it was the fact that you still had classes together in school. Perhaps it was the fact that you lived right next to each other and it was impossible to avoid one another throughout the day. Or perhaps it was the fact that, despite being two completely different people in two completely different lives, with and without the mask, you both still wanted to make it work; whatever would be between the two of you.

Even though you butt heads like water to a flame, Miles protected you with all his might, and you helped him in the hardest of cases with any intel you could gather. No, you couldn’t be together, but you’d still look out for each other; there was no avoiding that. You were his Black Cat, after all. And he was your Little Spider

[nuhackearney]

Fic: At A Loss

For @romanthereigns and anyone else feeling a little blue over LA's loss tonight. I said I wouldn't go here, but here we are...(aka, LA Knight x Reader)

You get people drinks, you pick up towels, you watch over equipment...yeah, you're pretty much a go-fer, but you adore your job! You get to travel, meet interesting people and you work for one of the most entertaining businesses in the world - the WWE!

Sure, the superstars don't know your name and you're not famous or anything, but you're an important cog in a big machine and you know your worth.

...you also know you have a helpless, stupid, unbelievably bad crush on LA Knight.

...yeah.

You're into him.

Too bad that, just like everyone else in the biz, he'll never notice you. Hell, he doesn't even know you exist.

Or so you think.

You're on hand for Crown Jewel. The energy is high, the activity chaotic. You've never dashed around so much in your life! Water bottle for Sami Zayn here, a boom for a member of camera crew there, and so on and so on.

You manage to catch snippets of different matches, but as a whole it's hard to keep up. Right until the very end. The end where the Bloodline yet again interferes and yet again help Roman score the win.

...which means LA lost.

It's a sobering realization. You were really rooting for him - even aside from your ridiculous one sided crush - you were hoping for someone to finally dethrone the Tribal Chief.

But, yet again, disappointed.

Poor LA, you think, but you know better. He's a big strong guy, he'll bounce back, no skin off his nose. He's the Megastar, everyone says his name and everyone knows it's his game. He'll be fine.

Again, or so you think.

Until, very very late into the evening, as you go to clean up one of the messy break rooms and you come across him. It makes your breath bottle in your throat, the sight of him sitting on one of the cafeteria tables, his head in his hands.

He's fully dressed now - brown leather jacket, 'Yeah' shirt, jeans, and boots. A totally different look from what he wore to the ring tonight. He must hear you come in, because he lifts his head to turn and look at you.

You clear your throat and offer a weak wave, even as you manage a near toneless, "I'll, ah-? Come back later..."

The plan is to stealthily back out, but he sits up straight and gestures to you, "Naw, naw - come on over, y/n."

His voice is loud, but more somber than you've heard it before and he? He said your name? You carefully ease further into the room and walk towards him, your fingers sort of nervously playing with one another as you get closer, "Um? You know my name?"

"Sure. I've seen you at lots of shows. They call your name all the time for shit. Ice packs, sandwiches, hairspray - there anything they don't have you fetch?"

You shake your head because he's not wrong. Again, you know your role. Maybe that's what he needs? Your go-fer skills? And you're about to ask if you can get him something when he asks quietly, "Think you can get me a second shot?"

This makes you seize up, "What do you mean?"

He lets out a huff, "Guess you didn't see me lose out there."

You don't know what to say.

He does, "Oh yeah, a big ol' 'L'. Granted, Roman's boys stuck in their noses again - Solo making a stink at the front, Jimmy in the back, but the end results just the same."

You've never seen him so serious before, so-? Well, melancholy is the first word that comes to mind, and the thought twists your heart into knots. You want to reassure him. Say something cool or clever, but your tongue is numb as he runs one hand over his five o'clock grizzled chin, "I dunno. Maybe I've been fooling myself. Fooling everybody."

"That's not true!" You blurt it out so quickly you almost don't realize you're the one who said it. But then his blue eyes swing to you and it's like a laser slicing you in half, that intense focus of his.

You clear your throat and feel your cheeks heat even as you keep your eyes averted when you talk, "You're-? You're the real deal. I know it. I feel it."

You know he's still looking at you and you feel a little sick and your heart is beating double time but you press on, "Yes, you didn't take the gold this time, but everyone is still behind you. Everybody is still saying your name, chanting for you - you're a superstar, you're a champion!"

"Yeah?" And he asks his normally rowdy catchphrase in a wry, teasing way that only makes the heat in your cheeks worse and god, this is torture. Does he know you have a crush on him?!? Is he possibly teasing you to death?

Being on the business end of one of his BFT's would be kinder...

"Yeah." You cough into one hand so that you can try and subtly rub away some of the heat from your skin, "So, y'know - you'll win. Get the gold you deserve. It's only a matter of time."

"Matter of time, huh?"

You nod and finally risk looking at him. He looks deep in thought and it's almost as if you can read his mind, "I-? I know you have been waiting for a long time already. But... it's going to happen. I promise."

There's a beat of silence between you and then, out of nowhere, he throws back his head and laughs. It's a happy sound and attractive laugh lines appear under his eyes as he reaches out a hand to you and ruffles your hair.

Such a simple and silly action shouldn't be so stimulating, yet here you are, practically melting under it as he rubs warmly and gently at your scalp, "You know what, y/n? You're right. It IS going to happen. YEAH."

The last is said loudly and with his classic jovial tone as he withdraws his hand and he stands up to get down to your level, albeit he still towers over you, "Not only 'cause you promised me, but because I promised myself! I just needed the reminder!"

"Oh!" You offer weakly, breathlessly, "Uh, good! Glad I could help!"

Your next plan is to turn and scurry away because you're sure that's what he wants, because that's what everyone wants after you've helped, but he freezes you with a, "Now wait a minute, you ain't leaving, are ya?"

Your eyes go wide with confusion even as he offers you the kind of saucy grin you've only seen from afar, "'Cause I could still use your help."

"Y-you could?"

"Sure." He eyes you up and down, "I need somebody to go out and eat with me tonight. Need somebody to test my kavorka on. Make sure it's still working."

It is, trust me! Almost pops out of your mouth immediately, but this time you manage to hold the words back, instead giving him a demur, "Alright."

"There we go." He throws one arm around your shoulders and gives you a little squeeze, "Hey, stick with me, kid and I promise you, you'll get what you deserve!"

While you're positive that he thinks you deserve a better job or pay or something along those lines, you honestly hope that you get what you want more than what you deserve.

Hell, you're actually getting what you want right now.

A night out with LA Knight?

YEAH.

[cranetreegang]

A Niffler, A Blind Boy, and A Clever Witch - Ominis x FemReader

AN: I tried out ChatGPT and inserted sections of this fic into it for feedback and it gave the idea of the secret compartment and the note left by Henrietta. Link Here if you wanna check it out :)

Summary: Ominis is dragged into a treasure hunt and rescue mission. While he enjoys feeling her excitement, he wonders if the guilt she feels about Sebastian is coming to a head.

Music to Enjoy - Playful 🎵 Little's Theme 🎵 Uma

Word Count: ~3,500 words

Read my other Ominis Fics Here

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Ominis is waiting for her exactly where she thought he would be. He’s on the floor, leaning against the wall, in the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower with the sun bathing him in a warm glow. The smile he gives her is far warmer though as he angles his head towards her.

“What trouble are you wanting to get into now?” He questions with a stern tone, but the smile tugging on his lips gives him away.

She plops down next to him with a wide grin, “I’m not getting into any sort of trouble.” 

He turns his head towards her with a raised brow.

“It’ll be the both of us getting into trouble. So the more apt question is: What trouble are we about to get into?” 

He chuckles with a slight shake of his head, “I should’ve known the mischievous feeling you’ve had all morning would involve me somehow.” 

She kisses his cheek, making him turn a bright pink, “Don’t pretend you aren’t just dying to know.”

He bites his bottom lip as he turns his head high and away from her, “Whatever do you mean? I am more than content to just lounge here.” 

“Oh? Is that so?” She lets out a dramatic sigh as she stands. “If that’s the case, then I would hate to pull you away from your sunbathing. Especially to some old, dusty ruins of a long forgotten treasure where a Niffler is in desperate need of our help.” 

Omins’ dark brows rise and his eyes widen, “Treasure? A Niffler? What in Merlin’s name have you gotten yourself into?” 

“It’s good to see I can still surprise you.” She beams - making him blush at how excited she is.

He sighs, “I’m going to regret this, but… what do you need help with?” 

She grabs his hand and tugs him to his feet then begins to lead him towards the Room of Requirement, “Well, I was hoping we could rescue this Niffler, named Rococo, together! It’ll be so much fun.” 

“And the treasure?” Ominis can’t contain his eager smile as she radiates pure enthusiasm. He hasn’t felt it in some time. Not since the catacombs. He’s quick to bury the thought before it arises. 

“It’s located at Henrietta’s Hideaway. Henrietta was a paranoid recluse and she filled her castle with all kinds of traps to protect her valuables. Which is where Rococo has taken a shine to. Which also means, there’s treasure ripe for the taking!” She giggles - opening the door to the Room of Requirement and letting Ominis walk in first. 

He laughs to himself as he heads inside, “So, let me make sure I’m understanding what we’re about to do.” 

She bustles about the room, shoving various potions and plants into her pack, as he continues,

“You want us to go into a recluse’s old castle - filled with all manners of traps - to rescue a pet Niffler and possibly find said recluse’s dusty valuables, that may not even be actual treasure or even still be there. Am I missing anything?” 

She hums then nods, “Yes. There’s also Ashwinders that have taken residence there and we’ll probably have to fight them as well.” 

Ominis grimaces - draping his school robe over a plush chair, “Ashwinders? Love, this isn’t sounding as simple as you’re making it out to be.” 

She sets down her pack on a table - covered in papers, quills, and books - and she wraps her arms around his neck. He holds her around her waist, pulling her tight against his chest, and he hates how easily he’s crumbling before she even has to speak.

“It’s dangerous. It’s reckless. And we’re risking our necks for a silly Niffler and whatever dusty knick knacks a recluse would think is worth protecting.” She brushes her nose against the tip of his then she presses her forehead to his. “But, it’ll be fun. And I wouldn’t want to go without you.” 

His features soften into a smile, “When do we leave?”

Her excitement floods him like a tidal wave and it takes everything in him not to be swept up in it. 

“As soon as I gather the rest of our supplies!” She kisses him. “Oh, this’ll be so much fun!” 

She parts from him and she’s a whirlwind around the room as he listens to her shove more things into her bag. He hears her mumbles of a checklist: Wiggenweld, Thunderbrew, Cabbages, and various other potions while he slips on a proper outing robe. He swells at how diligent she’s being when she pauses.

“Why are you surprised that I’m actually prepared?” She teases. “I don’t always run head first into danger, you know?” 

He flushes at being caught, “I know. I just enjoy bearing witness to your preparations. I find it adorable.” 

She saunters over to him with a smirk as she hands him his bag filled with potions and plants, “I am most certainly not adorable.” 

He tucks the bag into his robes then pulls her into him with a wide grin. He cups her cheek, noting how hot they are, then he whispers just above her lips, “You most certainly are.” 

He kisses her, flooding her with a tidal wave of his own emotion - which warms her from her head to her toes and sends shivers down her spine. She melts into him, running her hands up his chest to nestle under his jaw and on his neck. The bond between them flares to life and ignites their bones with a thrumming heat - it nearly buckles her knees. 

She has to part from him, and as she does it’s with a shuddering breath as the sensation of their bond settles into a more gentle hum. 

“Perhaps, if we don’t find any treasure, I can find another way to make this venture more worthwhile.” She whispers. 

His lips turn into a loose smirk, “Oh? And what did you have in mind?”

She opens her mouth to reply, but she frowns instead. What did she have in mind? Her hazy thoughts finally settle and she realizes what a promiscuous thing she just said. Before she can flounder out apologies and excuses, he cups her cheek and places a kiss on her forehead.

“Taking me to dinner would be much appreciated.” He soothes her worries with the gentle strokings of his thumb on her cheek. 

“I suppose that’s a reasonable reward for my dashing assistant.” She whispers, thankful a thousand times over for his kindness. 

She abruptly shoves herself away from him, “I swear. I could spend all day in your arms. But, we really must be going if Rococo is to survive!” 

He chuckles as he takes her hand, “Then lead the way, my Savior of Nifflers.” 

She rolls her eyes, squeezing his hand as she does, then takes them towards the exit. She pauses just before she reaches the door and Ominis can feel a sudden sadness - a guilt - creep up on her.

“What is it?” He squeezes her hand. 

She turns to him, “Do you think we should invite Sebastian?” 

Her question is quiet and innocent, but there’s so much weight behind it - it’s nearly enough to take the air right out of his lungs. He hates the feelings swirling inside her: regret, anger, sadness, longing, resentment. There’s so much ambivalence, it's hard for him to discern what troubles her the most. He’s not sure how to ease her - if he even could.

He sucks in a sharp breath then shakes his head, “Perhaps on the next treasure hunt. For now,” he leans down and whispers in her ear as if they weren’t the only two in the room, “I just want you all to myself.”

This doesn’t fully ease the sorrow and remorse lingering in the far edges of her being, but her excitement is starting to kindle once more. 

“I would prefer that as well.” She says.

=============================

Emerging from the floo’s flames, they’re quick to mount their brooms and take flight. While Ominis is a far slower, and more careful, flier than most, he appreciates her for letting him be on his own. He follows her with his wand - using her like a guiding light. She takes them high enough to avoid almost all the potential obstacles - like trees and protruding rocks - and he’s left to enjoy the flight. 

She starts to lower and he does the same until they land behind a jutting of rocks. She’s peeking around them and he joins her. 

There’s several people walking around a ruined structure. 

“Ashwinders. At least four of them.” She informs him. 

“I assume sneaking past is out of the question.” 

She smirks, “I suppose that’s an option. If that’s how you’d like to approach this.” 

She waits for his answer as he mulls over their options. 

“We could take out a few then deal with whatever is left.” He decides with a sure set of his jaw. 

“I like the sounds of that.” She casts the disillusionment charm and stalks towards her quarry. He watches her for a moment - as she pulses and radiates in his mind’s eye - before he does the same and follows after her. Wordlessly, he takes the opposite side of her and he hears the whisper of her Petrification spell. 

He swallows his apprehension as he approaches his first mark. He presses his wand up to the witch’s neck then whispers, “Petrificus Totalus.” 

The body falls to the ground with a thud and he waves his wand around to ensure they’re still undetected. The Ashwinders walk around the ruin with nary a hitch in their steps. 

Ominis releases a breath then moves in. His heart hammers in his chest, but he can’t deny how thrilling this all is. She’s right there with him, already taking out another wizard while he gets ready to do the same. 

“Hey!” An Ashwinder exclaims. 

Ominis casts Levioso on instinct towards the shout and the wizard hovers in the air. 

“Confringo!” 

Her fiery spell slams into the levitated wizard and they’re launched into a crumbling stone wall from the force of it. 

Ominis gathers himself and deflects an attack and counters with Stupify. Before he knows it, he doesn’t sense any more wizards standing; save themselves. 

“Not bad.” He smirks in her direction. 

“Come on. This way.” She grabs his hand and leads him down a winding staircase facing the crashing ocean and into the cavernous hideout. 

As they step inside the castle, the smell of must and decay hits them, and they are greeted by a large hall filled with cobwebs and moth-eaten banners barely hanging on the stone walls. She sneezes and coughs, and Ominis hands her a handkerchief as he surveys the area.

"Seems like Henrietta didn't have many guests over," he comments dryly.

She rolls her eyes with a snort, "Certainly not a place to host dinner parties."

Something shimmers in the fire light and she goes closer towards it. A golden Galleon lays on the ground and as she picks it up, she notices another Galleon a few meters in front of her then another - all leading further into the castle.

“This way,” she says as she follows Rococo’s trail.

They walk through the entrance when Ominis pulls her to a stop by gripping her forearm. She’s about to question him, when she notices what caught his attention.

Ashwinders walk around the foyer below them. A grand statue of a Hippogriff stands at the center of the room and is illuminated by the sunlight overhead. She draws her wand and Ominis shifts into a more defensive stance as they slowly sneak their way closer. They part - taking either side of the twin staircases - and she’s the first to attack.

“Bombarda!” 

Her spell explodes two of the unexpecting Ashwinders, and sends them flying in different directions.

“Confringo!” Ominis lands his fiery spell into one of the Ashwinders and knocks them onto the floor. 

Her and Ominis take care of the others with precise spellwork, and they continue on their way.

After what seems like hours of dispatching Ashwinders and solving puzzles, they finally unlock a room with a chest sitting in the middle and a Niffler stuffing his pouch with golden Galleons. They crouch just at the entryway into the room. She pulls out her brown, leather bag and looks to Ominis.

“On three, you’ll cast Levioso. And I’ll nab him.” 

Ominis nods.

“One… two…,” she gets ready to open the bag while Ominis points his wand right at the unsuspecting Niffler. “Three.”

“Levioso!”Ominis casts with a whip-like motion at Rococo. 

The Niffler hovers in the air and looks around in confusion. She opens the bag and sucks the Niffler inside, capturing the wayward pet. She laughs and Ominis matches her triumphant grin.

“Not bad,” he grins, giving her a warm smile. 

“Not bad yourself. We make a good team.” 

She walks towards where Rococo was pillaging and Ominis is thankful she doesn’t see the blush forming on his cheeks.

She opens the chest and gasps at the sight of glittering jewels and gold coins inside.

Ominis chuckles, "Looks like Henrietta had a thing for treasure after all."

"Does that mean I’m off the hook for dinner then?" She grins.

“Not in the slightest.” 

As they pack their bags with gold, they hear a faint rattling sound coming from the chest. Ominis investigates with his nimble fingers until he presses down on an indentation. A hidden compartment in the ornate treasure chest opens on the side, revealing a small wooden box. She looks at the box and Ominis with wide eyes while he grabs it.

Inside the box is a note, written in an elegant script: 

'To the brave souls who have found my treasure, I congratulate you. Please take what you wish, but do not forget to leave something in return. Remember, karma always comes back tenfold.

- Henrietta'

She raises an eyebrow, "What should we leave?"

Ominis smirks and he rips out a page from a long abandoned tome laying next to them. She tries to see what he’s writing, but he keeps his work hidden from her prying gaze. 

“‘To those who find this’,” he begins with gusto - making her giggle, “‘know you are too late. A Niffler, a blind boy, and a clever witch have made away with the riches. Where we plan to spend it all on frivolous things. Signed, The Niffler Nabbers.’” 

She laughs, “‘Niffler Nabbers’?” 

“I thought it had a nice ring to it.” He grins, enjoying her amused laughter.

Ominis taps his wand to the note and it folds into a beautiful crane. The crane’s wings flutter then take flight, gliding around the treasure room. She admires the crane with a soft smile while he takes her hand, kissing the top of it.

“Shall we go?” 

She reaches into her bag and sets three golden Galleons in the chest then she nods, “Let’s take one last look around in the other room. Perhaps there’s another secret there.”

They venture out from the treasure room back to the grand hall. Ominis walks over to the other side, waving his wand in search of any more hidden walls or compartments, while she wanders around. She ends up at the far end of the hall and her eyes transfix upon the towering, chipped statue.

With the afternoon’s warm golden light beaming around it, the statue looks majestic and powerful - like a symbol of some ancient magic or wisdom. She’s reminded of some sort of goddess of a long forgotten era. For a moment, she forgets about everything else and just admires the beauty of the sculpture - in hopes it may bestow some of its long lost wisdom upon her. 

She hasn’t moved in some time and Ominis takes careful steps towards her so as to not scare her. The feelings she had earlier in the Room of Requirement swirl within her and Ominis frowns at the heaviness she’s burdened with. Since they both agreed to not turn in Sebastian, they haven’t discussed the matter further. Ominis lets out a heavy breath at not doing so sooner. 

She senses him behind her before his arms wrap around her waist and he presses his head onto the back of her neck. 

“Sebastian worries me, too.” He whispers. 

She gasps at him speaking the very thing she’s been trying so hard to ignore. The guilt is crushing. Like she’s sunk deep below the waves of the sea. And with a great current, it shifts into a bitter tidal wave and her hands ball into fists - her body shaking.

“I am so angry with him,” she hisses. “He used me. He used his sister against us. He used you!” 

He holds her against his chest as she lets out a bitter sob. She grabs his hands and she urges him to hold her tighter - to stop herself from being swept away. 

Her head lowers and she lets out a shuddering breath, “I failed him.” 

“No. No, you didn’t.” Ominis turns her around and holds her closer to his chest, tuckering her head into his neck.

“Sebastian knew the choices he was making,” he whispers in her ear. “He did this to himself. He hurt us. He hurt you, me, Anne… and Solomon…,” 

Her fingers dig into his robes and she shudders. 

“This is not your fault.” He states. 

“It is though.” She pulls away enough to face him and his hands shift to her upper arms. “I never should’ve helped him as much as I did. My hands are just as bloody as his. Because I… I really thought…,” she lets out a bitter laugh and it twists Ominis’ heart to hear such a horrible noise from her. “It’s so stupid to say now, but I truly thought that wretched book had the answers. And everything would be okay. And you would have both of your friends back. How stupid is that!” 

“Stop. Stop that!” He clutches both sides of her face with anguish. “If your hands are bloody, then so are mine. I allowed him into the Scriptorium. I allowed him to torture you with an Unforgivable!” His features twist into a pained expression, causing her to whimper. He closes his eyes with a heavy breath.

“None of us are innocent in this,” he whispers. “We all had parts in this tragedy. So, cease this talk of you being the only one who is at fault. I will hear no more of it.” 

She holds both of his hands with a shuddering breath. She closes her eyes and she presses her forehead to his. 

“The worst part is - I want to pretend like none of it happened.” She whispers.

He shivers, “So do I. But, we all know we can’t.” 

“I know.” 

There’s a sudden resolve within her - one that surprises him. 

He strokes her cheek with slightly raised brows, “What is it?” 

“I haven’t been a good friend to him. I thought I was, but I’ve only enabled him.” 

“What are you saying?” He wonders in an apprehensive, quiet voice. 

She sucks in a sharp breath and she says, “Sebastian needs someone - now, more than ever. And I can’t fail him again. While you’re with Anne this summer, I’ll stay with Sebastian in Hogsmeade.” 

Ominis’ brows furrow, “Sebastian is not your responsibility. You have nothing to atone for!” 

“He is. And I do,” she states. “It wasn’t just Sebastian I failed. It was you, too, Ominis.” 

Ominis is about to dispute her, but she continues,

“You are the most important person in my life, Ominis. And I know Sebastian is an important part of you. And I did nothing to stop him. So, please, let me do this. Let me fix this.” She pleads. 

Ominis stares at her with his cloudy gray eyes, desperately searching for hers. The weight of her words and the determination behind them... he knows he cannot stop her. And he hates that she’s right. Sebastian was not meant to be alone in this world.

He nods slowly, “If that’s what you wish,” he strokes her cheeks with his thumbs. “But I’ll be checking on you both. And if you need anything - anything at all - you come to me. Promise me that.”

She nods, “I promise.”

He pulls her into a tight embrace and she buries her face in his chest. For a moment, they stay like that, lost in their thoughts and emotions. Then, she pulls away, her eyes fixed on the statue in front of them. She looks back at Ominis and she smiles - stroking his cheek in reverence. 

“We should take Rococo back.” She says softly.

He nods and takes her hand, “Come on.”

They walk out of the hideaway, side by side. The sun is starting to set, casting a warm glow over the valley and the air is beginning to chill. As they walk, they both know that things will never be the same again. But they also know that they will face whatever comes together.

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

AN: When I think about the summer for the trio, I envisioned Ominis taking care of Anne since she's by herself. I doubt Anne would want Sebastian around right away. Which is why MC and Seb will be chilling in Hogsmeade or at Hogwarts and they start doing stuff into curse breaking and ancient magic.

Sorry it took so long to post. I literally have been brain rotting over this 7th year fic. It actually took a lot of willpower to finish this and i'm worried it's rushed at parts so sorry.

Hoping to get the rest of the chapters posted soon, so then i can start fully into the 7th year fic!

Any feedback is welcomed and thanks for reading <3

[princeescaluswords]

Underestimated

It's hilarious how no one more consistently misreads both Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski than stans of Fanon Stiles. In their urge to piss on Scott, they treat Stiles as if he is a fragile baby who doesn't constantly stand up for what he thinks is right, who doesn't make fun of threats like Gerard Argent to his face, who doesn't defy monstrous serial killers like Peter Hale and the nogitsune.

Even though Stiles had particular flaws which mean he will never be my favorite character, I would never say he wasn't clever, brave, and loyal. When he sees a problem, he takes action (even if I don't like the action he takes).

Which is why it's so mystifying that so-called fans of Stiles consistently write him as someone who would silently suffer from the neglect and disregard of popular jock Scott McCall (who was neither popular nor a jock). Just this morning, the day after Christmas, I came across a completely untagged story where Stiles mourns the way Scott has drifted away from their friendship, leaving poor baby Stiles alone and unable to depend on anyone. This is in the aftermath of Gerard kidnapping and beating Stiles from the lacrosse game in Battlefield (2x11).

I might enjoy a story where Stiles contemplates the shifting nature of his and Scott's friendship. I might even enjoy him mourning the loss of their closeness due to the horrors that have assaulted them. But, of course, that's not the approach this story took. Scott doesn't come for Stiles in Master Plan (2x12) demonstrating the weakening of their friendship. It is not because Scott couldn't find Stiles; it is not because the Hales insisted that stopping Gerard was more important, and it is certainly not because Scott had to prioritize saving people who he knew might die, including Jackson, Derek, and Derek's pack. No, no, Scott didn't come for Stiles because he was fixated on Allison, even though it was Allison who begged him not to get involved in Shape-Shifted (2x02) and even though Scott doesn't talk to or even as much as say her name from the time Stiles is kidnapped until long after Scott gets a text saying that Stiles has been found.

Does this person really believe that Stiles, who steals a police van to stop Jackson, who tortures Scott to punish him for letting his Dad get hurt, who shouts repeatedly at Lydia whom he has been in love with since the third Grade, would sit in the dark of his bedroom, feeling lost and empty because Scott doesn't make him the center of his universe? What scene could possibly have made them think that? The only time Stiles conceals things is to protect people, including himself.

Oh, I get that this is Stiles serving as Self-Insert. But I've seen so many variations of mourning/angry/vengeful/despondent Stiles crying because Scott fell in love with a girl for as long as I've been in the fandom, that I know it's a pretty popular trope. A terrible (and racist) trope manifested out of thin air, borrowing heavily from "the minority character must be a white character's caretaker" (you never see Derek scolded for not mentioning Stiles for the last two episodes of Season 2). It's not terrible because it's not canon (though it's not); it's not terrible because it's weaksauce (do friends really have to be exclusively devoted to you for the rest of their lives to be friends?). In the end, the largest reason it is terrible is because it makes Stiles into a sniveling little wuss, someone so dependent on others that he won't fight for what he wants.

Stiles Stilinski is many things, but he was never that.

[cinemaocd]

Jenny's ongoing list of films watched 2024

January

RRR (2023)*

Peter's Friends (1992)*

The Lady Eve (1941)

How to Get a Head in Advertising (1988)*

High Fidelity (2000)

Frieda (1947)*

Oh...Rosalinda! (1955)

The Quick and the Dead (1995)*

The Barefoot Contessa (1954)*

The Life and Death of Col. Blimp (1943) Commentary Track (2012)*

Rhubarb (1951)*

The Birds (1963)*

House of Yes (1997)*

Cassandra Cat (1963)*

Foreign Correspondent (1940)

The Long Goodbye (1973)

Night of the Comet (1984)

The Day the Earth Caught Fire (1961)*

For Me and My Gal (1942)*

The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)

The Small, Back Room (1949)

House of Games (1987)

Water (1985)*

The Ballad of John and Yoko (2023)*

The Meaning of Life (1983)

Track 29 (1988)*

*New to me

Thoughts on the New to Me films:

New Year's Eve we watched RRR, a lot of fun, energetic, bright and action-packed. I enjoyed the way that little attention was given to the British characters. They were straight up villains in ill fitting ahistorical costumes, kind of like the way Indian/Asian characters are treated in Western films most of the time...$$$

New Year's Day we watched Peter's Friends, a drama/comedy from the early 90s starring all of the famous Cambridge Footlights. Big Chill-ish film set in a country house over the Christmas holidays. $$$

How to Get a Head in Advertising was weird and also really good. Had a similar vibe to Withnail and I (possibly because of Richard E. Grant, but also possibly the mixture of the surreal with the realistic). Quite stage-y in some ways but clever and savage in it's satire of life in the 80s. $$$

Frieda: Oh I loved this! Weird World War II melodrama about a German girl marrying a British boy and all the trouble it causes with his complex family situation. Such a stellar cast including the late, great Glynnis Johns. $$$$

The Quick and the Dead: I set my expectations quite low for this and was pleasantly surprised. I liked Sam Raimi's comic book-y take on gunfighters and esp. loved Sharon Stone's character. We love to see a female action hero with no love interest. A nice twist on the Man with no Name trope. Excellent cast as well with Russell Crowe, Gene Hackman, Roy Scheider and Woody Stroud in his final film. $$$

The Barefoot Contessa: Joseph Mankewitcz is one of the geniuses of old Hollywood but this ain't it, chief. Just kind of all of the place melodrama that makes no sense and relies too much on Ava Gardner looking amazing in technicolor in the South of France. A bit of a commentary on Grace Kelly who a few years earlier married minor royalty on the Riviera. Even Rossano Brazzi can't save this mess for me. $

Rhubarb: Two genres I usually kind of hate (family-friendly animal centered film, sports film) combined into one and it's actually a lot of fun. Ray Milland and a bunch of classic character actors as the baseball team (also Leonard Nemoy has a tiny part as a mobster) in this slight/ predictable romp. $$

The Birds: Woah, shit this was good. I should have known. Amazing tension created and Hitchcock just sells the surreal horror with lots of rear projection...so. much. rear. projection. $$$

House of Yes: How about House of NOPE. Ugh what a mess this was. Some good performances and intriguing story, but it was very stagey and I don't know why the 90s couldn't make a story about adult children and their parents without reducing everyone to cliches and stereotypes but this and Six Degrees of Separation are definitely guilty of that, but the latter is just a better film. $

Cassandra Cat: Takes a long time to get to the cat which given that this was a family film from the 60s might be a problem for some viewers, expecting a more cat-centric movie. Interesting riff on fairy tales from the Czech New Wave. Beautiful Demy-esque technicolor and settings make this 60s nonsense fly by. $$

The Day the Earth Caught Fire: 60s nuclear panic disaster film that really just shows the earth as it is now in the throws of global warming. Yikes. Thoughtfully written and well acted by a bunch of folks I'd never heard of. $$

For Me and My Gal: Directed by Busby Berkley and starring Gene Kelly and Judy Garland and set in the 1920s on the Vaudeville circuit, I was expecting a lot more fun, dancing, color, costumes etc. This is actually more of a black and white war time melodrama with some music shoved into it and the dancing is very rudimentary. (I think this is probably because Garland esp. at this stage wasn't in the same league with Gene Kelly and I think it would have been too noticable...). Filmed at the entry of America into WW2 this was quite a deliberate propaganda piece. $$

TLADOCB Commentary: I've watched this movie 20 times at least but the commentary really made me think about a bunch of things differently. Can't say I recommend unless you are fanatic though as it's obviously pieced together from interviews Michael Powell and Martin Scorcese $$

Water (1985): If you smoke the exact right strain of sativa and ignore some of the more dated aspects of this 80s comedy, that reads as if Local Hero were a Cheech and Chong film--this is a total classic. Irreverent Michael Caine just straight up breaking character the minute he turns into a guerilla fighter in the jungle and being far too competent and cool, and then snapping back to sweetly shy, inept British Civil Servant, finding he actually loves his hated backwater post (the invent Casara part Caribbean, part Devon Jurassic Coast) while having to actually do his job. Political satire and fully both barrels to Maggie Thatcher and Reagan. Good on em. Filmed in St. Lucia, the movie has a zany heart and little taste, hoovering up vast quantities of competent TV players from my youth: Herman Munster and Reginald Perrin to name but two. Awkward love story and some uneven acting from Valerie Perrin and Brenda Vaccaro. I enjoyed myself, heartily, anyway. $$$

The Ballad of John and Yoko: Technically a video essay with amazing production values (the licensing alone was epic) dragging together disparate topics around the central theme of women being blamed for bad things happening to infantalized male geniuses. Is it the most coherent argument? No. Does it absolutely tap into many unexpressed or implied ideas that have been floating around since me too? Absolutely. $$

Track 29: This was some of the worst casting I've ever seen in a film. When I think of Texas nurse who is into trains and spanking, I don't automatically think of comedian Sandra Bernhardt. When I think of an actress of that era who was old enough to play Gary Oldman's mother, I don't think of Theresa Russell who is the same age as Oldman and looked every bit as young as he did in the film. Maybe that was the point? I'm not sure. The story was weird, like a Southern Gothic melodrama/black comedy ala Flannery O'Connor, but there was something off about the whole thing.

[greenandhazy]

I think one of the things I like so much about “It can mean as little or as much as you like” is that it’s the first time we see Thomas genuinely get to define his romantic relationship in the show? Like, starting right off the bad with the Duke, Thomas says he wants to be his valet. He wants to live in his lover’s house, in close quarters, and have a proper, established romance—and the Duke says nope, occasional trysts and letters (and also, no more letters), that’s all I’m offering, you have to take it or leave it, and Thomas has to leave it. Jimmy says something similar in the Christmas special, when he explicitly makes it clear that he can’t give Thomas some of what he wants, and the only thing on the table is friendship, and Thomas says yes, he can settle for friendship.

Then we get to Richard, and it’s a little more complicated here because we don’t get Thomas’s own perspective on when his feelings towards Richard take on a deliberate, romantic turn—does he think York is a date from the start? (My personal opinion is no, given how quickly he accepts Chris’s offer, but I could totally accept a reading that he thinks it is, then loses confidence as he’s waiting.) Does he mean it when he says Richard is a “friend” in the scene in his office, or is he hedging his bets?

Regardless, I do think it’s interesting that he does explicitly call Richard a friend, and then Richard is the one to say “Is that all you’ve found?”, and he goes in for a kiss before waiting for confirmation—iirc the script, or an interview with the director, actually says that the kiss is meant to be a “surprise” to Thomas. And it does seem to be a welcome surprise, of course, and they end on a romantic note, but Thomas is clearly reacting in that scene, rather than making the deliberate choice.

And it seems to me that, in a way, the office/dining room proposal almost mirrors the first conversation Guy and Thomas have, in the library? Guy makes a flirty offer, immediately walks it back and apologizes at the slightest hint Thomas is uncomfortable. In the office he makes a heavily coded offer of romance, comparing it to marriage. Thomas comes back and says “did I get this right?” and Guy leaves it to him to define his own boundaries. Does he want the marriage proposal? That would be fantastic. Does he want to travel and work in California but balks at the romance? Well, that was part of the offer, Guy isn’t going to withdraw it just because it’s not what he was hoping for. Does he want to start as friends and see what happens? Sure, it’s all on the table.

Which means Thomas gets to be the one who says “I’d like it to mean a great deal.” In that wonderful warm, sincere delivery that RJC gives, with the eye contact and the slight smile—gah, one of my favorite lines in the films. And Guy grins back and says “Then you’re in luck,” driving home the fact that that was exactly what he wanted, he wanted everything Thomas could offer—was willing to offer anything of his own—even if he would have settled for something else, the position that Thomas was left in the first episode. It’s just such a clever, subtle play on where he started the series (even before you get to the other contrasts with the Duke—pretending to forget Thomas’s name, while Guy is deliberate in asking for it, scoffing at the idea that Mary would apologize to a servant, while Guy is preemptive in apologizing).

I love it. It’s so good. They pack so much into Guy’s character in just a few scenes… and don’t even get me started on the mutual giddiness in their last scene together. I adore them.

[bigskydreaming]

Anyway, in other news, its been awhile since I indulged in exploring how much MORE you can pack into the Robin name and mantle when you just go ‘hmm why must it be only one thing’ instead of being like ‘is Robin a reference to Robin Hood or his mother’s name for him because he was born on the first day of spring.’

I always love characters who embody the ‘three-in-one’ archetype shared by various goddesses, witches, fates, tricksters and more, and so I’m always like, I see you your two possible reasons for the name Robin and raise you a third: Robin Goodfellow aka Puck, the mercurial trickster fairy of a Midsummer Night’s Dream.

After all, Robin is easily as much a spritely trickster figure for Gotham as he’s a bird in flight or a crusader for the disenfranchised.....

So I say, add that to the list of things Robin represents for Dick Grayson, and what it means in his eyes: 

Its a name to honor his mother, who called him her little Robin, a bird born to fly on the first day of spring. 

Its a name to honor Dick’s childhood hero, Sir Robin of Loxley, the infamous Robin Hood who took from the haves to give to the have-nots, someone who availed himself of any possible opportunity to act as a great equalizer. 

And it could just as easily be a name that speaks to how wit can triumph over even the most mighty - that the hero of the story can win with a trick and a clever turn of phrase, even when outmatched in numbers, strength and size by a Goliath expecting to crush a David underfoot.

Might makes right, is the narrative everyone tried to push on Dick Grayson from the moment his parents died.

Robin was his answer to that.

Dick Grayson’s way of saying mmmm, hard disagree.

It doesn’t have to be like that....if you’re clever enough not to be boxed in by others’ so-called might.

It doesn’t have to be like that.....if you’re willing to fight to protect others who don’t have the means to defend themselves when the so-called mighty come looking to steamroll right over that.

It doesn’t have to be like that.....if you’re a boy whose parents raised him to believe otherwise, and who won’t let any ‘might makes right’ assholes turn their loss and absence into some kind of teachable moment that claims they were liars or just plain wrong.

Might makes right, said every elitist, entitled, power-hungry, megalomaniacal, exploitative, misery-seeks-company asshole to ever roll through Dick Grayson’s life, Gotham, Bludhaven and more.

And Dick Grayson’s response has always been to roll his eyes, put on a fucking cape, and jump in between those douchebags and any other hapless victim whose situational powerlessness drew them like moths to a potentially exploitable or victimizable flame.

Even if all he had in his bag of tricks was a laugh, a leap and a slingshot.....

When has he ever needed more than that to leave his mark?

So who is Robin:

A mother’s son, a hero to the people, an urban folktale?

A symbol of hope, a champion for the downtrodden, a legend too fanciful to believe?

A survivor of his own tragedy, an avenger of the tragedy of others, a cautionary tale for those who aspire to leave tragedies in their wake?

Everyone seems to have their own answer to that question. Everyone seems to have their own opinion as to who he is, what he is, why he does what he does......

But rarely does anyone ever think to ask him.

The funny thing is, Dick himself probably doesn’t even know what he’d answer, if someone ever did.

Maybe he’d just laugh. Maybe he’d just shrug. Maybe he’d lie.

None of the above, he might say. All of the above, he might decide a minute later.

“I don’t know,” he might decide at last, with a shrug.

“I never did like when people try and put me in a box.”

[nitpickrider]

any villains you have an inordinate fondness for? One of mine is the Enforcer. I don't why, his name makes little sense but I like his costume. Black and white, simplistic but striking enough to stand out.

That's a super broad question but since you mentioned Enforcer I guess I can limit it to thinking of a Marvel guy with similar energy umm...OH!

People hanging around my blog lately have been able to see me growing an appreciation for Serpent Society mainstay Anaconda, AKA Blanche Sitznski She seems like she's really the backbone of the Serpent Society. Not the leader, not one of the group's big movers and shakers but it wouldn't feel like it was really THEM without her hanging around.

I think her powers of having arms that can extend and expand to massive, crushing sizes backed by invulnerability and super strength are very neat and lend themselves to a lot of clever, 3 dimensional thinking in a fight scene. I like her personality, that's she's a rough and tumble kind of gal who's always raring for a fight and will knock you flat on your ass and then six feet down in the pavement for questioning her strength or competence. She's one the Society's heaviest hitters and anyone who has a problem with her gender, how she expresses it (VERY butch from what I can tell) or the expression of her powers meaning her body being covered in scales and having visible gill-whiskers on her face is going to be VERY dead, VERY quickly. She has a job, she's good at it, anyone wants to look at her funny about it can deal with the medical costs. And, if you will allow me to be a bit crass under the Read More

She is so. FUCKING. HOT. And PRETTY. and BUILT. and JESUS H. CHRIST SERIOUSLY. Anyone hanging around here knows I have a thing about muscular ladies and while a generally fit and trim girl with an eight pack stomach is one thing, Anaconda is what I mean when I say I like MUSCULAR. LADIES <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 The whiskers on her face and her body being covered head to toe in rough scales do not throw that off one bit. If anything they make it oh so, SO much better. Fucking my god, whoever put her in that one piece in this issue must have loved me and people like me very specifically DAYUM. Ahem. Anyway, yes. Anaconda.

[hrefna-the-raven]

Lawmen

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Words: 1537

Warnings: smut (18+)

Chapter 7 - Thou shalt love thy detective as thyself

Two months had passed since that eventful night including the Jackal and you. In all sincerity, things between the two of you had actually calmed down a bit and you were back to the usual professionality, at least on the surface. Two days after that night, you were back to work with him and his behaviour made you boil inside. He kept on working as nothing ever happened, not even a hint of remorse eventhough he started it all with his kiss, but somehow, in the deepest profundity of your mind, you were grateful for the lack of need to discuss this through, it would have been the most awkward talk you ever had. Little did you know of how Perkins really felt, for it might have changed the whole situation. He was a mere a shadow of himself after that night, barely capable of keeping his cold façade at work, while at home, alone, he kept on drinking his mind to an endurable silence, rocking his sobbing drunk self to sleep. You broke the man, which was an accomplishment many strived to achieve and you would never know about if he had any say in it.

Despite the confession and the kisses, things with Reed weren’t great either, pretending to not love someone over years exacted its toll, so there was not much to be expected except embarrassing stare offs and cringy silence between the occasional wiggings. Well isn’t life wonderful, you sighed and packed your stuff to leave for your training with Vaz, which was the sole pleasant constant nowadays. You took a liking to the slightly crazy guy, you thought and fought alike and you sensed a great friendship slowly but gently developing. An android greeted you as you entered the precinct, letting you pass immediately to its right. After a heated discussion with Captain Fowler, Vaz apparently managed to get you direct access, you weren’t part of any of the units in this building, but you were a Fed after all, so you’d hardly pass by to do any harm, not keeping count of the bruises on Vaz’ body after each of your sessions. You stopped at the coffee machine in the break room to have a quick cup before you head down to the sport’s equipment room when you spotted a familiar face.

“Hi Dave”, you smiled approaching the man who looked so different in his uniform.

His usually stern expression formed into a gentle smile as he spoke your name. The way his deep voice embraces every syllable of your name always made quiver inside. You got to know the man better over the last months, he seemed quite intriguing and you spent many evenings until late chewing the fat with him. Your eyes wandered off and stopped at his name badge.

“Captain Allen?”, you spoke out surprised.

He only chuckled in response as you continued.

“Hang on a sec, you’re not only a colleague of Vaz, you’re actually his friggin’ boss!”

David burst out laughing, causing you to blush embarrassedly. It was endearing to see the usually stern man, so carefree because you were clueless for once.

“You’re not only a Fed, but the Jackal’s partner and you had no idea who I was?”

“Hey, I’m no stalker, except my job expects me to be!”, you defensively lifted your hands in the air, “or do you have a criminal operation running that would need me investigating you?”, you grinned challenging.

“No, but I might start one if it means a beautiful clever woman would stalk me.”

He wiped a tear from his eye and gave you a charming wink that completely disarmed you. Before you could even begin to contemplate how to respond to his flirtatious behavior, a strong hand rested on your shoulder.

“Hands off, Captain, this one is mine!”, you recognised Gavin’s voice.

“Don’t you thi-“, he interrupted your contradiction by turning you around and pressing your body against his.

He pressed his lips on yours and pushed them apart with his tongue. You almost felt David’s disgusted headshake as he passed you, mumbling something opaque. Peeking through a half shut eye, you saw how Gavin purposely stared at the Captain. You expected him to release you after the two of you were alone but he just tightened his grip around your waist and if it wasn’t for the desperate need of air, you would have bet that his lips would have never left yours again. You were panting, he definitely caught you off-guard with his behaviour, not that it made you mad or it was unwanted, but after the silence, it was quite of a surprise, an arousing one, sort of and you almost groaned as he finally took his hands off you.

“I have been a douche, lately, and well, let’s start this whole thing over”, Gavin awkwardly rubbed his neck.

“Lately?”, you huffed.

“Always?”, he hesitantly tried to conciliate, “more than usual?”.

An involuntarily chuckle left your lips and you took his head between your small hands.

“You are, undeniably, the biggest idiot I know”, you struggled to keep your serious tone, “Gavin fucking Reed.”

His gaze dropped to the ground as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. You dwelled in his sudden insecurity and feasted on the sight of the blush creeping up his cheeks. Seeing the idiot detective so flustered was actually a lovely sight and it gave you some welcomed assurance that he actually did care about you, pushing away the upcoming dread that he might be a bit more possessive than you cared for. You grabbed his hand and dragged him downstairs to the shower cabins of the training room.

“What are you doing? I need to finish my paper work and-“, you stifled him down by pressing your hand on his mouth.

“I’ve got fifteen minutes before Vaz shows up and I’m done playing the hoping and waiting game, it happens now, Reed!”

Baffled by your sudden harshness, he gulped nervously as you undid his belt and pushed down his pants and briefs. You licked your lips as you saw Gavin's abundant and already hard cock, you always thought he would exaggerate at the size, but between all the lies he ever told, you found one of the rare truths which only left you with more desire. You kneeled before him and slowly took his twitching cock in your mouth, starting to slowly bob your head up and down. Gavin struggled at first to keep quiet as you sucked faster, occasionally flicking your tongue over his sensitive throbbing head, but then completely lost it as soon as you sucked harder and he hit the back of your throat. The sweet taste of his precum filled your mouth as you went back to teasing his tip eagerly. Gavin, panting and moaning, grabbed your hair and pulled your head away. You got up and started to undress in front of him, since, later, you would need to change into your sports outfit anyway, you felt comfortable to take off everything, slowly piece by piece, leaving Gav drooling and aching with his desire for you surging through his whole body.

"Come on, Detective, I want you right here, right now!", turning around gently, pressing your ass against his wheeping dick.

A wicked grin spread across his lips, this teasing game could as well by a two player game. He put his tip at your entrance, nudging a bit, without really entering.

"I don't know, Agent, I'm not sure if we should work this closely together to solve this - immediate - case - of - horniness", he stressed out every last word, provoking your impatience.

"Don't play with fire, Reed!", you groaned and bucked you hips towards him, causing him to slide inside you without time to react.

The two of you moaned loudly at the sudden release and pleasure and your walls tightened around his thick cock. He briefly adjusted his position before pulling almost all the way out of you to then thrust back in just as slowly. You whimper, every muscle in your body tense as Gavin continues to speed up his leisurely pace, pushing in and out of you faster and harder at every thrust. He felt you tighten around him and you both groaned in ecstasy as you grew closer to your climax. He dug his fingers deeper into your hips, trying to pull you closer and pushing inside deeper. You both cried out each others names as you came undone and you let out a last satisfied moan as you felt his seed filling you up inside. Gavin took his dripping cock out of you and turned you around, putting one hand on your back and one on your cheek, pulling you so close that the tips of your noses touched each other. His hazy eyes stared right into your soul, making your skip more than just one beat.

"I love you, you know that right?", he breathed hard through his nose, while a few sweat pearl ran down his front.

"It might just happen that I love you too, douche", you whispered.

Chapter 8

[sword-dad-fukuzawa]

hi there! i watched mars red because of you and now i'm extremely [feelings?????] because of it! i thought you might be amused by this. there's...so much i want to chew on about this anime but i thought i'd ask you first: what are your thoughts and feelings on suwa's characterization? i'm obsessed with him but also i cannot articulate a single coherent thought about him

THIS DOES BRING ME INFINITE JOY ACTUALLY!! I love converting people to my favorite dramatic vampire anime. I too was very [feelings?????] after watching it. I think that is the common experience and it is top tier. This will be very long, by the way.

Okay, Suwa is very interesting. He has such a nuanced characterization that is mostly conveyed through a lot of indirect channels--conversations with other characters, a singular flashback iirc, and these lingering asides when no one else is around. It makes him such a fun character and also really difficult to get a handle on. If I were to boil him down to a set of simple character traits, I'd go with principled, jaded, and kind.

So, did you notice? Suwa's story always revolves around a young female figure. The first person who gets him to both literally and figuratively take his mask off is Akesato, the fifteen-year-old prostitute in episode 4. The person he develops the deepest connection to is the vampire girl, Ayame, at the end, who he eventually ends up taking under his wing on the boat.

(ty @nocandnc for reminding me of her name!!)

To everyone else in the anime, Suwa is closed off at best and antagonistic at worst (this is slightly different in the manga though, fun fact--he gets a lot of scenes with Takeuchi).

And I think this is just such a clever way to characterize Suwa. I can't remember how much this is discussed in the anime, but we learn that Suwa had a little sister.

There's this extremely painful manga panel where he's getting turned by a whole pack of vampires, and he's covered in blood on a boat, and yet all he's looking at is the crouched figure of a little girl. And before the vampires can get her, he tosses her overboard and cries for her to swim, to live.

And this is the core of Suwa's character. He protects children, and he's defined by having his last act as a human be to protect his little sister. He doesn't even know if she survived.

Which, you know, in a pretty masterful demonstration of "take a positive character trait to its extreme, resulting in a flaw," means he kills child vampires. He doesn't want them to experience how terrible and scary it is to be a child vampire--save them from his fate. It's a pretty brilliant example of character growth when he decides he's going to spare Ayame and instead take care of her, going from a lone wolf into a real protector.

(She's an anime-only character, and I think her existence adds a lot to Suwa's arc.)

Like!! Look at this man!! He cares about kids!!

^^ Those are hands capable of great violence (as we see in the rest of the show) and yet he's gently guiding this vampire kid to a safe distance from Kurusu. I'm in my feelings about it.

And here, in this scene--he comforts Ayame with the blunt kindness that Suwa is known for. Because he's been in her position.

I also want to mention how Suwa, despite being so adamant that vampires aren't human, spends a lot of time watching plays and watching singers and being around human society. This is a guy who's seen the worst of humanity in his 300-odd years of being a vampire, and yet he chooses to enjoy the best parts of us.

And he wants to be a part of that.

It's also pretty significant that despite having seen the worst of us, he's still voluntarily part of a military squad protecting humans.

They might talk a lot about how it's mandatory for vamps to join because otherwise you'll be killed, but it's Suwa. He's been around for 300 years, dodging other vampires and vamp-hunters. They can't make him do anything.

I love Suwa because he doesn't act nice. He's cold, standoffish, kind of an asshole half the time. See this panel:

He values competency and won't wait for you to catch up. But Kurusu gets it right, what kind of person he is:

...He's also a little bit crazy, which is valid, considering what happened to him.

And batshit funny. (Hehe. Get it? Bats? Cuz he's- yeah okay sorry)

On a more serious note, I also feel like Suwa is characterized by a lot of regrets. This man carries a lot of guilt, and a lot of memories. In thhe manga, he says about Akesato:

I should've sang her a song...

And then gets Takeuchi to teach him how to sing (he's not good at it, but he's trying). It's...thoughtful. And telling about what sort of person Suwa is.

Anyway, I'm going to end this with my favorite panel of Suwa from the manga, which sums up a lot of his character development in both the anime and manga. His last lines in both adaptations are also pretty telling, I think. In the anime, it's:

Want to go see the "new world" together for a change of pace?

It signifies his willingness to change and to grow, having been wandering Japan for his whole life.

And in the manga?

[shatteredhourglass]

Hi! What do you love most about Our Flag Means Death? The best aspects of the show. I'm curious. 😊

It'd be great if I had a clever heartfelt answer to that, wouldn't it? Alas. I don't know. I'm not gonna get it all down here, but I'll try;

I am indescribably horny for men in black leather (Ed in that first reveal scene nearly took me out for good.)

Blackbeard's crew is like. They look and feel like my people. Idk. I feel some kind of home in the way they dress too but also just their personalities and who they are (don't look at this one too closely, you've already seen me Izzyposting.)

I am SO americanised. I am so tired of americanising myself for the fandoms I'm in and for my friends (I love y'all, but.) I'm Australian, not a Kiwi, but it's close enough that I feel like I don't have to edit myself as much. Relief.

Frankly I expected another show where the fandom goes "oh they're SO gay" and it was all subtextual. I am so sick of those. It shocked me.

It hits that exact sweet spot of angry/violent/fucked up and funny and romantic that I love and try to write.

*gestures wordlessly at every character except for Calico Jack*

Everyone is queer. Everyone. My god. It's not just a token "yeah we put a gay couple who you never see onscreen so y'all shut up" and there's a startling lack of bigotry about it too. I'm not watching queer trauma. It's not like when I watched TCAOS (regrettably) and spent every second Theo was onscreen with fear/nausea clutching my heart

Their silly little muppet faces (affectionate) make great emojis for my server with @trashkingtater (pay no mind to my unfunny server name)

They all kind of suck. This should not be a good thing. It is. I love them.

I immensely enjoyed making fun of Izzy for the entire show and then accidentally got brainrot over him.

The amount of trans!Izzy content my God it's delicious. And a lot of it is written/drawn by transmasc people, which is fantastic. There's so much that it feels like... it's not just one "oh hey" fic every now and then. It's fuckin' prolific. (and it will be more prolific, he says, slightly threatening)

You can tell I've been in Marvel for a while with this one, but: BODY HAIR! CHEST HAIR! BUTT HAIR! (probably.) People who are not 7-pack musclepads! They are people-shaped.

Yeah there's probably more than this but I'm not very good at thoughtfully translating my emotions nor interpreting them in the first place so I don't know if this is a good answer. Take it anyway.

[spidersfanfics]

Third Time’s the Charm

Cid nan Garlond x Nero tol Sceva | Confession | Kismesisstude

Nero, as he is prone to doing, tries to leave mysteriously in the night yet again. But this time, Cid catches him.

Taking place in a nebulous, probably not canon-compliant space after Shadowbringers? Because although I have not gotten there yet (pls no spoilers), I can only assume Nero continues the trend of his little disappearing act. 

“Leaving us already, Tol Scaeva?”

Nero froze in the midst of packing his suitcase and sighed heavily. “Have I been caught?” He asked without turning around. Not that he needed to in order to pinpoint that familiar voice. Cid nan Garlond, the bastard.

Cid chuckled from where he stood. No doubt leaning smugly against the door frame. Blocking the exit with his stocky build. Burly arms crossed across a broad chest that had filled out infuriatingly nicely since their youth… Nero was going to give him the satisfaction of turning around first though. Or admitting any of that. Especially since he was still talking. “You’ve pulled your vanishing act often enough that I figured I’d beat you to the punch this time.”

“Oh gods, I’m becoming predictable,” Nero lamented dramatically and forced himself to focus on the conversation at hand. “Look what you’ve done to me, Garlond.”

“What I’ve done to you?” Cid repeated incredulously, barely containing laughter. “Nero, I’ve never once met anyone who could do anything to you that you didn’t want.” The door clicked shut audibly and footsteps approached. Nero tensed up instinctively, awaiting whatever was to come. But Cid stopped a little ways away and sighed. “Which is why I’m not going to try and convince you to stay right now.”

Nero blinked, well that wasn’t what he was expecting. He clenched and unclenched his fists a couple of times. “What are you here for then?”

A hand appeared in Nero’s peripheral vision as Cid reached around to place a gentle hand on his chin and tilted his face around. “Nero,” he said firmly but softly, “Can you look at me, please?”

Nero allowed himself to be manhandled for just long enough to face his dearest rival before pulling away with a scowl. “Don’t baby me, Garlond,” he sneered. “Just tell me what you want so I can be on my way.” He hoped it wasn’t clear how much he was shaking and he crossed his arms behind his back to try and hide his nerves. He tried to tell himself that he just wasn’t used to Cid being so forward. But it was hard, standing so impossibly close to this lovably insufferable boy scout. “What’re you scared to miss me? I know my stunning intellect and roguish charm are hard to come by around here.”

Cid laughed again and shook his head. But did as he was told and backed off a little. “Just wanted to look you in the eyes for this next bit. But I guess with your sour attitude I may as well have gone to the kitchen for a lemon and asked it to listen.”

“Oh well aren’t you clever with your words,” Nero scoffed. He straightened to his full height so he could properly tower over Cid but for once it didn’t do much good. He suddenly felt impossibly small. “You’re still stalling, Garlond.”

“Quite the astute observation.”

“Cid.”

The man in question widened his eyes. Nero just about never called him by his first name. He must be really irritated. Better get this over quick then. “Right, right, sorry. It’s just that. Twice now you’ve escaped right when I thought we’d finally learned to get along. And twice now that means I worked up the courage just a touch too late to say what I’ve wanted to say. I wasn’t going to let a third chance slip through my fingers.”

Nero shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. “We do get along,” he said, purposefully dodging the point of Cid’s explanation. “Or at least, I like to think I get along just fine. You’re the one who keeps rekindling our childish squabbling.”

Cid smirked, “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Whatever, that’s hardly the point.” Cid reached up to run a hand through his hair as he considered his next words. “Ever since we ended up more or less back on the same side of this conflict, I’ve wanted to have a proper talk. But we’ve been so busy helping the Warrior of Light that the time never seemed right. Which is when I realized, the time was never going to be right. Not in the way that I wanted it. So I’m just seizing the moment now and seeing what happens.”

Nero blinked, “What in the world could be so important that you of all people would fret over talking about it? I often feel like I’m doomed to listen to your lecturing for the rest of eternity.”

“You’re one to talk,” Cid retorted, “You can’t get enough of your own voice. Though I guess the irony here is that you’ve also been avoiding this talk. So I just have one question for you. When are you finally going to stop running away and address this thing between us?”

“I don’t run away. And there is no thing,” Nero snapped. Then, when Cid just shot him a silent, unimpressed look, he cleared his throat awkwardly and added, “Even if there was, what makes you think I want to talk about it?”

Cid rolled his eyes with an amused smile, “Well what if that’s what I want? Really Nero, would it kill you to think about someone else for a change?”

“I told you not to make fun of me,” Nero frowned.

“I’m not.”

“Of course you are,” Nero insisted and at this point he was starting to actually get angry. Who was Cid to just barge into his room in the middle of the night and try to tell him how he should feel? Even worse, he might be right. But he would never give Cid of all people the satisfaction of knowing that. He’d sooner see his life’s work destroyed than admit that he was in love with Cid nan Garlond.

“Coming in here and acting like you know anything at all about how I feel. Meanwhile I know very well you hate me so what’s the point in me liking you?”

Well shit. Time to get out the torches and burn his workshop to the ground, he supposed. Because there he goes again running his big mouth before thinking for more than a second. “You really think I hate you?” Cid asked. “For someone so smart you can be such an idiot sometimes.”

“Ah, so you admit that I’m smart.”

“When have I ever not,” Cid laughed, “Certainly not with you snapping at my heels all throughout our youth. Success meant nothing if it wasn’t to keep up with you, Nero. But you’re changing the subject again. How are you so sure that I hate you?”

Nero’s unshakable confidence was faltering. The walls that he’d worked so hard to build around his heart were crumbling in the space of an instant and for once he had no idea what to do about it. “Don’t you?”

“Of course not.” Cid smiled gently, his eyes filled with adoration. “I am who I am because of you. How could I hate you? I find you a nuisance and a brat and a reckless fool. But I do not hate you.”

Nero scowled, “Well you should. Because I hate you.”

“Do you?” Cid chuckled, “That’s not what you said a moment ago.”

“Shut up,” And now it was Nero’s turn to grab Cid by the face. Although his grip was far less gentle. He wrapped his hand around the lower half of Cid’s face and pulled the man towards him. “You and I are rivals. That’s the point. That’s how it has to be.”

Cid grinned as best as he could with Nero’s fingers digging into his cheeks. “Why is that?”

“Because if we were anything else we might tear this world apart,” Nero answered. “As it is, all we do is tear each other apart.” His breathing was heavy and his last words felt like a confession. “And for now that seems so much safer.” Maybe it was.

“Nero,” Cid’s voice had an exasperated tone that was oh so familiar. “Can’t we have just one civil conversation without someone ending up in the chirurgeon's wing?”

“Nope.”

That coaxed yet another laugh out of Cid. Nero was really on a roll tonight, despite his best efforts. “Well then why don’t you go ahead and test your hypothesis? See if the world explodes if you just take what you want for once. Rather than what you think you should want.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

Nero growled in frustration and pulled Cid even closer. Finally crossing that last ilm between them. And he kissed him. Open mouthed and hungry. That growl of frustration quickly morphed into one of need and want. He needed Cid and he wanted to stay. Or rather, he wanted to want to stay. But when they broke apart panting, Nero’s poker face had already returned. “I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

Nero shook his head. “It’s too suffocating. I just can’t do it.”

Cid sighed then reached up to run a comforting touch across Nero’s cheek. “I understand. Go, do whatever it is that you do when you’re not with us. And then, when we need you most, you’ll be back. Right? That’s how it always seems to be with you. Until then I’ll be waiting.”

“Gar- Cid. I lo-”

“Shh,” Cid shook his head. “Save it. Tell me when you mean it. Don’t make any promises you can’t keep. For now, I just want you to know your options. And I trust you’ll be smart enough to pick the right one.”

“So you do think I’m smart.”

“An absolute genius.”

[jessicas-pi]

okay, you guys, it's like 1:45 AM and I'm never gonna get any sleep with the sore throat I've got right now, so who wants to hear about the legend of Midnight Jim?

I don't know how many kids actually believed they had a monster under their bed. I didn't. I had a loft bed. There were bookshelves and a red leather beanbag chair that leaked staticky foam pellets under my bed, and as a result there was also frequently a me under my bed when I wanted to read past my bedtime.

I did not believe in monsters. Although, that scene at the beginning of Monsters, Inc. where the red eyes appear under the kid's bed always freaked me out and I had to skip it.

I was also afraid of the child catcher in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, the Rodents of Unusual Size, Ewoks, the vacuum cleaner (but only sometimes,) and Gorignak.

I was a nervous child.

Deeply nervous.

So when I say I do not believe in monsters, I don't mean that I didn't have monsters. I had a lot of monsters. I just didn't believe in them.

I imagined faces in dark windows and shambling shapes and long grasping arms and cold fingers that brushed my ankles as I went up the stairs and creepy voices that made heavy breathing sounds. All of this followed me everywhere in the dark, and I do mean everywhere. If I was in the dark, there was a Something behind me.

Of course, I didn't believe in it.

I knew it wasn't real.

But it was there.

(My sister Emily took this a step further as a child and produced lovely, nightmarish illustrations of her monsters—at least, I assume they were her monsters—in full color. Then she named them and sometimes wrote information down about their species.)

(We were raised on Planet Earth documentaries instead of... whatever other kids watched. Barney. Or Elmo. I'm not saying that those don't have some value, but you get A Different Kid when you feed their brain with David Attenborough's narration of the ceaseless marching-onwards of life and death in the natural world.)

Where was I?

Ah, right. Yes.

Midnight Jim.

Something else relevant to this story is that I am a terrible sleeper. Not chronic insomnia, but chronic something. I have to imagine stories for a good half hour before I can even start to slip off, and it was only so much worse as a kid.

I needed it to be dark to sleep.

But if my brain was not filled up with thoughts, EVERY SECOND, then... of course...

Monsters.

I also had to get up a lot in the night. One midnight snack and at least two bathroom trips every night were a necessity. Which was only more opportunity for the Not Real Monsters to follow me around and scare my pants off.

Eventually, I realized this Had To End. But how? It wasn't like I could just make the monsters go away, I knew they weren't there at all! And mentally transforming Kissy Cat into a monster-devouring feline kaiju didn't help much, mostly because we did not own Kissy Cat yet. Instead we had a sweet little mouse named Petunia, and her evil demon mouse sister named Sweetie.

Mice do not fight monsters.

After hours upon hours of endless nightly agonizing, I finally hit upon my solution.

I would make my own monster.

First up, it needed a name. What was named was known, and what was known was not feared.

Tempting as it would be to call it Steve after the hedge from Over the Hedge, I was not as clever then as I am now, so I decided to call it Midnight Jim.

(Coincidentally, Jim was the name of our neighbor who would mow his lawn at midnight and would wax our car for us if we bought him a pack of beer.)

Then I dreamed up what is, in my own humble opinion, the best monster to ever exist.

Midnight Jim looks just like a monarch butterfly, except he secretly eats your hair when you don't look. He says "Raargh." Like, says it. Try and say "raargh" in a flat, squeaky, little-kid voice, and you will see what Midnight Jim sounded like.

And then there was nothing for my brain to autofill to make Midnight Jim scary. "ooh he's a creepy—" nope he's a butterfly. "he eats your—" hair? yeah so what it grows back. "he makes a creepy sound like—" raargh. he says raargh. No creepy noises, only raargh.

I couldn't get rid of my monsters but by george I could replace them, and so I did.

Whenever a Monster would start to follow me around I just replaced it with Midnight Jim. And it worked. It worked!

In fact, it worked so well that I never actually had to work on getting rid of that overactive imagination of mine, so I still need Midnight Jim to follow me around sometimes when The Monsters come back.

Long live Midnight Jim, I guess.