#le keep up the good work has arrived

[beardedmrbean]

[maxillness]

Nattely || LN4 x Reader

Warnings: Angst, cheater!Lando (I’m so sorry, babes), breaking up

Wordcount: 0.8k

I promised myself I wouldn’t do anymore Danish songs, but I just love this one so much, and I’m also sorry for all the Lando lovers out there 😭🫶

I promise you there will be a part 2, but they don’t get back together or work it out. I’m sorry 🫶

God, was she bored out of her mind. She wanted to cuddle up beside her boyfriend like never before, but wasn’t here to hold her

As a result to her boredom, she went on Snapchat. She checked the snapmap, like she always do, but something was different this time

He wasn’t at home. He should be, he has nothing planned, not that she knew of anyway. She decided to call Lando, ask him what he was up to

The phone rang for a moment. She thought he wasn’t my gonna pick up, but he finally did after what felt like forever

“Hey, what’s up?” He asked. His voice was different, so was his wording. There was no ‘Hey, babe’ like he normally said picking up the phone

“I just wanted to know what you were doing. I’m bored out of my mind” She chuckled, but she didn’t get one back

”Oh, I’m be just been at home. Sleeping. This jet lag is getting to be” Was he straight up lying to her? She knew he wasn’t home

“Okay” Her voice was low, realising what he had said “Sleep well, love. See you tomorrow?” A sigh was heard from the other end before he spoke

“Of course. See you tomorrow. Bye, love” It was quick as he hung up

She regretted ever calling him. This feeling in her stomach was turning her inside out. Why would he lie to her like that?

The kiss she got from him when he arrived the next morning, wasn’t like it usually was. It was quick, and more like a peck

They were cuddled up on the couch watching a movie, but she always felt like it was wrong, knowing he lied to her and he was going behind her back

As the weeks went by, she kept feeling the love they had for each other faded. They went back to strangers like they once were

Each morning, she would have breakfast ready for him in the kitchen, just like they were used to

Each morning, he would give her a kiss on the cheek, just like they were used to

But those actions that was once filled with love, was now replaced with distance and silent empty promises

She wanted to confront him. She needed to confront him. She couldn’t lay this behind her and keep going with her life like she Disney know anything

They hadn’t been intimate since a few weeks before he lied to her. It pained her, and she was starting to yearn for some intimacy

“Where do you go when go from here?” She asked as she heard the sound of him picking up his keys

Her back was turned towards him, but she could still sense his confused state

“I know you don’t go home when you go from here” She tried keeping her sniffles in and kept the tears from falling down her face

“You sleep in another town for the nights you’re not here” She had now turned around, her front facing him

“Love, what are you talking about?” His words were soft, softer than they had ever been

“Don’t ‘love’ me. I know… I know you’re screwing around, Lando” Her lips trembled, trying to not crash down on the floor

“Just tell me. I just want to know. Who is she? Is she better than me? What does she have that I don’t?” She asked questions too fast for him to answer “Do I know her?” Her finally question was the one he was focused on

“No, you don’t know her” She felt a kind of relief, knowing she would only have to cut off one of her friends, and not two

“Good. That’s a start” She was trying so fucking hard to not let the tears stream down her face “Who is she?”

“Someone I met on the paddock once” The paddock. She could have been there when they met

“Is she better than me?” Fright was locked in his eyes

“No. And you’re not better than her. You’re your own in different ways” She couldn’t help but hear the lie in his voice

“Then why her? What does she have that makes you choose her over me?” She wanted to know. It was the least he could do

“I don’t know” He sighed, and it was the truth this time “It happened once, and then I got addicted. Baby, I’m sorry”

“No. You’ve lost your right to call me ‘baby’. Wasn’t I enough? Why aren’t you addicted to me? Is she better in bed? Is that why? You chose sex over love?” She didn’t let him speak before she spoke up again “Get out. This is my apartment. Get the fuck out” She could feel she was gonna burst any second

He didn’t wanna protest. He hurried out the door, letting her cool off. As soon he shut the door, the tears came streaming down her cheeks

Her knees gave out, making her land hard on the floor, pain shooting gin her knees and legs

Why would he do it?

What’s wrong with me?

Did I do something wrong?

The thoughts rang around in her head for weeks, and she couldn’t stop them

[mystverse]

EVERYDAY DRABBLES - MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

WARNINGS : MDNI, Demon! Chenle, Smut, Oral sex (fem receiving), Unprotected sex (please use protection), mild implication of corruption kink if you squint, use of pet name (sweet angel like once), etc.

A/N : Sorry for this sorry excuse of a smut.

The knock on your door wakes you up fully from your restless sleep. Whoever it is, they are getting punc- kissed right on the lips. It's Chenle. Sweet, sweet Chenle, who loves to get on his knees for you.

His hands curl around your waist, entering your room. It's unusual but welcome. You know that his work ends at odd hours and odd places. He could have had his work near your place and that's how you reason for his arrival.

However, his pupils are blown out. Your fingers trace the almost healed cut on his cheek. "Is everything ok, Lele?" He hums, wrapping his arms around you. A warm hug, and you feel him, hard and warm against your stomach. Red creeps to your cheeks.

"Is it the bond again? Did I summon you?" You ask him gently. This has happened before, once when you first summoned him from hell. He hadn't formed a bond back then. Hence, it hadn't been difficult to keep him away. Now, Sweet Chenle, your demon boyfriend is bonded to you for eternity, and so he feels your soul, relentlessly tugging at the bond string. You wonder if your soul is entangled with his and at any sort of mild discomfort, it reaches out to him.

But he shakes his head, denying, "It's me. I crave you. I tried to keep it at bay, but I couldn't-" He sighs, "-do it. I almost let an evil soul reach heaven. The pact would have been broken."

"You should have come to me." You softly press a kiss to his jaw. You seat him on the couch and leave to bring him water, but he follows you to the kitchen, arms wrapping around you to engulf your frame.

Dark smoke fills the space. It isn't suffocating. The smoke rarely is. But you can't say that about the man behind, making his intention known with his actions and signals. Your eyes flutter close as an instinct. And the last string of sanity leaves the room silently when a sinful moan leaves your lips.

He seats on over the counter with a deep grunt and kneels in front of you. Slipping off your sleep shorts and cotton underwear, he leaves wet kisses on your cunt, breath warm and battered. He laps greedily, getting you wet for him. You let out broken moans and whimpers of pleasure, "Missed you so much. Missed your pussy so much. Ah- I'm gonna stay like this till morning. Oh- fuck you are throbbing, angel. Do you want it too? My face buried in your pussy? Bet you do." He's rambling absolute filth but all you could feel is bliss. He licks and prodes at your cunt, sucking on your clit. You could just come from his tongue. He spreads your legs further, delving his tongue in along with two of his fingers to spread you open for his cock.

"Chen-le ah shit-" you call out his name in ecstasy. He lets out an animalistic growl, picking up the pace with his fingers and pressing at the sweet spots inside. You are burning up, but the countertop is cool against your skin. You can feel the tight knot in your stomach, which is about to come undone. "Chenle- fuck- love-" the waves of oragsm crash through your body, leaving you shaking and trembling, but he doesn't stop. His hands are kneading your ass, nails softly digging into the skin, "Come home, please." You have no idea what's going on in his mind, but you agree with a nod and a soft whimper following, right after because you feel him inside you. He angles his hips to ruin you whole. You scream and cry out in pleasure. Who knew a demon's dick was this good? It's good enough to make you forget your morals; your ideologies. Who are you kidding? It's fucking fantastic.

"You can't go back on your word," he kisses the mark of claim on your neck, a glowing sigil of pentagram. You are too gone to care, and the black smoke plumes around them. It intercepts your line of vision, and you close your eyes for a second only to find yourself on a bed, with Chenle hovering over you. He doesn't give you time to question him. His dick is still buried in you, and he is thrusting fast and hard into you. You clutch onto the crimson silk sheets while he makes your eyes roll back in pleasure. The coil in your abdomen snaps for the second time, and he's filling you up while whispering soft praises for taking him like a good girl, "You did so well, my love."

"Where are we, Lele?" You ask once out of the daze, looking around the palace like interior of the room curiously. His grin is mischievous, "Welcome to Hell, my sweet angel."

: MYST

[endless-ineffabilities]

MORE MARQUIS MOREEEEEEE I LOOOOOOVED IT, L - O - V - E - D ITTT!!!!!!!

le marquis et le moineau - (ill)fated

Marquis de Gramont x f!reader

synopsis: one of several short stories, set up as a prequel to this oneshot of le marquis et le moineau. This is set in the early days, depicting the beginning of what would turn into a dangerous mutual infatuation.

more of moineau: le marquis et le moineau ▪︎ first dance ▪︎ other works

word count: 2.5k ▪︎ themes/warnings: slow burn, mentions of violence (it's the John Wick universe ofc), language

"Welcome to the New York Continental. How may I be of service?" Charon asks in his flawless genial manner.

You stand behind him, his shadow in training. After only 3 short months as the 'Assistant to the Concierge' - (a title you picked over 'Assistant Concierge', in reference to a certain beloved TV series) - you've come to learn the ins and outs of the Continental.

What makes it tick. The demands of its peculiar crowd of usual guests. What is required to keep such an establishment up and running.

In truth, it takes a lot of fucking work. Much and more need to be swept under the rug so as to not attract attention. Guests need to be kept satisfied, their particular requests adhered to. As long as it is well within the rules of the High Table, of course.

The only thing separating you from the animals.

As if everyone in this sort of life has not already become animal. Well, isn't ignorance such bliss.

The man who introduced himself as Chidi says, "I have come ahead of my superior, the Marquis de Gramont. Needless to say, we must ensure that everything is well-prepared for his stay here in New York. Wouldn't you agree, Charon?"

"Of course, sir." Charon tilts his head. "I will personally see to that, don't you worry. Is he still set to arrive tonight at the planned hour?"

"He should be here at 6 this evening. I trust that the... agitator is being dealt with?"

Charon walks in front of the counter, taking a parcel from a bellhop. He keeps his gaze trained on Chidi. "With compliments of the Continental, sir. The proprietor has ensured that the liability will be brought to the penthouse of the Marquis."

"Very good." Chidi taps Charon on the shoulder once, before walking away, a satisfied sneer on his face.

"Just remember, sir," Charon calls out to him, making his stop in his tracks, "that no business may be conducted on Continental grounds."

"Hmm."

After a moment, you move to stand beside Charon.

"So, sir, what was that all about?"

He turns his head towards you fondly. "I'm sure you've heard of Marquis Vincent de Gramont."

"Well, I've heard that he comes across as a pompous ass, if that's what you mean."

Charon simply raises his eyebrows at you, already accustomed to your blunt, sarcastic manner of speaking. "Well, he will be staying with us for a couple of days, as he has some... business to deal with."

"I won't even ask."

He moves to stand in front of you, finding your eyes. "Dear child, might I suggest steering clear of the Marquis and his associates whilst he is in residence with us here? It would simply be for the best. His reputation does preceed him."

You can't help but smile at Charon's nickname for you, one that heralds back to when your family first moved across the hall from him in one of the High Table sponsored apartment buildings in downtown Manhattan.

You had been only 12, but you were already well aware of your father's line of work. One that required him to be away on business to faraway cities each month, and caused him to rub elbows with the dregs of the underworld.

Not all of them were bad though. You grew fond of some of his associates, namely Charon, of course. And the one they called the Baba Yaga, but to you he was just Johnny.

John Wick hated the name, but he liked you, so the name stayed. Him and his then wife somehow became your second set of parents, with your dad never around and your mother usually drowning in her fancy liquor.

More than a decade later, your father met his end on one of his jobs. One that was only supposed to be "quick and easy". He promised he would be back to you in no time, with a box of your favourite chocolates from Paris.

But he never came. And neither did the fucking chocolates, which truthfully, you now hated. Your father lost his life in that city, so you grew to loathe everything about it.

And now comes the Marquis, the man practically in charge of all of Paris. Not to the public eye, of course.

If Charon asks you to steer clear of him, it must be for good reason.

But you've never been good at following orders. Or staying out of trouble. Or keeping your mouth shut.

"Whoever this Marquis is, I can handle him," you say determinedly. "I'll just act normal, do my job, go about business as usual."

Charon takes a deep breath, resigning himself. "Very well. Just try not to catch his eye." A tenant raises her hand, demanding his attention, so he starts to head her way.

"You know me," you call after him, an impish grin on your face. "I'm only a shadow."

The Marquis de Gramont stands in the ornate lobby of the Continental, surrounded by his posse. Clad in an impeccable three-piece cream suit, his hair perfectly coiffed, his polished shoes gleaming to the naked eye.

He is never beating those pompous ass allegations. You can't help but smirk from your post behind the concierge desk.

You look down briefly, smoothing out invisible creases on your black button-up shirt. Don't laugh. You roll out your shoulders. Compose yourself.

Winston and Charon had greeted his entourage upon entering, and they've been hashing out the details of his stay for the last minute or two. Apparently, the Marquis has some very specific demands. Of course he does.

Those in the group exchange some final words, nodding to each other, seemingly satisfied. Charon raises his arm, directing the Marquis. "Right this way, if you please."

Hands on his hips, the Marquis makes his way over to the private elevator. Which only means that he will have to pass by your post.

You try to keep your head down, as a practiced sign of cordiality. Also, so that you don't let out an impromptu sneer. But you can't help it. Right when he passes by, you raise your head.

And he is already looking straight at you.

The corner of his lips is in a downturn, as if he is judging you where you stand. Pompous prick.

You don't let it faze you. "Welcome to the Continental. We hope you enjoy your stay," you greet him, eyes not leaving his in some sort of defiance.

"Hmm." He walks by, slowly, and you only want to urge him on. But just when he is clear of the reception desk, he turns on his heel.

"What is your name?" He asks, a perfect brow raised in anticipation.

You answer him, keeping your voice steady. You've learned a long time ago not to allow men like him the chance to intimidate you.

A momentary pause, before he repeats your name. You want to hate the way he says it, as if he testing it on his tongue, seeing how it tastes.

But hell, that French accent can make anything sound heavenly.

"Is there a problem, monsieur?" Charon has moved to your side, wary of the attention from the marquis.

Marquis de Gramont barely acknowledges Charon with a sideways glance, before looking back to you. "Non, no problem at all."

He finally walks away. But of course, of course he has to drive a chill up your spine as he calls over his shoulder, "Have her come up to me in twenty minutes."

You grit your teeth in an attempt to maintain cordiality. "Excuse me, sir?" He could have at least addressed me himself.

Nothing. He doesn't even look back at you as he enters the elevator, head dipped in hushed whispers to his security team.

"So much for your being 'only a shadow', hmm?" Charon echoes your sentiment, which has just been apparently disproven.

Winston draws closer, worried look on his face as he says, "Quite a conundrum, dear one. I'm considering sending someone else in your place, however, he did ask for you markedly."

Your stomach churned. "Maybe he just needs some attending? Room service? Basic cleanup? I don't know..." Basic cleanup being clearing the blood of the surfaces of his penthouse, especially after he deals with the man the establishment had caught and presented to him.

Deals with. But not kill. Never that. Not whilst on Continental grounds, that is.

Winston responds, "Perhaps so. I trust that you will handle it? I know you can, child."

You straighten yourself. "Of course I can. He's just some overgrown French brat."

But what the fuck does he want?

"If anything," Winston adds calmly, "and worst comes to worst, your dear Uncle Johnny would surely be happy to lend a hand."

Of course he will. Feeling much lighter, you shoot a smile at Charon and Winston, before returning to your post behind the desk.

18 more minutes.

The Marquis stays in the biggest penthouse of the Continental. The most exclusive part of the property, made even more opulent per his request.

New pieces of artwork are hung on the walls, requested from some New York Baron's private collection. Not that he had a choice.

The man - the traitor - known as Laurent had been staying at the Continental in the week prior, stupidly believing that he is free of the Marquis.

It only took one phone call, and of course, Winston had to relent. They kept Laurent in one of their best suites, lulling him into a false sense of security, all while preparing for the Marquis' arrival.

Then Laurent's room was filled with nitrous oxide, and he was tied up and taken to the Marquis' penthouse.

Laurent sits in a lone wooden chair, nearly unconscious in the middle of the drawing room as you enter, a gash of deep red on his temple.

Chidi sits directly in front of him, seemingly carrying out the interrogation. His superior, on the other hand, lazily sits on the plush couch on the far side of the room. Looking as if he'd rather be anywhere but here. As if there isn't a man being tortured right in front of his eyes.

One of his men announces your arrival, but you sense the Marquis has already noticed your presence.

You clear your throat. "You asked for me, sir?"

"Mmm," he hums, and tilts his head. "Tell me, what was so funny?"

"I'm sorry?"

"When you first saw me in the lobby," he stands, stalking over to you, "you smirked. I wish to know what it was that brought you to react in such a manner."

This is why he asked for me? Because I smirked? Oh, for fuck's -

He steps forward, closer. "Cat got your tongue?"

"No, sir, I... I must admit, I don't quite remember what you speak of. I smirk to myself all the time. I've got plenty of inside jokes and all that."

"To yourself?"

"Yes."

"Are you... well in the head?" He twirls his fingers beside his temple. The bastard.

"Yes, Marquis." You take a deep breath, but you can't help yourself. "But I assure you I'm just as demented as you are."

A gloom falls over his face, and you sense his security team tense up. Preparing for him to say the word.

Your eyes trail around the room, and continue, "And everyone else in this world of ours."

The Marquis stares at you. Half-indignant, and dare you think it, half-amused.

His lips twitch, fighting back a smirk of his own, and his eyes rake your figure. From your uniform shoes to your hands to your lips. Then back to your gaze.

"Fair point." He shrugs, and the room settles once again. His men look away from the pair of you.

He turns, beckoning you to follow. A few feet in front of Laurent, he asks, "What do you make of this?"

Of this? You mean of him? The way the Marquis speaks, as if Laurent is merely a thing to be dealt with and not a person, bothers you. But such is the way of your world.

"Laurent Castillon. French-Italian sommelier. If I understand correctly, he cheated you out of what would have been successful dinner plans."

Sommelier, an arms dealer. Dinner plans, whatever you can concoct with the use of guns. You're more than accustomed to the language, having picked it up over the years.

"Excellent." The Marquis clasps his hands, pleased. "Now, what do you make of this? What would you do, if you were in my shoes?"

He is testing you, prodding you on. Seeing if you would curl back in your shell or flinch.

Is there a wrong answer here, or is this all just some game?

"I would set things right, I suppose."

"You suppose?" He repeats, dissatisfied. "We don't deal in half measures."

"I would - ," you look him directly in his eyes, "I would make him pay."

Something sparks in Marquis de Gramont's eyes. Recognition? Appreciation? Excitement?

"Won't that be a waste?" He takes a step closer, eliminating the space between you.

Stand your ground.

You shrug, "Such is life."

He smiles, "Indeed, petit moineau."

In a flash, without breaking your gaze, he takes a handgun from the inner lining of his jacket and shoots Laurent in the knee. He keels over, screaming.

The familiar sound rings in your ears, making you dig your nails in the flesh of your palm.

The Marquis does not even flinch, does not even look at Laurent who is writhing on the floor in pain.

"And what now?" He rubs an eyebrow with his thumb, still holding his gun carelessly with that hand.

"That depends." What the fuck did he call me? Moineau? "How gracious do you feel tonight?"

"Why?"

"Well," you say carefully, knowing the wrong word might set him off, "you could let the fool go. You've already taught him a lesson."

A long, torturous pause. He does not seem to like that suggestion.

"Take him away." He gives a sudden order, and all his men rush to obey. Seconds pass, and Laurent is out of your sight. Only Chidi and two other men are left hovering in the corner.

"Leave us," the Marquis finally says. Well, shit.

The door shuts behind the men, and you are left alone, with one of the most notorious men in the city. Perhaps the world.

"What's going to happen to him?" You find yourself asking, to fill the silence and also because you're genuinely curious.

He looks at you in confusion, as if the answer is the most obvious thing. "He dies, of course."

You swallow, a picture of forced composure. "Of course."

He rolls his eyes. "Sure, not here on the Continental and all that nonsense. But it does not matter. He dies anyway."

He dies. He says that so easily, like a life means nothing. It probably means nothing to him. Your father would probably have only been another life to spend, just another one in the roster, in his eyes.

"I hope you aren't busy," he says, walking to the other room.

"What did you have in mind?" Why can't he just send me away already?

"We shall dine together. I could use the company."

You grumble under your breath, "So much for being a shadow."

"Pardon?" He asks, just before reaching the archway to the dining room.

"I said, it would be my pleasure."

"Hmm."

Two can play at this game, Marquis.

And even more to come - taglist open!

Next in moineau...

More Marquis, just as it should be.

My HotD series works are not going to be discontinued. The next part to fire like yours will be up next, but don't hold me to it 🖤😉

[miniwheat77]

Denim. (Gaz x Reader.)

!nsfw, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, blood, injuries, reader gets hurt, sorry if I missed any.!

Inspired by that famous blue denim button up Gaz’s operator has on 🥰

Not edited.

This one! ^^^

Your foot tapped nervously against the floor of the Humvee, you were sitting in the passenger seat, watching for any signs of an ambush.

This was an important mission, one for the books. Since Hassan had been killed, someone named Amir had taken his place. After he’d attacked an American Military base, he had a target on his back of course. It was a big day. You could feel that this was right, that you were going to take him by surprise. You could feel it in your gut. You weren’t apart of the fight with task force 141 when they took down Hassan, but you were now. Here you were. This was a good chance to prove yourself to them. You had all reinforcements. The plan was to surround the building he was inside, take cover. And hope that he would surrender.

“You okay kid?” Captain Price asks you. You nod your head. “Something just doesn’t feel right.” You mumble.

He nods his head. “Yeah. I feel it too. But we take orders and if Laswell is okay with it, I suppose we will be too.” He nods. You swallow hard. “These people..” you pause. “They’re different.” You look out the Humvee window, keeping an eye out. “What do you mean?” Gaz asks. He’s in the back seat. “They don’t surrender. If they feel trapped, they attack. I mean.. this is the place with the highest rate of suicide bombers. I just think this is a bad idea.” You mumble. You can hear the both of them sigh, like what you’ve just said changes everything. “I mean.. for christs sake, they send small children in with bombs to do their dirty work. They don’t care. They’re dirty and don’t care who they hurt. They beat and rape women out in the street, behead each other for small mistakes. I think we should turn back. He’s not going to surrender, we have to come in guns blazing.” You mumble.

Your heart races in your chest. So does John’s.

You don’t think he’ll listen to you, but he does. “Change of plans fellas.” He calls into his radio. “We’re going to go in hot. Forceful.” He mumbles. Hearing everyone call back. You sigh a breath of relief. Thank god. “Refuse to be a sitting duck to a terrorist.” John mumbles. He knows he’ll have someone to answer to, but he can’t find it in him to care all that much. Gaz can sense the relief in the way you relax your shoulders, reaching by the window to place a hand on your shoulder. Giving it a reassuring squeeze. Feeling you lean back into his touch. You and him were fairly close, but pretty much all of the task force was. It was always strictly platonic and had never stretched any further past that, it was forbidden obviously.

When you arrive, you can feel that same sense of nervousness filling up your stomach. It’s got it in knots, something still didn’t feel right. Like something bad was going to happen. When the building was surrounded, everyone raised their guns. Creeping closer to the building, le easy to file in through the doors. “Watch close. We don’t know what we’re going into.” Captain Price says, everyone agreeing. When given orders, everyone bursts through the doors, making their way through the first floor. “Watch the doors close. If he’s here, he’s going to try to run.” Ghost orders. Everyone agrees. Flowing through the building like a bad case of termites.

The top floor is where the problems start.

As soon as they caught sight of your cavalry, they fled to the top floor and set up traps.

“Okay. Gaz, Y/N. You guys start on the left. Me and Ghost will go to the last door on the right. Everyone else keep a close eye on the stairs. Watch close.” He nods. Everyone agrees, splitting up and going their separate ways. You push open the door, raising your gun quickly. Gaz looks past you. “Looks clear to me.” You nod. He agrees, the both of you stepping forward. A yell leaves your lips when a man emerges from behind the door, slicing right through your cargo pants. Gaz is quick to fire at the man, dropping him where he stands. He lifts you up, sliding you back behind the door and closing it. A few others come running. “Just one. He got her thigh with a knife.” Gaz breathes, tugging his first aid out of his pack and wrapping a bandage around your thigh. The cut looks deep. He’s worried. Gunfire makes everyone perk up, coming from the direction Captain Price and Ghost have gone. “Go, I’ve got her.” Gaz nods. “Shit. This did not go to plan.” You laugh. “Never does. You alright?” He asks. You nod your head. “Yes. I’m all good.” You smile. “I’ll be fine.” You breathe. He kneels down on one knee behind you, letting you lean back on him. He’s got his sidearm ready, just in case. After what feels like forever, he’s getting antsy. You need a doctor and he’s tired of waiting. Captain Price and everyone else emerges. “Did you get him?” Gaz asks. “Yep. He didn’t go easy but we got him.” Captain Price breathes. “They had 3 or 4 bombs. Ready.” Price kneels down in front of you. “You did good Y/N. Saved us from a big catastrophe.” He smiles. You send him a lazy smile. “Let’s get her back to base, yeah?” Gaz says, nervously. He’s worried about you.

The both of them each take an arm, helping you down the flights of stairs to the Humvee you arrived in. Getting worried when your head began to hang. “Shit. Y/N?” Gaz asks, stopping. They let you down. “Y/N?” Gaz asks again. Shaking you slightly. “Think she passed out.” Price says. Gaz presses his fingers to your throat, feeling your heart beat. “We got to get her back.” He nods. He lifts you up, hurrying down the remainder of stairs, Price throwing open the door. Gaz gets you inside, holding you. Price hurries to the drivers side, getting in.

—

You don’t remember much, but you wake up in the infirmary. You try to fight your way out of the wires and lines you’re connected to, resulting in you being restrained until you fully came to. Finally understanding that your leg had been cut pretty deep, barely missing your femoral artery. You were a little out of it from the meds they had you on, but you were doing better. “Do you want us to go get Kyle?” The medic asks, resulting in a confused look from you. “What?”

“Kyle, you kept asking for him. Do you want us to go get him?”

“Oh uh.. no. I’m okay.” You mumble. You must’ve been asking for him when you had to be restrained. You remember him sitting with you, when Captain Price emerged from that room. But that’s all you remember. “We’re going to work on some release paperwork and we’ll get you on your way, how does that sound?” She smiles. You nod your head. “Sounds amazing.” You sigh.

She disappears and a few minutes later, Gaz is pulling the curtain back. “Hey.” He smiles. “Hi.” You send him a lazy smile. “How are you feelin? Better than earlier I hope.” He chuckles. “Much. It hurts but it’s better.” You mumble. “Gotcha. Captain sent me down here, I’ll help you get back to your room.” He crosses his arms over his chest. He’s wearing his full set of gear. Vest and all. “I’m sure I could’ve handled it.” You laugh. The medic comes back with all of your paperwork and sets you all up to leave.

He walks alongside you, a hand on your lower back. He’s ready to catch you if you fall. All you have on are socks and the tied up gown they’d put you in. “Hey Gaz. I forgot to give you some bandages for Y/N’s leg. For any bleeding on her stitches just in case.” His radio goes off. “Uh. Here, come inside my room. I’ll run back before we go all of the way to the women’s barracks.” He leads you down the hallway a little more. You complain about the hospital gown the whole time.

“You can borrow something of mine. I’ll be right back.” He laughs, closing the door behind him as he makes his way back to the infirmary. You sit on the edge of his bed for a minute. The throbbing in your thigh is relentless. You stand up, step over to where he’s got his clothes, picking up the first shirt you see.

He steps inside his room, closing the door behind him. He’s got a washcloth in his hand for your thigh. He’s watching his feet until he steps inside, finally bringing his eyes up from the hard concrete floor.

His lips part, mouth falling open slightly. You’re finishing buttoning up his shirt, one of his favorites. It falls slightly over your hips, your white cotton panties still visible. “Oh.. uh. Sorry.” He looks away. You look up. “Sorry.. it’s the first thing I saw, I didn’t want to dig through your stuff too much.” You blush, crossing your arms over yourself. “It’s fine. No worries. Here, I brought you this.” He nods. Holding out the washcloth. “I can help.” He smiles. Seeing the blood seeping from the bandage on your thigh. He nods for you to sit back on his bed. He kneels down in front of you, hearing you swallow hard at his close proximity. He bites at his lip in concentration, unwrapping your wounded thigh. Still fresh from where the knife had sliced through the skin and flesh. He’s gathered up everything else he needs. Some more bandage, some stuff to wrap it. He takes the wet washcloth, beginning to dab at the blood around the wound. Your bleeding was mostly stopped by now, just gently seeping through. He pats it all the way clean, lifting up an antiseptic spray. “Might burn a little.” He looks up at you.

His eyes shine in the moonlight that peeks through the window that sits high up on the wall. You nod your head. “I trust you.” You smile shyly.

The typical friendly relationship you’d had with Kyle is gone. Completely gone.

He sprays it onto your wound, being generous with it to avoid an infection. He sees you flinch, clutching at his sheets. This surely isn’t how he wanted to see it happen. He could imagine a million different reasons you’d be clutching his sheets like that. This isn’t one of them. He swallows hard, bandaging it up and wrapping it up once more. His fingertips brush against your inner thigh and he feels you shiver under his touch. “Sorry.” He blushes, looking down. “It’s okay.” You breathe. “Thank you, Kyle.” You breathe through your nose. He sits up, sitting down next to you on his bed. “Kyle hm?” He smiles. “We’re using actual names now?” He laughs.

“Seems like a more genuine thank you.” You smile. He bites at his lip, clearly nervous about something. “No problem, dove. How does your head feel.” He mumbles. “It feels okay. Doesn’t pound anymore..” you trail off. Playing with your hands nervously. “You alright?” He asks. “Yeah. Today just… scared me. That’s all.” You look down. He nods his head. Leaning into you closer. “Today scared everyone. The most anyone has been hurt in this Task Force was getting shot on our vests, it hurts but it doesn’t bleed or incapacitate us.” He trails off.

“My shirt looks good on you.” He smiles. He can see you blush, looking down. “Thanks. It’s yours after all.” You laugh. “I promise I’ll wash it and give it back.” You nod.

“No rush. I think it looks better on you anyways.” He smiles. “I don’t think that’s true. It looks pretty good on you.” You giggle. “I don’t know about that one.” He laughs. It’s low, sexy.

He rests his hand on your knee below your wound, running his fingers over your knee. He can feel chills rising on your skin underneath his touch. “Kyle?” You breathe. “Yeah honey?” He breathes. “I.. I’ve never had sex before.” You breathe. He smiles. “Hey.” He laughs. “I’m not..” he laughs. He lifts his leg up onto the bed, taking your hands in his. “I have to say this right because I want you to know.” He pauses.

“I do like you, and trust me, I would love to have sex with you. But I don’t expect you to at all. I would never pressure you into anything.” He smiles. His cologne smells amazing, and you’ve never been so close to him before. You grasp his hand that lies on your knee, bringing it up to the very top of your thigh. Above your wound. He smiles. “That’s a good girl.” He breathes. He glides his hand back and fourth over your bare skin, fingertips rubbing across the edge of your panties. He lowers his hand to your center, fingertips brushing over your clothed opening. He can feel you breathe out. Pressing ever so slightly into you, rubbing his fingers back and fourth. You tilt your head back slightly and he takes this opportunity to kiss your neck, you sigh out. The relief and warmth he makes you feel is intense and immediate. “Kyle…” you breathe. Body seeming to melt into him.

“S’alright sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He breathes. He pulls you into him, gripping your chin and turning your head to look at him. “You look so fucking stunning. So beautiful.” He sighs, pressing his lips to yours. He rests his right hand onto your left thigh, the one that isn’t injured. He’s a really good kisser and when he pulls away, you still have your eyes shut. He can’t help but smile. Your breathing has picked up slightly. He rubs his nose over yours, you can feel his warm breath on your face. “You can stop me.” He breathes. Resting his massive hand on your thigh, toying with the shirt you’ve got on. You shake your head. Your eyes clench shut. “I don’t want you to- I don’t want to stop.” You breathe. He leans into you, kissing you again. He pushes you back slightly, lifting himself up. He opens your legs, avoiding your wound as he pushes himself between them. Laying you back, lips moving with yours in sync. His jeans sit low on his hips. He presses himself right into your pelvis, you can feel how hard he is against you. You moan gently into his lips, and he tugs at your bottom lip with his teeth.

Kyle has never been so turned on in his entire fucking life, he’ll swear by it. You’re so fucking beautiful, and the way you look in his clothes. It’s everything.

He rocks his hips into yours, feeling you wrap your legs around his lower back. “Fuck sweetheart. Driving me fucking crazy.” He pants. He sits up slightly. He can see your panties have a wet patch of your arousal. He knows you want him just as bad as he wants you, and that fuels a fire inside of him so big that an ocean wouldn’t be able to put it out. He rests his fingertips at the top of your slit, rubbing gently through the cotton fabric of your panties. Gentle circles just right, right where you need him. Hearing you whine. The way your lips part in surprise. The small sounds you’re making. It’s nearly too much. You’re overwhelming him already and he’s barely touched you.

He works at his pants, getting them off as quickly as he can, his vest and shirt following after. He toys with the buttons on the shirt he’s let you borrow. Tugging them open so that he can get a good look at your bare chest. So pretty, just like every part of you. He takes his time with you. Hands cupping your breasts and massaging them, feeling your relax into him. He leans down, kissing your skin, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, hearing you gasp. You try to be quiet.

He moves lower and lower. Fingers sliding into the hem of your panties. He tugs your panties down, avoiding your bandage. You’re shy, closing your legs slightly as he pulls them off. “Nothing to be nervous about. I’m gonna take good care of you.” He breathes. He can see the redness on your cheeks. He spreads your legs gently. His touch feels like gentle brushes. His breath hitched in his throat when he sees you, so bare for him. He inches closer, the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance. You shiver at the feeling of it. Eyes slightly going wide when you see the size of him.

You swallow hard and he smiles. “It’s alright. I’ll be gentle.” He breathes. “You can always stop me.”

You nod your head. You’re not going to stop him. He circles your clit with his index finger, collected your arousal on his finger. Feeling you going tense beneath him. He can tell he’s working you up. “S’alright darling. Try n relax for me, yeah?” He breathes. His accented voice sends chills up your spine. He rests more of his body weight on you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He’s going to muffle your sounds. He pushes his index finger into you, hearing you gasp. He starts slow, not wanting to push you. His finger fucking into your wet hole. You clutch the edges of the shirt you’ve got on. Knuckles going white. He pulls back, sitting up onto his knees. “Feel good?” He asks. You nod your head eagerly, moving your hips down into him slightly. He can’t help but smile.

He slides it out of you, hearing your whine in protest. He collects more of your arousal with his middle finger, pushing both of them into you. Your thighs shiver slightly, your eyes shutting. “O-oh fuck Kyle.” You mewl. The way you say his name has his cock jumping slightly. He’s so turned on. He scissors you open, thumb rubbing against your clit. You’re so soft, and wet. You’re driving him crazy. Right when you’re on the edge, he pulls away. Hearing a frustrated whine leave your lips. He can’t help but chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it up to you.” He smiles. Seeing your cheeks redden. He inches closer, the tip of his cock drawing over the expanse of your pussy. Gathering your arousal at the tip. He moves himself between you, pushing your legs up slightly. He spits right on the opening of your pussy, sliding his cock up the cavern. Once his cock is lubed up enough, he nudges the tip right at the entrance. Watching his tip disappear between them. You sigh.

He inches deeper, pushing your hips into his bed. “It’s gonna hurt baby. Just try to stay relaxed for me.” He mutters. Seeing you nod your head. “I’m okay. Been through worse.” You smile.

When he starts to hurt you, you reach your hand down. Pressing down onto the wound on your leg. The pain spikes up on it, drawing the pain away from Kyle’s cock stretching you out for the first time. When he bottoms out, his mouth falls open. You finally draw your hand back from the wound on your thigh. The worst of it is over now. You can’t help the tears that gather in your eyes. “F-fuck. I feel so full.” You whine, lifting your hips slightly. “Yeah baby. So full of me.” He gasps. He can’t contain the way he feels. He doesn’t want to. “Oh fuck.” he whines. Burying his face into your neck again. He draws his hips back, thrusting back inside of you. You stiffen underneath him. Wrapping your arms around him. Your eyes get heavy, you can’t keep them open. Shutting them tight as he starts to fuck you, he pulls his cock almost all of the way out of you before thrusting back in. He’s got a steady rhythm. Feeling you shiver. “Feels so good Kyle, so good.” You whine. “Yeah baby. I know. Got me so close already. Fuck.” He grits his teeth.

“Look at me.” He breathes, tilting your chin up to look at him. “You okay?” He asks. You nod your head, struggling to keep your eyes open. “Keep looking at me sweetheart. Wanna see your pretty face when you cum.” He breathes. You shiver at his touch. It’s unbelievable how fast this happened, how fast you have right into him. “Kyle.” You wince. “M’I hurting you?” He pauses immediately. “No. Don’t stop.” You breathe. He pushes your legs up, spitting on the base of his cock to make sure he’s not going to hurt you. “Thank you.” You breathe, looking up at him. The moonlight shines perfect on your eyes. “What?”

“For taking care of me. For reassuring me. And for staying with me earlier when I was h-hurt.” You hiccup. Your teeth are gritted. He keeps the same steady pace, he’s a perfect fit for you, his cock slipping between your walls perfectly. He laughs slightly. “I got you.” He breathes. “Nothing to worry about now. I have you, I always will. Just try to relax for me.” He breathes. “Keep looking at me.”

Your eyes snap up to his. Chills rising on your skin. You’re right there, right on the edge. It’s intense, the unfamiliar build of an orgasm. Kyle is fighting off his own orgasm. He hisses when you claw down his back. The burn has his brain spinning. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out before he finishes. He leans down to kiss you again. It’s sloppy and wet but desperate. He raises himself up slightly, rocking himself into you at a slightly different angle and that’s when you lose it. He forces you to look at him, your eyes getting heavy. He clamps a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries. Body shaking and convulsing as you reach your orgasm. You clamp down around him, walls throbbing with your orgasm. The coil that’s wound up in Kyle’s is about to snap. His body shivers and he bites down onto his lip. Just a couple more thrusts and he’s growling out, eyes rolling back into his head. “Oh fuck-“ he whimpers. He relaxes into you. Avoiding your wound as he slides out of you, moving himself next to you.

Right there he knows he’s gone. You look more beautiful than ever. Face flushed, his shirt half buttoned up. Skin sweaty and flushed too. Full of his cum. It’s a good look for you. He laughs after a few minutes of silence and you can’t help but laugh too. “That escalated quickly, ah?” He laughs. “Yeah, yeah it did.” You let out a breath of relief. He moves to rest his arm on you. “Hope I didn’t hurt you too bad.” He breathes. “No, I’m good. Really good.” You blush. He pulls you into him, “you look really good too.” He smirks. Seeing you roll your eyes.

“We should make this a thing.” He sits up slightly. “What?”

“I mean.. I’m not doing anything next weekend.” He smiles. “Are you asking me on a date, Garrick?”

“Yeah. Yeah I am.”

“Of course, I’d love that.” You smile.

“Great. It’s a date. Now get some rest. You’ve got some healing to do.” He smiles.

[noloseaquihaympreg]

He vuelto!.

Hola, si, asi es, yo de nuevo, y con un nuevo dibujo ;). Y ahora tambien con una breve historia. Disfruten!.

Johnny era un provenía de una familia de granjeros, desde muy pequeño se le enseño como es que debia seguir con el legado de la familia, el unico problema, es que Johnny era hijo unico, por lo que siempre tuvo que trabajar arduamente para mantener en funcionamiento la granja. Aunque no estuvo solo, su padre contrataba frecuentemente personal masculino para ayudar. Estos hicieron despertar sentimientos en Johnny, el cual buscaba algo mas que amistad con alguno de ellos, por desgracia los empleados no tardaban mucho tiempo porque no soportaban el trabajo duro.

Hasta que finalmente llego quien seria ahora su actual novio, John. Al igual que Johnny , John era hijo unico, y el actualmente ha dejado la casa de sus padres para seguir sus sueños. Desde que Johnny miro a John vio algo diferente, era alguien más alto que el, fuerte, y muy amable, ademas de muy atenton con los animales de la granja. Con el tiempo se fueron haciendo amigos y se fueron conociendo poco a poco. Inesperadamente fue John quien le propuso a Johnny el ser novios, a lo cual el acepto sin dudarlo.

Los padres de Johnny tomaron esto de buena manera, siempre fueron abiertos a cualquier cosa, y tomaron a John como uno más de la familia.

Quien diria que poco tiempo despues la familia se volveria más grande. Hoy en dia Johnny posa para su futuro esposo y padre de sus hijos, la misma pose en la cual concibieron a sus bebes. Mostrando el evidente crecimiento que ha tenido en su vientre. Aun no saben cuantos bebes tendran, pero algo es seguro, seran mas que dos bebes. Y no seran los unicos, Johnny y John ya planearon tener muchos mas bebes. Ahora la granja familiar tendra muchas bocas que alimentar.

-----

I'm back!.

Hello, yes, that's right, me again, and with a new drawing ;). And now also with a brief history. Enjoy!

Johnny came from a family of farmers, from a very young age he was taught how to continue the family legacy, the only problem was that Johnny was an only child, so he always had to work hard to keep up. farm operation. Although he was not alone, his father frequently hired male staff to help. These awakened feelings in Johnny, who was looking for something more than friendship with some of them. Unfortunately, the employees did not take long because they could not stand hard work.

Until finally, who would now be his current boyfriend, John, arrived. Like Johnny, John was an only child, and he has now left his parents' home to follow his dreams. Since Johnny looked at John he saw something different, he was someone taller than him, strong, and very kind, as well as very attentive to the farm animals. Over time they became friends and got to know each other little by little. Unexpectedly, it was John who proposed to Johnny to be a couple, to which he accepted without hesitation.

Johnny's parents took this in a good way, they were always open to anything, and they took John as one of the family.

Who would have thought that shortly after that the family would become bigger. Today Johnny poses for her future husband and father of her children, the same pose in which they conceived their babies. Showing the obvious growth he has had in his belly. They still don't know how many babies they will have, but one thing is for sure, there will be more than two babies. And they won't be the only ones, Johnny and John already planned to have many more babies. Now the family farm will have many mouths to feed.

[roachspeaks]

this is my first time requesting for a writing prompt so i apologize if i have a hard time describing it, but may i request nsfw (and maybe sfw) head canons of jason todd with a s/o thats a very violent vigilante but is very overly attached to jason

Omg yes, I’ve been wanting to find something Jason Todd to write for a while 😂

Jason Todd x Vigilante!reader sfw and nsfw head cannons

Warnings: smut, mentions of past trauma(bc it’s Jason Todd), reader is a vigilante with a violent streak, swearing, gn!reader, I took it in a very yandere-ish direction

(More detailed warnings before the nsfw part)

Sfw

Jason is shocked to come back to life and find there’s already another blood thirsty vigilante running the streets of Gotham, he just has to meet you.

And when he does he’s a little less surprised to find that you remind him exactly of himself. Vengeful and trying to keep justice in a more ‘efficient’ way than Batman ever could.

You notice him more around you in underground bars like the iceberg lounge, always trailing just a little behind you.

You think you’ve got a stalker, and you’re partially right.

His interest in you quickly turns into a crush one night when you grab him by his collar and demand to know why he’s been following you.

So he tells you, he’s always been an honest guy, never caring enough to bother lying or covering up what he really felt. Usually, that is.

As soon as you agree to be something with him, he’s almost a different person. Though it takes a while to break through that confident, cocky exterior he likes to front.

Soon enough though, you get to see the Jason that cares for his brothers, the Jason that’s a book nerd, the Jason that is deathly afraid of being a failure to the people he loves the most.

You soon discover he’s not all he pretends to be, and sometimes all he wants in the whole world is a few moments of peace with the person he cares for most in this world(you).

Often times(if you work a day job or do vigilante stuff in the day) you’ll find you always arrive later then you had before meeting him. He has a tendency to hold on to you and not let go in the morning.

Jason tries to hold out on you meeting his family for as long as he possibly can, especially Dick. He sees Dick as the highest standard, what he failed to be as robin. He (irrationally) fears like you’d leave him for his elder brother.

When you finally meet the rest of the bat family, they’re all just happy he’s found someone who loves him, and who he’ll actually let in.

You don’t know it, but as soon as you spend a night in his bed(or let him spend the night in yours) he’s already thinking about marrying you.

Maybe not in an official, traditional wedding way, but he’d put a ring on your finger just so he got to show everyone just how serious he is about you.

The intimacy of sleeping next to someone, the trust that they won’t stab you in your sleep(especially given your bloody history) is something Jason doesn’t take lightly.

If you like reading, he’ll recommend you books of all kinds. He’s had a lot of time to think and reflect on himself, most of which he had a book in his hands.

Speaking of hands, his are extremely rough and calloused. Years of scarring etched beautifully into his skin. He isn’t insecure exactly, he knows it shows he’s a survivor. How strong he is. But when his rough hands are on your skin he can’t help but feel like he’s too broken for you.

He isn’t easily consolable. He’s good at pretending your assurances worked as you’d planned, then overthinking the issue the rest of the day. But you quickly learn his tells, and call him out for it. To which he’s surprised at first, but just a little more in love with you.

He isn’t good at saying the words ‘I love you’. Not at first. He’s scared that once he lets those three words slip from his lips that you’ll be taken away from him.

When he does finally get used to saying it, it will be rare that he doesn’t say it during a conversation with you.

When he’s leaving for a patrol, you receive a kiss on the cheek, or even a deep and telling kiss on the lips, and a quick “I love you, see you tonight.” Before he’s out the door.

Or just before you fall asleep, you’ll get a passionate string of beautifully picked out words that Jason would never admit while fully awake.

When he’s been on missions that take him to other cities, he can’t fall asleep without you on the phone. Without your steady breathing soothing him to sleep. It gets to the point that there was a time when his phone ran out of battery, and he awoke immediately in a cold sweat. Forgetting he wasn’t next to you. He came home the next day. Unable to stand the thought of not being able to see you, to hold you.

Now in terms of you being overly attached to him, he wouldn’t say he ‘minds’ exactly.

He doesn’t want you to get hurt if something ever happens to him. He reminds you all the time that he can quite literally die almost every night. To which you shrug off. Making him laugh every time.

If you’re clinging onto him physically, he doesn’t mind at all. He loves your warmth and the pressure of your body against his. Especially if your on top of him. The weight of you on his chest gives him so much comfort it’s surreal.

Nsfw

Warnings: smut(obvi), mentions of rough sex, gn!reader and gn!body terms, heavy degradation, praise though too(separate),

He leans into being more dominant in bed. He likes the control and the ability to help you feel good.

He can be extremely rough if he’s had a stressful day. Railing into you with your legs hooked tightly over his shoulders. His hands on your waist. Squeezing the soft flesh while he chases both of your releases.

His words degrading and harsh. “Hey? Who owns this body huh? Spit it out slut.”

Sometimes he’ll edge you for hours while he gets himself off, painting your chest and face in his hot sticky cum.

But on the other side of the spectrum he can be very gentle if it’s appropriate. If it’s an intimate moment he has no trouble peppering kisses all over your beautiful body. Praising you until you can barely think.

“So good, so fucking beautiful for me yeah?”

He’s all for breathy whispers, whispering in your ear what he wants you to do. How he’s gonna make you cry his name from the pleasure.

He loves giving you head. But particularly taking it excruciatingly slow. Paying attention to every detail. Every expression or sound you make when he touches certain spots with his tongue.

Also being a Vigilante, you have scars yourself. Physical and emotional. He kisses all of them. Tells you how strong and gorgeous every one makes you look. How absolutely perfect he thinks you are.

Sometimes things slip out while you’re going at it. Words he never intended for anyone to hear. But he just gets so caught up in the moment, he can’t help himself.

“Want me to put a ring on your finger yeah? Want me to make you my pretty (wife/husband)”

I think for awhile after he came back he used sex as a way to cope, experimenting with his body and trying things he’d never thought to try before. It worked well enough for a little while, allowed him to take out his energy in a much needed outlet.

He was tortured and kidnapped when he was still a teenager, sometimes he needs to express that anger and resentment in a healthy scenario. Sex is a free, safe, and easy way to do so.

He insists on practicing safe words with you, sometimes even he needs to opt out for a water break or something like that.

After the fact, he’s extremely sweet on you. Cleaning you up however you need. Whether it’s with a wet cloth, a warm bath, or with his tongue.

He likes to hold you in the afterglow of sex, chests heaving, skin glazed over in sweat. He pulls you close against his chest, a hand on your thigh, holding you as close as he can get you. Whispering sweet praises.

“You did so well my love, so good for me.”

Hope you enjoyed this, I’m working on more requests at the moment 😘

[hockpock]

Glasses Review - Firmoo

Hello vision impaired friends, I bring you the gospel of Ordering Your Damn Glasses Online

I have previously ordered from EyeBuyDirect (luxotica/lenscrafters'/America's Best in disguise, sorry.) and Zenni Optical ( most well known online provider, A+ would recommend) and have seen lots of ads for free pairs from a competitor, Firmoo. I have too much prescription for the free pair offers to ever work out from ANY provider, but their fun designs put them on my list.

When my current glasses broke, I was dinking around and saw their current promotion is Buy One Get One Free PLUS 20% off lenses and as lenses are the real $$$ I jumped on that like tigger on crack. I am VERY nearsighted with astigmatism and the average pair of glasses from lenscrafters used to cost me $300 minimum.

After much deliberation with a million tabs open and a poll I ignored the results of for Reasons, I ordered a pair of clear frames and a pair of purple steampunk-y wireframes . Two pairs of HIGH PRESCRIPTION glasses for $87 shipped. I could cry, y'all.

Note: I have an up to date prescription and a nifty app that measures Pupillary Distance or 'PD'. you will need both these things accurate to have the best experience buying your glasses online.

I ordered them 9/22, they shipped 9/25, I received them 9/29 with regular shipping. They came well packed - each pair was in a bag made of cleaning cloth material inside a sturdy plastic case and they come in a foil bubble mailer.

Both pairs feel well made, with lots of attention to detail-

however I did not pay attention to detail or pay extra money for the Re-he-heaaallly thin lenses. So the clear ones are slightly too big and I hate the way the nose pieces sit, while the purple ones are a wee bit small across the temple and heavy to boot. I haven't had dents in my nose like this since I was 12.

the website lists their exchange policy as 30 days, the pamphlet that came with the glasses says 60. Either way it was pretty painless to go into my order history and select "exchange". The form I filled out with my reasons for dissatisfaction promised me I would be contacted within 24 hours.

My 'personal Firmoo consultant', 'Karen', emailed me with a code for the full price before discount of both pairs + standard shipping, as well as the usual customer service canned answers about checking the sizing information and did I know I could upgrade the lenses?

Also I could keep the failed pairs 'FOR NOW', here are some places that accept glasses as donations. (mixed messages, Karen, but sweet!)

New friends are April006, round anodized wireframes with a cute dingly gem thing, and Sandy020 , literal tortoiseshell cat eye frames.

This time I used the site's search terms to cut the temple width and earpiece length options down and double checked the weight of the base frames. (14g vs 24g for the round wireframes before my coke-bottle lenses. RIP my nose. )

New order was placed 10/5 and they arrived 10/17 . (last time I checked the tracking estimated arrival had creeped from the 19th up to the 23rd so grain of salt. This may be a tactic to make the order feel like it got here faster or legit delays. In my case there was a federal holiday involved.)

Complete disclosure I'm gonna grab a pair of pliers and take the little dangly off the wireframes. It makes a noise when I move my head and if I don't fold the frames in the right order when I take them off it'll scratch up the lenses. I ain't gonna remember to avoid that, so off it goes.

The Good:

Large selection, Good Quality, Good Communication. Lots of Off the Beaten Path options for internet weirdos. Firmoo p much always has a promotion going.

My wallet is so happy. SO HAPPY. Frames run $20-30ish to start. lenses will vary with your prescription and options.

If y'all want 50% off your first frames and to give me a $10 credit they have a referral program and my code is T4Z8I2. BOGO20 is a better value but it expires 11/01/23.

The Bad:

Not flexible about lens options- you go down one track and pick your options within that. If there was a way to put tinting on a pair of glasses other than blue light blocking I couldn't find it. (in contrast I believe Zenni lets you choose a range of colors and tint depth on any pair, designed as sunnies or not)

You Will Get Emails. Firmoo REALLY wants you to buy more glasses and post about it and tell your friends and HERE THIS CODE IS ONLY GOOD FOR 3 DAYS, GO BUY NEW GLASSES. They are marketing themselves to fashionable young influencers who change styles every month. Unsubscribe with impunity.

like Zenni, this is a company with the majority of it's functionality based overseas. It's cheaper because you're ordering directly from a factory and not paying Luxotica's markups to itself. Customer service is mostly English as Second Language speakers and there may be delays.

Not For Emergencies. I was able to coast on a pair of glasses from a prescription or 2 ago but it's gonna take time for your order to be made and shipped.

Overall I'm very happy with them and will probably order again.

Next time I have spare money I'm aiming at Wherelight because y'all. they are next down on the list of reputable to shady AF but they have the most amazing WTF designs.

[itsyagurlchip]

WAIT I SENT THE ASK TOO EARLYA AUWHAUDHDEKDVW

how is the original bone skeleton man doing?? OH OH AND is the setting the usual portal opening in the house and bam you've got new uncles or something else??? YAIOEPEPWLWKWPWBAOAV

buckle up, cuz this is super long yall 🥲

OKAY!!! THIS IS WHERE MY "INTERESTING" PART COMES IN 😁 monsters are just coming to the surface, and speciesism is as high as ever. after a year of this, queen toriel decides to open a human-monster program, something that also promotes her small school.

monsters adopt humans! ebbot was a bit iffy on it, but after realizing the benefits the mayor eventually agreed. (jk that nigga only wants the money 💀-) It was hard to get the program started, because many schools and orphanages werent as trusting, and the state wasn't fundinh it at all. So Toriel took a different approach.

Many monsters put their savings into it, considering their currency is literal fucking gold, and the program would allow each child to get $1000+ per month, depending on their age and needs. and yes giving kids thousands of dollars per year doesn't sound like a good idea, but shhhhh! the plot my dear!

The monsters who take care of them aren't allowed to use it themselves in selfish situations. Both the child and the guardian has rules.

one) you guys have to interact in some way. whether it be verbally, or even physically. two) NOTHING 18+, as all children being minors, that would be kinda weird. three) follow laws as follows- just dont be a shitty parent. four) the child has to want to participate as well, and cant do anything to hurt the guardian. including verbally (bc monster souls are made of feelings pretty much [thats another hc for another day])

id love to go deeper into the details, yet i however cannot bc i dont know how a parent-child program works.

and you have to be in the program for 1 month before you or the child wants to back out.

doesn't matter if its one-sided or not, when someone doesn't like it it immediately stops. id like to say that frisk and papyrus put most if their money into this, just so she can be adopted by toriel.

so when papyrus sees that gaster and sans have been stuck in the lab (not the basement!) for globs of hours at a time, sporadic sleeping, and overall exhaustion from work, he says the craziest shit

"SINCE YOU TWO ARE NERD BUMS, AND I CAN'T ALWAYS BE AT HOME FOR YOU TWO, I ADOPTED A HUMAN CHILD!!"

sans, in his sleep deprived state, promptly rose an eyebrow and fell out of his chair onto his side.

yea, its not that he didn't take the thing well, bro couldn't process it 💀💀

gaster just rolled his only visible eyelight and went back to work

....

well that worked well!!

reader arrived to the house the next day, and seeing that it was a two story house!?!?

AND there was an in-law suite? fuck yea! orphan kid made the jackpot 💥💥😼

they had fuckin steps too les goo!!

Your dark skin shined against the light of the sun, your brown eyes sparkling in excitement.

reader let go of papyrus's hand and ran inside immediately.

Careful as to not smudge your dirty shoes against the shiney floor, you looked around the house in amazement. This place had to have atleast 5 rooms!

and then the in law suite on the side looked like another 2 rooms!?? BEST DAY OF YOUR LIFE!!

Not only did you have super nice guardians (you hoped), they were packed enough to keep you and themselves stabilized!! Hell, if theirs more people, they could support them aswell!!

Taking off your shoes, you looked around the living room. The long couch was green, albiet a bit patchy for a nice place, while the tan side couches could lean back!!

where those outlets on the sides? omg

"HAVING FUN DEAR HUMAN CHILD?" Papyrus smirked. He knew that the house of the Great Papyrus was enough to impress anyone, even of young ages.

"You guys are so rich!! wow- i mean, not that im tryna take your money or anything, but like- WOW!! Its so big!! Bigger than anything ive ever been to!" You were now flapping your hands and bouncing a bit. Your locs of hair bounced in it's pony tail no matter how small the fidget-hop was.

Behind the living room was a beautiful and lavish kitchen, and to the right there was the steps. To the right it looked like some like of master bedroom or guest bathroom.

But you didn't care about rooms right now, you wanted to see your other guardians!!

"Where are the other people im supposed to be meeting? Are you my only guardian or do they have to take care of me too? Are they mean? Are they bums? I hope they dont smoke or something, Do they have an addiction? What about-"

"THAT!, DEAR CHILD, IS GOING TO BE FOR INTRODUCTIONS!! DO NOT WORRY, WHILE THOSE TWO MAY BE GRUMPS, THEY ARE PLEASANT PEOPLE TO BE AROUND...EVEN IF THE LACK OF SLEEP TAKES THEIR PLEASANT PERSONALITY AWAY..." Papyrus concluded. You noticed that, despite the way he tried to talk to himself, you still heard it loud and clearly.

Maybe he had a hard time with volume control. meh.

Grabbing your hand and leading you towards the back door next to the kitchen, Papyrus opened the door. He had to lean down a bit in order to hold your hand, but he didn't mind.

The hallway was looooong. Instead of it being regular walls, it was glass windows of different colors. Which made you raise an eyebrow abit.

Seeing your reaction, the tall skeleton explained, "SINCE WE DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH SPACE FOR EXPERIMENTAL ACTIVITY, TOTALLY NOT BOMBS, MY BROTHER AND FATHER DECIDED TO LIVE IN THE SUITE!" He said, walking and talking.

You both reached the end of the hallway, hearing mumblings, ramblings, and overall terms that lowkey hurt your brain.

Getting too excited, you open the door to a glass-based lab. With the occasional plastic and metal equipment.

In the middle of the room there was an island counter filled was rainbow colored stuff ('gay as hell' , you sniggered), small green candies, and lots and lots if paper and pencils sharpened to the ends.

At one end of the room, there was a tall skeleton, a little shorter than Papyrus, who was more goop than skeleton. Infact, he looked like someone took a fire torch to his upper body, but you didn't say anything.

At the other end, there was a short skeleton, probably shorter than you (hah, being 5'0 did pay off), laying with his head on the desk, knocked out with blue slob. You marveled at the sight, wanting to know more about monsters at this revelation.

"FATHER! BROTHER! THIS IS THE CHILD I ADOPTED FOR ALL OF US!" Papyrus announced, grinning undauntedly. The smaller skeleton banged his head on the desk at the loud voice, while the other one barely flinched and turned slowly in irritation. "INTRODUCE YOURSELVES WHILE I MAKE LUNCH FOR THE GROWING FETUS!" He declared, marching out with a big smile.

If this plan went correctly, then his favorite family members would be mentally stable (as much as one could try- he thought to himself).

after banging his head on the damned table, sans sat up a bit disoriented.

why was there a human child in the house?

why was it in the lab?

"uhh kid, ur not supposed be here...uhh, its not safe and uh, you could die."

"WOW! Your so freakin cool! How do you talk without moving your face? Are you wearing a mask? I could die here! ooh shiney stuff, can i touch it?"

yea.. this kid has not had a proper friend in a minute

he was overwhelmed by the questions you asked at first, he didn't answer them at all in favor of watching gaster struggle to calm you down.

sans didn't mind how loud you were, it was moreso the curiosity that you brought along with you.

that wouldn't do.

"Hey! What's this?" the kid asked, walking towards the machine that could very much possibly cause the heat death of the universe, before getting snatched up by gaster.

"Enough! you are here to introduce yourself, and you will do as such" It was funny to see the man twitch like that. sans likes this kid already.

After knowing your name and age, sans was a bit surprised.

he honestly thought you were younger.

while introducing himself he tried to keep it simple and short. how old is he?

"how old am i old man?"

His blue slippers shifted from the movement of his ankle bones.

he thought you were just an average kid, but something about you was different.

oddly enough you always wore these earrings saying Y on the right and N on the left.

he wonder what it meant

Now its a week past since you came into the 'haunted house', aka the skele-dungeon

you two play pranks against gaster when he has free time. watching him bounce his leg in irritation every time he finds a lima bean in his notes is pure gold.

since you're virtual, due to your choice, he tries to take you places.

some of the most consistent ones are dance class every saturday and neighborhood walks you take by yourself.

I think of sans is the type of person to give less of a shit about his dad.

mostly because if the way he approaches things, iN tHE NaME oF sCIeNcE

it pisses him off everytime he tries to ask you for a blood sample

and it makes him even angrier when you say yes without a second thought.

but despite that, he cares about gaster.

but he wants to choke him out being his first son.

Despite being constantly sleep deprived, he makes time for this little new joy in his life.

Back then he's sleep at his desk, especially when his magic reserves were too low to shortcut.

But now, and you thought he didn't notice, you carry him to the living room of the main house and turn the tv volume down to 9 when you cant fall asleep.

another thing you both have in common

More often than not, you both find each other at the odd hours if the night.

since he can barely cook shit, it's mostly you making the midnight snacks

he appreciates the food you make for him, despite him initially coming to get a 10 1/2 ounce bag of chips

other times you guys will sit in the living room in silence

occasionally he'll find himself rambling to you about physics, specifically quantum, so he can keep his memory up.

sans likes the way you treat his brother.

as an uncle and not a childish cousin.

You may not be able to keep up with Papyrus's schedules and puzzles

but when you can, you two shine this wholesome light on the whole house that makes sans's soul ache lovingly.

Papyrus likes to take you out for walks more than him, or you'll both hang out in the backyard next to the glass hallway of the suite.

on his breaks, he'll find you two doing silly things

like rolling in the grass

or trying to carry each other.

without being able to admit it, sans and papyrus feel a new joy in their life.

and they got a cool kid to come with it :)

Gaster and sans were in the lab when his father said the most dumbest shit his nonexistent ears could ever listen to

gaster was never fully succumbed into the void, as sans had saved him before anything totally horrible happened.

hence his melted face and arms.

but he saw something, or rather somethings, that his meticulous little nerd brain has been hyperfiaxting on since the child came.

"Let's discover new universes!"

sans was just like 'naw, jit crazy'

so gaster fucks around with the machine for a while in secret while sans is frolicking with his newly adopted child.

ew, children.

but he guesses that she's okay, despite her adamant queries (hehe).

and soon enough, the machine made that man find out after he fucked around

Now that the machine stopped pouring in different variants of his children, this only made gaster more excited to use the machine.

sans on the other hand was fuckin freaking out.

the damn geezer did it

but not only that, there are aggressive ass versions of him who are willing to kill a child and that wont go.

sans is not gonna give on the things that bring him joy that easy.

*insert battle sequence*

ok so he got his ass whooped, no biggie.

and now his adopted child is befriending them. great.

annnddd now his brother is taking care of them. even better.

AANNNDD now his father is too interested in them to try and find a way to send them back. AMAZING!

bro wants to jump off a roof at this point

to be honest, he doesn't like the other versions of himself.

Theyre different possibilities of what could've happened currently and he already thinks about that enough.

but, reader likes them, so he gives them a pass.

but if they hurt her...or even worse, his brother...

he wont need the machine to figure out a way to take them out of this world.

KITTY!! THANK U SM!!! ✨❤️✨❤️✨🫣❤️🫣❤️ EKKK!! YOU GUYS BRING ME SUCH JOY 😋😋😋 YAYAYAYAYYAYAYAYAYAYATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATTATATATATTATATATA IM SO HAPPY!! YHSHABDGSIWKSBHSUWBWHAISNEGEYGSBAOWOAMQNWHUDBRYDUBJQIBSGATUWOWUEHRBXKMXBSYSJBSBZ-

i know the reader sounds super excited rn, which is sorta unexpected for an orphan centered fic, in the official thing you're gonna see a less than..nice attitude from them.

btw i wanna make a house plan to this can make more sense for your guys. ohhhhhhhh- IM TOO DAMN EXCITED 😋😋💕 i prolly gotta learn skeleton anatomy too-

@kittykittyanon @radicallxser @oleander-nin @towomatos @thealphagirl @ziipzeepzop-eez @amorvincitomnia-14 @spongejuice @cyb3r-st4r. if you would like to be added, check my blog. if you would like to be added, check my blog. SEE? I SAID IT TWICE!!

[cosmerelists]

Bridge Four: What Punctuation Mark They’d Be

Previously we considered what parts of speech the Kholin household would like best...for some reason. Next up: Bridge Four as Punctuation Marks!

1. Kaladin: Exclamation Point

We all know that Kaladin is a dramatic boy. When he arrives, he is an exclamation point embodied, usually glowing with Stormlight and there to save the day.

2. Sigzil: Colon

A colon indicates that further information will follow: perhaps a list, or a several-sentence description, or a series of questions. And as a Worldsinger, Sigzil is there to spread information and knowledge. Plus, when he found out about Kaladin’s powers, his first thought was to design experiments to get some good old data points. I can just imagine him writing, “Kaladin’s abilities are as follows:”

3. Rlain: Semicolon

Semicolons connect two independent clauses, much as Rlain, the Bridger of Minds, is able to connect disparate peoples and ideas. The semicolon is solid and steadfast, but does not end the thought like a period does. It brings different thoughts together.

4. Rock: Question Mark

I just remember the scene where we find out that Bridge Four goes to see Rock for advice, and he asks them questions to help them realize what they need/want to do. Rock is the type of person who can help people feel welcome, draw them in, help them open up. So I think a question mark suits him well!

5. Moash: Slash 

The slash can indicate separation and difference, but it can also show options and alternatives: and/or, his/her, color/colour. And yes, Moash has some black and white thinking (or should I say “black/white”)--light-eyes vs. dark-eyes, guilty vs. innocent, and so on. But he also represents alternatives: What if justice does mean killing a king who is liable in your grandparents’ death? What if the Singers should be the rulers? What if Kaladin is wrong? So for many reasons, I think the slash suits him.

He also, like, keeps slashing people to death, but maybe that’s a cheap joke.

6. Renarin: En-Dash

The en-dash is a poorly understood and little utilized punctuation mark: it is used specifically in ranges of numbers (like 14–30). And Renarin too had a specific and little-understood power--seeing the future--whose usefulness was not accepted at first. And when I use the en-dash, I have to manually download it because I don’t actually know the keystroke for it, and people tend to need some time to get used to Renarin too, as when he had to work hard to join Bridge Four.

Look, I swear this makes perfect sense in my head!

7. Teft: Hyphen

The hyphen is a support punctuation mark; it doesn’t get used alone, but rather connects together a compound noun or adjective. And Teft, as the sergeant and also as Kaladin’s friend, has always been there in support. He backs Kaladin up, even going so far as to stay behind when Kaladin was somewhat forcibly retired from the army.

The hyphen can also indicate speech or thoughts being abruptly cut off, but perhaps we won’t talk about that.

8. Skar: Apostrophe

An apostrophe shows ownership and belonging: my mother’s necklace, the captain’s spear. And Skar really is all about his love for being Bridge Four. He was the first to rip off the Cobalt Guard Patch in favor of a Bridge Four patch. He was completely crushed when he couldn’t draw in Stormlight at first, because he was afraid of not being useful to Bridge Four. He still helped others learn to drawn in the Stormlight, though. This love for the group and sense of belonging means the apostrophe suits him well, I think.

9. Dabbid: Ellipses 

Dabbid didn’t speak for a while, at first because of battle shock, and later because he didn’t want the others to know that he thought differently from most people. Now he does speak some, but carefully. And the ellipses can indicate not only silence, but also a pause before continuing.

10. Drehy: Period

Drehy is extremely dependable--he’s one of the first to back up Kaladin, one of the first to pick up fighting, one of the first to learn first aid. He goes with Skar on the mission to Kholinar, and helps rescue Elhokar’s son after we all (or at least me) thought that Sanderson had dared to kill off the one gay character.

And yes, I wanted to pick the gayest punctuation mark for Drehy, but that’s gotta be either the question mark or the ellipses (right?), and I had already used those.

11. Hobber: Comma

The comma lets you know that this isn’t the end; there is more (of the sentence) coming. And Hobber is a figure of hope: he’s so delighted that Kaladin rescues him, that he’s already smiling even though at that point it was likely that he would die. He loses his legs to a shardblade, but later is able to draw in Stormlight to heal himself. So I think “hope” is the emotion I’d associate with Hobber, and I’ve decided that the comma--the “there’s more; don’t worry”--is the punctuation mark for him.

12. Leyten: Brackets

Literally all I know about Leyten is that he is the armorer. And brackets are like strong, uh, breastplates that, uh, protect the words within? 

I’m so sorry, Leyten. I got nothing.

13. Lyn: Em-Dash

The em-dash is very versatile; it can be used in place of a comma or a semicolon or parentheses.  And Lyn is a versatile woman: scout, messenger, soldier, Windrunner. Plus, everyone likes her, in book, and I’m pretty sure the em-dash is everyone’s favorite punctuation mark.

14. Lopen: Interrobang

The interrobang is the combination of the question mark and the exclamation mark: ?!. You might say, “That’s not a proper punctuation mark!” but then, that’s the point! It’s Lopen. He likes to be improper, to joke around and try to shock people.

Plus, I think he’d find the word “interrobang” to be funny.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Even Cowgirls Get the Blues (Fitzier)

The last prompt for yeehawgust! Thank you to everyone who voted on the prompts!

Someday, somehow, Crozier will make damn certain he never has to hear another damned Hank Williams song again. 

Given that he’s hearing the southerner wailing about being lonesome for the same reason he does every year–John Franklin’s birthday–he won’t be free of him until his boss dies, retires, or finds some way to push Crozier from his circles entirely. 

The old man's obsession with the wild west isn’t the sole reason Erebus Logistics moved from London to Seattle, but Crozier is certain it played a role. Still, when he was offered the chance ten years ago to either find new employment or haul himself to a new continent, his obstinance allowed only one answer. 

(His heart had done the same, and while he regrets how that ended less and less with each year, regret it he still does).

So here he stands, boots and a bolo tie his only concession to the theme as his coworkers and subordinates stroll by in various levels of fancy dress. 

Franklin passes him on his rounds, introducing him to some of their investors. The men nod and shake his hand, but turn their attention away as soon as they’re able, Franklin almost shepherding them past like he’s afraid Crozier will ruin them all with one word. 

Why did he stop drinking again?

He glances at the bar, wets his lip with his tongue. 

A hand settles on his shoulder, “Everything alright, sir?”

Thomas Jopson must be part cat. How else does he move so quietly?

“Yes, just lost my bearings a moment. Hard to navigate in these confounded fancy lights.”

His secretary nods, “Mr. Goodsir got here a little while ago and was asking after you. I believe he’s over at the hors d'oeuvres table.”

The table just happens to be facing away from the bar. 

“Thank you, Thomas.” Crozier fixes him with a grateful smile, “now go enjoy yourself, for goodness sake. You’re my secretary, not my nursemaid.”

“And this is a work function.” Jopson retorts politely, head dipping a little when Crozier pats his shoulder. He retreats back to a corner where Edward Little and George Hodgson are animatedly explaining something to John Irving. Little notices him looking and waves a little hesitantly. He’s one of Crozier’s finest employees, yet he always looks a bit like he expects Crozier to bite his head off. 

Harry Goodsir is indeed at the table, and is in fact excited to see him and update him on his plans to arrive a week earlier to the planned trip to southern Alaska to take in the sights. 

Noticeably absent is Silna, their “local relations liaison.” Or, as she once noted, the only person they could send into any communities that might be, reasonably, suspicious of white men. She and Goodsir are seldom seen apart, but she’s never attended one of these functions. Crozier doesn’t blame her. And that’s before even mentioning the incident three years ago where Hickey convinced several of his coworkers to come dressed as dime novel Indians. 

He mentions this, and Goodsir shakes his head with a frown, “Were it not important to keeping up my relationships in the company, I wouldn’t come either. I almost begged off tonight anyway, but Silna reminded me that this caterer is beyond compare.”

Goodsir winks at him, and Crozier notices that Henry Collins, dressed as a cowboy to Goodsir’s frontier doctor, is usually his bulk to hide the fact he’s sneaking various snacks into a tupperware.

“For the road.” Henry shoots him a conspiratorial smile, then drapes Goodsirs shucked coat over the container in his arms. 

Crozier gives an approving smirk back just as a raucous cluster of voices crowds through the door. James Fitzjames and company have arrived. 

Predictably, the whole clutch of men is costumed from head to toe, complete with silly, silver toy pistols on their hips. Le Vesconte, looking like an extra from a John Wayne film, steps aside enough to reveal Fitzjames. 

In a dress. 

His handsome, spotlight guzzling, dashing, obnoxious co-C.O.O is in a red frock down to his ankles, a matching hat on his head and black boots catching the light as he twirls for laughing onlookers. 

“Didn’t see that one coming.” Goodsir murmurs. 

“He looks very nice.” Collins says, earnestly. 

“Mm.” Crozier nods but adds nothing else. It figures Fitzjames would find some way to make sure everyone left for home talking about him. And a silly dress is exactly the way to do that. 

Except. 

As the night drags on and they’re trapped at the executives table together, Crozier has ample time to study the outfit. If the whole point of the stunt was a joke, surely Fitzjames would have chosen something like a saloon girl to mimic, inaccurate lace and pearls and ill-fitting on his tall frame. 

Instead, he’s dressed as if he was really in some dusty, western town. The red dress, the white shirt beneath it with ruffles in what Crozier suspects are the correct places for the period. From close up, it even looks as if Fitzjames has tried to put a curl in his dark hair. 

Too much thought for a joke. Which means it’s something else. 

Fitzjames catches him looking, mouth going to a thin line as he quickly drinks his wine. He’s done that every time he’s caught Crozier’s eye. Which, given they’re across from each other, has been about every five minutes. In Crozier’s defense, half the time he’s not even staring; he’ll simply turn his head and find Fitzjames looking at him. 

Between their final course and dessert, Franklin takes to the small podium to make a speech, as he always does. He talks about how glad he is to spend his birthday surrounded by the company he made and the men he works with. Then he goes on to talk about his excitement at their next venture; Erebus is trying to expand its reach into Alaska, linking together small communities and making itself the largest logistics and shipping firm in both the contiguous and noncontiguous western United States. 

“And it is my esteemed pleasure to announce that heading the operation will be none other than the pride of Erebus, James Fitzjames.”

Cheers from around, Crozier clapping while internally wondering why Franklin didn’t bother telling him Fitzjames would be the man working the project with Crozier.

One glance across the table tells him it’s news to Fitzjames as well.

The evening limps along, and after dessert everyone stands to continue drinking and mingling, and Crozier realizes he cannot stand another moment surrounded by alcohol and unable to free himself from his stress with it. 

He scurries up the stairs to his office. It’ll be dark and quiet, and as he slips in through the heavy door he sighs. Peace at last. 

The door closes, and there’s a gasp of surprise. 

“Holy god!” Crozier nearly jumps clear of his skin, “Fitzjames, you have two goddamned seconds to tell me why in the name of fucking christ you’re in my office, in the dark!”

“I” Fitzjames, noticeably tipsy, sits up from the couch, “I, I’m not sure. I came up here to…to…” He looks away quickly as Crozier turns on his small desk lamp. 

One red sleeve is damp, and Fitzjames sniffles, trying to clear his throat to cover it. 

“Your own office seems a better place for a breakdown.” He turns the guest chair to face the small couch.

“I don’t find it comforting.”

Crozier pauses, hand halfway to the box of tissues on his desk. 

“Memories of arguments are that fond to you?”

Fitzjames finally meets his eyes, “I know where I stand with you, Francis. Even though it is seldom where I’d like to be, at least I know it. John spent the last two weeks rejecting half my ideas. Then he goes and assigns me the Alaska project without warning, in spite of the fact you’ll already be there and be better at leading it. It’s like he’s trying to send me where I cannot bother him.” He wipes his eyes, “I’d asked to go as your second, and he told me that would not do. So I assumed he would not send me at all.”

“You asked to work under me?” 

Fitzjames nods, “Shocking, I know. I also know any time we successfully installed Erebus into an area, it was because you led the way. Your team trusts you, you see situations clearly, adjust accordingly.”

“James.” He moves from the chair to kneel in front of the other man, “you’re the golden boy. Everyone here knows how accomplished you are-”

“-and you and I both know how quickly one can fall from favor.” James pushes a hand through his hair, eyes on his knees, “every move I make I am trying to tell if it will reveal the wrong thing. Even this.” He flips part of the skirt for emphasis.

“I doubt anyone will think you less capable in a dress than without one. Especially when you make such a fine cowgirl.”

“Don’t mock me.” James sighs. 

“I’m not.”

James looks up, surprised. Which makes sense, as Crozier is rather shocked himself. 

“I can appreciate a well-turned calf with the best of them.” He tries to joke, but instead of batting at the dress like he intends to, his hand comes to rest gently on James' knee. How long has he mistaken the heat under his skin when he sees James for irritation instead of something else.

“I…I was secretly hoping you would like it. That would be something of me you did not find lacking.”

“I find very little of you lacking.” Crozier sits back on his heels, both hands now playing with the red cotton, “you’re as talkative as a parrot and wilt without attention, and there are times where you have not respected me as I wished you would. But I am not as sure, now, that I was deserving of respect at the time.” He winces, remembering the days when he was low-level drunk every hour he was at work. 

“You’ve an odd way of cheering me up.” James teases softly.

“Whist and let me finish.” He takes Jame’s hands, “what I mean is that while you have driven me mad in the past, I’m not so big a fool as to not see how clever and determined you can be. I know you’ve spoken in favor of my ideas to Franklin. And when I think on it, I don’t dread traveling with you and tackling this project together.”

“I don’t either.” James murmurs. 

“We can think of it as starting over. The two of us and our crew, traversing the wild north with a better understanding of each other.”

“I’d like that.” James sniffs, blinking away the last of his tears, and reaches for his hat, “we should go back down, if we’re gone too long he might send someone to lasso us.”

“Blanky did once threaten to tie us together until we cooperated.”

A laugh, “I forgot about that.”

“Come along, cowgirl, up you get.” Crozier stands, helping James do the same. 

It’s over in an instant, even as time slows. James leans down and kisses him and Crozier decides he can indeed make it the rest of his life without a drink, as long as he can taste wine on James tongue. In fact, he’s certain he could get drunk on his kisses alone, even if neither of them ever drank a drop again. 

“Thank you for cheering me up, Francis.”

Crozier keeps hold of his hand, wraps his other arm around his waist, “James…”

“Have lunch with me tomorrow. Somewhere far away from work. And we can talk about this. Er, if you want there to even be a a this-”

Crozier tugs him down for another kiss. God above, they ought to have done this sooner, done this the day they met, and never have stopped. 

“Aye. Now, run along ahead. Best if we aren’t seen coming back in together.” He allows himself a pat of James' ass when the other man turns, earning him a swat on the wrist and a laugh. 

He waits until James disappears down the stairs, then follows him in a daze of happiness that lasts until he’s back in the main room. And even Jopson stopping at his elbow, eyebrows raised and whispering, “I like the hat, sir” does nothing to dim it. After all, he can return the hat to his cowgirl tomorrow.

[genocidehim]

Tuco falling in love with his abuela’s home health aid worker and trying to woo her

notes: reader is female, I have to admit I got a little excited writing and this got way too long (sorry) words: 1336

Tuco's erratic and violent personality disappears when he is sober and at Abuelita's house. It will be quite different from how it is shown in the series, but I'll try to keep it canon!

Mr. Salamanca's mother was a lovely person and very independent despite her sons' need for someone to take care of her. You worked as a home health aide, although most of your work was focused on keeping her company and helping her with her medications. It was amazing how a woman like her had so much energy despite her age, and you believed it was because of her background - you understood that Mexican women were strong, and she was the living image of that.

Her sons and grandsons rarely visited her, as you knew most of them were in Mexico and the others were very busy men. Of the few you got to know, Tuco was the most frequent visitor. His love for his grandmother was evident in how he spent his afternoons at her house and how he offered to cook for both of them. You could even notice how he was charming in his own way when he helped you translate most of the things Mrs. Salamanca said because your Spanish was not very good. One of those afternoons where Abuelita (that's how she asked you to call her) felt more tired than usual, you decided to send her to bed early and she didn't seem upset with your decision.

"Vamos Abuelita, le pondré su novela y luego la llamaré para cenar ¿Está bien?''(Come on, Abuelita, I'll put on your soap opera and then I'll call you for dinner, okay) You said with a warm smile as you tried to hide your accent.

"Bien mija... Pero ayuda a mi Tuco con la cena ¿Sí? Él ha estado muy ocupado y necesita una ayudita" (Okay, mija... but help Tuco with dinner. He's been very busy and he needs some help) she suggested, and although it sounded like a request, you knew it was an order.

"Claro que lo ayudaré, no se preocupe" (Of course I'll help him, don't worry) you confirmed and let her go up the stairs first while you followed closely behind. Shortly after arriving in her room, you opened the windows and turned on her personal TV, putting on the Venezuelan soap opera she loved before leaving the room. You walked down the stairs and could already smell the dinner without even entering the kitchen. The sound of oil sizzling in the pan was quite loud, everything felt very domestic. As you walked towards the door, you could hear the sound of a knife chopping some easily cut ingredient, and there he was, cooking as if it were an art he specialized in.

Tuco usually cooked when he came over, not because he doubted your cooking skills, but because he loved doing it. Abuelita liked to brag that all her grandsons were good cooks, and you imagined it was because of her.

"Abuelita asked me to give you a hand with dinner. Do you need any help, Señor?" you said somewhat timidly, still not having too much confidence with the man to address him by his name. Tuco's hard gaze softened when he saw you standing in the doorway, and then he smiled and shook his head.

"It's not necessary, corazón" The nickname felt warm, somehow his voice sounded better in Spanish. "Take a break, I'll take care of it."

"I really would like to help, I know you had a busy morning and I don't want to leave you to do everything." you insisted out of pure politeness. Besides, you didn't think it would be appropriate to just rest in his presence during work hours. Your shift was not over yet.

He chuckled and gave you a quick glance before setting the knife aside.

"You're very stubborn... Alright, help me by cutting the carrot and beetroot," he ordered, and you went to his side to take his place, grabbing the knife to start cutting while he took care of stirring the meat in the pan.

Tuco spoke first, breaking that little minute of silence between you two. "When my Uncle Hector told me that Abuelita was being taken care of by a young nurse, I didn't think you'd be so pretty."

His comment sounded almost like a compliment and you couldn't help but be surprised by it, laughing nervously and hoping that the blush on your face wasn't too noticeable.

"And what did you expect?" You replied playfully.

"Maybe an old, bitter woman. One of those who hates their job."

"Well, I'm fresh out of college. I haven't reached that stage yet" you joked and he laughed out loud, you never thought you were funny enough to make someone laugh like that.

"Not only pretty, but funny too."

"Ay, no big deal, Señor Salamanca."

"Tuco" he corrected you "I told you you could call me Tuco."

You smiled at his response and hid your face as you lowered it to continue concentrating on the vegetables. To say that this man's presence made you nervous was an understatement. You normally didn't feel so clumsy at your job, but there was something about Tuco that threw you off.

You were so lost in thought that you didn't hear him asking you to put the freshly chopped vegetables in the skillet. It wasn't until you felt a warmth at your waist that you snapped out of it. It was his hand.

"They're chopped enough, put them next to the meat that's almost ready," he asked again, his hand still lingering there. And even though your uniform was thick, you could feel the heat radiating from his palm.

"Uh, yes, of course." You smiled and, after setting the knife aside, took the cutting board and waited for Tuco to move so you could add the vegetables to the skillet. Throughout the whole process, his hand stayed at your waist, he had taken his place by your side while watching over your shoulder everything you were doing. You could feel his breath close to your neck and judging by his voice, you knew he was smiling.

"That... Like that" the way his voice sounded so soft and deep sent an electric shock down your spine, activating each of your senses and feeling a certain pressure in your stomach accompanied by a burning sensation in your cheeks.

When the last piece of carrot fell into the pan, you didn't know what to do next. You just held the cutting board in your hands while his hand still rested on you, and you guessed he wanted you to continue with the rest of the process. So, still with the strange sensation in your body, you took a fork and stirred the vegetables with the meat and seasonings, which elicited a reaction from Tuco. "That's it, very well done, reina" he praised you and tightened his grip a little. "You've got a good hand for cooking."

The way his voice sounded from one of your sides and the warmth of his breath touching your skin was enough to make you tremble, and this time it was something he also noticed. You turned your head slightly in his direction to catch a glimpse of Tuco, looking at you in a way you couldn't decipher, unsure of what was in his gaze.

When your eyes unconsciously landed on his lips, you heard a laugh and a pat on the same area where he had been holding your waist.

"Good job, girl. Help me set the table. I'll finish this and bring the plates later." His change of attitude was enough to disorient you, you didn't know what the hell had just happened. "Yeah..." Your voice came out with difficulty from your throat and you were not able to look at him while you did as he asked and went to the dining room to organize everything.

You didn't know if what you had just felt was your imagination or if there was really something there. But you were sure of one thing, and that was that you wouldn't be able to sleep that night without getting him out of your mind.

ISorry if this reads a bit weird (idk) but eng is still not my most dominant language and I still can't figure out if it's understood the same in english as it is in spanish.

[dalliansss]

Hiiii <<333 would u tell us more about your thingol and finwe verse? U just made me discover this ship and I’m kinda into it even if Miriel for the win 🤍

Also just thought this would work for them ? ❛ i thought you said you never wanted to see me again. ❜

&. 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 (𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬?) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

In truth, Elwë did what he did out of concern, prompted also by Fëanáro's concern that Finwë had been getting a bit too...wide in the girth these days. Not that Elwë can blame his husband; since arriving in Valinor, the Noldor king had indulged himself in many things, particularly in food, their hard life in Cuiviénen manifesting itself in this way, where Finwë will not, shall not and can not suffer anybody going hungry during his reign, particularly his descendants and his people -- and also, himself.

They had been busy, of course. Setting in Valinor, ordering the realms of the Eldar, choosing their leaders and their noble courts, exploring their new lands. Finwë, upon whom the burden of the leadership of the Noldor fell on, focused more on the administrative side of things, and so his physical activity fell to the wayside. And the food. Food in abundance, rich and sweets -- Finwë was just eager to eat them all. He soon developed habits of stashing snacks: in the cupboards and drawers, in his pockets, in baskets in the councilroom--

But lately, even a little horse riding made Finwë short of breath, and Elwë knew it was time for action. He had been introducing physical activity back into Finwë's days while only slowly reducing his food portions, but Finwë, ever emotional took offense and booted him out of their bedchambers. This despite Elwë explaining he does what he does keeping in mind Finwë's health, just to make sure his combat skills does not fall to the wayside.

Still, Elwë gets exiled. Oh well.

So he takes himself to his seaside house at Alqualondë, and there he busies himself with sailing and fishing every early morning, even before the Mingling of the Lights. He trusts Fëanáro to take up where he can't, and Finwë will find that more difficult, because Fëanáro does not compromise and imposes his discipline with a harder hand that Elwë does. There will be no coaxing from Fëanáro, that is certain. Do or don't.

Elwë has just finished his rounds selling off his catch at Alqualondë's famous seaside markets. He walks home, and is surprised to find Finwë already there, waiting for him, the Noldorin king dressed down to sleeveless tunics fit for the hotter climes of Alqualondë. Finwë sees him approaching, and he stands, beaming-- and then as if he remembers he is the one who exiled Elwë in the first place, his smile falls, and he wrings his bejeweled hands.

Elwë Singollo draws close and quirks an eyebrow as he hangs his fishing net by the rack. "Well? I thought you said you never wanted to see me again."

"You know I don't mean that!" Finwë cries out, anguished. He is the one to close the distance and throw his arms around Elwë in a hug. He whines. "Elwë-- my heart, song of my fëa, come home....please?"

Elwë lets out a long-suffering sigh, but he does wrap his arms around Finwë. Look at that. In years that seem so long ago, he could hug Finwë and feel his ribs. Nowadays, it's all fluff. It's not a bad thing, but Finwë needs to reteach his hröa how to keep moving. It is for his own good.

"Fëanáro got you good, huh?" Elwë snipes, sly. "Alright, how many laps does he make you do before he's satisfied?"

"Twenty every early morning," Finwë complains, pouting. "And I haven't even eaten my scrambled eggs yet! And no coffee yet! No orange juice! Ai, he's so mean, Elwë! And-- and he he also got Nolofinwë joining in! Two of them! They're horrible! Can't leave their old father alone..." Now he pretends to sniffle. Dramatic elf, this one.

"But you exiled me, remember?" Elwë points out.

"No!" Finwë cries out. "I take it back! Go home with me! I rather take the long walks with you and the horse riding with you! At least you let me have breaks and you let me relax and--! Elwë!" Finwë pouts. Lower lip quivering.

Elwë rolls his eyes with such a great, exasperated fondness. He bends to kiss the pout away. "Very well. I will go home with you. But I hope you know the walks and the spars and the horse riding won't stop, nor go away. Understood?"

"Yes, yes, yes. I love you, Elwë!" Finwë hugs into his hold again, happy now.

Elwë shakes his head. Ai, this elf...so silly. The silliest of the lot!

[spaceman-earthgirl]

Supercorp 2022 Day 8: Rain

ao3 fic link. series link.

Lena’s regretting every single decision that brought her to this moment right now. Okay, maybe she’s being a bit dramatic, but she’s currently huddling under a shop awning, shivering from the cold, clothes soaked through from the sudden downpour she’s been caught in.

She’d thought it was a good idea, she’d finished work slightly early, it had been a nice spring evening, sun warm, sky clear, so she’d swapped her heels for her gym shoes, cancelled her driver, and decided to walk home. She’s always stuck in the office, thought that a walk home was the perfect excuse for some exercise since her gym clothes she keeps at work hardly ever get used.

She should’ve checked the weather.

The sun is rapidly going down, the air starting to cool, water has soaked through her clothes completely, and the only thing she’s going to end up getting out of this is a cold.

Lena has multiple options of what she can do next, and she has to do something, because it doesn’t look like the rain is going to let up anytime soon. She could call her driver, but then she’d have to wait for him to arrive in the cold. She could try hail a cab, but she doesn’t fancy her luck in this weather. The third option is that Kara only lives two blocks from her current location and she could stop by, dry off and call her driver from there.

She goes with the third option, mostly because it’s the quickest way she’ll get out of the rain and cold, and a little bit because she’s rapidly developing a crush on her new friend and she wants to see Kara.

It’s the fact that she’s cold that she doesn’t entirely think through the fact that Kara might not appreciate a half drowned Lena turning up on her doorstep. Even more so the fact that she must look terrible right now, hair dripping wet, mascara running, not the appearance you want your crush to see.

It’s only once she’s actually knocking on Kara’s door, water dripping onto the carpet in the hallway, that Lena thinks she should’ve actually texted Kara to at least see if she’s home, but it’s too late now, she’s here.

The door swings open moments later, and Kara’s surprise quickly turns to concern.

“Hey, Le- oh, gosh, you’re soaking, what happened?”

“I didn’t check the weather before I decided to walk home,” Lena says, visibly shivering now, the warmth emanating from Kara’s apartment enticing.

“Come in,” Kara gestures. “Let me go and get you a towel.”

Lena steps inside, shuts the door behind her, and feels awkward for a moment while she waits for Kara to return, wondering if she should’ve just braved the cold instead of intruding on Kara’s evening. But then Kara is back, towel in hand.

“Here,” Kara says, but instead of just handing the towel to Lena, she wraps the towel around Lena’s shoulders, hands ending up on Lena’s biceps, rubbing up and down in an attempt to warm Lena up.

It works, Lena is feeling warmer already.

“Come on,” Kara says, tugging Lena forwards. “You need to get warm and dry.”

Lena doesn’t even have time to protest as Kara directs her towards the bathroom. “Shower and get warm and I’ll get you some dry clothes.”

The bathroom door has closed before Lena can even manage to say thank you, the whirlwind that is Kara Danvers having hit her again.

She’s not used to someone genuinely caring and looking after her. Which is sad but true.

Lena peels off her wet clothes, leaves them in a pile on the floor before she climbs into the shower. The water is deliciously warm, the shivering finally subsiding and she allows herself a long moment to just enjoy the heat. After some hesitation, she uses Kara’s shampoo and conditioner to wash her hair, and the smell that’s so specifically Kara warms her for different reasons.

It’s only been a few months that they’ve been friends, a few months where lunches have become common and Lena’s found herself with a friend she never expected to have.

She’s also found herself with a crush that’s rapidly growing into more, with every smile from Kara, every kind gesture, bad joke and warm hug, Lena finds herself falling harder.

Lena realises her issue when she gets out of the shower, and only has a towel and her wet clothes.

She dries herself, wraps the towel around her body, and steels herself as she cracks the door open, and steps into the hallway.

“Kara?” she calls into the apartment.

“Yes?”

The reply is instant and then Kara is there, eyes widening when she sees Lena’s state of undress.

Lena’s pretty sure she’s not imagining the flicker of Kara’s eyes down her body.

Interesting.

“Umm…” Lena starts. “My clothes are all wet and –“

“Oh! I left out some fresh clothes on my bed for you.”

Lena smiles. Kara really is the kindest person she knows. “Thank you.”

Kara leaves her to get dressed, Lena finding a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt and a sweater on Kara’s bed. She’s not going to admit this to anyone but herself but it feels ridiculously good to be in Kara’s clothes. They’re so soft and comfy and smell just like her and it isn’t helping her crush at all.

“Thank you,” Lena says when she walks back into the living room, finally feeling properly warm. “I should call my driver, I’ve interrupted your night enough.”

“Oh, I…” Gone is the confident Kara from before when she was looking after Lena, she’s suddenly shy, a hand reaching up to adjust her glasses. It’s unfairly cute. “I made some hot chocolate, to help warm you up. And have you eaten? I have some leftover Chinese food I can heat up and you could stay for dinner?”

Lena considers saying no, just because she doesn’t want to intrude anymore than she has, doesn’t want to overstep and ruin their growing friendship, but it’s the hopeful look on Kara’s face that makes Lena’s mind up for her.

“Ok, that sounds really nice.”

“Yes!” Kara’s beaming. “Okay, sit down, I’ll get you a drink and heat up the food. We can even watch a movie. Rainy nights are the perfect time for a movie night!”

Lena can’t even argue with that, mostly because Kara seems so excited. She takes a seat on the couch and watches Kara in the kitchen, surprised at how comfortable she feels here even though she’s only been in Kara’s apartment a few times. Kara has this way about her, something that puts everyone at ease around her.

Kara joins her not long later, a steaming plate of food and hot chocolate offered to Lena. She puts on a movie Lena hasn’t seen but Kara claims she’ll love and Lena finds that she doesn’t regret any of the decisions that brought her here anymore.

(Even the fact that a couple of days later, Lena gets sick).

[eddieredmayneargentinablog]

New Article:

Eddie Redmayne On How His Emcee in Cabaret Is a Shape Shifter.

The Olivier and Oscar winner talked with Playbill about coming back to the stage, and whether he's coming to Broadway.

Playbill, by Talaura Harms, October 16, 2023.

While a few fortunate Broadway theatregoers were able to catch the recent Olivier Award-winning revival of Cabaret, the majority of us are anxiously awaiting its Spring 2024 arrival on Broadway. And even more, we are anxiously awaiting the casting news to see if one, both, or neither of its Olivier-winning stars, Eddie Redmayne and Jessie Buckley, will come with it.

While we impatiently tap our feet as we wait to hear, we've at least had the cast recording to keep us company. Released in January 2023, the album features Redmayne as The Emcee and Buckley as Sally Bowles. 

Playbill got the chance to catch up with Redmayne recently to chat about his wild, weird performance and, basically, harass him about his 13 year (and counting) absence from the Broadway stage.

Redmayne made his Broadway debut in 2010 when the Donmar Warehouse production of John Logan's Red transferred from the West End. The two-hander starred Alfred Molina as artist Mark Rothko and Redmayne as his assistant. Redmayne earned an Olivier and a Tony for his performance. 

Redmayne says, only partly in jest, that one of the reasons he hasn't returned to Broadway is because Red was perfect. "It was one of the greatest experiences of my life—working with Fred Molina on a play that I loved, and with Michael Grandage," he says. "It went so well that I was like, 'I don't think I'm ever going to do a Broadway play ever again. It's never ever gonna go as well as that.'"

Following Red, he returned to the West End for another production with Grandage, a short run as the title role in Shakespeare's Richard II. Then his film career took off. His 2012 performance as Marius in the Les Misérables film set musical theatre hearts aflutter. Then in 2015, he was awarded an Oscar for his role as Stephen Hawking in The Theory of Everything and garnered another nomination the following year for The Danish Girl.

He did not return to the stage until the 2021 West End revival of Kander and Ebb's Cabaret. The chance to create The Emcee anew was too good to pass up. "The abstract nature of the character—the fact that does the character even really exist? Is it a figment of the imagination? I mean, it's so ripe for interpretation," says Redmayne. "And the show is so beautifully constructed, but yet it allows for interpretation. That was the appeal."

The Emcee is so ripe for interpretation because the character only exists in the Kit Kat Club and not within narrative story of Cabaret. The diegetic Kit Kat Club numbers comment on the action of the plot—chanteuse Sally Bowles' relationship with English writer Cliff during the Nazi rise to power in Berlin—but the Kit Kat Club songs are not a part of the action. 

And this new immersive production takes that meta-theatricality to new heights—London's Playhouse Theatre has been transformed to look like a '40s Berlin nightclub, with performers interacting with he audience during the preshow. 

Redmayne's initial actor's instinct was to create a backstory for The Emcee, but in the end, his attempts simply were not supported by the text. So, he tried something else. "What was very liberating about playing this role was that I approached it, ultimately, in a very different way—which was throwing clay at a wall in big kind of broad gestures and then trying to refine it as it were," Redmayne explains. "Then, as we began to run the show, making sense of a psychology through it—working backwards, and working with the understanding that there's an abstraction to the character."

But Redmayne was excited about shaking his process up a bit. He'd only done film for the 10 years prior to Cabaret, and he was ready to dive into stage work again. In the months leading up to Cabaret rehearsals, he even enrolled in a training course at Lecoq (formally, L'École Internationale de Théâtre Jacques Lecoq), a physical theatre school in Paris. "I was working with actors aged 18 to 60 from all over the world. It was huge improvisations, the whole thing was in French, and there were these two French doyennes of Lecoq's training going 'No!' and it was kind of brutal, but it was exactly what I needed," he says, laughing. "It took me out of my head. I felt so much more physically free to humiliate myself. By the time I came into the rehearsal room for Cabaret, the experience was one of release in some ways."

So with his newfound physical freedom, and the idea of The Emcee as an abstraction unclouded by a backstory, Redmayne was ready to create his character. The vocal performance is almost otherworldly. Redmayne explains the genesis of his sound: "There was this idea of a shapeshifter. That was something that [director] Rebecca [Frecknall] and Tom Scott, our production designer, talked about—that my version of The Emcee could puppeteer this group of Kit Kat dancers and conjure these characters. But, ultimately, when fascism arrives, he is able to get out absolutely fine. He can shape shift his way out of that situation. And I wanted vocally for that to translate as well."

Working with Musical Director Jennifer Whyte ("She had brilliant ideas," he adds), Redmayne created different voices and sounds for different songs. In "Tomorrow Belongs to Me," he sang live over his own recorded harmony lines. "So, in that, there was a delicate side. Then there was the raucous, quite nasal version of The Emcee in 'Willkommen.' And then, particularly within 'I Don't Care Much,' I wanted you to hear him move from one voice into the other within the same song. So he's sort of demonstrating to the audience the power he has in his passivity, just to keep changing the versions of himself," explains Redmayne, then quickly adding,"That sounds bloody pretentious." (Clearly Mr. Redmayne does not understand how hard we can nerd out about a vocal performance.)

Musical theatre is in Redmayne's blood, he says. His first job, after all, was playing a workhouse boy in a West End production of Oliver! And he was a choral scholar in his years at Cambridge. And returning to Cabaret after years in film was a particular joy for him. "I do think that music and singing jumps synapses into people's souls and you connect emotionally in a beautifully honest way," he says. 

But he's more proud of just being involved with this particular production. He's been back to see every new cast as they arrive in the West End. "Rebecca has created a version of the show that champions individuality," he says. "Getting to watch a production that you've been in, but in a completely different interpretation—having seen all of The Emcees and Sallys and seen the breadth and brilliance of their voices—I just feel proud to be a part of something that keeps living."

And, of course, we asked if he'll be coming to Broadway with Cabaret in the spring. Of course we did. "You know more about it than I do," said the shape shifter, easily getting out of that one.

The Rebecca Frecknall-directed production of the Tony-winning 1966 Broadway musical, currently running at London's Kit Kat Club (a.k.a. the renovated Playhouse Theatre), officially opened December 12, 2021. It currently stars Jake Shears as The Emcee and Rebecca Lucy Taylor as Sally Bowles. Mason Alexander Park and Maude Apatow just completed their three-month runs in the show. 

Cabaret is slated to arrive at the August Wilson Theatre this season. Dates and cast are to be announced. 

Photo by Marc Brenner

[theburgessobserver]

ROTG canceled Sequel-SCRIPT!(Found media!!!)

La fin du monde

Extateres arrivent

The Moon made an announcement to the world at large revealing his true intentions: a mind like ourselves, an intellect vast and cool and unsympathetic regarding the plain of existence and our planet at the center of it with envious eyes and slowly but surely drawing his plan against us…

Tonight important news!ACTION NEWS MODESTO CA.

Greetings people of Earth I am Moon soon to be the grand ruler of all.I am here for my moonrocks to give them to me at once!

(Reporter 2)Wow!will you look at that

He made an address to the Earth

Saying it in every country in every language.

Bonjour les genstes de le terre earthy

Saudandons as gentsos de la terra firmy

Saluti,la gentes di terra earthy

Pozdrav vy genty na Zemisky terry?

I SAY Ello you lot down there and terra firma

I have come for you…all of you!

I have been there since the beginning every day growing stronger and fauxing you and your mighty military forces and alleged myths and legends. My Lunar fleet is ready so I can sail off the moon with my army of Lunar robots and Moths to annihilate your civilization afterwards.

When North saw this he calmly drank some cocoa and the flipped ultimate emergency switch.

Moon's forces attacked in the first wawe only the most important towns:New York,Paris,Los Angeles,Rio,Quebec,Pencaster,Pilsen, and Pontypandy,Wales.

This isn't a war, the Chief fire officer Boyce said. It never was a war, any more than there's war between man and ants.' Pontypandy doesn't have a single police officer let alone army base due to the town being involved in so many fires it was decided to give all the funds to the F.D. and canceled the other to keep the town in one piece.Which turned out to be an supringly unsurpisingly bad idea.

1-B1 Lancers were diverted on a there”milk run”to destroy the moons earth base.

The President had a quick speech

“My fellow americans…you know what I must do so let's just skip to it…and promptly pressed the Nuke launch button.”

North and Jack were having a great time talking about and eating rabbit stew and talking about boiled rabbits and how tasty they are unbeknowst to them Bunnymund was there.

In the secret underground safety bunker there was a big argument.

Gentlemen please!NO FIGHTING IN THE WAR ROOM!The President said.

Bunnymund was putting on at full blast the song LEGAL TENDER

Will you please turn that infernal racket off!!!!!!!!!

Cmon Monger we can't have the end of everything without a rocking song to go with it.

Frost manadged to redeem some of the robots with an big speech that made them realized the truth

"Uhhh...why are you bad?Why cant you be like..I dont know?Good?"

The robots imeaditly killed all there former friends which were also robots after this realization.

Moon came across a kid and said:WELL,WELL WELL If it isnt,Sandy!?His mother came in"His name is not sandy". "Shut up Toothiana"Moon replied

Bunnymund and his entire egg army was getting ready to fight

"Why must the world come to an end on Easter"he said to himself angrily.

NEWSPAPER:PREZ JIMMY CARTER SAYZ:TIME TO PRAY…

meanwhile

North was so speechless he lost his voice

Phil the yeti to Dingle the elf

“North has lost his voice!”

“I hope he finds it soon," Dingle said in reply.

Monger couldnt help but start to cry...sniff..."my entire life was but a prelude to this magic moment"He said while shoting armies of moonbots with rocket launchers...and seing sandys giant dynosaurs stomping them to pieces made him add"This is not a dream...its the great reality of life!"

Jack Frost was angry:MIM YOU HAVE KILLED MY FATHER!!!AGAIN!!!!HE WAS FURIOUS

“Now,when you came here I said you were fools who would never accomplish anything and would only die….and now I see….that I was right.

Meanwhile a mad scientist(actually not really mad, quite kind and cheerful)was busy at work creating…a boggity…boggity…MONSTER!!!!

Yes…the Monster…………..CHICKENSTEIN!!!!!!!!

HAPPY APRIL FOOLS!