#on the only three covers with pics from even remotely the same time as when the thing was filmed

[paul-simon-juggling]

The Paul Simon Special and it's increasingly cursed box art and their insistence on using images from anything except The Paul Simon Special.

[cult-of-husbandos]

toji fushiguro [☯︎] - Himo Romance

synopsis: toji fushiguro takes you on a romantic date to the most fanciest place on earth.

genre: hella crack, angst(?), fluff(?)

word count: 4.9k

warnings: cursing, if you care

The scent of incense lingered in the air, mingling with the warmth of the setting sun as you waited in your small Tokyo apartment. It was a modest space, cluttered with polaroid pics and random shit from either thrift stores or shady internet dealers. Why spend $90 on an air fryer when NutCrusher2378 will sell you one for the low, low price of one feet pic?

Inhale. Exhale.

You once read an article that stated that meditation can decrease stress, pressure, and homicidal tendencies within a person. You glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time, your patience waning as the minutes ticked by. Clearly, fifteen Blood Dragon Mango Orange and sitting in silence for 30 minutes wasn’t doing much for the overbearing burden that is your life. Now, why would a well-balanced person with their own apartment, car, and a source of income need to destress. Despite what your parents tell you every text, call, and holiday you were actually doing very good for yourself. So, why do you have the urge to burn down your apartment building and start smashing every building within a 25 mile radius?

One man.

One incredulous hot as fuck piece of shit man.

Toji Fushiguro, the enigmatic man who had become an unpredictable fixture in your life. You are currently dating a sorcerer that can’t even afford getting a Twix from a vending machine. To be honest, you wouldn’t even really call what you two have a ‘relationship’. Your so-called relationship was nothing more than a precarious balance of convenience, a twisted dance of give and take where you supplied the resources and he… well, he took. The more appropriate name for this would be a ‘situationship’. You cringe any time you or your friends bring up your relationship with him. Like a gross, oozing pimple on prom night, you just want to cover it up and pretend it doesn’t exist. Except the gross, oozing pimple is a 6’1, 190 lbs., lazy, overconfident, sex machine that kills and bums money from everyone just to bet it on a horse named ‘Lucky McCock’ because “with a name like that, he fucks the competition”.

The sound of keys jingling outside your door broke the concentrated silence, and you inadvertently flinched and felt your heart sink as Toji’s unmistakable footsteps echoed through the hallway. Without so much as a warning, he barged into your apartment, his devil-may-care grin lighting up his face. Why in the name of Kwon Ji-yong did you ever think giving him a key would be a good idea?!

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he greeted casually, tossing his dirty musty jacket that you bought for him onto the couch. “Miss me?”

You rolled your eyes, the familiar blend of annoyance and resignation settling over you like a thick, suffocating fog. “You were only gone for three weeks this time. Hardly long enough to miss you.”

Toji shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze wandering around the room before landing on the half-empty bag of potato chips on your coffee table. “Hungry,” he declared, making a beeline for the kitchen without waiting for your response.

You sighed inwardly, resigning yourself to yet another evening of Toji’s impromptu visits. As he raided your fridge with the same energy as an ungrateful college student that drops off his laundry and eats your food, you couldn’t help but wonder why you continued to tolerate his antics. Perhaps it’s his gorgeous face that even when nothing but bullshit and snarky remarks come out of it makes you want to sit on it. Or it’s his amazing daddy body that can go round after round with you, but can’t be bothered to move two feet to pick up the remote. Or maybe you have an undiscovered broke as fuck boyfriend kink that makes you dummy stupid.

“Why does it smell like a bunch of temple bastards took a shit in your living room?”

Or maybe, just maybe, you died long ago and this is your eternal hell.

*****

The weeks passed in a blur of half-hearted promises and fleeting moments of intimacy. Toji’s presence in your life remained as unpredictable as ever, his disappearances becoming a twisted routine that you had grown all too accustomed to.

‘Are we even dating?’

A thought suddenly popped into your head. You felt as if your stomach had hit the brakes hard after going over 90 on the interstate. What was really the point of this relationship? Well, it’s not like you both don’t get anything out of it. You both get amazing, mind-blowing sex and he gets a place to crash, food to eat, and money to spend on whatever dumb shit he likes.

…

You know, after laying it down like that, there’s obviously a clear winner that benefits from this in the long run.

However, just when you thought you had reached your breaking point, Toji dropped a bombshell that caught you completely off guard.

“I’m taking you out,” he announced one evening, his expression unusually earnest as he met your gaze. “A fancy date, with all that romantic shit you always bitch about.”

You quirked your eyebrow skeptically, crossing your arms over your chest. “The words ‘fancy’ and ‘romantic’ don’t fit your vocabulary. Your idea of fancy is wearing a button up shirt and your idea of romance is wearing a condom and buying flavored lube.” You sighed as he laughed obnoxiously. “What fancy place do you even know? Aren’t you, like, banned from almost every restaurant, café, dive bar, and soup kitchen within 50 miles of here?”

Toji grinned mischievously, a spark of excitement hinting in his eyes. “It’s a surprise,” he teased, his lips curling into a smirk. “But trust me, you’re gonna love it.”

You honestly doubt that. You know better than to get your hopes high when it comes to Toji’s promises. He either doesn’t deliver or doesn’t show up. Either way, you end up looking like a dumb bitch at the end of the day in your friend’s group chat. Yet, for some unknown reason, you found yourself getting excited.

*****

“Why do I have to be blindfolded for this?” you groaned as Toji guided you throughout the crowded sidewalk. The city buzzed with life around you, its neon lights casting an otherworldly glow as you navigate your way through the labyrinth of alleyways and side streets. You felt the slight breeze of people walking past you and felt the questioning gazes burn into you.

“Wouldn’t be a surprise if you could see where we were going, would it?” he whispered into your ear. “We’re almost there anyway…”

You felt anxiety and interest build in the pit of your stomach, your curiosity piqued as you drew closer to your destination. What sort of extravagant affair had Toji planned for you that you need a blindfold to go there? An underground Michelin-starred restaurant? A moonlit stroll along the riverbanks? An eyes-wide shut party?

As Toji finally came to a stop, you felt your stomach drop and heart race as he reached up to remove the blindfold from your eyes, his lips curling into a triumphant grin.

“Voila!” he exclaimed, gesturing grandly at the dimly lit building in front of you.

Your eyes widened in disbelief as you took in the scene before you. You both stood outside a familiar chain restaurant, its red gaudy mascot sign illuminated in garishly bright white letters against the night sky.

Red Lobster.

You blinked in confusion, struggling to process the sheer absurdity of what was happening.

“Red… Lobster?” you echoed incredulously, your voice laced with disbelief.

Toji shrugged nonchalantly, his grin widening into a boyish smirk. “Told ya it was fancy as shit.”

…

“WHAAAAAAAAATTT?!!!”

*****

Words could not describe the unbridled rage you were feeling right now. You could power a small village for 5 years with the amount of fury emanating from you. You sat slumped in the booth with a furious scowl stuck on your face as you stared fiercely at the lying moron currently stuffing his face with Cheddar Bay Biscuits. After gulping down three of the biscuits, he finally looks up at you.

“‘s matter with you?”

“You know damn well what’s the matter with me, Toji.” you seethed.

A few seconds of silence passed as he gulped down the rest of the biscuits. His face remained stoic as he looked you in the eyes.

“You gotta take a shit or somethin’?”

You slammed your fists against the table, sitting up straight and leaning over the table, the jarring sound of the utensils and cups on the table shook people from their conversations and turned their attention towards your table. You could care less what those slack jawed NPCs thought of you. Your attention was focused solely on your smug ass boyfriend.

“Toji,” you breathed harshly, “what the fuck am I wearing right now?”

“Huuh?”

“What the fuck do I have on right now? What kind of clothes do I have on?” You were shaking at this point.

Toji grinned at you smugly. “Whatever it is, it’s hot as fuck.”

“Of course it’s hot as fuck, Toji. And you wanna know why I’m wearing this hot as fuck outfit in this building of impending salmonella poisoning? Because you told me that we were going to a fancy and romantic place. Where people, oh I don’t know, don’t need to take a Pepto Bismol before and after dinner, where waiters speak in a posh accent but you know deep down that they only make 12 dollars an hour, where the food is served relatively fresh and not sitting in a deep-freeze for half year and warmed in a fucking microwave! But no! Here I am, looking like a 100 out of 10 sitting in a stained red booth, at a sticky table, sitting across from a man who looks like I just dragged a homeless man off the street just so I don’t look like a desperate loser coming into a fucking Red Lobster by myself!”

You ended your rant, panting and dropped back into your booth and cradled your head in your arms on the table. You knew this would happen. You just knew it! Leave it to a man with no concept of child support or how a garbage disposal works to take you anywhere relatively nice. The soft chattering and murmurs of the other patrons around you continued on, but you could feel eyes on you specifically. You groaned, not even bothering to raise your head.

“Jesus Christ… you couldn’t even pick a fucking Papadeux? Fucking Red Lobster…”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it,” he quipped, his mouth full of Cheddar Bay Biscuits.

“I have tried it, Toji. Everyone and their great-grandmother comes to fucking Red Lobster at least once for a birthday-anniversary-graduation-bullshit.”

“Well, it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“Toji, your “thought” doesn’t count for shit.”

You didn’t see it, but Toji flinched at your words. A pang of dejection flashed across his face, but just as you rose your head he turned his face back to stoic.

“Where’s the damn waiter?” he muttered, looking around. “AYO! Can we get some damn service?!” Toji loudly called, snapping his fingers.

Your eyes widened and you quickly grabbed his arm. “Oh my fucking… Toji!”

Before he could say anything, a nervous looking waiter walked up to your booth.

“Hello guys, my name is Tommy and I will be your waiter today. Can I get you guys started with anything?”

“Uh, yeah, lemme get a mufuckin’ uuuuhhhhhhhhh…” This went on for a full two minutes. “Lemme get the unlimited oysters.”

You quirked your eyebrow at Toji with a perplexed look as the waiter jotted down his order. “Really? The oysters?”

He lazily nodded.

“Are you sure you wanna lock that in, baby?”

He nodded again, looking disgruntled that you would question his choice of food.

“Like, 100%? Are you really, really sure that’s what you wanna get?”

Toji tilted his head at you. “You questioning me?”

You raised your eyebrows passively and opened your menu. “Alright…” you remark, “It’s your funeral…” You muttered the last part under your breath.

The waiter sensing the tension amongst you two, hurried along the order conversation. “And what would you like to drink?”

“All your drinks are boring, so nothing.” he answered in dismissal, tossing the menu at Tommy who barely managed to catch it.

“And what would you like to order?” He directed his attention towards you.

“I’ll have the grilled half lobster with lemon butter, a tomahawk steak, and a bottle of Gin, please.” you answered, handing the menu to him.

“A-A bottle…?” Tommy the waiter stuttered. “We can mix it into a drink if you preferred–”

“I said what I said.” You looked at the basket on the table. “And can we get some more cheddar biscuits please?”

Tommy nodded with a bow. “Of course. I’ll be back with your drinks and some more biscuits for the table.” And with that, he scurried off.

Toji threw you a smug grin and whistled cheekily. “Wooow, babe. I didn’t know I was dining with royalty.” he chastised and you groaned. “Don’t expect me to pay for your share.”

“Pssh. Please Toji. With what money? It’s so obvious that I’m paying for this meal.”

“Wait, really?”

“Duh, Toji! Of course I’m paying for it! It’s practically routine at this point.” You groan out, annoyed and rolling your eyes. “It’s the main thing you use me for anyway…”

The air is immediately coated in awkward tension between the two of you. It’s not like you said anything wrong. This is Toji Fushiguro you’re talking about. The man only wants three things out of life: sex, money, and to sail through life never paying for anything. You fiddled with your fingernails to fill the dead air when you heard Toji smack his lips at you.

“Can’t you go one fucking second without bitchin’ at me for something so worthless?” he muttered. “What the hell’s wrong Red Lobster? Red Lobster is the epitome of sophistication. The ambiance, the seafood… it's all about setting the mood, babe.”

“Sophistication?” You scoff and look your boyfriend dead in his eyes. “Toji… you eat at fucking Burger King.”

“What the fuck’s wrong with Burger King?!”

“Oh! Hmm! Let’s see! Lemme think! Ummm! Ummm! How about, fucking everything Toji!”

“Do NOT disrespect the King!” Toji's smile faltered slightly, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone.

“The King is dead, Toji! Deeeaaad! He OD’d 25 years ago just like everyone else who eats at Burger King!” you shout, no longer caring about raising your voice. “People only eat Burger King because they have to! Never because they want to! Because if that were the case, then everyone would go to McDonald’s! Their food is leagues better!”

“Their Whoppers are a culinary masterpiece.” he seethed at you.

You snort. “Oh yes! You’re so right, Toji. Mm-mm! Yummy! Because nothing turns my appetite on more than a soggy burger and a 72% chance of food poisoning! Or you could just spend the extra dollar and get a Big Mac like the rest of society! And chicken nuggets with actual chicken!”

It was now Toji’s turn to scoff. “You just don’t understand the peak gourmet culinary complexities that is Burger King.”

“I would rather lick the inside of a Taco Bell bathroom toilet than eat a single chicken fry from Burger King. At least with the Taco Bell toilet there’d be remnants of edible food! It’s bottom tier, Toji. Where else in the world do you get “buffalo nuggets” for $3?! And why would you pay for that?! 10 piece chicken nuggets for $2?! What’re you, suicidal?!”

“It’s cheap and delicious!”

“It’s rat meat and smells like something threw up in a deep fryer and you fucking know it! It’s right there next to Arby’s.”

“Oh! So, now you’re dissing Arby’s?!”

“You bet your beautiful chiseled ass I’m dissing fucking Arby’s!”

“And what’s fucking wrong with Arby’s, huh?!”

“It’s rat food, Toji! It’s all rat food!”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“Have you ever been inside an Arby’s, Toji? Hmm? The people that eat there are either tasteless morons that think Jack in the Box is ‘too expensive’ or using the spot waiting for their Fentanyl dealer. It’s just like Burger King. You only go there because you have to, not because you want to.”

Toji leaned in, eyes dark. “You wouldn’t know good food if it came up to your doorstep with roses, wiped its feet off at the door, and fucked your throat.”

“Oh, is that right?!”

“Um! Excuse me…” a meek voice spoke up. You both whipped your heads to see your waiter trembling with a bottle of Gin and basket of cheddar biscuits in his hands. You both leaned back in your seats as he hurriedly placed drink and food on the table. “Your food will be here shortly…” Before he could dash off, you grabbed him by the sleeve.

“Hold on there, Tommy. Settle something for us, would’ja?”

“Oh, please don’t incorporate me in whatever this is–”

“Arby’s, Burger King, or McDonald’s? Which one would you eat?”

Tommy stood in silence for a few seconds before whispering a tiny scared “what?”

“The fuck you asking him for?!”

“Because unlike you, he has a job and doesn’t live off of gambling tickets and random women to buy his meals! Now Tommy, choose!”

“U-U-Ummm… well, considering I’ve gotten food poisoning from all three restaurants, I’d still choose McDonald’s any day…”

“What?!”

You smirk at Toji victoriously. “Thank you, Tommy. You just earned yourself a 80% tip.”

And with that, Tommy scurried off again.

“God! You can never just be fucking grateful for anything, huh?! You just have to whine and nag and complain about everything in that pissy little condensating tone of yours!”

“Tell me, Toji. What should I be grateful for? Hm? Sh-Should I be grateful that you put in the bare minimum for a date or that you even remember my name at all?”

“…”

“Should I be grateful that you even came back to me at all and not dead somewhere, shanked and killed in the street, like an overlooked hooker that the cops don’t give a shit about?”

Toji remained silent.

“You know what, Toji. You’re right. I should be grateful. I’ll be grateful knowing that when this dinner ends I can go back home and not have to deal with you for another 4 months. Maybe around that time you’ll find someone else to be a wallet for you.”

You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, ending the conversation dead in the water. Again, you missed the pain in Toji’s eyes as he furrowed his eyebrows and slowly continued chewing. Not too long after, Tommy came back with your food. Staring down at the shiny, plastic-looking food before you, you grimace. The overpowering smell of the oysters churned your stomach and waned your appetite with each passing second. Pushing past your mixture of disgust and resignation, you begin to eat your food.

This dinner is the definition of ‘absolutely donkey dicks’. You couldn’t even consider the food you were eating as actual “food”. Plastic toy food from a child’s playset looks and smells more appetizing. The only thing that you can swallow without gagging is the bottle of Gin which is slowly asking for a refill. You sighed as you looked up from your plate and saw Toji slurping down oyster after oyster. You pushed the food around your plate with little enthusiasm.

Toji attempted to start a conversation multiple times, but his efforts fell flat in the suffocating silence that hung between you two.

Toji cleared his throat in an attempt to once again start a conversation causing you to look at him downcast. “So, uh, how’s the food?” he asked tentatively, his voice tinged with unfamiliar uncertainty.

You glanced up at him with a weary sigh, your disappointment written plainly across your face. “The lobster tastes like those bouncy balls you get from quarter machines drenched in garlic and butter and the steak is both ice cold and boiling lava hot.” You look back at your food. “How’s your oysters? Good?”

“Delectable. Like slurping down The God of Lust and War’s plump pearls.”

“Ugh…”

The silence stretched on between you two, the weight of your unspoken frustrations hanging heavy in the air. Toji let out a heavy sigh bringing your attention back to him.

“Look, uh… Y/N…” Toji started fidgeting. “I know this date is total shit. Worse than shit probably. Nobody likes fucking Red Lobster. Being in this place makes me want to set fire to the building trapping all these wrinkly white-haired fucks and servant dicks to burn. Agonizingly. But I would save you! And the Cheddar Bay Biscuits fuuuck that shit is amazing!”

You raised your eyebrow, but let him continue.

“You were right. I am… banned from most places. Fuck, I mean did you know that I was banned from Chili’s AND Applebee’s? Like, why the fuck would I even be in those shitholes?”

“That… probably has something to do with you setting fire to their parking lot and spray painting ‘FUCK YOUR TAXES’ on their windows respectively at multiple locations.”

“Oh yeeahh… damn. That was a great Halloween.”

“Yeah… it was interesting… watching you eat an entire 5-pound chocolate peep marshmallow and utterly lose your mind in what I can only describe as a hellish sugar rush.”

“Whatever. The point is… I… I really tried, y’know?” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his head. “I said a lot of shit and promised a whole fucking thing, but in reality… this is all I can do… Like, legally or whatever…”

You stared at Toji in somewhat disbelief. You were witnessing something striking and shocking. Were you actually seeing Toji being… remorseful? The Toji Fushiguro?

“So… not to be all… stupid and pathetic… but… y’know… I’m…”

“You’re?”

“I’m… thmrrry…”

“You’re what?” You leaned in.

“Mm mpfrrf!”

“Toji, I can’t understand you. Get your hand away from your mouth.”

“I’m sorry!” he shouted. “There. I said it.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You bit the inside of your cheek just to make sure you weren’t dreaming. “Woah, Toji…” you mutter, stunned. “I didn’t think those words were capable of forming. I always thought that if you even tried saying it you’d vomit up blood and your intestines would explode.”

“Fucking… whatever, okay! Don’t make a big deal outta it. I only said it ‘cuz I wanted to…!” He was blushing and fidgeting more. “But that’s not all.”

Toji reached into his sweatpants pocket and pulled out a small velvet black box, his expression awkward and face slightly red as he pushed it across the table to you.

"I,… uh…, got you something," he grumbled, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment and avoiding meeting your eyes. “Just— don’t make a big deal over it…”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion. Your skepticism warring at the unfamiliar genuine tone shift as you opened the box. You gasped softly. Inside the box, a beautiful arctic blue shone brighter than all the dim lights in the restaurant. You looked at Toji then back at the necklace. You were honestly speechless and your heart immediately softened into soft serve ice cream.

“Happy anniversary…” he muttered just loud enough for you to hear.

“Toji, this is…” you began, at a loss for words as you struggled to adjust to the sweet gesture that was foreign to Toji’s entire personality. “This is the sweetest and most beautiful thing you’ve ever done. Thank you, Toji.”

Toji softly frowned bashfully, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. “Good,” he stated firmly. “But, uh… just don’t wear it outside. It’s stolen.”

“Stolen?” you echoed.

“Yeah. An old buddy owed me a favor after getting rid of a few… pests for him. He said I could take anything as compensation so I took The Tears of Benzaiten. I was gonna pawn it, but then I thought of you and… shit y’know…” he trailed off, the blush growing on his face. “Then a few days later, he put a bounty on it and got all fucking weird about it. So, just… don’t wear it anywhere, got it? I like your face and I wouldn’t want a bunch of scars and bruises ruining it.”

“Toji. Are you seriously telling me that I’m holding a Japanese national treasure with a big enough bounty that I could be killed just for holding it and you are just giving it to me in a Red Lobster for our anniversary?”

Toji shrugged nonchalantly. “Y/N, you’re much more beautiful than some stupid necklace made from the tears of Goddess worth 90 billion Yen. And you know that if anyone came within 20 feet of you, I’d rip out their esophagus and crumple their pathetic human bodies into nothing.”

You sat in stunned silence trying to process all the information that was just thrown on you. You looked down at the necklace. Suddenly, you started to giggle. Then, your giggles turned to laughter. You put your head down as your laughter grew louder and louder. After a few moments and murmurs from other patrons later, you raised your head and leaned your cheek against your hand.

“Toji Fushiguro, you’re so…” You tried to find the words to describe the absurdity happening right now. “Impossible.” you remarked fondly, a smile tugging at your lips. “But I love you for it.”

Toji smirked proudly.

“But, I hate to break it to you baby… today’s not our anniversary.”

Toji's smirk immediately diminished. “What?! Yeah, it is!”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Afraid not, baby. You see… we don’t have an anniversary.”

“Yeah we do! We had our first date and everything!”

“We met at the track, went to a bar, and then had sex. Then, you disappeared for a week then you came back and we had make up sex. Other than that, you’ve been gone for about 75% of this relationship. This is technically the only date we’ve been on that didn’t end with me getting drunk and us having loud sex in the bathroom.”

“So… it’s not our anniversary?”

You shook your head again.

“FUCK!” Toji shouted, slamming his hand on the table with a loud crash and groaning into the booth.

You slightly giggled and put the necklace in your bag. You gently grabbed Toji’s hand and he flinched slightly at your sudden touch.

“If this were our anniversary, it would be the best anniversary ever.” You kissed his hand and stood up, looking down at his flushed face. “Come on.” you gestured, throwing some money with a big tip as promised on the table. “Let’s go home.”

Toji smiled and took your hand as you both left the restaurant, much to the other patrons' relief. As you both made your way back to the apartment, you had a small flicker of hope. For the future. For the relationship. For Toji.

It started out as a really shitty date, but turns out, deep down, Toji can be romantic. In his own way, of course.

When you both entered the apartment, Toji grabbed your hips and kissed you deeply. You melted into arms and moaned into the kiss. He pulled away with a smirk.

“You taste like garlic butter Gin.”

“And you taste like oysters.”

You stepped away from him and walked towards the living room.

“And where the hell are you going?” Toji asked, following close behind.

“Well, we’ve had makeup sex, angry sex, drunk sex, bathroom sex, and Scandinavian Yeti sex. But I don’t think we’ve had “anniversary” sex yet.”

Toji grinned smugly as he rushed you and threw you over his shoulder. “Fuck yeah! I’m not gonna let ya sleep tonight!” Toji roared, giving your ass a smack. You let out a gasp and laugh.

You hated this man sometimes, but you couldn’t deny the amount of love you had for him too.

This truly was the best anniversary ever.

~Omake~

“Urrreeegh…! Urg… fuck…”

“I told you not to eat those oysters, baby.” you soothed, rubbing Toji back gently.

Halfway through sexy time, Toji jumped off of you and started to feel the horrible after effects of Red Lobster oysters. You cringed as Toji continued to retch, groan, and spit all of his dinner in the toilet bowl.

“I’ll kill those bastards…! I’ll slit their throats and dance on their backs! I’ll get those– ugh! Oh god… bleerghh!”

You sigh and smile softly at his very real threats. You stepped out of the bathroom and put on some clothes.

“Where you goin’! We’re not… urgh… done yet!”

“Well, we’re gonna be here for a while, baby. I don’t know much about sorcerers, but I’m pretty sure I can recognize the symptoms of food poisoning.”

Toji groaned. “Fucking Red Lobster… making me miss out on anniversary sex…”

“I’ll be back in a few. You’re gonna need some water, Pepto Bismol, soda, crackers, and light snacks to keep down.”

“Nooo… don’t go…” he wearily waved at you to come back.

You leaned against the door frame of the bathroom, smiling gently at the sick man. “Do you want anything? I can get you some scratch off tickets. Dragon Stars Lotto. Those are your favorite, right?”

Toji smiled weakly. “You’re an angel, baby.”

You kissed the back of Toji's neck and smiled as he shuddered against your lips.

“When you get back, I’m gonna fuck the memories of anyone else outta you.”

You laughed, grabbed your bag, and left the apartment. Smiling and hopeful for what’s to come next.

—

a/n: yo. sorry i've been gone for so long. been trying to find a new job and then suddenly decided to learn blender animation for some reason. (if anyone can give me tips it would be much appreciated) so i started working on this in February for like a valentine's thing then looked up and saw that is April so... happy april fool's! or whatever... enjoy a not so serious toji fic. more to come soon.

[13thbaronzemo]

THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES: PART 4

Baron Helmut Zemo/F!Reader

Rated E (Explicit)

You are the Sokovian custodian of Castle Zemo, which now belongs to the dissolved nation’s neighbors, and the baron himself has ordered you to come vacation with him in Ibiza.

Disclaimer: This is a continuation of a fanfic written before FatWS: Ep4 aired and set up after his separation from the protagonists and while on the run from the law.

Baron Zemo’s beach villa was a glass house with windows as high as the ceiling and as low as the floor. The sun shone right through them and illuminated every brightly painted wall and every darkened corner. And, while you missed it on its way up, the sun didn’t miss you. It had been keeping your side of the bed warm as you slept, as well as the side the baron had woken up in.

It was only when the heat became too suffocating, and the thirst too unbearable, that you stirred. Sitting up on your hunches was a Herculean task, and opening your eyes in the morning light was a bad decision. The hangover had made your mouth sand-dry and had your head spinning. All you could remember was being put to sleep like a child because, after a day of travel and a night of drinking, you were far too weak to do it yourself.

The baron anticipated the bad morning you would be having. On the nightstand, he’d left you a note reclining against a tall glass of water and atop a folded tissue.

My Lady,

I know how much you needed a good night’s sleep, so I didn’t dare wake you up so early. I had to go into town this morning, but I’ll be back in time for lunch.

Be sure to drink plenty of water while I’m gone and, if your headache is too much to bear, I’ve left you two tablets of ibuprofen. There is a tray of food that you can stomach waiting for you on the kitchen counter. Do not go hungry waiting for me.

~ Your Lord

You emptied that glass so fast, you only discovered the two tablets folded in the tissue after you were out of water. Thankfully, your Lord had thought of everything: there was a whole six-pack of water bottles on the coffee table across the room just waiting for you to walk over to it. Wrapping the sheet you’ve slept in around your naked body, you crossed the sun-heated carpet and helped yourself to a few more sips of water and ibuprofen.

However, you couldn’t wait around for the pills to heal you, so you began walking off the hangover.

First, you freshened up in the bathroom with a shower. And, since you hadn’t bothered going back into the bedroom to bring your supplies into the cabin before closing it, you proceeded to use his products. But it’s not like you minded bathing in the strong scent that only his musk could overpower. As you scrubbed off your skin, you also traced over the bruises he bit into the side of your neck and the ones he dug into you with his nails. Your thighs were still tender and the memory of his fingers was still fresh in your flesh. And, before you knew it, your nails were digging, dragging themselves between your thighs.

When you couldn’t bear it anymore, when the thought of his tongue entered your mind like it had entered you last night, you slipped a finger inside. The sound you made was louder than the water, but it wasn’t enough to summon him by your side. Or behind. Or inside. All you had was yourself and your fingers to fuck yourself with as you drowned out the desperate sounds in the shower stream. So you slipped another one in and took care of your clitoris with your thumb. When you finally came, it was while calling out your Lord’s name.

Secondly, you had to pick yourself off the shower floor before the cabin flooded and the worries started winding the gears in your brain. You couldn’t let all the terrors he’s inflicted on the rest of the world take over your thoughts, so you sniffed the humid air and your wet skin in search of his scent. Sure enough, the memories took over and you were engrossed in the thought of all the gifts he has bestowed onto you.

Thirdly, you needed to dry and dress before heading downstairs for a late breakfast. He had ordered you to stay hydrated and fed while he was gone, after all. While brushing your teeth and combing your hair, you saw something purple peering back at you in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. It was peeking out from under the lid of the wicker laundry basket and, once you lifted it completely, you saw it was the sleeve of the same shirt Baron Zemo wore last night. Pulling it out, you put it right up against your nose, inhaling the rest of his scent, the traces of him that couldn’t be contained in a conditioner bottle. When you returned to yours and the baron’s room, you were wearing a smile, his button-up shirt, and nothing underneath.

Finally, after plucking your phone out of your purse, you ventured downstairs into the kitchen. The tray of food he’d promised you was preset there: toasted bread, honey, avocado spread, and boiled eggs. Next to it was another tall glass, but, this time, it was filled with blended bananas. From the mixer drying next to the sink, you were delighted to deduce that he made you the smoothie himself. Putting the phone in the shirt pocket, you placed the glass on the tray and made your way to the couch in the center of the open living area.

Sitting down, you took a sip of the smoothie before sliding your fingers on your phone’s home screen. You knew, before you even unlocked your phone, you had a slew of messages waiting for you. The group chat from work had been chatting about you. Well, they were complaining about a couple of Spanish tourists you weren’t there to talk to in their tongue. You chose to focus on the more recent messages, the good mornings. You sent one of your own and the interrogation began. You answered their questions about the weather, the food and the nightlife. Even back in the old country, you heard stories about Ibiza’s nightlife. All of Europe heard the stories about the nightlife. ‘Send photos,’ they insisted. ‘Pics pls,’ they spammed you. You had no such photos to send, but Heidi had your back. She had spammed you the selfies from the VIP area while you slept. You told them about this lost Sokovian sister who lived here and who you met in Eden.

As you were struggling to come up with a good story about how you ended up in the most expensive nightclubs in the world on your salary, you were saved by a low battery. 'Sorry, my phone's dying,' you told the truth. 'I'm off to buy a new charger,' you lied. 'I forgot mine on the plane. TTYL.' And you didn't wait for them to respond before you switched to airplane mode and turned off the Wi-Fi. Then, you hurried upstairs and dug through your suitcase for the charger that you totally left on the plane.

After setting up your phone to charge on the nightstand, you went back downstairs. You were feeling famished and you had the baron's breakfast to finish. The toast was cold and the smoothie was warm, but anything coming from your Lord was going to be devoured no matter what. So you ate the toast, sipped your drink, and looked longingly at the deserted driveway. It was almost noon, so he could've come back any minute. A minute passes. Then three. Then ten. Then your mind starts winding with worry again.

Where is he? Is he safe? Is he okay? Why didn't he give you his phone number? Why didn't he ask for yours? Did he already have it? Did he go through your phone? How can he trust you not to use that phone to call the authorities? Why don't you call the authorities? Why are you here? Why are you here?

In an attempt to distract yourself, you wash the dishes and leave them to dry. When that doesn't work, you take yourself on a tour around the open living area. You bury your nose in a red rose, drag a digit across the kitchen counter top, pass through a forest of potted plants and watch seagulls bathe in the sun through the blinds. When you returned to the sofa, you slid your hand across its smooth surface as you walked barefoot behind it. As you approached the end of your journey, you let your hand fall back at your side. There was more fabric to feel up, but you wouldn't dare. That was his armchair and you could tell.

On each side of it rest a table. On the one that stood between the armchair and the sofa lay a spread of Spanish magazines and a couple of remote controls. And on the other lay a closed chessboard, a glass ashtray, and a stack of paperbacks. They looked to you like they were loved, with bent book covers, dog ears and all. And Il Principe was by far his favorite.

Just as your palm presses down on the first page, you jolt and drop the open book on its back. The sound of a purring engine pulling up pierced your ears and heart. He was back? He was back! How could you mistake the convertible's color as anybody else's but Baron Zemo's? You picked up the copy of Machiavelli’s The Prince and placed it back on top of the stack before praying nothing else was out of place. Well, anything besides whatever had slipped out of those pages and under the chair.

There was no time, so you forsake your search before it even started. Pulling down on the hem of your purple shirt - his shirt - you counted the turns of the key in the lock. One. Two. Three.

"Lord Zemo," you perked up, your feet patting the floor on your way to the door. "Welcome back."

You surrendered to the shivers on a sunny day as his eyes were revealed behind his shades. Since you settled yourself in his direct line of sight, you couldn't exactly complain about being scrutinized.

"It's good to be back," he licked his lips, leering at you as he leaned back against the door and shoved it shut. "And it's even better with a warm welcome." Dropping the big bag of groceries to the ground, he gathered both your hands into his. “How are you feeling, my dear?”

“Better,” you smiled and it must’ve been a silly sight because he snorted when you apprehensively added: “Now that you’re here.”

“Can’t go on a day without me, can you?” The baron brought both of your hands to his mouth and took turns kissing each one. “Can’t even dress yourself while I’m not here.” You reacted as if you just remembered you put on his purple button-up, stuttering to give a straight answer as he snickered. “There, there,” he tutted you, taking your face in the palms of his hands and pressing his lips against your frustrated frown. “There’s no need to pout, little girl. It suits you.”

He made you feel so meek, so small. You hated hearing yourself speak in his presence, seeing yourself quiver under his questioning eyes, yet you loved being at this powerful man’s mercy. Ever since you failed to evade him in the west wing hallway, you’ve been at his mercy. Ever since you surrendered yourself to him, you’ve been more than willing to obey him.

Even now, even as he asked you what you’d like to have for lunch, you didn’t dare demand anything. You let him decide while he swung that heavy bag atop the surface of the counter. Even when he asked what music you'd like to listen to, you echoed 'whatever you wish, my Lord,' like you're back to being his captive in Castle Zemo. And maybe you were.

However, as he hovered over his armchair and whatever secret slipped underneath it, unbuttoning his suit as he buttoned the remote, you begged him to go lay down and rest. Upstairs. On the second floor. Away from the chair and the contents below.

"The paella isn't going to prepare itself, my dear," he talked over timid trumpets. "Aren't you hungry?" He slid the suit jacket off of his shoulders and you scrambled to catch it. "Thank you."

"I've had a filling breakfast," you whispered, all the wind getting knocked out of your lungs as he turned to you with a half-clothed chest.

The fingers on his burgundy buttons froze when he saw your eyes savoring the sight. To the tune of the basset horns, the baron brought them over to the sleeves so that he could bunch them up to his elbows. "Not filling enough, it seems," he breathed, his fingers now at your buttons - his buttons. "Tell me," he craned his neck, hovering over the now uncovered half of your chest. "Have you tried filling yourself with two fingers or three?" When you gasped, he grabbed your naked neck and, while your windpipe was free to filter air, you had yet to breathe in any. "You can't even pleasure yourself without me, can you? You can barely take care of yourself."

"Please," you pleaded. It was a pathetic wheeze as it left your parted lips. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, you welcomed the tightening grip around your throat.

"Please what?"

"Please, my Lord," you closed your eyes as he cupped your breast under the open button-up. Your nipple was at attention before he reached it, his thumb running over it, flicking it, teasing it. Torturing you. "Touch me."

"I am touching you, my dear" he chuckled cruelly, the thumb at your throat pressing down on the bruise as he would a button and snapping open your scrunched up eyes. "Now, look at me," he insisted, his brown eyes growing black. "Please what?"

"Please fuck me," you pushed your breast into his palm and ran your own up and down the arm. You were stroking it, stoking the fire that's been ignited behind his now on fire eyes as they burned in the background of Mozart's Requiem in D Minor.

“Good girl.” Then, as if all the tension was sucked out of the air by his hiss, your lord left you stranded, surrendering his hold on you and letting you balance yourself on the balls of your feet.

When you found your bearings, the baron was seating in his armchair, the throne you had previously pleaded for him to forsake for the bed. As you blinked back the tears you weren’t aware had been welling in your eyes, you saw him spread his legs wider and lean back further. After patting down both of his pockets only to search through a single one, he presented to you a small silver packet.

“Wasn’t it you who wanted me to sit back and relax?” He smirked, satisfied in all the ways he can make your knees go weak. “You have to be the one doing all the work then. Pick the jacket off the ground and get to work, my dear.”

You’d been so distracted by his dashing good looks and his tempting touch that you had dropped his suit jacket at your feet. After dusting it off and hanging it by the door, you returned to him for your ravishing.

Getting on your knees between his own, you followed his instructions to undo his fly. Then, when your trembling hands allowed for his gorgeous, glistening erection to escape, he slapped them away. You wanted nothing more than to trace the vein that pulses up from the base of his penis to the head of it, with either your hands or your tongue, so you whined when you were denied. When he tutted you, tearing the package in two, you excused yourself even as you drowned in your own drool.

Your Lord was so beautiful in the afternoon sun, a king with a glowing crown of beaded sweat on his forehead. The last time you saw both his cock and his chest beard before you it was in the silver light of the moon and he appeared a white marble god to you then. However, as he slipped the rubber sleeve on his shaft, his chest heaving under the heat of your gaze, you remembered that he was a man first and foremost. And, when he commanded you to climb in his lap, his voice another in the chorus of the Requiem, you remembered that you were a woman first and foremost.

“That’s it,” he groaned as you straddled his hips, your nails fixing themselves in the sleeves of his shirt. “Right there, baby,” he held you up by your hip while your cunt hung over his cock being held by his other hands. “My poor baby, so helpless without me,” he licked his lips when you winced against the feeling of him between your folds. “You’ll have to learn to put in some work, little girl,” he pushed you down on him, both hands on your hips now.  "I’ll lead you there, like a lord ought to," he groaned when you gasped, his cock head breaching the entrance. “But you’ll have to do it yourself,” his voice was strained as he slid in with a single snap of his hips. "You'll have to fuck yourself on my cock."

You fell forward, his face between your breasts and your hands holding it close by the back of his neck as he bottomed out inside you. You were finally full. "My Lord, I," you began babbling, trying to turn your brain on. You had to remember to get the slip of paper that sat just under this seat. You had to put everything back into its place. Oh, but his cock, crammed between the walls of your cunt, was right in its place. "I, I, I-"

"Come on, my lady," he breathed between your breasts, his mouth moving from one mound of flesh to the other. Now, as he flicked your nipples, he did it with the tip of his silver tongue. "Come on. Move."

With the baron's hands holding the back of your thighs in a tight grip, you moaned as you moved. With his encouragement, his ever contradicting endearments, his  'baby's and his 'lady's, as well as the long and wide reach of his erection, you began bouncing on his lap. When he suckled all the sweat off your breasts, he shoved your chest out of his face with a palm on your sternum. You had to steady yourself by sinking your nails into the chair's cushion armrests.

His hand slid up on the saliva he left behind on your skin and snatched you by the throat. "Did I tell you to stop?" he growled when you whined and winced, your cunt squeezing down on his cock in time with his hand around your neck. "That's it," he hissed when your hips hurried to comply and ride him again. "Right there, my Lady." His other hand, the one not tightening around your throat, undid the rest of the buttons on your shirt by sending them flying off of their stitches.

You moaned as the hand then moved down to where your bodies met, where your clitoris was growing as you ground against his groin hairs. "Please," you bit your bottom lip, looking at your baron with a vision deterred by suffocation and sexual overstimulation. "Oh, please."

"Please what? Let you come?" His hand was close and you could feel it smoothing down your stomach, then up again. Then down. Then up. "You think you deserve to come, baby? Because I don't think that you do. Only good girls get to come and you've been bad while I was gone."

Through the thick layer of tears and a tight throat, you begged again. And again. You bounced up and down on his lap. Fast. Faster. You squeezed his shaft so snug inside he rolled back his eyes and bucked up his hips. Tight. Tighter.

"Bad girl," he sneered, his eyes narrowing as they rolled back into his sockets. He lifted his hand off of your stomach only to bring it back with a slap to your side. "Didn't your mommy and daddy teach you not to take things that don't belong to you?"

"M-my Lord," your voice cracked, tears of shame and frustration streaming down your cheeks.

"No? Well, I'm both your mommy and your daddy now." He spanked you a second time, leaving searing skin behind. "Don't." Slap. "Touch." Slap. "What." Slap. "Isn't." Slap. "Yours."

Your cunt contracted around his cock after each slap. And, after each spoken word, you warbled out one of your own. It was the same one, over and over and over again. "Sorry. Sorry. Sorry."

He chuckled over the chorus of the Dies Irae, his hand now coming down to caress your flaming flesh. "Baby," his voice dipped lower as his hand snuck back down your stomach. "Baby, look at me."

"Forgive me," you whimpered, your hands winding around the wrist of the arm traveling down south.

“I forgive you.” The baron took pity on you and proceeded with his palm ever further south. “I forgive you, my lady,” his voice was vicious as he barked out his order. “Now come for me! Come!”

The thumb turning your slick and swollen clitoris like a knob had opened the door to your release from the torturous luxury he’d trapped you in. There was a myriad of moans that he squeezed out of your throat and a wide array of words that made more sense while his cock twitched inside you and his thumb circled your clitoris. Words like ‘cum’ and ‘pussy’ and even ‘daddy’ to list a few. Whatever combination you had come up with, it worked like a charm on him as his orgasm followed yours, his face back between your breasts as you fell forward.

“Hold tight, my dear,” he heaved, his breath brushing your skin and his cheek scratching against your sternum. He’d lifted your hips and let himself slip out of you. “There we go,” he sighed, satiated and satisfied.

As you sagged against him, the baron brushed all the hair from your face only to find a sorry face. “I...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“You shouldn’t have,” he said, sinking his chin into his chest to kiss you on the crown of your weary head. “Don’t let me catch you doing it again.”

“You won’t, milord.”

“You’ll learn how to do it without my knowledge?” Combing your hair with one hand, he stretched the other hand towards the side table where your post-coitus eyes could now see what your heated gaze couldn’t before: The Prince had an off-white piece of paper sticking out from between its pages. Your mind was still marinating in the endorphins and was slow to recreate the scenario in which he managed to move it from under the chair and back into your book, all of it under your nose.

“Then you must know this: there is no better distraction than one's own desires.”

“Did Machiavelli write that?”

Baron Zemo laughed, his chest lifting up and down under you. “He wrote something like that,” he spoke over the string instruments playing Lacrimosa through the speakers and your spine shivered.

[lou-is-creative]

Unpredictable (pt11)

ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ: 6 Underground

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: Four/Billy // Eight/???

ꜱʜɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ: Four/Billy x male!Oc

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 10: Play by the rules

ꜱᴏɴɢ:   Bishop briggs - white flag

𝔹𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤, 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤. 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥!

AN: Pic isn’t mine

Crinkled bedsheets, head buried in his pillow. Bare skin against soft fabric and the faint scent of him. It was peace and it was safety, and it was comfort.

Eight twisted slightly. He titled his head to the side, eyes still closed. He was awake for a while now. But he refused to open his eyes. His abdomen rested on the mattress while his arms were crossed under the pillow he was holding. Only his lower body was covered by the white blanket, but he was too lazy to pull it up.

The room next door seemed just as peaceful as his. Seemed, because within one of the two persons laying on the bed, there was no peace at all. Fours eyes were opened. He was staring at the ceiling. His thoughts were rambling through his head.

There he was, laying right next to a beautiful woman who rested her head on his chest, peacefully sleeping, and still, he couldn't stop thinking about the boy next door. The boy whom he went outside with in the night, the boy who made him laugh all the time. The boy who became his best friend, although they didn't know each other for long yet.

Thinking about it, about him, Four got awfully aware of the fact that he actually didn't know his friend at all. And he didn't know him. They didn't know each other’s names and they didn't know the shit they've been through. Why was Eight this good with knives? Why did One call him a good driver? Why did he choose this car? Why did he live with his grandparents? And why was he so encouraged to end this mission so fast?  Was it something personal?

"Billy?"

Amelia's voice was soft but it struck him out of nowhere. He blinked and turned his head to her so he could face her.

"Since when are you wearing that?"

She asked confused and Billy looked down on himself, realizing that he hadn't undressed as he came back inside. He was still wearing Eights Hoodie which was a little tight for his taste and height. And he was still in his boxershorts.

"I went to the bathroom in the night and fell asleep like this again."

He lied as he looked down on himself. Amelia stroked over the fabric, thinking a little.

"I've never seen this one on you. It looks quite new as well."

She played with the rim of the pullover, revealing a little bit of Billy’s stomach.

"It's uhm, I just grabbed it, I guess. Maybe it's Eights and it fell out of his bag. I should return it."

The girl looked at him, a brow raised.

"Why would it be in your wardrobe then?"

"I... threw all the clothes I had into the wardrobe again so my room would be clean. This must have been a mistake. Must have grabbed it along with other stuff and just threw it inside the wardrobe."

He mumbled and sat up, rubbing his eyes a little and yawning.

Amelia scanned him and sat up too, holding the blanket up to cover her body.

"Where are my clothes?"

She asked and Billy blinked shortly before he realized that she wanted him to search for them. And so he did, collecting all the items he could find.

While Amelia got dressed, the blonde man grabbed a shirt, fresh boxers and pants to do the same.

It was quiet between them. At least until Five stood up.

"So... What are we?"

She asked unsurely while she fixed her hair. Four turned around, one brow raised.

"Human?"

He asked back and Five scoffed while shaking her head.

"No, I mean, what's between us, what... are... we?

"Ah that's what you mean."

Four said, turning back to face his wardrobe. His heart sank right into his pants as he bit his lip. What could possibly be the correct answer? The one where both of them were happy?

"We are friends, right?"

He paused for a second.

"I don't want this to change anything between us."

Unsurely, he turned around to face her again. Just to realize, that whatever the right answer would have been, it wasn't his. Amelia looked a little hurt. She definitely wasn't happy. But before Billy had to come up with something to fix it, someone knocked on the door.

"Hey Four, you wanna go get groceries with me?"

It was Eight. Fours eyes lit up. Never had someone opened a door faster than the blonde in that particular moment.

"Groceries?"

He asked and grinned at Eight. He looked at him for a while, taking everything in, every detail about the small boy with the slim but yet muscular figure. He was wearing a pullover today. A dark blue pullover with a small rose printed on the left side of his chest.

"Yeah, I just wanted to grab some food to realize that there was no food to grab. I asked One about it and he told me to get some, so that's kinda what I'm doing now."

Eights left hand nervously fumbled on the skin on his neck.

"And I was curious whether you'd accompany me?"

His soft voice was different today. He sounded a little more... how do I describe it? Tender? But Four didn't mind the sudden change of sound. He just nodded.

"Of course, I'm totally in!"

It still is a mystery to everyone, why Four never really noticed how relieved Eight looked. A cheeky smile spread over his lips, not paying enough attention to notice how Amelia was watching every second of their interaction. To be fair, Four had already forgotten about her.

"Great, meet me at the car, I'll be installing the new licence plate."

The moment ended as fast as it had begun and Four was pulled back into reality by the hand of a woman on his shoulder.

"Seems like your definition of friendship isn't a very common one, isn't it?"

Amelia’s eyes focused on his, pinning him down in the moment, making him weak. He hadn't experienced a glare like this ever since he joked about Eights height as he first met him. It was quite funny how he still remembered his stare more clearly than anything else. How his amber eyes had him pinned against the wall, losing his breath for as long as their eyes locked. All of the sudden, Four had this warm feeling inside of his chest, his hands were tingling.

Must be her, he thought to himself before grinning and pulling her close.

"I said I didn't want us to change. But Friends and... close Friends is something different, isn't it?"

Amelia held her breath for a second.

"I'll be back."

Four winked at her and walked out happily, leaving his 'close friend' alone in his room.

Eight was walking around in the kitchen with Two. Together they both seemed to figure out what to buy.

"Oh, what about alcohol? I think we could use some?"

"Eight, we do have enough alcohol here. Focus on what we have written down and don't buy any more or less than that."

"But it already looks like we have to buy enough stuff to survive an apocalypse? Why not get a little alcohol as well?"

Eight asked, leaning on the kitchen counter.

"I agree."

Four contributed as he was walking into the room, smirking a little. Eight turned around slightly, throwing his friend a cocky smirk back.

"Buy what we need, not more, not less. Understood?"

Two, who held the money they required in her hands, looked at the two younger men with the glare she was well known for. Eight sighed and stretched a little before he gave in.

"Understood."

As soon as Two handed the money to him, she already saw this going downhill. She had had her doubts about the two of them going without supervision and the smile on Fours face just proved her right.

"Play by the rules. We have a lot to lose."

She warned them before they walked out of the door. The half-hearted 'Yeah' from both of them worried her, but not to the point where she would have stopped them.

Three, who had been watching her handle the two young ghosts, wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her cheek softly.

"You'd make a decent mother."

He said and Two scoffed, not knowing whether she'd like to kill him or to kiss him. But she often struggled with this particular question if she was being honest.

Eight and Four were already sitting in the car.

"It's even nice from the inside!"

Four exclaimed excitedly while brushing his fingers over the leather seat. Eight smirked proudly.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool, isn't it? It costed me a lot of money but it was so worth it."

The younger put the keys down and buckled his seatbelt before he started the car and made a sharp U-turn to rush off into the city. Four laughed, adrenaline rushing through his veins as Eight sped up more and more. The music blasting over the speakers was only increasing their feeling of absolute power. They felt unstoppable, mighty and free. They felt like two teens who finally managed to get away from their toxic households.

As soon as a street was remotely visible, Eight had to reduce the speed drastically. They didn't want to get caught. Four turned down the volume of the music, grinning at Eight and Eight grinned back. They might be two adult men, but they were as lost in the moment as two teenage boys who finally found their freedom.

"That was so fucking cool!"

Four exclaimed as he looked at his new best friend.

"That was nothing!"

Eight started laughing a little before he turned his head to face the street. His navigation system was on mute, he only looked at it from time to time to take the right road.

"What do you mean, nothing?"

Four asked interested and leaned back while looking at Eight.

"Can you go faster?"

Eight nodded and smiled. He seemed to be remembering something.

"I don't know if I am allowed to tell you, so we are going to exchange some information. I will know something about you and you about me, deal?"

Fours smile turned into a big grin much faster than he could comprehend the complete meaning of the sentence.

"Okay, you go first!"

The words spilled from Eights lips quickly. Probably because he was still unsure whether this was a good idea to begin with. Four let out a soft hum while thinking about the information he was about to give to his friend. The low voice of his combined with the vibrations caused by the hum itself had Eights body shiver of a second. He enjoyed the feeling a lot. Maybe even a little too much for his own taste. Shallowly, he stroked over his arm to calm his nervous skin.

"As I was about sixteen, I had started with parkour running and I had been skateboarding for more than ten years by then."

Eight nodded shortly before he started to grin slightly.

"I have never seen you skateboarding but judging from the number of years you have been doing it, I assume that you are really good..."

"How old do you think I am?"

"About twenty-two? How old do you think I am?"

"I honestly don't know. I would say about nineteen or twenty, not older."

Silence spread, neither of them knew whether they should reveal their age or not.

"I'm nineteen, but I'll be twenty soon."

Eight started as he took a deep breath. It felt right to open up a little. To allow the bond that was between them to grow. For most of his life, Eight had been lying about almost everything to almost everyone. He had never been the kind of person someone would like to be friends with. Simply because he didn't want to be that person. He had always been an asshole to everyone he met, ever since he was little. Afraid of losing people who treated him well.

Four looked at his friend for a while, not really knowing why he felt so special to be the one receiving this information. Maybe it was because the boy didn't seem to be a person who was bluntly nice and trusting to everyone he had ever met. Maybe it came from Fours inner desire to get to know the man- or boy, as it was now confirmed- better than anyone else.

"I'm twenty-three by now."

As the blonde eyed his friend and driver, he could swear that he saw those amber eyes light up a little. And it felt right. It felt right to tell him.

"You owe me a childhood story."

He then exclaimed and chuckled as he turned away, looking out the window.

"Ah right, nearly forgot about that. Uhm I have been driving since I was little. My grandpa taught me as I was ten and signed me up for child races. I quickly developed good driving skills and found joy in doing what I was doing. Especially since I could earn some money at a young age. Oh, look at that. A supermarket!"

It ended as quickly as it began and Four knew he had no chance to ask for more information. It was more than he expected to get anyways, although he wished it would have been more than that. But Eight was pulling the car over to park and the blonde unbuckled his seatbelt before getting out as soon as the car had stopped. The raven haired quickly followed and got the money and the list from the backseat. Doing the groceries for seven adult people was weird to say the least. Both of the boys grabbed a shopping cart and walked into the store.

"Are we being responsible or not?"

Four asked curiously as Eight pulled his hood over his head.  The other just shrugged, a slight smirk forming on his lips.

"Do you want to be responsible?"

He asked before he started putting stuff in the cart that they would need. Four just laughed a little, pushing his hand in his pocket.

"I never liked being responsible."

"Good. I see we think alike."

Although the two of them had agreed on not being responsible, they managed to buy everything they needed. And stuff they didn't necessarily need. Like Energy drinks, Alcohol and cigarettes. And pudding of course.  The cashier was looking at them as if they were crazy. She jokingly even asked what they were buying this much food for.

"See, our parents think that the apocalypse is close. We are just trying to survive."

Eight answered and Four had to hold back a laugh while putting all of the stuff back in the two shopping carts. The cashier, who now looked even more disturbed than before, just silently continued doing her job. It's needless to say that she was visibly relieved as the two guys left her store.

As soon as they were outside, Four and Eight started laughing loudly.

"That was brilliant!"

Four exclaimed while wiping a tear of laughter out of his face. Eight shook his head as he unlocked his car.

"Have you seen the look on her face?"

He asked and they broke out in laughter again while putting all of the stuff they had in the back of the car.

"Dude, she legitimately looked like we were about to sacrifice her to Satan."

"Well maybe that would have stopped the apocalypse?"

Eight placed the last bag of food in the car and made sure that nothing would break. He didn't want to risk dirtying his car.

Four was returning the shopping carts to their place before taking his next to the raven haired in the car. He closed the door and looked at him.

"What are we going to do now?"

He asked, and his voice was a mixture of disappointment and sadness. He didn't want this little journey to end just there. Eight on the other hand didn't look remotely sad. More like he was up to something.

"Trust me."

He said as he started the car and drove off. A million questions popped up in Fours head but before he decided which to ask, Eight had already stopped the car again.

"You wait here."

The blonde couldn’t even start to complain because the raven haired had already left. They were standing in front of a huge electronic store and it took about half an hour until he saw his friend again. Eight was carrying a huge bag and he was smiling like a complete idiot.

And while Four desperately tried to figure out what the other was carrying, the bag was already on the backseat and Eight on the driver’s seat again.

"What did you buy?"

"A PlayStation."

Fours eyes grew bigger and bigger.

"You must be joking!"

But the other just grinned while looking at him. Without wasting time on thinking his actions through, the blonde pulled him into a hug while mumbling an endless row of thank you's. Eight hesitated shortly, but gave in and wrapped his arms around the taller and laid his head on his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of comfort.

The moment ended quickly and as Four let go, he was still smiling. This time it were his eyes that were all lit up.

"Let's get home fast from now on so we can get started, hm?"

Eight grinned and his friend couldn't have agreed more.

It was somewhat evening as they arrived at home. One was already waiting for them in front of the headquarter. His arms were crossed, and his facial expression told them about everything.

"Hurry inside. bring the groceries with you."

Four and Eight exchanged looks but obeyed. One probably finished the planning for their next mission and wanted to make sure that everyone would be ready to listen. Including the two boys who'd rather be playing PlayStation than do just that.

Standing all together, Eight couldn’t help but notice the nasty look of Five, who was -according to the hate in her eyes- trying to kill him with her stare.

“Hey Four,”

Eight whispered, nudging his friend’s shoulder softly.

“Hm?”

Four hummed back and gave the other a questioning look.

“I think Five wants me dead.”

The moment the blonde turned around to face Five, he could only agree. Never had he seen the tender woman throw anyone a look like that. It was almost like he could feel the anger pierce his heart. Eight must feel horrible.

“Why does she look at you like that?”

“Four, Eight, you’ve had your play time for today. Shut up and pay attention!”

One’s voice was firm, almost angry which made both of them stop talking and pay attention to the important things. The pinboard, for example.

“Our next mission…”

The leader tapped on a name on the board.

“is James Thomson.”

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Meet Cute prompts, 47" w TodoDeku???

OOOhhhh boi~! This was a real fun one~!

Prompt: Texting the wrong number but continuing the conversation.

"Get a studio apartment!" Natsuo had insisted. "You don't need a lot of space and it'll be more cost efficient!" He said.

Shouto made a mental note to inform Fuyumi that she was his only sibling now.

He groaned as he dropped his school bag and umbrella by the door, then kicked off his shoes. A loud clattering came from the small half-wall that separated the living room space from the bedroom space, watching as a cream colored cat tower toppled right over with a black and white lump fluffed to about twice his normal size clutching the side of it. He winced at the loud clatter it made, knowing that his neighbors would have words with him about that later, and let his head fall back. "Punchy," he breathed out, barely restraining the frustration in his tone.

An excited mewl came from the cat and, when he glanced back down, he'd abandoned the tree and was making a beeline for Shouto. His tail was up high and his yellow eyes gleamed with excitement.

"Punchy," he said, kneeling down to scoop him up, "why do you do this? Do you hate your tree?" He knew he was just talking to himself, but it helped to relax him. When he first got his apartment, he had been surprised by how lonely he felt. Fuyumi had suggested he get a pet, to help keep him company. Looking into it, he found that cats were listed as the best apartment animal, since they were typically pretty independent and could handle long stretches of time alone better than most breeds of dog.

Except, as fate would have it, Shouto had picked the clingiest, neediest kitten to ever exist. Not that he minded, really. He appreciated how affectionate and chatty his four-legged friend was. He just wished that his apartment was a little bit bigger, since it seemed that his rambunctious feline might need more room. 

Punchy let out a chirping little mew in response to his question before headbutting up against his chin. Shouto snorted a bit, bringing one hand up to gently scratch right between his eyes, then gave a few right between his shoulder blades and set him down. He propped the cat tree back up before changing out of his wet clothes and into something dry and warm.

Once that was done, he settled on the couch, his cat right behind him, and started reading articles on his phone. Punchy curled up on his stomach and he dropped one hand to gently pet his head and back, smiling at the rumbly purrs he was awarded. Things were all quiet for about fifteen minutes before his phone pinged with a new text messaging from an unfamiliar number. Which was followed almost immediately by another.

Shouto scowled and toggled over to his messages, clicking on the unread texts.

xxxx-xxx-xxx (5:34 P.M.):

JDOWOJDKIDI ITTY BITTIES

I FOUND ITTY BITTY BABY KITTIES

He blinked slowly, tilting his head curiously at the message. He wanted to say they were excited, but they could also be panicked and looking to ask a friend for help. He figured he should let them know, so they could make sure the tiny kittens were well taken care of.

Me (5:36 P.M.):

Sorry, wrong #

He then paused for a few moments, considering his next move carefully as interest took over, before jotting down another message.

Me (5:38 P.M.):

But pics or it didn't happen

He waited a full ten minutes, waiting to see if he heard back, before settling his phone aside and going to make himself dinner. By the time he was done preparing his own meal and serving Punchy's evening serving of wet food, his phone chimed again several times in a row. He set his plate down on the small table, slid to sitting, and pulled up the message.

He was greeted by several pictures. The first was a picture of five bundled up little fur balls, all squished together in a big and fluffy towel, being cradled by a lightly tanned arm littered in scars. All five had their heads tilted up to stare at the camera and he let out a small whine at how cute and tiny they all were. They were even smaller than Punchy when he brought him home eight months ago! And all their eyes were still that foggy blue-grey all kittens had until their natural color developed. They probably weren't any older than four, maybe five, weeks.

The pictures to follow were of the kittens individually, carefully held up in individual towels so that their markings could be better seen as well as to perhaps determine their genders. The first was mostly brown, but had white mittens on all four paws, the tip of its tail and ears, and it’s little chin. The second was of a little orange tabby kitten, but they seemed to be wiggling about too much and a portion of the green towel the mystery texter had bundled them in was covering the top of their little head. The next was of another tabby, but this one was grey; light grey over most of the body with darker grey stripes and little white paws just like the first. The fourth kitten was another brown and white mix, with the same white markings on their paws and tail as the first, but there was more white along their face, with a strip of brown leading from their little pink nose and getting wider and arching around his eyes and head. The last kitten was a tuxedo, much like Shouto’s own Punchy was, and had markings that seemed to be a sort of hod-podge of the first and fourth. Number five had the same white on its paws and tail as they did, but there was a bit more mottling on its paws where the fur colored changed from black to white - while the divide was clear on the other kittens - and there was more white markings on its face with a thin strip of black under each eye.

All in all, a ridiculously adorable litter of kittens.

Me (6:24 P.M.):

Oh no

They cute

He set his phone aside as he started to eat, turning the television on and switching it over to a crime show for background noise. His phone pinged two more times in the minutes to follow, but he waited until he was mostly done with his food to check again.

xxxx-xxx-xxx (6:27 P.M.):

rite?????

xxxx-xxx-xxx (6:33 P.M.):

Pic

I mom now

The picture was of all five kittens, nestled in their towels and being held between what seemed to be a heating pad and what was clearly a well-defined chest. And that chest was attached to a face, too. He seemed to be about Shouto’s age with wild green curls and big, bright, wide green eyes. His cheeks were covered in freckles and his lower lip was jutted out slightly, clearly melting over the five furry babies in his arm. Shouto’s heart gave a quick jolt in his chest.

Oh no, he was cute, too.

Me (6:44 P.M.):

I want them on the weekends and holidays.

xxxx-xxx-xxx (6:46 P.M.):

um?????

I am a strong, independent single cat mom who don’t need no man.

Shouto chuckled to himself at the response. He looked down at Punchy, who had clamored back into his lap and dozed off, as he came up with his response.

Me (6:49 P.M.):

You're breaking the family up.

They need their older brother.

xxxx-xxx-xxx (6:50 P.M.):

waIT

u hav kitty???

PICS NAO

Shouto laughed before clicking over to his gallery. He had plenty of pictures of Punchy, but it was determining which ones to send. He shifted through before selecting three. He picked one from when he first brought him home, when he was still just a teeny fuzzball, and put "Smol knockout" underneath. The next one he picked was from about two months ago, when his friends Tenya and Momo had come to hang out one evening. Momo had purchased a little red and black striped tie for him and, not wanting to miss a good photo op, they had put it on him and taken a few pictures. He added the notation of "Business casual Punchy" to that one. Last was from two weeks ago, when he'd come out to see Punchy sitting on the couch like a little person, back legs spread wide to completely expose his pudgy white tum, and one of his front paws resting on the remote as if he was about to change the channel. "It's been a week, hooman," he added to that one.

He grinned and scratched under the aforementioned cat's chin as he watched the little dots appear as the stranger formulated a response. After a moment, he was blown up with emojis and gifs expressing how much he adored the pictures. Then, after a moment, he actually strung words together.

xxxx-xxx-xxx (6:58 P.M.):

I LUV HIM

WAT

IS

HIS NAME

Me (6:59 P.M.):

His name is Punchy

xxxx-xxx-xxx (7:00 P.M.):

DID U NAME HIM AFTER THE CAT FROM AC????

Me (7:00 P.M.):

Ye

xxxx-xxx-xxx (7:01 P.M.):

OMGGGGG

PERF

HE PERF

Me (7:02 P.M.):

He is

From there, they wound up chatting about Animal Crossing, their favorite villagers, favorite games and their opinions on the changes made in New Horizons. They also ended up naming the five found kittens after five more villagers. They chose the names Kitty, Tangy, Lolly, Rudy and Tom for the little babies, given their color patterns and genders. Shouto himself wondered if perhaps he could take Tangy once she was a little bit bigger. Maybe having a little friend would help keep Punchy from going full lunatic when Shouto was away.

But if he wanted to do that, he’d need to know the stranger’s name.

Me (7:48 P.M.):

Btw, I still need to know your name

So I know where to send the custody paperwork

xxxx-xxx-xxx (7:50 P.M.):

u do kno i can counter sue rite?

And then, a second later, he got his actual answer.

xxxx-xxx-xxx (7:51):

Midoriya Izuku

Shouto blinked then chuckled to himself. Midoriya? Really? That felt like a bit of irony, considering the guy was pure green. He added him to his contacts quickly, grateful to have a name to apply to the hot kitten-saving man.

Me (7:53 P.M.):

Todoroki Shouto

Also, wanna come to my island?

I have Raymond

Midoriya Izuku (7:56 P.M.):

KJFGQLIHP9iuoawj;erfkjbhz;.esrhf

YES

IS THAT EVEN A QUESTION????

[malethirsty]

Fetish - Karl Anderson

Summary: Karl’s over reliance on his ‘Hot Asian Wife’ and Asian fetish was driving you to breaking point. Sometimes it takes a good sub to take charge.

Warnings: M/M smut (21+), Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap!), TW: Brief mention of Asian Fetish, BDSM

Inspired by: The recent debate over Karl Anderson’s obsession with Asian women

If you asked someone what Karl Anderson from the WWE was known the most for, you’d get one of two answers; Either being a founding member of The Bullet Club (now The O.C.) or his comments about his Hot Asian Wife. The southern wrestler had a habit of constantly mentioning the latter any chance he could, in any way he could as well, sometimes landing him in hot water. People wondered why he would go above and beyond; some thought it was over enthusiasm whilst others thought he was a fetishist. Fetishist maybe? But you knew neither reason was close to why Karl really acted the way he did.

You were what was known as the Shot Blower between Bullet Club members, having been a keen fan of NJPW for a long while, you were scouted out by Prince Devitt when the heel faction formed and made their Shot Blower, which was a fancy way of saying groupie. After every BC match, without hesitation, you were tasked with relieving the members of the Club, getting them to shoot their load from their balls was your task, and you took to it perfectly. Able to bend into any position Devitt, Tama, Rey, Fale & Karl wanted you to go in, you were affectionately called their slut, and couldn’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be. That is until you wound up in a relationship with Karl. Having watched him since 2008, you were the most enthused when you got to take his dick, to the amusement of some members (and though they wouldn’t say it, jealousy from Devitt, AJ & Luke). The two of you were fucking in his hotel room when the offer was posed so hearing the big burly man moan out “Fuck Y/N, will you be my boyfriend?” Was quite surprising to hear to say the least, but you gladly accepted to whoops and moans as Karl shot his load not long afterwards.

Ever since it was a two time tango, Karl with southern heritage couldn’t find it easy to explain he had a male partner, so used his wife as a beard, his over enthusiasm was to cover any chance of anyone working out he was in love with you, and whilst you originally were upset for her, you eventually thought ‘She has a roof over her head & she’s financially together and others aren’t as lucky’ and continued on with your relationship with Karl. However the naked pics and Asian thirsting were starting to get to you, you needed to remind Karl of who he belonged to, and you knew exactly how, a bit of black and a Power Bottom attitude should do the trick, what man could resist a pussy that teased them?

You selected what you needed and placed it out in the bedroom before texting Karl: ‘Babe, we need to talk’ text. He almost immediately responded with ‘Shit, you aren’t thinking if ending it, are ya?’ You smirked at his vulnerability, if he was this nervous for a talk, who knows what would happen once you got him whipped ‘Of course not daddy, but we do need to talk. Head up to Hotel room, let me know when you arrive’. His reply took a couple of minutes but with a firm reaffirming ‘Sure’, whilst you waited off in the lounge for Karl to arrive, circling through his Instagram for his ‘Hot Asians with Smooth Asian Skin’ post to use as leverage. 15 minutes later your phone dinged, Karl was on his way up. You stood and walked over to stand at the door, in a few minutes you heard the door knock, and you opened it “Come in Karl.” You told him, barely glancing at him, playing your role perfectly. You walked back to the sofa before sitting down, seeing him walk slowly in, unclear as to why he was here. “Darlin, why do we need to talk? What’s happened?” That was the cue to ignite your faux fury “THIS!” You yelled, shoving your phone into his hands, he read the post before falling onto the couch laughing like he had heard the world’s funniest punchline “Why are you laughing?!” You spattered out “Babe, this is nothing more than usual. I’m using it as a guise so people don’t know about us. Why has this gotten you so upset? You’ve never been like this before.” “How the fuck would you know? You’re never around these days! You’re either off with AJ & Luke, or you’re off with your beard of a wife, using her for attention and God knows what else! Whilst I’m left as a side piece waiting for you to come over when you have a chance. And then I see stuff like this and-“ you started to tear up “I don’t even know that you care anymore.” Karl got up and crossed to you “Baby boy, you know I care.” “No you don’t.” “Well what do you want me to do? Cut back work? Dump my wife and come out, you don’t know where I’m from, they’ll come after us, send death threats and lord knows what else! I need to keep you safe.” “And I need to be safe, but when I see things like this, I think this whole thing isn’t worth it.” That did it, Karl was now beginning to cry “No! Please baby, don’t say that. All our history in New Japan Pro Wrestling, the Bullet Club, coming over with me because you cared, don’t end it because of my ridiculousness, please I beg of you! I’ll do anything you want! ANYTHING!”

You had never seen a grown man like Karl cry before, those types of men were always taught crying was weak, un masculine even. Yet there the ruthless heel was, genuine tears streaming down his face. You knew the act had to end here, not only did his promise of anything a perfect cue, it pained you to see the man you loved so upset. “Anything Karl?” “You name it, I’ll do it.” “Well can you head into the other room and rest down on the metal slab for a moment, I need to get myself together” Karl immediately hopped up and tore into the bedroom, you kept your face hidden until you heard the machine locking Karl in place “Y/N, what the hell, I’m stuck! Y/N Help!” You grinned stripping off your formal wear to reveal the black leather skin tight dom costume you wore underneath. You detached the whip from where it was strapped into the outfit and strolled into the bedroom. Sure enough, Karl was struggling but couldn’t break free. “Y/N, please I need-“ Karl stopped once he saw you “Jesus Christ babe, you look beautiful.” You shrugged “I know daddy.” You strolled over to him “Now, I have no intention of breaking us up, in fact, I called you hear cause I wanted to fuck, but this time it’s on my terms not yours. Got it.” You cracked the whip for emphasis “Yes sir.” Karl said very formally “Good.” You lent down to kiss Karl, his taste so incredibly sweet “Mmmmm babe, I love this.” Karl groaned, you began to disrobe Karl until he was left on the cold sex slab, utterly naked. “Now look at the TV for me.” Karl did as you instructed as you reached for the remote and turned it on.

“This demonstration has been approved by Prince Devitt and the other members of Bullet Club. In this video, our Shot Blower will demonstrate how big our loads are.” Karl’s mouth dropped open, you were playing the sex tape you and BC had filmed a long while ago, glancing down, you saw his cock stiffen. “Now keep your eyes on the screen Karl.” You said and he didn’t need any more persuasion, his attention was wrapped onto the screen where he saw Prince Devitt begin to fuck you deep as his TV self cheered on. You got your hand round Karl’s cock and began to stroke “Oh yeah, oh fuck babe, like that, stroke it like that.” He moaned, in absolute bliss. The footage you had shot was pretty hot to say the least, it took until you’d past Devitt and Fale before Karl cried out “Fuck I’m gonna cum!” You quickly removed your hand, leaving the man whining “Babe, why?” “Because I need to leave an impression on you Mr. Anderson, you are gonna edge until we get to your part” “But that’s at the end of the fucking film!” He groaned. You moved a leaver on the slab board which lifted his legs up so that you could get a clear shot of his ass, you brought the whip down hard making Karl cry out “I thought you said anything I wanted, why did that go out the window?” “You weren’t even upset!” Karl shouted back, you slapped his ass again “Upset no, Affronted yes, Left out, Absofuckinglutely.” You landed a slap on each of the three statements leaving Karl’s ass a red mess, tear tracks beginning to form “Now are you gonna listen?” “Yes Y/N, daddy’s gonna listen to you!” “Good” you slapped the whip over his hole, making him yell “WHY?” You shrugged “Cause I was in the mood.” Which mirrored perfectly what happened on the TV, Rey having shot on your face instead of your hole, you had asked why, and he’d given the same answer.

You returned to the process of stroking Karl, as the film played on. As soon as you heard the moans of Tama as he unloaded deep in your ass, Karl’s eyes lit up, now was his time. You removed your hand and crawled on top of Karl “After all this time of being my fan, and now you finally get good ol’ Daddy Karl.” Came NJPW Karl’s voice from the TV “Look at us now.” You grinned down at him “Yeah, now let me fuck your ass, I’m desperate!” You circled your hole around his cock “How desperate?” “Y/N, please stop teasing me, I got here, now take my dick!” He tried to shove his hips forwards, but couldn’t, the metal steel clipped around his waist constricted those types of moves, he was still where he was when he first climbed onto the slab. “Remember what was on the tape Karl, you made me beg, so today you will beg for me.” “I beg you to fuck me.” Karl choked out “Come on Karl, you can do better than that.” “I need you to ride daddy’s dick, he’s so damn needy for a man’s ass.” “Better” you praised, letting the tip in “Oh fuck!” Karl groaned, the tight heat getting the best of him, desperately again trying to break the steel but to no avail. “You’ve got to hit the spot right.” You reminded him, Karl throwing utter caution to the wind “My wife won’t let me fuck her, and even then she’s lousy, her stretched out pussy is sloppy and dull, nothing compared to your ass! Your hole is one of a kind Y/N, PLEASE TAKE DADDY’S DICK!”

Finally relieving Karl, you finally took his entire cock balls deep. “FUCK YES! OH THAT’S AMAZING!” Karl yelled out as you began to ride him, savoring this moment. You’d always been on the bottom only getting to see Karl’s face at your length as you rode his cock, this however was blissful, being filled by The O.C.Member’s member while looking down at his face contorted into sexual ecstasy was something you’d have to do again. “Fuck Karl, fuck me deep like you love to do.” “I can’t Y/N, this fucking rod’s holding my arms away!” “Oh to hell with this, DEACTIVATE!” As soon as you said the machine’s key work, the bars and chains holding Karl’s hands, legs and waist down disconnected. Karl picked you up but couldn’t find the strength to sit, so fell onto the bed, letting you ride him from above even more than before. “Fuck this is actually really hot babe. We need to do this again, but right now, fuck, I need to cum.” You leaned down, closing your lips around Karl’s in a searing kiss, you eventually moved your lips to his ear “Go right ahead daddy Karl.” You whispered biting onto his ear lobe.

Karl practically screamed out loud as he shot load upon load in your ass, it was like it didn’t end. During this, Karl reached down and stroked your cock as well, the heating sensation deep in your guy “F-fuck, Karl, I’m, gonna” before you could get the last word out, you shot your load all over Karl’s face. Your hole tightened around Karl, taking even more cum, as both of you moaned directly at each other before finally it stopped. You pulled away, slumping next to him “Jesus Christ Y/N, that was hands down the best fuck we’ve ever had. And given I said you were a hands down better fuck than anyone I’d ever had, that says something.” “I guess it does.” You heavily breathed out, finally getting your breathing calm again. “Fuck, we need to do this some other time.” “Sure, let me know when you’re free from ho-“ “I mean tonight, fuck my wife, I’m staying here with you, I’ve put my image over you for long enough, fuck that. I’m staying here for a long while.” You were elated, you needed reassurance that Karl was yours and this was it. “Now can you tell me where you got that slab thingy, AJ’s looking to spice up his bedroom action.”

[bebepac]

WIP Wednesday 4-8-2020

This is what I’m working on!   Curious to see what others like @dcbbw @bbrandy2002 @loveellamae and @burnsoslow are working on too.  Holla!!!! 

Tagging @queenjilian @janezillow @kimmiedoo5 @kingliam2019 @glaimtruelovealways @custaroonie @annekebbphotography @lodberg @camersworld @queenwalton @xpandabeardontcarex @hopefulmoonobject @queencordonia @atha68 @my0123456789universe @indiacater @losingbraincellseveryday @furiousherringoperatortoad @marietrinmimi @sevenfuckslefttogive @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @mrsdrakewalkerblog @cordonia-gothqueen @cordonianroyalty @yukinagato2012 @we-lazystudent @islandcrow @texaskitten30 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @jared2612 @acanthisorbis @ac27dj @nomadics-stuff​ @the-soot-sprite​

If there is anything you need to catch up on before the weekend, (that’s usually when i have free time to post) please click  https://bebepac.tumblr.com/post/190800365955/masterlist

Fast Forward Chapter 4 

Blurred Lines 

Bastien grabbed Nico, pulling him out into the hallway.

“Nico, I recommended you to be Queen Riley’s guard because I thought you could handle it.”

“I can handle it, I just saved the Queen’s life!”

“Stop playing dumb Nico.  You know what I mean.  The Queen is not a woman you can have.”

“I’m not sure I agree.”

“Have you slept with Queen Riley?”

“No.”

“Have you kissed her.”

“Almost.”

“So also no.”  Bastien laughed.  “You really don’t know her.  If you knew her as well, as I have come to know her, you would know Queen Riley makes her intentions clear.   If she truly wanted you, she would have already had you by now.  The number of times I had to turn a blind eye, as Liam and Riley would think they were sneaking off together, during Liam’s  social season was staggering.”

Nico opened his mouth to speak.

“Before you ask, why I turned a blind eye, I could tell, he really cared for her.  He’d never looked at anyone, the way he looked at her. She looked at him, with the same passion.  I knew, from the moment he went to pick her up from the airport, how nervous and excited he was.  He thought he was hiding her that week.  I’ve never seen someone so happy, and proud to have someone on his arm.  He brought her here for a week, and prayed that she would stay.  She left everything she knew, for him.  If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.  That’s who you’re trying to drive a wedge between Nico, and I won’t let you continue to do it."

“There’s something there, I felt it from her today.”

Bastien shook his head.  “Nico, I saw the way she clung to you.  It may have felt like she was having romantic emotions for you in that moment… but she wasn’t .  She was afraid, and you were saving her.  Because you’re her guard.  That’s your job.”  

" Look at her with him."

“It really doesn’t….”  

“I SAID LOOK, GOD DAMNIT!!!!”

He watched Queen Riley with King Liam. He had crawled in the bed with her and was holding her in his arms, in a tight embrace, while she cried on his shoulder. He wiped her tears and kissed her lips. He couldn't hear what he was saying, but he could read Queen Riley's lips.  "I was so scared Liam. I love you. I love you so much. Hold me… don't let go."

Bastien looked once again at Nico. "Does that look like a woman that’s about to leave her husband for you?”

The Life of Riley Chapter 9

Look Who’s Talking Now

**Note.  i’m going to try to start aging Riley a bit each chapter.  I want your honest opinion on this. If it feels too fast guys let me know.  She’s going to be 3 in this chapter. 

When Riley started something, she was full speed ahead.  She didn’t know the meaning of the word brakes. They didn’t expect talking to be any different.  From the beginning when Riley learned the sound of her voice, she would just babble, in her baby language all the time. Day or night.  Sometimes they would wake up in the middle of the night, and Riley would be giggling and babbling.  

Riley being three, wasn't tiresome for Ren and Jason.  Two wasn’t terrible.  None of it was terrible.  They were simply happy they had a three year old child.  Riley was so independent for her age.  Riley did everything earlier than planned and excelled at it.

Ren lay in bed watching tv with Jason.   They could hear Riley on the monitor laughing.  

“Man I wish there was a Jumperoo for 3 year olds.   But I don’t think it would even contain her.  She’s a workout running around the house.”

“And she’s so smart Jason.  She knows so many words for a 3 year old.”

“Yes she does. You’ve been talking to her like she’s your best girlfriend since we brought her home.”  

“I think it’s more than that, It’s so much more than that.  I see 3 year old children daily.  None have her vocabulary, and are able to string sentences together like she can. The only one that came remotely close was a child with an older sibling.”

“She’s our little Einstein, are you really surprised though? Riley has been ahead of every cognitive hallmark, since she was born.”  

The next day Ren was off work.  She was making Riley a snack in the kitchen. Riley was coloring when she left.  

As she walked out the kitchen with Riley’s sliced apples and grapes and peanut butter, she saw her standing in front of Lucky with her hand held out.  

“Sit Lucky,”  Riley said confidently and Lucky sat on her haunches on command.

Ren gasped.  Jason had tried to teach Lucky tricks for years with no luck.

Riley clapped her hands,  “Good Girl.” She patted Lucky’s head, and she licked her face, and Riley started laughing.  

"One more?"

Riley looked like she was listening.

Riley put out her hand again, pointing at Lucky. She moved her arm in a loop.

"Lucky! Rolloller!"

Lucky did nothing.

Riley looked again to her left.

"Rol…....oller…….. Roll…....ollver…..roll…..over."

"Lucky! Roll Over!" This time when Riley made the loop with her arm Lucky followed her, rolling over on the floor.

"We did it! We did it Jaiden!"

Ren gasped, slapping her hand over her mouth, dropping the glass she was carrying, it making a huge crash, as it hit the hardwood floor.

Scar Tissue Chapter 10

Aftershocks (Still a while from being released.) 

I told you guys this one wouldn’t far from my mind.  I decided to write a little on it to get some ideas going for when I’m really ready to pull it from hiatus again. This is what I came up with so far.  Yes, I am somewhat of an asshole for this pic posted below.  I’m sorry my Drake Stans that like this AU, for disrespecting your man like this.  But this Drake is not your Marshmallow Man... is he?

Liam was numb. Bastien spoke to Liam; he did not answer. His eyes were still  fixed on Drake's dead body on the floor.  Bastien looked at Riley. Riley placed herself in front of Liam. She softly touched his face. Finally the man with the blue eyes she loved dearly looked down at her, his eyes meeting hers.

"Give me the gun," she whispered.  His grip tightened on it. "Liam it's over. Baby, give me the gun."  The grip in his left hand softened, allowing Riley to take the gun from him. She handed it over to Bastien.

"Nico. Take them through the passages back to their quarters, no one can see the King this way."

Nico nodded. "Follow me, Your Majesties." Riley took Liam's hand and gently pulled him, and he started to follow.

They followed Nico through the passageway,  and at the last turn Nico halted them. " I'll go first to make sure there is no one in the hallways."

Once Nico had given the all clear they headed out.

"I'll be back to collect the King's clothes, yours as well." She looked down at her dress seeing blood on herself.

Riley nodded looking at Liam. He said nothing. She walked Liam into the bathroom turning on their shower.  After a few moments she checked the water to see how hot it was.  

She slowly and carefully undressed Liam.  She had undressed Liam so many times before, but this time was different.  It wasn’t sexual, but this was the most intimate moment, she had ever shared with Liam.  He was so completely vulnerable as he stood before her, still covered in Drake’s blood.

" Baby I’m here,” she said softly as she stroked his cheek.

[rockislandadultreads]

2020 Contemporary Romances: a reading list

Love Your Life by Sophie Kinsella

Call Ava romantic, but she thinks love should be found in the real world, not on apps that filter men by height, job, or astrological sign. She believes in feelings, not algorithms. So after a recent breakup and dating app debacle, she decides to put love on hold and escapes to a remote writers' retreat in coastal Italy. She's determined to finish writing the novel she's been fantasizing about, even though it means leaving her close-knit group of friends and her precious dog, Harold, behind. At the retreat, she's not allowed to use her real name or reveal any personal information. When the neighboring martial arts retreat is canceled and a few of its attendees join their small writing community, Ava, now going by "Aria," meets "Dutch," a man who seems too good to be true. The two embark on a baggage-free, whirlwind love affair, cliff-jumping into gem-colored Mediterranean waters and exploring the splendor of the Italian coast. Things seem to be perfect for Aria and Dutch. But then their real identities--Ava and Matt--must return to London. As their fantasy starts to fade, they discover just how different their personal worlds are. From food choices to annoying habits to sauna etiquette . . . are they compatible in anything? And then there's the prickly situation with Matt's ex-girlfriend, who isn't too eager to let him go. As one mishap follows another, it seems while they love each other, they just can't love each other's lives. Can they reconcile their differences to find one life together?

The Business of Lovers by Eric Jerome Dickey

Unlike their younger brother, Andre, whose star as a comedian is rising, neither Dwayne nor Brick Duquesne is having luck with his career--and they're unluckier still in love. Former child star Dwayne has just been fired from his latest acting role and barely has enough money to get by after paying child support to his spiteful former lover, while Brick struggles to return to his uninspiring white-collar job after suffering the dual blows of a health emergency and a nasty breakup with the woman he still loves. Neither brother is looking to get entangled with a woman anytime soon, but love--and lust--has a way of twisting the best-laid plans. When Dwayne tries to reconnect with his teenage son, he finds himself fighting to separate his animosity from his attraction for his son's mother, Frenchie. And Brick's latest source of income--chauffeur and bodyguard to three smart, independent women temporarily working as escorts in order to get back on their feet--opens a world of possibility in both love and money. Penny, Christiana, and Mocha Latte know plenty of female johns who would pay top dollar for a few hours with a man like Brick... if he can let go of his past, embrace his unconventional new family, and allow strangers to become lovers. Eric Jerome Dickey paints a powerful portrait of the family we have, the families we create, and every sexy moment in between.

Spoiler Alert by Olivia Dade

Marcus Caster-Rupp has a secret. While the world knows him as Aeneas, the star of the biggest show on TV, Gods of the Gates, he's known to fanfiction readers as Book!AeneasWouldNever, an anonymous and popular poster.  Marcus is able to get out his own frustrations with his character through his stories, especially the ones that feature the internet’s favorite couple to ship, Aeneas and Lavinia. But if anyone ever found out about his online persona, he’d be fired. Immediately. April Whittier has secrets of her own. A hardcore Lavinia fan, she’s hidden her fanfiction and cosplay hobby from her “real life” for years—but not anymore. When she decides to post her latest Lavinia creation on Twitter, her photo goes viral. Trolls and supporters alike are commenting on her plus-size take, but when Marcus, one half of her OTP, sees her pic and asks her out on a date to spite her critics, she realizes life is really stranger than fanfiction. Even though their first date is a disaster, Marcus quickly realizes that he wants much more from April than a one-time publicity stunt. And when he discovers she’s actually Unapologetic Lavinia Stan, his closest fandom friend, he has one more huge secret to hide from her. With love and Marcus’s career on the line, can the two of them stop hiding once and for all, or will a match made in fandom end up prematurely cancelled?

No Offense by Meg Cabot

A broken engagement only gave Molly Montgomery additional incentive to follow her dream job from the Colorado Rockies to the Florida Keys. Now, as Little Bridge Island Public Library’s head of children’s services, Molly hopes the messiest thing in her life will be her sticky-note covered desk. But fate—in the form of a newborn left in the restroom—has other ideas. So does the sheriff who comes to investigate the “abandonment”. The man’s arrogance is almost as distracting as his blue eyes. Almost… Recently divorced, John has been having trouble adjusting to single life as well as single parenthood. But something in Molly’s beautiful smile gives John hope that his old life on Little Bridge might suddenly hold new promise—if only they can get over their differences.

Tweet Cute by Emma Lord

Meet Pepper, swim team captain, chronic overachiever, and all-around perfectionist. Her family may be falling apart, but their massive fast-food chain is booming ― mainly thanks to Pepper, who is barely managing to juggle real life while secretly running Big League Burger’s massive Twitter account. Enter Jack, class clown and constant thorn in Pepper’s side. When he isn’t trying to duck out of his obscenely popular twin’s shadow, he’s busy working in his family’s deli. His relationship with the business that holds his future might be love/hate, but when Big League Burger steals his grandma’s iconic grilled cheese recipe, he’ll do whatever it takes to take them down, one tweet at a time. All’s fair in love and cheese ― that is, until Pepper and Jack’s spat turns into a viral Twitter war. Little do they know, while they’re publicly duking it out with snarky memes and retweet battles, they’re also falling for each other in real life ― on an anonymous chat app Jack built. As their relationship deepens and their online shenanigans escalate ― people on the internet are shipping them?? ― their battle gets more and more personal, until even these two rivals can’t ignore they were destined for the most unexpected, awkward, all-the-feels romance that neither of them expected.

Just Like You by Nick Hornby

Lucy used to handle her adult romantic life according to the script she'd been handed. She met a guy just like herself: same age, same background, same hopes and dreams; they got married and started a family. Too bad he made her miserable. Now, two decades later, she's a nearly-divorced, forty-one-year-old schoolteacher with two school-aged sons, and there is no script anymore. So when she meets Joseph, she isn't exactly looking for love--she's more in the market for a babysitter. Joseph is twenty-two, living at home with his mother, and working several jobs, including the butcher counter where he and Lucy meet. It's not a match anyone one could have predicted. He's of a different class, a different culture, and a different generation. But sometimes it turns out that the person who can make you happiest is the one you least expect, though it can take some maneuvering to see it through.

[ashsilla]

Losses (Part One)

Book: Platinum

Ship: Raleigh Carrera (M) x MC (Suiko Hono)

Rating: T

A/N: Raleigh has a reputation for a reason. Suiko has some feelings she probably shouldn’t have in a doctored relationship. When Raleigh slips up, she is left hurt and reeling — and falling into a comforting set of arms as a result. (Raleigh x MC with a healthy dose of protective older brother Avery) (Set when Raleigh and MC are still in their PR relationship)

Tag List: @lunalixo @sunnyxdazed @furiouscloddonutpeanut @lovedrakewalker

Bzzt.

Suiko snapped awake, her eyes cracking open. Her bedroom was still dark, her sheets wrapped around and around her legs, her hair stuck to her face and tangled.

Bzzt. Bzzt.

Her phone, tucked unceremoniously beneath her pillow, was buzzing like crazy. A small, sad groan escaped her mouth as she realized it must be her alarm, which meant it was morning, which meant she had to get up. Slowly, she lifted the screen, letting it flicker to light.

4:33 in the morning?

That was definitely not her alarm.

And...texts? So many texts.

She saw Fiona and Hank, Shane and Avery, and finally Raleigh. All messages from the last five minutes.

Suiko frowned and clicked open Shane’s message first.

just saw the pic suiko, i’m sorry. know it’s super early but do u want me to come over or something? let me know

What pictures? A small sense of panic began to blossom in her chest. All her half-asleep mind could imagine was an image of her, bedraggled and depressed in the banana suit, dancing on the sidewalk, all over tabloid covers. Please, God, let that not be it. She opened Hank’s message next.

Suiko, has Fiona reached you yet? If not, give me a call. Let me know if you need anything...

The panic spread. Her fingers wobbled as she moved on to Fiona’s messages.

Suiko. Call me.

Are you sleeping?

Look at this when you wake up: http://eenews/raleigh-carrera-returns-to-his-roots-despite-budding-romance-with-starlet-suiko-hono

Meet at the office at 8 AM this morning to discuss how to move forwards.

The panic had turned to full on fear. What had happened that was bad enough to warrant a meeting on “how to move forwards?” Suiko clicked on the link in the text with shaking hands.

A web page popped up — the most popular celebrity gossip site, EE! News. The headline spelled out in big, ugly letters: Raleigh Carrera Returns to His Roots Despite Budding Romance with Starlet Suiko Hono.

She was awake now. And she began to read.

Early last night, infamous R&B bad boy Raleigh Carrera was spotted at Theory Nightclub in Manhattan without Suiko Hono, girlfriend and winner of this season of ‘One in a Million,’ who just released her first album ‘Kamikaze’ last week. Insider reports say he was downing drinks — does this smell of a breakup? — and a photo snapped by a club guest shows that he was getting cozy with an unnamed girl.

Suiko’s heart throbbed in her chest. Even as her muscles seized, she kept reading.

Before he started shacking up with Hono, Carrera infamously dated models Isabella and Gianna Ladid at the same time, resulting in the sisters’ legal battle over their brand. Prior to that, he left one-hit-wonder Koko Dianni broken hearted in a famously quoted public breakup. Has Suiko Hono’s time come to be the next victim of Raleigh’s frigid heart?

Whether Carrera’s choice to get wasted last night was the result of a breakup, boredom, or a return to his old ways, we have many questions! Namely: who is the mystery girl? Where is Suiko Hono? Has the music industry’s newest couple already gone off the rails? Come back to EE! News, your source for celebrity entertainment, for more information as this story unfolds.

Suiko read the article once. Twice. Three times. Each time the words were the same, and each time they were uglier than the last.

It was like being punched in the stomach, but somehow even worse, even more intimate than that, something that wouldn’t go away on its own. Because this would quite possibly never go away.

At the bottom of the article, a picture, blurry but clear enough, was posted. Yes, that was Raleigh all right — all clean lines and dark curls and intrigue. But sitting at his side, so close she might as well be on his lap, was a girl in a green sequined dress whose blonde hair ran in curls down her back. A girl who was definitely not Suiko.

EE! News flashed as another update rolled in. More texts were coming in too, but Suiko was overwhelmed and her vision had started to blur with tears, and the room was dark and disorienting around her in the early morning’s shadows.

Rubbing the moisture from her eyes, she loaded the updated EE! article.

More pictures.

The blonde girl, hand resting on Raleigh’s chest.

Raleigh, licking salt off the edge of a glass and staring at her through his dark lashes.

The two of them locked in a kiss in what looked like the alley outside the club.

Suiko turned her phone off and collapsed back into the sheets, breathing hard. Tightness spiraled between her lungs, and she let out a wheeze.

In her mind, all she could see was Raleigh’s face — grinning down at her after making a joke, smirking when he caught her staring at him, surprisingly gentle when he thought she wasn’t watching. Raleigh, holding her hand on their dates. Raleigh, carrying her through the rain and puddles so her new shoes wouldn’t be ruined. Raleigh helping her brainstorm lyrics and celebrating her album’s release. Raleigh kissing her as if it was the only thing he wanted, the only thing he’d ever wanted.

It was the only thing she wanted, and yet, none of what she so desperately clung to in her memories had been remotely real.

So why was this feeling so real? Why did her heartbeat keep getting faster, her breaths shorter, her tears hotter?

Maybe she’d been kidding herself these past months. Maybe she’d imagined that, somehow, Raleigh had felt the same thing she had -- something new and fragile and beautiful that bloomed when they were together. Something that went deeper than the PR glances and kisses and dates.

Bzzzzzt. Bzzzzzzt.

Someone was calling. Suiko glanced down at the phone with frightened eyes.

It was Raleigh.

Somehow the panic inside her worsened. With a strangled gasp, she watched as the call rang, and rang, and rang, and went to voicemail. After a long minute or two, the voicemail message popped up too. Along with several new texts.

Suiko unlocked her phone, which automatically opened her texts with Raleigh.

can we talk?

i’m sure you’ve seen it by now. call? too much for text

She exhaled sharply and played his voicemail.

“Hey, Suiko. Listen...all of that stuff you’re probably seeing...it’s not what it looks like, okay? Call me. Or come over. Or I can come over there.”

After the last word he spoke, the line stayed silently connected for several seconds before cutting out, like he’d been waiting for a response.

Suiko stared at the messages. ‘It’s not what it looks like’ is what people said when it was exactly what it looked like.

A fresh wave of misery roiled inside her.

Bzzzzzt. Bzzzzzzt.

Another call: from Avery Wilshere.

Suiko hastened to pick up. He immediately spoke on the other line.

“Suiko? Are you alright?”

She paused. “Is it true?” was all that came out of her mouth, and she was disgusted to find that her voice was thick with sleep and tears.

Avery sighed, and she got the feeling that she hadn’t been meant to hear it. “I had Fiona call EE! News. The pictures aren’t fake.”

The last bit of hope that had bloomed in Suiko’s chest shriveled. “Oh,” she whispered into the phone.

“I’m coming over,” said Avery resolutely, the sound of shuffling accompanying his words.

“You don’t have to—”

“Be there in ten.”

The line went dead.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, a sharp knock sounded at the door and Avery Wilshere stood on the other side of the threshold, hair still mussed from sleep, but glowing gold as he always did— even with bedhead.

Before she could say a word, he was folding her into his arms, pulling her tight against his chest. She took a deep inhale, letting herself be grounded by his familiar laundry-and-baked-goods scent. She didn’t realize she was crying until she saw the wet marks on his shirt as they separated.

“What do you need?” he said softly, brushing the hair from her face.

Suiko stared into his good, earnest face. She didn’t know what she needed. Didn’t know what she wanted.

So she said, “Sleep.”

He let out a small, understanding smile, and led her carefully back into her bedroom. “I’ll be right back,” he told her upon depositing her on the bed. In a moment he returned with a glass of water and a hair band.

As she drank, he pulled her long, dark locks back into a braid down her spine. Suiko hadn’t even realized that her hair, sticking to her face and neck, had been contributing to the trapped feeling in her heart.

“I need to sleep,” she told him again.

Avery smiled, his blue eyes gentle. “I’ll be here.”

When she woke up, her phone was buzzing again. This time, sunlight streamed in through the windows, and morning sounds of yelling and car engines and horns penetrated the walls.

Suiko stared at the chair by her bed.

Avery was seated there, one hand propped on his hand, eyes closed as he slept.

A sudden feeling of fondness stretched in her chest as she watched him.

Until the events of the night clawed back into her consciousness. Suiko grabbed her phone. Fiona was calling. She quickly answered.

“Fiona?”

“Where are you?” came the sharp reply. “You were supposed to be here at 8. Am I expected to deal with this circus on my own?”

Suiko couldn’t help it — she sniffled. Just loud enough to be heard over the phone.

“Can you be here at two?” Fiona said, her tone fractionally kinder.

“Yes,” said Suiko miserably.

“Eat some breakfast,” said Fiona briskly, and promptly hung up the phone.

On the screen blinked several messages from the woman herself, a couple more from Shane, and twelve — twelve! — from Raleigh.

Someone started to bang on the door.

Suiko glanced over at Avery. He was still sleeping, and looked so peaceful that she didn’t want to wake him. She crept out of bed into her apartment.

Whoever was knocking was still there. She could hear pacing footsteps, then another round of incessant knocking. Warily, she unlocked the door and opened it a crack.

Raleigh.

He wore what looked like clothes from the night before -- a wrinkled gray t-shirt and dark jacket.

“Suiko,” he breathed, like he was relieved. “Can I come in?”

She just stared at him. His words weren’t making sense in her brain. None of this was making sense in her brain. Every time she looked at him, she saw that other girl wrapped around him.

“Please,” Raleigh said, and she’d never heard his voice sound like that before. In that brief moment of surprise, she took a step back and he entered the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

“Are you here to tell me that it’s not true?” Suiko’s voice sounded small and glum even to her own ears. She focused her eyes on the floor by Raleigh’s shoe so she wouldn’t have to look into those eyes.

Then she felt his hands, lightly touching her shoulders. “I’m here to explain.”

“What if she doesn’t want an explanation?” came a voice behind them.

Suiko spun to see Avery, tousled hair and all, standing at the door to her bedroom with a stony expression. She felt, more than saw, the stiffness that ran through Raleigh at the sight.

“What are you doing here?” snapped Raleigh, all traces of softness gone. His eyes were flicking between Avery and the bedroom door.

Avery stalked forwards. “I’ve been here all night, comforting Suiko for something you did.” His voice was cold and tight -- not like his usual gentle cadence at all.

Raleigh’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “She doesn’t need your comforting.”

Suiko said quietly, “Let go of me.” He flinched, but obediently, his fingers loosened and released her. Avery advanced, pulling Suiko slightly behind him.

“Don’t touch her,” Raleigh snapped, fury blazing in his dark eyes.

Avery scoffed. “I’d say if you want to touch her ever again, you’d better start grovelling.”

“I’m here to explain!” Raleigh took a controlled breath, hands fisting at his sides. “Last night wasn’t like how the tabloids are spinning it. I mean, yes. I went out. I guess I had too much to drink. I don’t know -- I don’t remember.” He finally glanced away. “I swear, when she kissed me, I shoved her off right after that picture was taken.”

“Fuck you, Carrera,” Avery spat, and Suiko gasped. She’d never heard the blonde pop singer swear. She’d never seen him this angry. “You expect her to believe that?”

“Yes, because it’s true!” Raleigh’s eyes locked with hers. “I swear. That’s all that happened.” A dark shadow fell over his face. “My PR team sent me there...to that bar. They encouraged me to drink. I think they even could have hired that girl.”

Suiko shivered. She wanted badly to believe him. But her brain was still fuzzy from sleep, and Avery and Raleigh were staring each other down, and Fiona’s presence seemed to loom over the room even though she wasn’t there. It was all too much.

“I...I don’t know,” she stammered stupidly.

Avery seemed to sense the way she was shrinking in on herself. “I think you should go,” he said to Raleigh.

“Yeah? Make me.”

“No --” Suiko began, but they were already advancing on each other, nearly nose to nose.

“I have more right to be here than you,” hissed Raleigh venomously.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m her boyfriend, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Please,” Suiko said, but they didn’t notice her quiet word. It was as if they’d forgotten she was in the room too.

Avery flashed a dangerous smile that looked more like baring his teeth. “Think you’re going to be holding onto that title for much longer?”

A moment of stillness filled the room. There were many things in that long second that came after Avery’s remark: a flash of deep anger in Raleigh’s dark eyes; a tightening in the muscles at the back of Avery’s neck; the sound of a car door slamming outside; the sensation of being frozen and unable to move an inch.

And then that moment ended.

Avery and Raleigh crashed together with a terrible sound. Suiko leaped back as she watched Raleigh land a solid punch, right to Avery’s jaw. The blonde pop singer retaliated quickly, driving his fist into Raleigh’s abdomen. They became a blur of motion, of swinging limbs and grunts of pain and horrible fury.

“Stop,” said Suiko, and realized she was crying. Then louder, “Stop!”

They both froze. Avery had the sense to look guilty. Raleigh just wore an expression that said, what-do-you-expect-from-me?

“I want both of you to leave.” She pulled her arms tight around herself. “Right now.”

Avery looked stricken. He stared down at his hands like he couldn’t recognize them. “Suiko, I --”

“Please just go.”

He swallowed and nodded, a quick and jerky movement. And then he was gone.

“You too,” she said to Raleigh.

But he was staring at her. His face was so open, in a way she hadn’t seen before. And before she could say anything -- before she could even think of something else to say -- he was cradling her in his arms and kissing her, softly, like she was made of glass. He’d split his knuckles in the fight, and as his hand brushed over her cheek, she felt the warm wetness of his blood. It brought her back to the present.

“I can’t do this right now.” Suiko pulled back with difficulty.

“Please --”

“Go.”

His dark eyes flickered. Then he slouched through the door, pulling it shut behind him. Suiko watched him leave.

She was in so deep over her head.

[s4lticid]

The Shady as all Hell Whistleblower: Or why we shouldn’t take Romelle at face value.

Some firsts:

First and foremost, my deep thanks to the wonderful family at the Lotura Discord Server.  In the midst of dumping this stream of consciousness mess on you all, I may pull some ideas that were discussed there and are not original to me.  Where possible I will try and credit individuals, but if I miss anyone my deepest apologies and know that everyone there has had a great deal of influence over my thought process.  My love and thanks for all the great discussion and support – even the stuff I haven’t been present for!    

Second, this and the stuff to come right after, was the work of lots of thought and research that started right after S6 dropped.  That is a long time, and I wanted to get something out sooner but I have just been too swamped with RL, which has decided to become a giant, bloody, throbbing, pus-filled buboe blocking me from doing much of anything fun at all ever again.   Thus you will be treated to a stream of as much shit as I can spit out at once in the time I have to get this down, and it may not be in the best format or particularly well written, but here goes…  oh, and this is also another reason I may forget who said what in conversations exactly, because some of it happened nearly 2 months ago.

I am aware there have been a few metas written about Romelle.  I haven’t actually read any of them at this point, except for Leaking Hate’s awesome meta here, because  I didn’t want to get overly influenced by the ideas of others.  As such I have been on reading and participating in fandom even less that RL gave me a chance to.  So if you see something here that was said by someone outside of the Lotura Server and they are not credited, it is not me copying someone, I have just been holding on to it until I could post this.

That said, this builds off of some things LH posted in the above link, and I will do my best to credit those conversations I can remember reading and/or participating in within the Discord.

~oOo~ 

OKAY.

 I’m going to come right out and say it:  

Romelle is not who she says she is.

There are too many inconsistencies in her story.  So, let’s start at the very beginning and begin poking the holes to prove my point:

1.  Keith and Krolia find Romelle:

Keith and Krolia are in the Quantum Abyss riding a Space Whale and it brings them to a planet. Krolia takes a reading, and finds the same signal as the strange quintessence the Blade has been tracking on that planet.  

Note: Krolia first sees the readings from space and tracks them to the planet.  She doesn’t find any Quintessence signal anywhere else, she specifically states that it is strong and coming from exactly one place. 

It is coming from here:

So, if there was a moon base absolutely full of Alteans being drained for their quintessence, as they were shown later, why ever did such a larger source not register first and foremost rather than that cute little dome Romelle is in?

Speaking of that Dome, it’s pretty small, isn’t it?  It’s a bio-dome.  Meant for a few inhabitants.  Does this look like it could house a colony, or even a village realistically? No.  It can handle a handful, maybe a dozen people.  Probably, it was meant to house just one.  But we’ll get to that later.

Keith and Krolia break in and find Romelle, alone and by a riverside.  Washing clothes?  Why do that in her only clean water source when she has technology all around her? And make no mistake here, she is alone and demands help.

 ~oOo~

Now I am going to digress here for a moment before I go on to point 2, so I can point out a parallel to the original show, Defender of the Universe (to be referred to from here on as DotU for brevity’s sake, and for my fingers).

There are a LOT of nods to the original shows, (GoLion too), throughout VLD.  Some are flat out mirrors for the original, same plot ideas remade, lines taken and reused, Characters, Mechas, motives and situations, they’re all here, though sometimes reworked in very unexpected ways.  It’s beautiful seeing them all.

Finding the pretty Damsel alone by a stream, helpless, perhaps even passed out, is one plot device DotU used a LOT.  

For instance, when Allura’s Aunt Orla comes to visit, Haggar intercepts and captures her, and then takes her form and lies down to appear knocked out after an attack on her carriage.  She is found lying by a stream.  That was a plot to get to Allura:

Or how about the time Haggar herself was caught being pretty for a day – in apparently her original form – and cursed the person who saw her?  

Again, found by a river.

Fine, you say.  But this isn’t Haggar pretending to be Romelle.  That didn’t happen, right?

Oh but it did.  “It’ll Be a Cold Day”:

Ok, so she wasn’t found by a river this time.  But two out of three combined with the VLD writers’ way of reworking things make this a nice little reference point for this original trope.

Something else to note here is there is always some part of Haggar that is a tell.  Some part which she cannot disguise.  I would posit that we have one with VLD Romelle too: Her clothes.  As you go through this post, where you see images of other Alteans, please get a look at their garb.  There are several styles that are re-used among each of the people shown. However not one of them wears the same cut we see Romelle wear.  And yet someone does.  Who?  Haggar/Honerva.

No, I am not saying Romelle is actually Honerva/Haggar in disguise.  But she could easily be in league with her, and at the very least she definitely is not the innocent she appears and claims to be. Not just because of these fun little references to the original, but they are nice signposts along the way.  

 ~oOo~

2.  Romelle’s Story:  The Colony

Romelle starts her story to the Paladins by telling them she comes from a planet where there are thousands of Alteans.  

This bears repeating:  Thousands. Of living Alteans.  

Not “were” thousands, but are.  

Lotor apparently hunted down every Altean who had been off planet at the time Altea was destroyed, and their offspring, to bring them to the first Colony.  

Here is an image of the beginnings of that colony:

Here’s another:

Green as far as the eye can see and a giant ship that, as Leaking Hate pointed out in her meta and on Discord,  is easily the size of the dome we were shown above where Keith and Krolia first found Romelle.  

That ship would never fit in the bio-dome.  And as the upper picture of these two states in the subtitles, Lotor chose a remote planet beyond the Quantum Abyss, not in the Abyss.  A planet with a sun such that plants could grow, not a pulsar.

This means it cannot same planet as Romelle was found on, because she states the colony planet is beyond the Abyss, so the Abyss and the Pulsar within it already existed back then.  Neither could that ship ever hope to fit inside that dome, as is shown in her memory.

And that colony that was built, shown in the lower picture?  Is easily twice as big, or more, as the one Romelle is found in.

 3.  Romelle’s Story:  The Second Colony

Generations ago, once the Colony was very successful, Lotor began testing Alteans for special characteristics such that they could survive the journey to and live on a “Second Colony”. “To better our chances for survival”.

Let’s start with who was chosen.

Around Nine Thousand Five Hundred to Nine Thousand years ago – assuming time for Lotor to mature enough to do all this, knowing that he ages slowly thanks to the writers – Lotor would have started the first Colony.  The last people brought might have been found within a couple of hundred years of that range, but probably less.  

Think about how long a time that is.

Now, get a look at the faces that came in with some of the survivors found way back then:

 Now look at who is being tested:

(Note: I circled a few faces, but if you really look you will see many of the same ones from the above pic)

And note two of the faces I circled.

We know Alteans have a long life span.  Far longer than Humans.  But we also know from Allura’s reaction that they shouldn’t be anything like at least Nine Thousand Years or more.

So how are First-comer Refugee Alteans alive and young at the same time – ‘Generations Later’ – as both Romelle and Bandor?  

Let’s argue that they could be.  Bandor and Romelle were just younger then and not chosen.  So then Why have neither of them aged at all by the time Romelle related that eventually Bandor was old enough to be tested and passed?

And look, here are some of the first people chosen.  Recognize at least one face and clothing? (Not including Petrulius who is a contemporary of Romelle’s as she identifies him on the Moon Facility)

Sure they could be chosen much later, but then why have they not aged at all?

So were Romelle and Bandor refugees?  If so then why did Romelle say she was born onto that planet?

Were they born on the planet as she claims? 

Did Lotor start testing for special Alteans earlier than she says?  Or was it really later?  If the latter then how are these original refugees still so young?

However you look at it, her timeline does not add up,

 4.  Romelle’s Story:  The Monument

Thanks in advance to Trisha, Giobana, Crystal Rebellion, Leaking Hate and anyone else who contributed to the conversation that led to this one.

Romelle shows us in her memory that there was a memorial wall to those who went to the Second Colony. Whether she mentions it to the Paladins, I don’t know, but what is shown in the episode looks very much like a memorial to the Fallen.

The base of the Lotor’s statue is covered in names, and we see it cracked with age.  People go there to pay respects and leave flowers – and not just any flowers, but pink flowers.  

This kind of memorial is what you do for Fallen Soldiers and Fighters in a struggle, not people who are alive off somewhere on another colony and whom you hope to see again once the struggle is over. We even see this is a cross-cultural, cross-species, and intergalactic practice when we see the monument planet Pidge first traced Matt to. 

And what do we know about Pink to Alteans?  From Allura:

Fallen Warriors.  Not people who have gone to a second colony in the hopes of keeping their people alive.

Actually, let’s look at that little tale there.  Any colony, in order to be successful, requires a genetically diverse population, a breeding population.  A handful of people at a time, because they test as special is not going to provide that. Particularly not in what has been portrayed as a potentially dangerous and harsh journey and place – that alone would be safer in numbers.

Add to that we clearly see that Lotor has separated breeding pairs – Couples – in the few images we see of those chosen.  If he is trying to establish a new colony why would he logically do that?  The Alteans are intelligent and have some technological expertise, at least some of them, how did no one question that?

I call Shenanigans.  

Whatever was going on, it was not another colony and the Alteans all knew it.

This wall?  Is a War Memorial honoring warriors who the Alteans think are probably dead. 

 5.  Romelle’s Story:  The Communicator

When Bandor is chosen, he is portrayed as giving Romelle a communicator to try and stay in touch with her. 

This, despite his being portrayed by her as someone who deeply believed in the importance of not compromising the location of each colony through stray communications that could be picked up and tracked.  He is portrayed as explaining to Romelle, in such a ways that impies he has explained it to her time and again, why it was so very important that there be no communication.  He seems to understand and believe that it could be life and death.  But he creates one anyway?  

And then, he doesn’t think to give it to her until he is about to board the ship, in front of the guards:

Look at this picture above.  If you zoom in, everyone is looking at them and watching.

This whole part of the story is flat out ridiculous, and makes zero sense. There is no logic to this chain of events or his giving her the thing only at that very moment and not before testing just in case or something.  

It is a lie on the level a six year old might tell.  It shouldn’t even be considered as more than that.  And it is here, I think, that we fly into the realm of pure fantasy. Everything up till now was probably half-truths and misdirection.  From here on out though, her story really starts to fall apart and it is very likely we are seeing total and full fabrication.

 6. Romelle’s Story: The Dome

We know Romelle never gets chosen for the second Colony, or at least she never states that she does. Her never being chosen for the second colony wouldn’t be something to hide, it could totally benefit her story.  It would also help to explain why they didn’t try to warn anyone or stop the testing once they found the moon base – a fact that no one questioned, which itself is suspicious.  But she implies by her story that she remains at home, among her people, all alone and depressed because now she has no family.  

So she is supposedly still at the original colony when Bandor finally does contact her.   He has crashed by the woods.  She goes to him and what does she see?

The roof of the Dome. Which we have already established does not exist on the First Colony.  So, where is she?  Why is she now in this Dome?

What happened in the intervening time that she is not telling us, and is this story about Bandor crashing and the communicator even true?  Or are we now in fully manipulative fantasy?

There appear to be no other people in the Dome at all.  At least neither Keith nor Krolia relate having seen even one single person to corroborate her story.  No other Alteans on this original Colony she is supposed to still be on, which is where Keith and Krolia supposedly find her, and where she states very clearly in the beginning of her story that there are thousands of living, healthy Alteans.Why did Keith and Krolia not see one other person? 

Why does Romelle know about a flight bay on the outside of the Dome such that she can take Keith and Krolia to it, but they are supposed to be on an open planet?

When Romelle shows them to said pod, she actually says that “No one else here would know how to fly them if they wanted to”.  She represents in this line, once again, that this is the First Colony and there are other people here.  So where are they?

 7.  The Moon Base

Let’s begin with a question I asked at the beginning.

Why, when they were coming in to the planet, did Krolia see  

no quintessence signal at all

 from that moon base?  

These supposed people are supposedly being harvested – and Keith uses the active verb. 

These people

Are.  Not. Dead

.

The signal of Quintessence from a place so full of so many people, and the energy being harvested from them, not to mention the pods of Quintessence being harvested off in a storage room somewhere, being collected and stored for pickup, would have logically dwarfed the signal coming from Romelle and her little Dome.  They would have ended up here first, not at the Dome.

Even when they finally get there, at first Krolia only says she sees something down on the moon, not that she is getting any kind of Quintessence signal there.

Why?  Because there isn’t any.

The pods and the people are a mirage, created by them and for them; woven out of their own pre-existing prejudice and hate, and so very easy for them to believe.

Lotor never was portrayed as taking so very many people at once.  For that many people to still be alive and being drained on that station, almost every single Altean would have to still be alive and being used.  

A key thing Lotor has been portrayed as is not wasteful. Realistically, and if this were true, Alteans would have died of age.  Some even may have died from the process itself.  

Why would you keep a dead body in a pod like that for generations, and just build another?  

You wouldn’t.  You would dispose of the corpse and reuse the pod.

There wouldn’t be so very many of them if what Keith and Krolia saw was real, and was what they thought.

Let’s get a look at the pods, btw.  They are very reminiscent of Earth Batteries or Quintessence Capsules themselves, aren’t they?  Why do you think that is?  Perhaps because they are being manufactured from the thoughts and imaginings of Keith and Krolia?

Here is what real Galra Pod Tech looks like – this is the most recent example, but we HAVE seen it before in earlier seasons.  I am just too lazy to go and find it.

Lotor is a Prince, with access to resources and a scientist who designs and creates his own tech advances, ships and fleets.  To top that he has access to all of the best and latest technology in the empire.   

Does this really look anything like real, known and hi-tech Galra technology, except in a passing, functional way?

And why, after they have seen this and come to the conclusions they have, if the colony is right there and they have not only the proof but are themselves outsiders, giving them credibility….  WHY do Keith and Krolia – both Altruistic heroic do-gooders – not go and try to warn the rest of the Colony?  Get them to stop participating or submitting to the tests?

Again, that makes no sense at all according to their personalities.  Instead, they run headlong back to Allura to blow the whistle on evil, evil Lotor. No stops, no questions, no thought about the others still at risk.  

Also, no proof aside from this one little girl and her story, which without other evidence amounts to nothing more than Heresay.  No pictures, no video and no attempt to grab a jar of Quintessence to prove their case.

We find out in S7, that Keith at least sent a message to Kolivan and asked him to send a squad out there.  But what did Kolivan’s team find?

Nothing.  The place was empty.  “Cleaned out”.  And judging by the lighting when they got there, it was already probably empty and shut down.  They just imagined the pods.  How else would it be empty?  It’s not like Lotor had any time to clear it.  Neither did Honerva, if Kolivan acted right away – and honestly, Kolivan would have acted as fast as he could.

Speaking of Honerva:

 8.  On the Castle of Lions

Honerva is watching through Mommy Cam Kuron.  Nowhere in this episode is she at all surprised or disturbed to see another living Altean.

We find out later when she speaks to Lotor that she is aware that he has continued her work and succeeded where she could not.  That work was partly involving Alteans, but I will get to what that means later and probably in a different post.

So she is aware that Alteans exist, but she is still not at all surprised to see Romelle there in the castle.  At all.  As if it is part of her plan.  Could Romelle be in league with Honerva?  A part of a plan?

OR, thanks to the Blade being compromised by the alliance with Lotor – which Keith points out in S7 – Honerva found out about the investigation into the Quintessence early on into the new Alliance and traced the path herself.  She has access to all databases and resources in the Empire, after all, and we do not know what she was doing for a looong time while a lot of other things were going down in S5 and S6.

Kolivan and the blade, despite their own resources, were having trouble tracing the source and route of the quintessence.  Perhaps what they did find was carefully fed to them when Honerva was ready for them. When both she and Romelle were prepared.

And let’s talk a moment about how not one of the members of the team, including both Hunk and Kuron – both great voices of calm and reason for the team – questioned any of the discrepancies of the story I mentioned above, or Keith and Krolia’s actions, lack of corroboration and lack of trying to help the surviving colonists.  

They have started to build a relationship with the Galra, learn their culture and working hard for peace for months and months.  They were all starting to get to know and like Lotor even.  They know the careful balance going on right now in the empire.  And then one girl shows up with an MIA team member and has an uncorroborated story, and starts ordering people to shoot Lotor down, not caring that Allura is there too.  Even after she is told that Allura is there she doesn’t care.

Her story starts preying on emotion and projecting her own obvious desire to see him dead.  And the team members all get very emotional and ready for violence as well, as if the last several months never happened.  Their reasoning starts to slip, they don’t question or think out what they’re being told, not even the ones that normally do that no matter what.

And then we have this foreshadowing from waaaay near the beginning of the show:

Keith is still a hothead in many ways.  And he was too impatient to get Lotor to be focused against mind control.

He shows up on the Castle ready to rush into the rift and attack.  Even after hearing that Allura would be caught in the crossfire he presses to try and do just that and has to be bitchslapped by Lance.

The sheer venom and anger in all of the Paladins’ responses once Romelle is done with her story is off the scale.  Especially Hunk and Shiro.  Shiro’s tone when he says once Lotor and Allura land they will separate them and “Take Lotor down!” is a tone I have never once heard from him in the entire series.  It’s sheer rage fueled bloodlust.  This is not any of them.  This is them being manipulated.

A brief thought about S7…  Never mind that Romelle’s Altean frankly sucks, and she seems able to read Hunk’s mind – convenient that.  How about Romelle identifying Lotor’s fleet by sight?  When did she ever see enough of that, while living isolated on the colony, to know his ships by sight?

 SO. Who or what is Romelle?

Well, we have seen how characters are reworked from the original.  And there is one major character from the original we still haven’t seen.

Merla.

It makes no sense to bring in a new character now.  But merging her with another character already brought in, one who disliked and enjoyed thwarting Lotor as much as the original Romelle did?  That is not only possible, it is plausible, considering many of the character merges and re-works the VLD Team has already done throughout the series.

Merla is telepathic, but more, she can control people.  Partly via telepathy, but most often she uses the trope known as Emotion Bomb:

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/EmotionBomb

It is so much easier to control people through emotions and insecurities they already have.  And by the behavior of the Paladins that day? That is exactly what was happening. Not one of them acted rationally or completely within the current development of their character to Romelle and her appearance/story.  Not even Keith and Krolia did when they found her, as pointed out earlier.

They are all being manipulated and at least mostly, lied to. They are pawns and Romelle a tool to get Lotor out of their Alliance and out of his safe space with Voltron.  This is why Honerva was not surprised about Romelle being there on the ship.  This is how Honerva knew about the Alteans and the research when she finally got Lotor back onto her ship to try and talk to him.

Honerva is back to herself and she wants to get back to her people, probably to lead them.  She wants her son back now that she has herself again too.  To get even a chance at that she needs to get him away from his safe and stabilizing place with the Voltron Coalition.  She wants his Sincline ship, so she wouldn’t need Voltron anymore.  She certainly wouldn’t want him cozying up to Alfor’s Daughter.

Honerva has put a nice chess game onto the table, getting Romelle on her side, manipulating the Paladins, and forcing the breach in the budding New Empire and Alliance.  

Romelle is pissed, perhaps understandably, and has a bone to pick.  She may have been exiled to that planetoid by her people and Lotor, for starting shit on the Colony, and found there by Honerva, or she may have been set up there by Honerva.  In the end the result is the same.  Perfect tool.

Because Lotor had not been harvesting Alteans all this time.  Romelle, as he said in the episode, was not telling the truth and did not know what she spoke of.  What would be the point of that, there is no research in that, only death.  No, he has been developing fighters like the one we saw in the end of S7.  Fighters that fuse Altean Alchemic Magic and fighting skill from the pilot, allowing the pilot to see and experience straight through the ship’s sensors, and powering the ship through their own Quintessence – very like the Lions only more.  (My thanks to Crystal Rebellion who helped me develop this base idea with this meta.  There will be more to come on this.)

The special Alteans who went with him from the colony were test pilots, heroes to their people, to help ensure their survival.  A new protective military force.  .  

Test pilots have a dangerous job, one that is known to lead to death.  And who knows, maybe some Galra had snooped around at times. Regardless, that memorial to fallen warriors was just exactly that, and all the Altean people knew exactly what they were volunteering for.  

Even Lotor said a few were martyred for an important cause to save the future for thousands.  One cannot become a martyr unless everyone knows what they did and why.

Lotor is their greatest Hero and Savior.  And now his Mother is likely there – having forsaken the Druids – and has given the Colony a story of betrayal, and the Komar to perfect their fighters.  Perhaps a wounded and/or Comatose Lotor is with her if she managed to pull him out of the rift first.  But regardless, the Alteans are not friends to Allura, Voltron or the Coalition.  They are going to see Allura and the Paladins as enemies, who betrayed and hurt their leader and protector.

That fighter was not a part of Sendak’s fleet, she was a forward thrust.  A shot across the Paladin’s bow.  The Alteans will be hunting Voltron.

I’ll leave you with a parting thought.

The writers also said in the end, we would look back and see that Lotor was never lying.  And that he came from a genuine place, though he never had the tools and choices the rest of the Paladins were given in their upbringings and lives.  And lastly, that his feelings for Allura were indeed genuine.

I am working on a meta for Lotor.  I’ll get there soon.

My thanks again to everyone on the Lotura Discord.  You are all amazing, wonderful people and I am lucky to have met you and to be able to discuss ideas with you.

Thanks to Crystal Rebellion for helping me last minute find links at 2 AM so I can get a bit of sleep before work

And thanks to the love of my life for putting up with me being tied up so late tonight. 

Without your support I can do so little.

[doctortwhohiddles]

Hello doctorwhohiddles, this is Mom Anon. I’ve decided to cut out the middle man like you suggested. I trust you won’t doxx me, I’ve seen you protesting against it. I’ll answer your questions. I’ll repeat them in bold, so you know which one I’m talking about. It will be a long submission but you have a lot of questions and I have long answers. My answers are in bold.

I will start this letter with one of my favorite quote from Ben. “There are people who believe that my wife is a P.R. stunt and my child is a P.R. stunt,” he says, unsure if he should even be bringing this up—he knows that there’s no arguing with conspiracy theorists. “I think really it’s to do with the idea that the ‘Internet’s boyfriend’ can’t actually belong to anyone else but the Internet. It’s impossible he belongs to anyone but me. And that’s what stalking is. That’s what obsessive, deluded, really scary behavior is.” Yes I know this quote. I’ve always thought (and said) that I think Ben thinks that the most ardent fans, that showed up everywhere, sent gifts and stalk his neighbourhood, are now the skeptics. But even then, what else Could he say? No one (not even skeptics) could expect him to say “yeah it is all a PR-stunt but hey, whatever keeps your name in the papers!” He was going to be asked about it sooner or later and this is the answer I would expect him to give. For someone who says she reads a lot, your reading comprehension seems lacking. From my perspective (and that of 99.9% of the fandom), he was denouncing the so called “skeptics”. He wasn’t ask directly if his family was a PR stunt, he was discussing toxic fans. And you guys definitely are.

Because a normal person knows that faking 3 kids in this day and age is impossible. Specially if you’re in the public eye. I think that especially in this day and age it is possibke to fake a pregnancy with the modern prosthetics and make up techniques. Yeah, but what about after? You can’t fake kids for this long without anyone getting suspicious. So far, the only people who are is a small bunch of bitter women on Tumblr. You know the signer Adele? She forgot to register the birth of her son and it made the news. There is no way Ben could get away with faking kids.

Now think about it for a second, how could someone wear a fake baby bump to numerous public events with a ton of journalists attending and no one notices? How is that even possible? You have kids, you know very well that pregnancies vary from woman to woman. And yet here you are, denying that Sophie was ever pregnant. Why? Honestly, I really want to know. What could possibly drive an adult woman, a mother of three at that, to start denying reality that bad? Is it because you can’t accept that Ben doesn’t belong to you? Is it because you need to pass your unhappiness unto him? I really would like an answer. And no, your skeptical archives don’t count. In fact all they do is prove my point.

I doubt our archive proves your point however, I’ll keep it to pics etc that the nonskeptics have also seen and posted. There is a pic of the second pregnancy where you can actually see the straps of the prosthetic. Then: journalists only see them for like two minutes and then they walk on. The journo’s are snapping away hoping for a good picture so they probably don’t even look closely at them. As for pregnancies: yes they differ per woman and even per pregnancy but it is just not possible for a woman to get on a plan looking seven months pregnant and get off the plane looking two months pregnant. It has been put down to dehydration but that is nonsense, the baby would have died if that had happened in such an amount. She has a low belly on her honeymoon and two months later it is really high? Not possible. The moving and even doubling belly button in the Oscar pics? Not possible. And there are many more examples that have convinced me she was never pregnant. I know you look upon it differently but that is how I feel. As for Ben, I never felt he belonged to me and I am perfectly happy thank you so if I could transfer that to him, he wouldn’t have looked so miserable in so many pictures. But that is another discussion altogether.

It seems we’re going to have to explain the concept of perspective to you guys again. The pap picture of Sophie in a bikini was taken with a telescopic lens and from profile. The one in at the airport are taken from up close, from the front, with Sophie wearing a loose skirt. That’s why her bump looks smaller. Again, the tabloids would have picked up on it if there was something wrong. Also, there are numerous pictures of the both of them looking happy and in love. You just chose to ignore those pictures and concentrate only on the ones you think fits your narrative. As for the belly button, it changes with the bump and the baby’s position. My cousin’s belly button went all over the place during her pregnancy.

Now, why I am spending time reading haters blog, there’s three reasons. The first one is that your lack of logic and butthurt makes me laugh. Lord knows people need to laugh now days. The second of all is fascination. You see, I can’t for the life of me understand why grown women act the way you do. I really can’t. As for the third reason, it’s because I was raised to denounce bullies, not be one. I sincerely hope you are raising your kids to do the same. But judging by your behavior, I can see it’s probably not the case. If anyone were making fun of your children the way you make fun of Ben’s, you’d rip their throats off, with good reason. And yet, you act like a bully towards three young children simply because you’re mad their dad got married without asking you first. Your first reason is also why I read your blogs: trying to find out what you see that I obviously don’t and for a laugh: you are as good at predicting what we are going to say as we know what you are going to say and I don’t mind a laugh at my own expense. Happy to make you laugh. The fact that we can predict exactly what you’re going to say isn’t looking good for you. After 4 years, you guys could at least make the effort to come up with something remotely credible. That also covers the second reason. As for your third reason: I raise my kids not to be bullies but to use their own minds and have their own opinions. And allow others the same without getting mad or insulting about it. What you guys are doing is not having an opinion. Calling someone a whore, a criminal and a fraud is bullying. So is referring to young children as “pillows”. Saying you don’t like what Sophie is wearing is an opinion. Refusing to even call her by her name is also bullying. You’re an adult, how can you not see the difference?  And if someone thinks my kids are not real and refers to them as pillows, that is their business, I would shrug my shoulders. Really? I find this hard to believe. And if it makes anyone happy: the kids I have seen with Ben have always been cuties and looked sweet. I’ve always said so. That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t think they are his. Have you seen the same pictures as me? Because they both look exactly like him. But then again, I don’t wear hate goggles. As soon as anything happens that convinced me that the kids are real, I’ll start calling them by their names. At this point, I’m fairly certain you’ll never admit you were wrong. Ben could come to your house with family in tow, and you’d still deny they’re real. As for Ben getting married without my permission, no one needs my permission to get married so there is no need to ask. Feel free to do so but there is no need. And yet somehow, you fell the need to deny the existence of the family he wanted for so long. If you decided that something was wrong because of red lines painted on pictures, then you’re either incredibly gullible or jealous.

I know you’re going to say it doesn’t count because there is no children, but answer me this: why do fake children have birth certificates? Because faking them is damn near impossible. Some say there are certificates, some say there aren’t. I haven’t checked myself. I don’t know how hard it is to report a birth when there hasn’t been one or if that even happened. I’ll leave that to the wilder theorists out there. There are people who live in England who describe what it takes to register the birth of your child. People, who unlike Gator and Anna, knows what they’re talking about. Apparently, you’d need to bribe at least 70 persons to fake a birth certificate. Imagine doing this 3 times over. Gator has seen the certificate for Kit. Of course, she declared it fake and made up sources to confirm her lies.

So to resume this letter, if you want me to stop calling out your shitty behavior, then stop acting like a bitch towards complete strangers who have never done anything to you. It will also have the added bonus of making your life better. Thanks for the advice. But then, why are you so fanatical about strangers you have never met? Not to mention the things you call the skeptics whom you have also never met and who discuss people you have never met. The difference is that I call out people based of actual evidence, not based on jealousy or entitlement. As I said, bullies need to be called out, and you are one.

I’ll relay your message to Anna. I hope I have answered all your questions. I think we have to agree to disagree. I think it’s very clear that you’ve chosen to keep denying the facts. Honestly, have you ever wondered how a story like the one you’ve made up could be kept out of the news? One the septics sent their “evidence” to the National Enquirer and was turned down. Given how many people you’d have to involve in a conspiracy like this, it’s impossible no one would have talked by now. Your narrative has plot holes the size of a dinosaur, but somehow, you seem to ignore them completely.

Sincerely,

Mom Anon Thank you for answering me and not be mean or insulting. I wish I could say that all of your fellow haters were the same. I hope that one day you’ll come to your senses.

[waifutella]

on cosplay planning and research

So, for those of us who opt to hate ourselves make our own cosplays, starting a project can be hugely overwhelming. A lot of characters are amazingly and intricately designed and in being so are difficult to duplicate and can be very stress making, but, as with any large task, the best way to go about it is to break it down into multiple build/buying goals. For illustrating my point during this post, I’ll be walking you through my process and occasionally using bits and examples from the research I did while building my Infinity War version of Steve Rogers.

And yeah, I know. This is a long post. It’s going to be a decent chunk of work before you even start building your cosplay. BUT, the better you prep, the smoother the rest of the process will go. Plus I find that having a record of all this is surprisingly useful in future cosplays- they might have similar elements or pieces to them, so if you can just reference the work you’ve saved from before you won’t need to do it all over again. So put on a playlist, make yourself a nice cup of tea, get comfy and let’s start this process together~

Step 1- Reference Photos and Window Shopping

The first thing you need to decide (after you’ve chosen your character) is if you’re going to try to replicate the costume as closely as possible, or if you’re going to make it your own. You’ve got to keep in mind that the closer you want your costume to be to the original, the more difficult (and most likely expensive) it is going to be fore you. Having a screen accurate cosplay is hugely satisfying, don’t get me wrong- but if you’re the type of person who likes to cosplay a bunch of different characters, it might not be the best choice for you financially or in terms of time commitment.

So once you have in your head how you want to go about it, you’re going to want to collect as many reference images as you can. If you’re doing an original design/mashup/taking liberties, sketch it out! You don’t have to be a skilled artist, but draw out a few versions of what you’re going for. If you’re genderbending, find fan art and other cosplayers who have done the same and take inspiration from them. If you can watch the show/play the game/own the original source material, go through it and save as many stills/photos from the character at every angle you can possibly find. This’ll take a few watches through but  when I was researching for my Infinity War Steve Rogers cosplay, that meant I got to sit and look at Chris Evans all day (week) soooooooo it was worth it. Some companies release in depth art books or reference images (like Blizzard’s “cosplay kits”), so if you can access those, take advantage of them. If, like when I started this project, your source material hasn’t actually been released yet, be creative. Cap has similar suit designs throughout his trilogy, and his IW suit is a damaged version of one of his prior uniforms, so I pulled reference images from Civil War. I looked at all the promo posters and trailers, I even pulled from toys and other promotional products. You’ll notice (especially when it comes to toys) that the design might change slightly between that and the real deal, but you can never have too much information. At the very least, you want a full body shot, from a minimum of four angles- front, back, and from the sides. Print out the pics for when you’re actually making the cosplay, and save them all in one doc/folder so you can come back to them if you need to.

Step 2- Window Shopping

EVEN IF YOU STILL WANT TO MAKE YOUR COSPLAY after looking over the design in great detail, don’t skip this step. Trust me.

Now, companies that manufacture these cosplays have to have slight variations on their final products from the original design, but for the most part they’ll be decently accurate. If you look at the way they’ve constructed theirs, you  might get some ideas on how to go about building yours.

This next bit kind of morphs into step three so bear with me

Your next stop is Etsy. There are tons of talented seamstresses, foam smiths and prop makers on there, and I absolutely believe in supporting them. You might fall in love with someone’s work and decide to commission your cosplay from them instead, and that’s great! Support artists within the community and all that. But if you still would like to make your own, be sure to look up the individual props and pieces instead of searching for the cosplay as a whole. If you’re lucky, you’ll find someone who sells blueprints or tutorials to their work, and you can support them by purchasing those and it’ll be hugely h*cking useful when you’re making it!

Step 3- Tutorials

AWW YE, hit up google, youtube, and the rpf. (in that order usually works best for me, but to each their own.) you’d be surprised how often searching <character’s name> + cosplay + tutorial can help you out, the cosplay community is amazing and a great source of information. If your character hasn’t been turned into a tutorial yet, or you can’t find a tutorial for every aspect, don’t worry! There’s always SOMETHING out there for you. If your character has similar aspects to another character, search for a tutorial on that character instead. Or if you can’t think of a character that’s remotely close, try to think of something from real life that might prove to be similar in design (while researching my Twilight Princess Zelda cosplay, I ended up on a lot of wedding dress forums.). If you really loved a piece on etsy but that shop hasn’t listed patterns or tutorials, write in to them and ask if they’d be willing to sell you their pattern/draft notes. If they do have them for sale, buy it! Being able to skip out pattern drafting when you can is a huge blessing. You can also ask other cosplayers, but

MAKE SURE you’ve actually researched and tried to find it on your own before asking them how to do it. Nothing was more annoying to me than when I had a flood of questions asking how I made my MJ/spiderman shirt, when in depth tutorials and walkthroughs are easily the first 124788 results if you google that question. I would absolutely love to help if you need it, but at the same time I’m not your search engine. (I feel I need to apologise to my BestFriendMikky™ right now, because when it comes to these things I absolutely use her as my own personal encyclopedia. Especially with sewing stuff. I’m sure it’s h*cking annoying to her do’t be like me, kids)

They might not have it? The first year I cosplayed, i didn’t keep any of my notes/patterns/wip pics (which i highly regret now), or they might not go about making these things in a conventional way, so their pattern might not exist in their head so much as it does in their brain. So sometimes when people ask me how I did something, I can only talk them through it rather than give them actual pictures/patterns/examples.

MAKE SURE you’ve actually researched and tried to find it on your own before asking them how to do it. Nothing was more annoying to me than when I had a flood of questions asking how I made my MJ/spiderman shirt, when in depth tutorials and walkthroughs are easily the first 124788 results if you google that question. I would absolutely love to help if you need it, but at the same time I’m not your search engine. (although, I feel I need to apologise to my BestFriendMikky™ right now, because when it comes to these things I absolutely use her as my own person encyclopedia. Especially with sewing stuff.)

They might not have it? The first year I cosplayed, i didn’t keep any of my notes/patterns/wip pics (which i highly regret now), or they might not go about making these things in a conventional way, so their pattern might not exist in their head so much as it does in their brain. So sometimes when people ask me how I did something, I can only talk them through it rather than give them actual pictures/patterns/examples.

Once you’ve found about 200 sources, bookmark them all. Start reading them. Save them, even. Print some of the ones you’re partial to out. Decide if you want to follow one of them verbatim, or mix and match steps and methods to make your own plan. Even if you have a pretty good idea of how you want it to go, you might want to save your other findings just in case something doesn’t go according to plot during the building process.

Step 4- Break up your plan

I like to do this on graph paper. I have a notebook that I’m partial to using during these projects, and a system of binders that the writings transfer over to once the project is finished. If you aren’t partial to a particular method/prefer technology, the cosplanner app might be a good way for you to go. It has spaces for you to do everything I’m about to describe, but in a convenient, cloud using app, and is a lot more mobile than your phone. Tbh I tend to use both, but my physical copy is always much more in depth than whatever I list out on the app.

The first thing I do is list out every piece of the cosplay, from head to toe. This doesn’t mean “shirt + pants + prop”, it usually goes a little something like

(we’re using my IW steve research, again, for reasons)

Wig/hair

Shields (x2)

Shield Harness

Shirt

main shirt/base

Shoulder/overlay piece

Gloves

Belt

main/base (buy)

buckle (make)

utility pouches (make)

Pants

Boot Covers/Shinguards

Boots (buy)

So if I already know I’m going to buy a certain piece I make a note of it, if I already know that one piece is going to be broken up into multiple components, I separate them out... you get the idea.

Next, you break these down individually. If you’re going to buy some of the pieces (I pretty much always buy things like boots/shoes/wigs,) on the cosplanner app you can move them into the “to buy” section, and everything will be separated out in terms of what you need to buy and make. (This is kind of cool on the app, because it has a place to save how much you spent on the purchased pieces and how much time you put into the making of each specific piece)

For each piece, you kind of start this whole process over again. Choose a piece, and google where you can buy it. If you did a good job with your tutorial research, I’m sure you have some you found that are for specific pieces of your build (ayyyy all that step 3 work paid off!) Start searching for sewing patterns and figure out what type and how much of the fabric you’ll need. Write it all down in it’s own little subsection/within the app so that when you’re shopping you can easily reference the list.

Now when it comes to timing this out- just a quick observation- I find that I do better quality work when I don’t have a due date, but those projects tend to sit unfinished for longer than I’m willing to admit. And the projects that I assign due dates for definately get done faster/on time, but usually aren’t my best work. Just something to think about.

If you’re on a time budget, now’s the time to figure that out and set goals. Look at the due date and estimate how much time you’ll need for each aspect of the costume, how much free time you’ll have to work on it, and plan accordingly. I’d recommend leaving extra cushion of time, especially if you’re using tools or techniques you’re not familiar with, so that if it goes slower than you expect or if you need to remake a piece you’ll have the ability to do so. And be sure to figure out what you’d like to do first! If you’re waiting on funds for the bulk of your project, start the cheaper pieces first. If you get overwhelmed by the larger pieces, start the smaller ones first. I mean, the order is really up to you, but I personally like to take a log of the materials I already have and start whatever I can finish whatever smaller pieces I can with what I have on hand >.< I also like to leave my wig purchasing/cutting/styling for the very last thing, it doesn’t usually take more than a couple of hours for me and it’s a nice low-stress thing to have to do if your project has been pushed into con crunch.

Of course, I started practicing this method as a way to combat con crunch, but it always seems to end up right around there, doesn’t it?

[luthienliveblogslately-blog]

Milestone write-up!

Since the story seems to be closing one story-arc and moving on to another, I feel this is a good place to take stock, summarize what we know and make some more or less educated guesses at what might happen in future. It got a bit away from me (”a bit” lol), so here’s a read more for your convenience. 

Players on the board

Last we left off, shit had decidedly hit the fan. We got painful confirmation that the elves successfully assassinated King Harrow, but they in turn had a painful price to pay. From what we can tell, Runaan is the only survivor, and he has been captured by Soren and Claudia. Claudia thinks he might come in “useful”, whatever that may mean. Might be they’ll interrogate him for information about Xadia, might be that Claudia has some more nefarious, magical things planned. She might ask him about Rayla and the egg, but it’s not like he can tell her anything that she doesn’t already know, aka Rayla and the boys have the egg and they plan to return it and use it to restore peace. Maybe, if they keep talking for long enough, he might actually get her to see that the egg really is just a yet to hatch baby dragon and therefore a sentient being in need of protection, and not just a powerful magical weapon to be used by whoever sees fit. If Runaan manages to escape or communicate with other elves, our heroes will have some real problems. He clearly sees Rayla as a traitor and seeks to punish her for the perceived crimes she committed, and there’s still that pesky magical bounty on Ezrans’s head… 

It’s hard to say what Claudia and Soren will do next. I think it depends very much on if Viren is sticking around the castle or not, and what his plans are. As to what his plans might be… god knows. Just how much does he want the egg back? Is he willing to go after it himself, or will he maybe send Soren? How much does Soren know about all this anyway? Five bucks says he had no idea about anything tbh. You know what still hasn’t been opened yet btw? The fucking letter. It’s still in Viren’s study. If it really has a contingency plan like “Callum becomes prince regent until Ezran is old enough to rule” I get the feeling Viren might pull some GoT-style shenanigans and try to put himself on the throne. At this point there isn’t really anything I wouldn’t put past him. In any case though the kingdom might be thrown into serious chaos for a while. After all: the King is Dead, long live the…. wait, who now? The crown prince is missing? The step-prince is missing, too? Well, guess it’s time for some good old-fashioned power grabbing! 

And then there’s our three four protagonists. We don’t know where the kingdom of Katolis is exactly, but in any case they have a long journey ahead. They will have to stick to the woods for most of it and avoid towns I think. Rayla can’t be seen by humans, the egg can’t be seen either, and Viren might try and put a bounty on all of them anyway, so the boys might not be save either. I trust Rayla will be able to get the foods from the woods though, so that should be alright. And then eventually they’ll reach the Breach and have to make their away across it and around however many standing armies manning the border from both sides. Yikes. Though we have no idea how far they’ll go in three remaining episodes. There are after all at least 5 more potential seasons in store for us, so there’s a good chance they won’t even remotely come close to the Breach in this one.  What I’m really worried about is Rayla keeping the truth about Harrow from the boys.  While it breaks my heart just thinking about them having to mourn their dad, I’m worried about Callum lashing out at Rayla in his grief. We already had a scene when he found out about the assassination plot and subsequently flipped out at Ez out of fear, and Ez hadn’t even really done anything. How much worse will that reaction be if she’s been lying to them for several days, even if it was just to spare them the pain? It might damage his trust in her, Callum might even try and make them split up and continue without her. Sounds like a really bad idea, but people do stupid things when they’re angry and sad. 

Other unresolved plot points

WHAT DOES THE FUCKING LETTER SAY

What’s up with the Mirror? For that matter, why is the mirror fishy enough to be covered up but not fishy enough to be hidden in the Lair of Dead Things? 

What’s with the picture Harrow looked at last time we saw him alive? It’s gotta be something, right? Why would they make the camera zoom in on it lying face down on the bed otherwise? Just have Harrow put it away and then forget it exists, don’t give it an extra shot!

Pip! Is he still alive? D: 

Callum still has the Storm Stone, but he might have to get his hands on a book or find himself a teacher to learn some new spells probably? 

WHAT DO THE BLACK EYES DO? DO THEY EVEN DO ANYTHING OR ARE THEY JUST FOR CREEPY EFFECT? 

Viren’s staff! Just cool historical artifact or actually relevant to the plot? 

Shameless Tin-hatting aka Foreshadowing Fucking Everywhere aka Miscellaneous Shit I Noticed While re-watching ep 1-3

Callum’s drawing of a Dragon roasting a Marshmallow Monster -> this show’s version of the Cookie Cat jingle? Possibly depicting Viren’s inevitable demise? 

Not foreshadowing, but I realized when the Narrator says “on the eve of last Winter’s Turn” in the opening what is meant with “last” is just most recent, as in “last month” or “last Christmas”. So it probably was some solstice type date after all. Makes sense with it now being spring. 

People keep pointing out how shit Bait is at hiding. I’m afraid at some point they’ll have to hide from something REALLY BAD and Bait will get them found. :/ Really, Bait being called Bait just seems super unfortunate in general. 

You know how Rayla says “My Heart for Xadia” during the ritual? Yeah, I’m getting the feeling Rayla will be instrumental in getting Ezran out of the magical contract, possibly in a super heroic way by just doing what her heart tells her to and saving the day, or possibly just… by dying in his stead. Oh god I feel like I jinxed her. :( 

You know how Callum was like “You’re so lucky, you get to learn magic!” and Claudia was like “You get to learn sword fighting!” and then Callum was like “I’d switch places in a second!”? Well, he’s doing magic now, so…. the little disaster bi that is myself is praying for Claudia in armor with a big-ass sword being a BAMF. ´

Anybody else who really wants to know what is under that OTHER, BIGGER tarp in the Lair of Dead Things? Because I really wanna know. I bet Ezran knows already. 

Harrow said about the letter that “[Callum will] understand in time.” What makes me think there’s more in there than just his last will, possibly it’s also his last confession. What terrible shit has he done over the years of his reign, how much of it did Viren have his fingers in and how much of it can Viren use against him post-mortem? And how will the boys react when they get confronted with their dad’s uglier side, possibly via what the elves or even some direct victims have to say about him? 

I’d really like to have a look at that book Callum is carrying everywhere. I figure it’s his sketch book and not relevant to anything, but it might still be fun to get to see some pages anyway. 

Stuff that I got spoilered on because there’s too many tags to block :( 

I saw some pics of the Dragon Prince after hatching! D: I’m sorry, it feels like I robbed myself of an awesome surprise and you of a genuine reaction. :( I didn’t look very closely, I just saw that he was adorable and had roughly the same color scheme as his dad. Which leads me to some more tin hatting: What with Thunder being called that and also breathing lightning, I’d like to propose that the Storm Stone still has a big role to play after all, other than just providing Callum with a magical source he can carry around. 

I saw General Amaya of the Standing Battalion being name dropped in a text post. I scrolled too fast to see any context, but considering who she is I guess we’ll get her as an upcoming character in some capacity.

I know that the elf making the MAGIC TREES amulets gets another ending slide at some point, and that people are theorizing he and Runaan are a Thing.  I’m not a super big fan of Runaan at this moment in time so I couldn’t give less of a shit about his love life tbh, and as much as I like to ship things I usually need a bit more than literally two pictures to get me going, so. I dunno, don’t expect much from me on that front until more material comes out in later seasons I guess. Like… if there isn’t enough for people to make emotional gif sets out of, can you even really call it a ship?

Netflix tried to push Chapter 4 on me when I went to re-watch the others. I got it shut down quickly enough, but I still saw the title. I think it was… Bloodthirsty? Bloodlust? Either way I think either Runaan is gonna have a REALLY bad time very soonish or our protagonists will have to run REALLY fast from people trying to catch them.  Maybe both. 

[yovngho]

what you share with each other

Taeil: Blankets. For him, there’s nothing better than cuddling under a blanket with you after a long day. “Get under here now, please.” He says before you can even toe your shoes off. You toss your keys on the counter before turning to the sofa. The blanket covers his neck making him look like a floating head so you giggle. “Let me get out of my work stuff.” You tell him before rushing into your bedroom to change. He lifts up one end of the blanket as you finally approach. “Quick it’s cold.” You finally snuggle into his side, enclosing you both in the blanket. His arm wraps around you with the silence as you both enjoy the moment. “Music or tv?” You ask him, looking around for the remote. “Music,” he says, passing his phone to you under the blanket. “You do it I don’t want my hand to leave the cocoon.”

Johnny: Memes. He has a folder in the photos app on his phone titled “Meme Team.” There are about 200 photos in the folder at the moment and you’ve probably seen about 93 of them so far. There’s a mix of screenshots of funny tweets, photos he’s saved from text conversations or Facebook and a handful of saved snapchats. He’s tapping his foot impatiently as he waits for you to open your door and when you do he bursts in saying “get your phone we have catching up to do.” And you sit there, on your sofa, showing your phones to each other because of a funny reaction pic or meme you saw when he was away for a month. You scroll through your phone looking for one Johnny might find funny, and he sits there, pretending to scroll, pretending he hasn’t got a folder dedicated to this because of how often you do it. “Look at this one.” He says, smiling cause he already knows how you’ll react. The corners of your lips twitch up slightly, before your brows come together in a small frown. Then it’s gone, replaced by howling laughter a you clutch onto his arm for support, a laugh of his own matching yours.

Taeyong: Your rehearsal room.You sneak into the rehearsal studio, making sure not to startle Taeyong out of his dance. You catch his eye in the mirror letting him know you’re there for your session. You’re always ten minutes early, a habit you had which morphed into routine. It used to be a nuisance sharing a rehearsal room with Taeyong, as he’d almost always overrun. Which is why you began to sneak into the room just before he was supposed to leave to remind him that he had to leave. But you’d been so flawed that you started to come in earlier, just so you could see Taeyong in his element. He moves like water, sneakers squeaking against the wooden floor as he changes directions. You can help but stare from your usual position, legs crossed on the floor behind him. Your eyes are focussed on the fluidity of his muscles through the reflection of the mirror and you feel sad when the music comes to an end. He shuffles a few steps towards you before collapsing, his sweaty mop of hair only inches from your lap. You lean over towards his things to grab his water bottle. “Here.” He perks up at that, chugs whatever’s left down before collapsing again. “Can I stay and listen to you sing?” You huff a laugh. “Like you’d leave if I said no.” You stand up to set up the mic. He chuckles cause he knows its true. “I like listening to your voice after a hard practice. It gives me strength.” He’s looking up at you, bangs brushing his eyelashes and a goofy smile half hidden by his arm.

Yuta: Clothes. He forces the hoodie into your hands three weeks after you became official. It’s an unassuming light grey pullover which looks about two sizes too big for Yuta. You raise a questioning eyebrow waiting for an explanation. “Cause I’ll be gone for a week.” You think it’s a bit ridiculous but he shakes the hoodie in your face again so you grab it with a shake of your head. You’re convinced you can survive the week without the hoodie. You break after day five. You grab the hoodie from where it’s been hanging on the back of your door and shove it over your head. His smell envelopes you immediately and you remind yourself you’ll see him soon. You didn’t think you’d miss him so much. To ease yourself further you decide to search for previews from his performances. What you find instead, are airport pictures - him wearing your favourite blue sweatshirt. You let out a laugh before reaching for your phone. You’d wondered where it had gone.

Doyoung: Books. It started off with a few text books. Textbooks were expensive so it made sense to split the cost for all the books needed for the new year between the two of you. It made sense, because you two were close friends who lived near each other so there was no inconvenience. Until you started to get closer. Even the smallest brush of a hand as you turned the page would fluster both of you. He’d start telling you about the books he was reading at the time, offering them to you once he’d finished. And you started doing the same. He’d leave a little post-it on the last page every time. “Did you see that coming, because I sure didn’t wtf??” or “I know this book was terrible but someone else had to suffer with me. I’m not sorry.” You’d usually rinse through the books he’d give you in a few days or a week. But when things started getting hectic around Christmas, his copy of The Princess Bride (one of his favourite books) sat on your desk untouched for weeks. He seemed antsy, asking every few days if you’d finished it yet, yellow post-it sitting unread on the last page. “It’s been months and I like you. I can’t stop thinking about your smile and I like you. I look forward to our study sessions every week and I like you. Let me take you out on a date cause I like you.”

Jaehyun: Carpool. “Someone’s running late today.” You joke as you climb into Jaehyun’s car. He scowls at you from the driver’s seat, pushing his sunglasses further up his nose. The engine revs up without a word and you can’t help but snigger when Jaehyun winces at the loudness of the noise. “Fun night, huh?” You tease, poking at his shoulder as you pull onto the main road. He shoots a glare at you. “Do you want to walk to campus?” It’s meant to be a threat but the small smile on his lips just makes you laugh instead. There’s no way Jaehyun would kick you out of his car. Besides, he’s threatened it countless times over the past year and never acted on it. “You wouldn’t. You love me too much.” You say, like always. You don’t miss his small laugh, or the way he looks down to his lap with a small blush. “Yeah, maybe I do.” You grin at his answer. Maybe today you’ll finally find the courage to ask him out… when his hangover’s faded.

[aion-rsa]

Best Horror Movies on Hulu

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Editor’s Note: This post is updated regularly. Bookmark this page and come back often to see the additions to the best horror movies on Hulu.

Updated for September 2020

Horror can come from anywhere: an unfamiliar European hostel, a remote sleepaway camp in the woods or even just in the comfy confines of the human brain. Every now and then it can be fun to reconnect with that child-like portion of our minds that is truly susceptible to irrational fear. The best way is to merely just hear a good scary story.

But perhaps the best place to find horror is on your friendly neighborhood Hulu. Hulu is best known for its TV comedy offerings but that doesn’t mean it’s lacking in pure terror.

Here is your list of the best horror movies on Hulu.

The Lodge

Directed by Austrian filmmakers Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala (the harrowing Goodnight Mommy), The Lodge stars an excellent Riley Keough as Grace, a troubled young woman in love with Richard (Richard Madden) a journalist who wrote a book about the suicide cult she once belonged to and is the only survivor of. Their relationship triggers Richard’s estranged wife (Alicia Silverstone) to commit suicide, leaving the former couple’s two children devastated.

Six months later, Richard, Grace and the children head up to Richard’s remote winter lodge in an effort for all of them to heal. But a series of unexplained events occur that may be tied to Grace’s past or the death of the children’s mother — or both. The Lodge may stumble occasionally through some shaky plot turns, but the movie positively reeks with dread and leads to a thoroughly unsettling finish.

Wounds

Based on a novella called The Visible Filth by acclaimed horror writer Nathan Ballingrud, this Hulu original stars Armie Hammer as Will, a New Orleans bartender whose discovery of an abandoned mobile phone in his place of business portends the arrival of an unspeakable evil.

British-Iranian director Babek Anvari, who made 2016’s supremely eerie Under the Shadow, creates an atmosphere of extreme dread and rot here, from the cockroaches Will is constantly killing behind the bar to the frightening images and sounds that keep appearing on the phone he finds. Much is left unexplained but that’s kind of the point: horror is often most effective when it can’t be rationalized.

Black Rock

Directed by Katie Aselton from a screenplay written by her husband, The Morning Show Emmy nominee Mark Duplass, Black Rock is a tense tale of three childhood friends whose attempts to reconnect as adults on a remote weekend retreat are thwarted by two men seeking vengeance over an accident.

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It’s a somewhat generic story elevated by the performances of Aselton herself, Kate Bosworth, and especially Lake Bell who goes full feral in the often brutal fight for survival. The movie benefits from the presence of all three women even if the scenario itself is one we’ve seen countless times before.

Ghost Stories

It’s rare for a horror film to be adapted from a play, but that’s the case for this anthology-style film written and directed by Jeremy Dyson and Andy Nyman, who also penned the stage show. Nyman stars as well as Philip Goodman, a professor who devotes his career to debunking the paranormal.

His mission is put to the test in the three stories presented within the film’s framework, which feature Martin Freeman (Black Panther), Paul Whitehouse and Alex Lawther as two men and a boy who come up against various spirits and even supposedly the Devil. Can Goodman prove them wrong even as reality itself seemingly begins to crumble around him? Find the answer by watching this acclaimed pic.

Friday the 13th Part 3

Not only was this 1982 slasher classic the first (and, to date, only) in the Friday the 13th series to be shown in 3D, it was also the movie in which unstoppable killer Jason Voorhees (Richard Brooker) donned his trademark hockey mask for the first time — creating one of horror’s most iconic images.

The plot finds another group of hapless teens venturing too close to the grounds of Camp Crystal Lake and falling prey to the hulking killing machine, who dispatches them in increasingly inventive and gruesome ways. That’s really all you get — and if you were lucky enough to see the movie in theaters, you got it in 3D. But you could do far worse (like, say, most of the succeeding entries in the franchise) if you’re looking to waste some time with a slasher flick.

Anna and the Apocalypse

The term “zombie musical” isn’t one you see thrown around very much, so this 2017 British feature might well have the genre all to itself. The cast of mostly unknown young actors, led by Ella Hunt in a star turn as Anna, sing, dance and fight their way through the title event — at Christmastime, no less.

Based on a short film by the late Ryan McHenry, the heartfelt Anna and the Apocalypse cites its influences as horror staples like The Evil Dead and Night of the Living Dead as well as classic musicals such as West Side Story, The Rocky Horror Picture Show and the “Once More, with Feeling” episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Midnighters

Midnighters is an excellent, tension-packed debut for screenwriter Alston Ramsay (who is also a former speechwriter for the Pentagon, weirdly).

Directed by Ramsay’s brother, Julius, Midnighters tells the story of a cover-up that becomes far more stressful than the crime. On New Year’s Eve, a struggling married couple strikes a pedestrian with their car. They opt to do the right thing and call the police. Lol/jk they opt to cover the crime and in the process begin a cycle of deceit, distrust, and madness.

Midnighters owes a lot of its success to Hitchcock, but then again – doesn’t virtually every thriller?

Mom and Dad

2017’s Mom and Dad has about the simplest and most terrifying premise one can imagine. You know your mom and dad – those two people who are supposed to support you through thick and thin? What if they…weren’t like that? What if they would stop and nothing to kill you?

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That’s what young Carly and Josh Ryan experience one day when one day some unexplained static starts transmitting through they television and suddenly their loving parents desperately want to kill them. Mom and Dad would be unsettling enough with any cast, but having Nicolas Cage and Selma Blair portray the unhinged parents is just icing on the cake.

Overlord

War is terrifying enough as is. It doesn’t need the addition of Nazi super soldier zombies. Thankfully the J.J. Abrams-produced Overlord decided to include them anyway.

Overlord picks up on the eve of D-Day when a paratrooper quad is sent in behind enemy lines to destroy a German radio tower located in an old church. Their plane is shot down and only a handful survivors land. Those who do will soon discover that the horror has just begun.

Children of the Corn

Fun fact: Children of the Corn has eight sequels. Eight! That’s one big drawback of the horror genre. It’s so difficult to come up with an equally original and scary idea that once something sticks, it’s financially prudent to run it into the ground.

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Don’t let that keep you from watching the 1984 original Children of the Corn, however. The movie is based off of a Stephen King short story and follows a group of creepy kids and their adventures in ritualistic sacrifice. It’s a good time.

The Cabin in the Woods

A remote cabin in the woods is one of the most frequently occurring settings in all of horror. What better location for teenagers to be tormented by monsters, demons, or murderous hillbillies? Writer/Director Joss Whedon takes that tried and true setting and uses it as a jumping off points for one of the most successful metatextual horror movies in recent memory.

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Like you would expect, The Cabin in the Woods features five college friends (all representing certain youthful archetypes, of course) renting a….well, a cabin in the woods. Soon things begin to go awry in a very traditional horror movie way. But then The Cabin in the Woods begins doling out some of the many tricks it has up its sleeve. This is a fascinating, very funny, and yet still creepy breakdown of horror tropes that any horror fan can enjoy.

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Pet Sematary (2019)

After the classic Stephen King novel of the same name and Mary Lambert’s 1989 movie, what could there possibly be left to say about Pet Sematary? Quite a lot actually! Directors Kevin Kölsch and Dennis Widmyer breathe new life into this old tale…not unlike a certain “sematary” itself.

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Jason Clarke stars as Louis Creed, an ER doctor from Boston who moves his family to rural Ludlow, Maine to live a quieter life. Shortly into their stay, Louis and his wife Rachel (Amy Semeitz) experience an unthinkable tragedy. That’s ok though as neighbor Jud Crandall (John Lithgow) knows a very peculiar place that can help.

The post Best Horror Movies on Hulu appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[sinrau]

See that pic above? Americans woke up to soldiers and fencing surrounding the White House.

An op-ed in the New York Times calling for the use of domestic military force, aka, soldiers shooting people in the streets. Major cities under curfew. A phalanx of mysterious men in body armour carrying machine guns, only without badges, who wouldn’t respond to questions — like Trump’s new personal secret police. Or maybe SS.

Finally — finally — the general understanding seemed to dawn that this was fascism. Pundits and intellectuals used the word “fascism” for the first time. They were horrified and shocked. The idea seems to be, right about now, that America’s in danger of having a fascist collapse.

Wrong.

What the hell do you think the last four years have been?

There’s not some kind of vague remote danger, or imminent threat, of fascism breaking out in America. What planet have you been living on? The last four years have been America’s collapse into fascism.

The American pundit and intellectual and even well-meaning white liberal are suddenly using the word “fascism,” now, in shock and horror. Now that troops are on white streets. Wait, you mean it wasn’t fascism when brown kids were put…in cages…in camps? What the?

Well-meaning white America is saying suddenly now that soldiers are on its streets, “But Oh My God! This is fascism!” It doesn’t see the shattering hypocrisy, the devastating irony, therein. Do you mean that all of the following weren’t really fascism to you: Camps, cages, bans, raids, purges, violence, hate at minorities emanating from the head of state, institutional dehumanization? What the? Are you serious? It’s the kind of thing that makes literally everyone else in the world at this point gnash their teeth at the American Idiot, and not know whether to laugh or cry maniacally.

America’s had a fascist meltdown. Over the last four years. The next six months are merely the end stages. In which we find out if America goes full-on fascist the whole way, irrevocably, or not. Can that be staved off?

If you really want to know, then is nothing more crucial right about now than not erasing the last four years of history, but really understanding them. How, precisely, they have been grade-school textbook fascism. The real thing. Not a drill. Bona fide, actual fascism. That everyone should have recognized, and most of the world did. Only America didn’t get this point, it seems.

It was always fascism. From day one of the Trump administration. That was the explicit goal and objective. From day one.

Remember how his advisors advanced the ideas of ethnic cleansing and purification? How he began his campaign by calling immigrants and refugees “vermin” and “animals”? Blaming them for the economic woes of the average American, who suddenly found themselves downwardly mobile, poor, and desperate? Trump blamed a certain hated minority — Latinos, mostly, but also blacks and Muslims and Jews — a demagogue scapegoating them for all a nation’s problems, from poverty to social disintegration to hopelessness to a lack of good jobs to crime. Just like Hitler had in the 1930s to Jews, too. Yes, really. Ask your Jewish friends. 99.9% of them will agree.

That was fascism.

Remember when Trump got elected? His first major priority wasn’t to give Americans the healthcare they lacked. The retirement they needed. The raises they hadn’t had in generations. It wasn’t to improve their lives in any way at all, with a better social contract. What was it? To build a wall. And then it was to build a network of concentration camps. Concentration camps.

That was fascism.

Then his advisors had the idea to put kids in cages in those camps, and “separate them” from their families — translation: rip them from their mothers’ arms. In those camps, in those cages, those kids weren’t even allowed to hug each other. They didn’t have adequate food, water, or medicine. International observers classed this as torture, because that is exactly what it was, properly speaking.

That was fascism.

What was the next major priority of the Trump administration? Now that it had its camps, and its first hated minority in them — when would they come for us, the Muslims and Jews and blacks wondered — would Trump finally do something for the “real” American, his base of fanatical whites? Nope. Still, he didn’t give them healthcare, retirement, jobs, education.

What did he do instead? He began to “raid” towns. Have papers checked on public transport. Immigrants and refugees were hunted like desperate things — the “vermin” he and his base thought they were. Some cities proudly called themselves “sanctuaries.” But you don’t need sanctuaries if there aren’t fascists hunting the hated.

That was fascism.

The raids soon enough became just another feature of daily American life. And as they intensified, mass deportations became another priority. Guess what the “forcible removal” of populations is called? Genocide. That came after the first genocide, which was child separation, because taking the kids of one kind of people is a form of genocide, too.

Don’t take my word for it. The last living Nuremberg Prosecutor warned around this time that the Trump Administration was now committing crimes against humanity. Think about that. The man who put…the Nazis…away…warning America was now doing the same category of things they did. He would know. He helped invent the idea, Ben Ferencz, that brave and noble soul.

Do you know who listened to him? Nobody.

To this day, nobody in America’s major media has interviewed…the last living Nuremberg Prosecutor…saying crimes against humanity were happening all over again, this time in America. I think I’m one of a handful of people who wrote about this point at all. What the?

That part was fascism, too. How so?

Well, because it meant that Americans didn’t get what all this really was — who was teaching them any of this? America’s major media, at this point, wasn’t warning that all this was a serious and real fascist collapse. They were warning against saying just that. And then, they were interviewing…neo-Nazis…doing fawning profiles of them. Instead of Ben Ferencz.

What the?

It’s no wonder that the average American was bewildered. This might have felt like fascism. But surely it wasn’t. Nobody said you could call it that! Chris Hayes, Robert Reich, and so on, even the nation’s self-described liberal pundits, didn’t say it. Neither did the political opposition.

There was a word for all this. Denial. America was now a society in denial as deep as an ocean. The Trump administration’s priorities had all been the stuff of textbook fascism: one, demonization, two, camps and raids, three, ethnic cleansing. In magazines and newspapers around the world, questions began to be asked. German ones explicitly began referring to Trump as an aspiring fascist. One put Trump doing a Nazi salute on its cover. Only in America was there any question: no, this couldn’t be fascism, could it?

When the Germans are telling you he’s a fascist, he’s a fascist.

In the 1930s, too, denial had been key to the rise of the Nazis. The good German wouldn’t have believed it if you told him the Nazis were about to murder 6 million Jews. They were doing great things for the Germans! Some Americans will object to that parallel. Nonetheless, denial played a key role in the rise of American fascism, too.

No major institution in America admitted it was now having a fascist collapse: media, intellectuals, opposition, or the people themselves. Those who thought it couldn’t say it, and those who hadn’t been educated to think it, who’d been cautioned away from it, by the failure of America’s intellectuals and media, genuinely appeared to have no clue.

That was fascism, too. The atmosphere of denial as deep as an ocean, that America was now drowning in. Life went on as usual.

Why do we warn of fascism? Remember that old quote? “First they came for this hated minority, then they came for that hated minority, and finally they came for me?” We warn of fascism to prevent it’s slippery slope, it’s ruinous decline, it’s shattering spiral of self-destruction.

White Americans didn’t get it. Fascism was coming for them, too. But as hard as anyone tried to teach them that — they seemed incapable of listening. Sure, maybe you did. But there was no widespread understanding in America whatsoever that it was having a fascist collapse.

So America took an even more dangerous step.

Trump was impeached. For what? For camps? Purges? Raids? Bans? Hate? Genocide? Nope. For offering…a bribe. So the man who the last living Nuremberg Prosecutor said was committing crimes against humanity was impeached for…a bribe…not for crimes against humanity. What the?

The Democrats impeached Trump. For the wrong thing, not the right thing. They gave all that fascism a free pass, legitimized it by turning a blind eye, showed that no justice could be had for it. That is why impeachment had no effect on Trump’s fortunes. It didn’t matter because, well, it didn’t matter. And they did that calculatedly. “We can’t impeach him for that, because, well, there’s no fascism here! There can’t be!”

That’s called appeasement. And it’s another key step in any fascist collapse. Because a demagogue is a bully, and when he knows he can get away with abusing a whole society, that is exactly what he’ll go on doing.

At this point, any decent observer of fascism could have predicted: now it’s going to be white America’s turn.

Today, it is.

Soldiers surround the White House. The President calls for Americans to be shot on the streets. His party supports him. That phalanx of secret police guards the demagogue, accountable to no one but him.

Suddenly, white America’s crying — now that it’s on their doorstep — “but this is fascism!”

Hello. It was always fascism. From the day of the camps, raids, bans, purges, cages. From the denial, through the appeasement, to the complicity.

Remember the old quote? In America, it goes like this. “First, they came for the Mexicans, and I did nothing. Then, they came for the Latinos, and I did nothing. Then they came for the Muslims, and I did nothing. Then they came for me.”

White America’s figured out that it’s fascism…too late. Far too late.

How does a nation grow this ignorant? Didn’t they teach white Americans in grade school — like they taught the rest of us — that camps, bans, raids, purges, hate, are what fascism is?

That when a head of state says that hated minorities are “animals” and “vermin”…and acts upon it…that’s fascism?

How can white America be this selfish? This blind?

I have never — ever — seen another country like it. Never. And neither has the world.

The American Idiot has become a figure of global renown precisely because the world is shocked and horrified that Americans didn’t know fascism when it was literally putting kids in cages before their very eyes. What the? No wonder everyone I meet that’s not American laughs at Americans for being hopelessly foolish now.

That is hopelessly foolish. It’s blindingly idiotic. They teach us what fascism is in grade school — all of us, everywhere around the globe — for a reason.

So we can see it coming, before it’s too late.

America didn’t.

America’s not on the brink of a fascist collapse. It’s not in danger of having one. The last four years have been one. During those four years, a demagogue and his army of American Idiots built all the nascent institutions of a fascist society — camps, bans, raids, purges, and so forth. All that is now just everyday American life. And everyday American life now feels so scary, horrifying, brutal, violent, and dystopian precisely because Americans are living in a fascist society.

Only the final steps of fascist collapse are now left to take. A demagogue seizing power for life, declaring martial law, calling a state of emergency, postponing elections, cancelling them. Who’s going to stop him? Why do you think that phalanx of men in body armor who nobody can recognize or account for is there?

Only the final steps now remain. The final seizure of power.

Then the transformation of a society is complete. What do you think will happen if Trump isn’t removed from power by November? Do you think another four years will end in anything but even more tragedy? Do you think that there would be another election after that? Do you think America as we know it would survive?

Don’t kid yourself. Wake up. Wise up. Open your goddamned eyes.

The last four years were America’s fascist collapse. This is just what finishes the job.

Americans, like so many before them, didn’t get it, until it was too late, even while the alarms were blaring in their very eyes, their house was burning down, and the smoke was in their nostrils. Nope, no fascism here! Those kids in cages? Those towns being raided? That President scapegoating whole minorities and banning them? That’s not fascism? No wonder they came for you in the end, too, finally, occupying your streets. Who was left, after the Latino, Mexican, Muslim, black, Jew, but the well-meaning, oblivious white American? The last one still in denial?

It was always fascism.

That, my friends, is why, and how, history repeats itself. Through cowardice, through folly, through ignorance, but most of all, through blindness, deafness, and silence.

Umair June 2020