#we’d been in the middle the original series then

[dragonwingart]

Charcoal sketch painting of Leonard Nimoy as Spock. This was the first time I’d done a charcoal piece and I was pleasantly surprised how well it turned out. I just love Star Trek…

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @themetalhiro

Hi, I’m Metal! I’m a freelance artist from good ol’ New Jersey. My favorite things to work with are a lot of bright colors, exaggerated poses, and candid scenarios. I try to farm sensible chuckles whenever I can, so I’m also big into comics. I love making them about my life, and the media I’m into, and one day I’d like to publish my own series!  Thank you to everyone who has gotten me this far!!

Check out Metal's interview below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I guess so! It’s funny, I don’t remember a single time in my life that I wasn’t drawing as a hobby… somewhere in middle school (a little late, I know.) I put the pieces together that animated movies were made by artists, and that it wasn’t just for fun, they were paid to do it. The moment I discovered people could be paid to make art, I decided I would do that, too. Now I’m here!

How has your style developed over the years?

I think the best way to answer this would be with an example! Over the last few years, I have made more of an effort to draw more intentionally, which sounds silly. Now, I put more thought into my poses and step out of my comfort zone with shape language and composition. I had a phase where I drew everyone with a huge, perfectly circular head and no nose. That definitely did not lend much variety...

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

Ack! I’m so terrible at history! I’d love to give a well-thought-out answer about fine artists of old, but I don't think we’d have much in common… Most artists I admire and who have driven me forward creatively are the people behind comics I’ve read. Andrew Hussie, Bryan Lee O’Malley, Eiichiro Oda... these guys have inspired me greatly and had a heavy influence in developing my art style and sense of humor. I’d love to ask them questions about their processes and upcoming projects. I think it would make for an entertaining night!

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

Outside of pure aesthetics like searing bright colors, layered clothing, and loud noises…. the best and most inspiring moments in my life were those surrounded by friends and loved ones! I cherish the hell out of memories of hanging around in fun locations, trying weird food together, and impromptu midnight walks... so I try my best to capture that atmosphere and my own memories in my work when I can, even if I’m imposing fictional characters on top of them. That’s always the core of it.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I would never permanently refuse a medium, but every time I pick up clay, I’m like a baby using its hands for the first time. Absolutely dreadful. If one day I could make and paint a figurine like the ones I admire in videos, that would be awesome... But for now, I’m not counting on it.

How do you want to evolve as a creator?

I’ve had an absolute blast drawing fanart over the years, and it’s certainly played a massive role in my growth as an artist. But my dream has always been to publish my own stories for y'all to enjoy! I have lots of worlds I want to introduce to you before I’m old and gray. I want to get faster, work harder, and get better at drawing interesting settings so I can get the wheels turning as soon as possible. I also want to stop avoiding the color blue like a coward.

What do you wish you knew when you first started out creating art that you know now?

Pay your taxes quarterly. Tablets will break at the exact moment you need them most, so have a spare. Wear your blue light glasses. You’re going to need to wear a brace on every joint on the right side of your body. It can be lonely sitting at your desk all day. The car on the side of the road that costs $1000 cash….. don’t trust it!!!

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@cranity—They use absolutely beautiful colors and weighty line work. Everything looks so sharp and clean! I wanna put it all up on my wall!

@vewn—Their ability to crank out quality short films and illustrations packed with detail is incredible. The off-kilter perspective they use really sells disorientation and catches your attention like nothing else.

@nelnal—They have absolutely banger character designs again and again, I can’t believe one person’s mind can come up with so many creative ideas!

@jinx88kc—They have a beautiful and recognizable style, and the way they incorporate animation into their illustrations sometimes is SO cool!

Thanks for stopping by, Metal! For more of Metal’s work, follow their Tumblr, @themetalhiro! If you haven't seen their Meet the Artist piece, be sure to check it out here!

[cookiescribble]

Something New

A/N: Someone asked me for a part two of this, and honestly? Don’t have to ask me twice, I’ve been thinking about it a lot 🫶🏻 sorry it took a little more time than I was expecting, we’re going on vacation soon so a lot of our time is being spent preparing for that :) - mod angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Summary: Spencer has been spending a lot of time bonding with his new coworker, and they’re starting to realize that they might have more feelings than they were ready for.

~~~

     I was, admittedly, pretty nervous the first time I came over Spencer’s apartment.

     I’ve always been a really shy person, and new situations always seemed a little intimidating to me. But Spencer was… different, and that comforted me. 

     I walked up to his apartment that first day, fidgeting a little as I approached his door. I took a deep breath and knocked lightly. 

     He answered the door, smiling, gesturing for me to come in. 

     I smiled and looked around his apartment. I hadn’t known him very long but it seemed very… him. There was a bookshelf against one of the forest green walls that held a large amount of books; if it belonged to anyone besides Spencer, I would’ve doubted all the books had been read. But I guess if you can read as fast as he can, getting through all those books isn’t that big a deal. 

     He led me to the couch and motioned for me to sit down. He had taken out a DVD set of Star Trek: The Original Series that was sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch. 

     He took the DVDs and started speaking. “So, I know you said you’ve seen some of TOS, but I figured it would be better to watch it completely through from start to finish.”

     “Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen any of it,” I replied. “Plus, I always like to watch things fully in order. I can’t just pick up a show in the middle. I have to start at the beginning.”

     He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I feel the same way! People have told me it’s not a big deal to start watching a show in the middle, but I could never do that.”

     I smiled. “Plus, there’s only 3 seasons of TOS, right? It’s not that hard to get through.” I could feel myself calming down as the conversation seemed to flow easily between us. 

     “There’s only 79 episodes. It’s really short, considering how many other shows and movies came out of it.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment as he put the DVD in the player. “… I have all the other Star Trek shows and movies too, if you want to watch them.” He cleared his throat and quickly continued, “of course, for now we’ll just stick to this and, um, we don’t even have to finish if you end up changing your mind…”

     I shook my head. “No, I want to do this. I think it’ll be fun.” I smiled reassuringly. “Plus, what I have seen I’ve really liked, so I definitely want to watch the whole thing.”

     He smiled back at me and sat on the opposite end of the couch. “I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to agree to this. Most people don’t really take my interests seriously…” he admitted, sounding a little sad. 

     I just shrugged. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I? Why would I come here if I wasn’t interested?” 

     “I guess that’s true,” he said as he picked up the remote. “… So, are you ready to start?”

     I smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready,” I responded before he started playing the first episode. 

…

     We fell into a regular routine after that first day. 

     I’d usually come over about once a week. We’d always start with Spencer recapping the last episodes we watched, recalling them in perfect detail so I could remember exactly what happened. 

     I really liked watching the show with him. A lot of times, he’d get really excited and talk during the episodes. He’d always apologize when I asked him to rewind so I could catch what I missed while he was talking, but I always told him I didn’t mind. And I really didn’t, I loved listening to him talk. He always had something interesting to say. 

     I found myself starting to watch him more than I watched the show. I was trying really hard not to admit it to myself, but I was really starting to feel something between us. I’d noticed the way we both started to get comfortable with each other as time went on, and how we started to sit closer to each other every time we hung out. I felt some kind of… spark, whenever I was with him. 

     I tried to ignore this feeling, but it was getting more and more difficult. I felt so happy to see him all the time; hanging out with him felt like the highlight of my week. I looked forward to it for days, and I couldn’t help but think of how much I wanted to be alone with him when I saw him at work. 

     But I kept this all to myself. It was just a silly crush, and I didn’t even know if he had feelings like that. Plus, there’s no way I could have a crush on a coworker. That could never work out well. 

     Right?

… (POV change)

Spencer wasn’t used to spending so much time with someone. Sure, he talked with his coworkers every day, but it wasn’t the same. No one shared interests with him like this. 

Since this was all new to him, he figured these feelings he was having were just normal when you made a new friend. This certain fondness he was feeling that he had never felt before now. 

But as time went on, and he kept spending more time with them, he was starting to suspect he was feeling a little more than friendly with them. He started spending a lot of time wishing they would hang out more. Eventually, he couldn’t help it, and asked them to come over even if he’d already seen them that week. He’d say it was because he wanted to keep watching the show, but really he was just excited to see them. 

Eventually, he couldn’t deny the feelings he had for them anymore. 

There was one day they came over, after there had been a particularly exhausting case. It just so happened to end on the day they had both been reserving to watch the show together. Spencer offered to switch the days and let them catch up on sleep, but they insisted that they still wanted to come over. 

It wasn’t a problem for a while, but eventually, as Spencer was talking, they stopped replying to him. He looked over to see they had fallen asleep curled up on the couch. 

He just stared at them for a few moments before pausing the show, not wanting them to miss what was happening. He wasn’t sure what to do; he didn’t want to wake them up because they looked so peaceful. They looked… really cute…

He shook his head as if trying to shake the thought out of his mind. He stood up, getting a throw blanket and gently placing it over them, careful to not wake them up. 

He walked to the kitchen, figuring he’d make something to eat in case they were hungry when they woke up. Really, he just needed an excuse to not be near them right now. It was taking every ounce of his willpower not to slip his arm around them and let them sleep on him.

He tried not to let his mind wander as he made dinner, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop thinking about them.

He kept trying to rationalize his thoughts, like he always did. It had never been a problem before; he had always been a logical person, so it had never been difficult to keep his thoughts in check. Until now.

He knew that he shouldn’t have feelings for a coworker. It just wasn’t professional. And besides, they probably didn’t feel the same way about him. No one ever had. It was new to him just to have someone willing to share his interests. Their feelings probably ended there: he was just a new friend to them.

Although… there have been multiple occasions where he thought he saw them sneaking glances at him. And the way they looked at him, he thought that maybe they were starting to have feelings for him too…

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice them waking up and walking into the kitchen until they spoke to him.

“Hey…” they started. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was falling asleep.”

Spencer jumped a little before turning to look at them. They still had the blanket wrapped around their shoulders. They looked really comfortable that way. And the sleepy tone in their voice…

He cleared his throat. “That’s okay. We had a pretty tiring few days with that case, so I figured I’d just let you sleep. You seemed like you needed it.”

They smiled sleepily. “Yeah, I guess I did.” They turned their attention to the kitchen counter. “You made dinner? Was I asleep that long?”

He shook his head. “You weren’t out for too long, but I figured you might be hungry when you woke up, so…” He trailed off, blushing a bit.

They smiled. “Thank you. I am actually pretty hungry.” They hugged the blanket a little closer to them, rubbing their eyes a bit.

Spencer turned around and grabbed two plates, carrying them to the coffee table in the living room. They followed him and sat down on the couch, moving the blanket so it was laying across their lap.

They ate in silence, the show playing on the TV in front of them, though they both seemed to have trouble paying attention to it.

After a few more episodes, it was time to leave. Spencer took the blanket when they handed it to him, putting it back where it was before.

He walked to the door with them, like he always did. Today, though, they lingered in the doorway a little longer. Maybe it was the tiredness, or maybe they just finally found the courage they’d been looking for all this time.

“Um…” they started, looking a little nervous. “Thank you for making dinner tonight. That was really nice.”

He smiled warmly at them. “Oh, it was no problem, really. I was hungry too,” he laughed awkwardly.

They smiled a bit, but they had a concentrated look on their face. “Well, uh, I was wondering… Maybe one day you’d like to… go out to dinner?” They took a deep breath before continuing quietly. “Like… as a date?”

He blushed and smiled, all the thoughts of doubt he’d been having earlier thrown out the window. “Yeah, I... I’d really like that.” He tried to sound calm, but it was clear he was really excited about it.

They smiled back at him, the nervousness gone as they realized he was just as happy about it as they were. “Okay. It’s a date, then.”

They said their goodbyes, both of them unable to stop smiling as they thought about what their future together would hold.

[reputationbarbie]

❝you've never been to heaven, have you?❞

A/N: this is my first time writing something for tumblr, or like this in general. feedback is greatly appreciated. this also isn't edited so ignore any mistakes. as a baking girly, i couldn't get this story out of my head. i legit would lay in bed at night and dream about hard-ass chef miller and the sweet baker. enjoy ♡

Prelude Summary: the sweetest baker has a birthday lunch with her friends, effectively humbling the chef in the process.

Chapter Warnings: death of a parent (mentioned), language, alcohol, slight age gap (F!MC and Joel are 6 years apart), threatening (brief, joke between two girl friends in an established friendship).

Key Tags: chef! Joel, single! father Joel, no outbreak! Joel Miller, slow burn, dual-pov, fluff, flirting, friendship, eventually established relationship, eventual smut, original character, black!fem!MC, no y/n.

⋆ word count: 3.7k ⋆

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist⋆ spotify playlist ˖ ݁ 𖥔.

JUNE 30TH

“Welcome to The Austin. I assume you have a reservation?”

Of course, we had a reservation. 

This was one of the hardest restaurants to get into. The reviews are excellent and they’re rumored to be gunning for a Michelin Star. Luckily, my best friend Madeline was what you considered Chicago pretty. Her charisma and beauty make her a shoo-in for being a model.

The long and wavy blonde hair cascades over her back as she flutters her lashes at the host behind the stand. “Yes. It’s my best friend’s birthday and we have a reservation under Madeline Crown,” she speaks for our small group, shoving me forward as the designated birthday girl. A mischievous twinkle flashes in her blue eyes and her smile takes over. 

Raising my hand, I wave awkwardly at the host. “That’s me,” I admit shyly, adjusting my falling crown and sash.

He flashes me a small smile. “Happy Birthday,” he breathes quickly before tapping the screen. “Just the three of you, Ms. Crown?” he asks Maddie, looking behind us at the group.

The phrase makes me grimace. My parents died in a car accident five hundred fifty-six days ago. And for five hundred fifty-six days, I’ve been suffering. They were the closest people to me and left me alone in this world as an only child. The only family I have left is the one I’ve created with Maddie, Leo, and their families. I didn’t want to burden them with my birthday festivities, so Maddie and I opted for lunch with just the three of us. 

“Yeah. And we need a booth away from eyes,” the third voice in our trio, Leonardo, blurts out. He shifts, anxious to get to our table and out of the lobby. Out of the three of us, he’s more likely to have to be bombarded by people during this lunch given our current surroundings.

Why on earth did I choose to be friends with a socialite and a senator? I don’t like attention and as of now, all eyes are on us. The sash and crown Maddie forced me to wear don’t help.

His two secret service agents stand upright a few paces back. We’d planned for weeks to get clearance for this lunch, so having them tag along was only a slight damper. “Right this way,” the host snaps me out of my spiral, grabbing a couple of menus and motioning us to follow him.

My feet carry me forward through the restaurant behind Maddie, who stops to exchange pleasantries with an acquaintance. Softly brushing past her, I continue to follow the host with Leo and his team trailing behind me.

The restaurant is situated on the top floor in the middle of downtown. The open windows allow natural light in and the faint smell of steak wafts through the air as we weave through the open floorplan. My back hunches forward feeling slightly out of place in a room full of the fabulously wealthy.

Although I’m not entirely broke, my bakery just got in the black. If it weren’t for the parental death and what they passed on to me, I’d still studying to be a nurse. But after their death, I decided I’d only do things that would make me happy. Now the glaring separation between me and the rich and powerful feels like a slap in the face.

We reach a square table near the corner of the space. We’re still in view of everyone, there’s just room for Leo’s secret service to stand between us and them. Leo pulls a chair out for me closest to the window and I thank him, sliding into my seat.

The host puts the menus down on the table in front of us before letting us know our server will be with us shortly. Leo thanks him before taking his seat next to me, with his back towards the majority of the restaurant.

Leo sighs as Maddie joins us again. “What did I miss?” she huffs.

Rolling my eyes, me and Leo open our menus, “Literally nothing. We just sat down,” I tell her, jokingly.

After some time of reading the menu, the tips of Maddie’s fingers twinkle on the table out of the corner of my eye. Her sparkly white nail polish immediately catches my attention. “Well, this place is to die for. What is everyone getting?” she beams.

Flipping back and forth between the sides and appetizer pages, I furrow my eyebrows. “Why the fuck would you bring me to a place with no fries on my birthday?” I ask her begrudgingly.

Leo flips back to the appetizer page and slides his menu over. “They have baked potatoes,” he mansplains, pointing at the page.

Pushing the bound leather book back before him, I shake my head. “I hate to break it to you but that’s not french fries, Bookie,” I counter.

Maddie puts her hands up in defense. “They’re a potato. I thought you’d be good with any potato,” she explains.

Leaning back into my chair, I rub my eyebrows in frustration. “Yeah, but I don’t even like steak and we’re at a steak restaurant on my birthday. You know what, fuck it. I’m getting Mcdonalds after–” I start before cutting myself off, noticing the server approaching the table. I don’t want to be rude in a nice restaurant, especially one that’s been so accommodating to my friends.

A brunette woman stands near us. “Welcome to The Austin. My name is Lisa and I’ll be your waitress today. Can I get you all started with something to drink?” she asks the table.

Sitting up, my mouth opens to speak, but Maddie cuts in. “3 margaritas, and keep them coming,” she instructs Lisa.

Lisa nods, flashing a smile towards us. “I’ll be right back with those for you,” she chirps, shifting on her heels to walk towards the back again.

Leo tilts his head at the blonde after we’re left alone. “I can’t drink on the job, Mads,” he scolds Maddie.

Maddie shrugs, giving him her signature smirk. “Good thing no one has to know but the three of us, golden boy,” she says, twirling her finger around the table.

Leo seemingly takes the statement to heart, scoffing and crossing his arms. “Oh fuck off. I’m not golden,” he counters.

Shaking my head, I rub his arm so no one snaps a photo of Senator Torres all pent up. “No, you’re not. You’ve just become Mr. Americana to the rest of the world. But we know who you truly are,” I attempt to comfort him. The holes being stared into the back of my head are proving to be lethal.

Leo’s dark brown eyes involuntarily squint as he smiles. “Thank you, Miggy,” he gushes and his body language softens.

And suddenly, I have the ick from the mention of my nickname. How the fuck did Maddie date Leo? It was years ago but still. I would’ve thrown up every time he opened his mouth.

Removing my hand from his arm, I raise my eyebrow. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?” I remind him.

“Might want to ask my assistant about that. I wouldn’t know,” he jokes and I resist the urge to smack him in the chest. 

Not in public and not around bodyguards who could take you down in seconds.

Lisa returns with our drinks and I pick the glass up, taking a sip of the lime-flavored beverage. “What can I get you to eat today?” she asks, glancing back and forth between Maddie and me.

Maddie chirps her order to Lisa as my eyes scan back and forth over the page. None of the entrees were less than two hundred bucks, and I didn’t have breakfast. 

I can’t drink on an empty stomach. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it,” Leo leans over and murmurs to me.

Shaking my head, I lean towards him to close the gap. “No. Fuck no,” I whisper yell.  He could put it on his card, but I’d still Venmo him for lunch afterward.

He nods with a toothy grin taking over his face. “It’s your birthday and you’re not paying. Get whatever you want,” He objected with finality, turning towards Lisa to order.

Leo’s deep voice drifts to the back of my mind as I scan the menu one last time, finally ready to order. Lisa comes over to me and I decide to try the steak and crab, hoping it’ll change my mind.

Two more rounds of drinks into the lunch, the appetizers arrive at the table. The muscles and oysters taste okay, but the escargot is orgasmic. The buttery breadcrumbs combined with the sourdough has me forgetting I’m eating a snail. Leo and Maddie graciously allow me to finish off the plate, offering to order more if I’m interested. Instead of accepting, I fight the urge to lick the plate clean.

When our steaks arrive, Maddie claps with excitement. The whole presentation of the meals is rather dramatic. Each dish and its components are read before the plate hits the table. 

My mouth waters as my filet mignon and grilled king crab leg is set in front of me. Maddie snaps a photo for her social media while Leo and I dig into our meals. 

My face soon changes from excitement to a grimace as I try the main course. This is fucking disgusting. The grilled crab is burnt and the filet mignon tastes like rubber. My mouth is only able to chew a few bites before scrambling for my drink.

Leo peers up from his plate, tilting his head. “The fuck is your problem?” he questions me.

Shaking my head, I finish off my third margarita. “Nothing,” I murmur. I should be grateful that I’m even here at all. This place is way out of my budget.

Maddie seemingly decides to join the conversation and put her two cents in. “It’s not nothing. If you don’t like the food, they’ll remake it. Look, here comes the owner,” She scolds, nodding to the area behind me.

My upper body slowly twists around to see who she’s talking about. The man in question is walking towards us dressed in crisp white chef attire. My eyes drink him in and I notice his curly chocolate hair. I notice a stray curl falling in front of his face and suddenly, I have the overwhelming urge to reach up and fix it. 

I continue my shameless perusal of his body, down to his cuffed shirt hugging him so perfectly and tightly that I can see his muscles. My breathing slightly speeds up. 

That is a beautiful specimen of a man.

I’m jolted out of my stare as Leo stands from the table, nodding to the security. “He’s good. It’s his restaurant, for god's sake,” he barks.

My body becomes stiff as the tall man moves smoothly into our area. “Senator Torres, Sir. Thank y’all for your support,” the stranger smiles slightly, extending his hand for Leo to shake.

Leo’s hand tightens its grip, with his other coming up to smack the man’s elbow. Oh, they know each other well. “No, thank you. The catering you made for my election gala was the reason I won the election,” Leo boasts.

So this is the famous chef they’ve been ranting and raving about. I was out of the country securing the last of my parent's affairs when the gala was thrown; something Leo was gracious enough to let me miss.

The handsome man smiles softly, moving his attention to Maddie. “Nice to see you again Ms. Crown. Everythin’ tastin’ great, I see,” he charms her with a smirk on his face. 

My eyebrows furrow trying to pin down his southern accent. Chicago is a metropolitan city, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he were from Louisiana or Florida. Especially with that beautiful tan, he’s adorning.

Maddie straightens her back like a cannon ready to fire. “With mine? Yes. But with Ginny’s not so much. Chef Miller, meet the birthday girl, Imogen,” she introduces us and I’m rendered speechless. His deep brown eyes seemingly stare a hole into my soul.

Anxiety creeps up my spine feeling put on the spot and having to give a bad review in person. “Hi,” I wave shyly. 

Chef Miller’s eyes squint in suspicion, focusing down on the food before fixing his gaze back up on me. I silently thank the gods above for a brief break from his intense stare. “You don’t like the steak, darlin’?” he asks, pointedly.

Oh, fuck off. The man is gorgeous, but his food is shit. But, his use of the word darling has me hanging on to every syllable he utters. Shaking my head, I roll my shoulders back a bit. Put the lonely and horny brain away for a second, Ginny. “Or the crab,” I answer.

Chef Miller’s eyebrows raise and I start to etch the details of his face into my brain mentally. He might be early thirties, but the wrinkles on his forehead hint that he’s been through some things. “Nobody has ever complained about my cookin’. What’s wrong with it?” he questions me in his deep husky voice.

Clearing my throat, I bring the plate back in front of me. “It's dry and burnt,” I pause, beckoning Chef Miller over to stand beside me. He walks a bit closer and when he leans over, I can feel his body hovering over mine. When I take a breath, I can smell smoke on him with an undertone of cedar. 

Moving the food around on the plate, I show him his shotty work. “Look,” I point out with my fork.

Chef Miller grunts, reaching forward and effectively caging me in between his body in the table. “I’m sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. Can I get you somethin’ else?” He apologizes, swiftly removing the plate from my view.

Shaking my head, I replay reading the menu in my mind. “No, it’s fine. I don’t like anything on the menu,” I explain solemnly, turning towards him. I don’t want him to feel responsible for my picky eating habits, either.

Chef Miller frowns, “It’s your birthday, honey. I’m not sendin’ you out hungry and upset,” he counters.

Reaching out, I put my hand on his exposed forearm in an attempt to get him to listen to me. “I’m not upset. I wouldn’t lie to you,” I loosely promise him. His eyes snap down to where my fingers are connected to his skin then back up at me. 

My hand quickly retreats as Lisa comes back around to refill our drinks. Chef Miller turns to hand her the plate and she accepts it before grabbing some glasses from the table. “Why don’t you come back into the kitchen with me and I’ll make somethin’ special for you,” the offer drips from his lips as sweet as whiskey caramel. 

I feel the heat rise in my cheeks when I think about being in a room with him. Alone. “No that’s alright. These two have to go soon anyways,” I use the bullshit excuse, hoping he’ll buy it.

He nods, before putting his hands up and conceding. “Ok. Let Lisa know if you change your mind. She’ll bring you back,” he informs me. 

He turns his attention back to the entire group. “Y’all have a good day. Hope to see you soon,” he smiles, turning to leave the secluded area.

Both Leo and Maddie bid him a hushed goodbye before turning their attention toward me. If looks could kill, I’d be dead this second.

Maddie squints her eyes at me, before shoving her empty plate out of the way. “I’m going to murder you,” she threatens me. 

My head jerks back in shock. “What? Why?” I ask her.

She sighs, taking a sip of her margarita before slamming it back down on the table. “That was your birthday gift, you dumb cunt. You don’t think we know they don’t have fries. They don’t need fries when they have fine-ass Joel Miller. He was practically fucking drolling on your shoulder and you didn’t even notice,” she fumes.

Joel Miller, the hot single chef, is interested in me. I mean, I’m way out of his league. He’s like the working woman’s Timothée Chalamet. “What?” I ask in disbelief again.

Leo crosses his arms and leans comfortably back in his chair, having finished his meal. “Does she have to repeat herself or are you processing?” Leo picks my brain.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I lean forward a bit. “Processing, give me a moment,” I tell him, closing my eyes.

“You don’t have a moment. We’re ditching you while they turn over for dinner. And you’re going to go back into that kitchen and have a hot chef whip you up a meal, alone. Then you’re gonna have him whip you up, at home,” I hear Maddie scheming. 

Suddenly I feel hot, like my whole body just got stuck into an oven. “Maddie! I’m not,” I start off shouting a bit at her before realizing we’re in a public space. I’m not even angry at her, I just feel overwhelmed. “I don’t think I’m ready for that,” I bear my soul to her, blinking away tears.

I haven’t had sex since the death of my parents and the cobwebs are tumbling back there. Knowing that my parents would never meet my future partner was a pain that felt soul-crushing. The feeling is just now starting to subside.

Leo reaches up and scratches his curly scalp. “I told you this was a bad idea,” he scolds Maddie. 

When I make eye contact with Maddie again, her face is soft and warm. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I didn’t mean to push you too hard,” she apologizes profusely.

Tucking a stray curl behind my ear, I shake out the spiral of anxiety in my head. “It’s fine, can we change the subject?” I plead with the table.

Maddie claps her hands in excitement. “Yes, okay!” she cheers. “You know what? Redo gift. Let’s go shopping,” she proposes. 

Nodding, a smile starts to creep onto my face. Hours of mindless walking up and down Magnificent Mile is just what I need right now. “Now that, I can get down with,” I point at her with a grin.

Leo chuckles, standing up from the table. “I’ll see you two this weekend, I have some work to do. Happy birthday, Miggy. I’ll give them my card on my way out,” he bids us goodbye.

Maddie waves at her ex-lover. “Bye Leo,” she flirts.

Giggling, I shake my head at her antics. Eventually, they’ll end up together. “You’re the best,” I thank him.

Leo turns around, shooting me a wink. “Anytime, darlin’,” he mocks  Joel.

Maddie’s hand slaps to her chest and she fakes retching as he walks away. “Something about him. When Joel does it, it makes my pussy quiver. But when he does it, I want to throw up,” she confesses.

Nodding, I finish the last drink before we can say goodbye to this restaurant for the day. “Ditto,” I sigh, grabbing my purse from the back of my chair.

Happy fucking birthday to me.

feedback part 2

[softagenda]

aperitif (ais)

ais x reader(f)

food au / short fic

series: birds of a feather ; aperitif

originally posted on ao3

masterlist

Preview:

“He wants you to become one with the Seaspring. To bind your soul and body within this temple. To drown forever in these waters.”

His hand slid up your back and sunk into your hair. He crushed your mouth against his, more bite than kiss, his breath hot against your face. “Sometimes, sparrow,” he said softly, pressing the words into your lips, “I want that too.”

______________

A thin trail of cigarette smoke issued from the open maw of the Seaspring’s temple.

You felt the tension leave your shoulders, breathing in a lungful of briny air as you breached the steps and entered. This must be what it felt like, to tread on the tongue of a colossal whale: humid, salty air drifting around you, almost cloying to the skin; the arching red gates and rafters forming the palate, stalwart pillars covered in white talismans like teeth; a lake of blood pooling below like saliva.

As you surveyed the room, a form lounged between the pillars on the left, one long leg hanging over the pier, his boot stirring the water below. Your gazes met over the embering butt of a cigarette, his eyes glowing amidst the shadow and gloom of the temple.

You waited for a moment, gauging his mood, but, when the corner of his mouth slowly rose, you approached. The pier creaked underneath your boots, the talisman’s fluttering against the current of air.

 “There you are.”

Ais took another long drag from his cigarette before a smirk curled his mouth. “Missed me?”

“Not you.” You instead knelt next to the Soulless lounging at his hip, three tails writhing with what you’d come to recognize as happiness. “Hey, good girl. I brought you a little something.”

Reaching into your bag, you tugged out a parcel wrapped in butcher paper. Once the massive hunk of meat and bone was revealed, Princess leapt to her feet and whined, prancing on the pier. You checked to make sure all the paper had come away clean before lifting it with both hands and offering it.

Vicious jaws bit with savage glee into the middle, sending rivulets of blood falling to the ancient wood below. She spun to the left and leaned into Ais, as if to show him the gift proudly, before he gently guided her back with a hand on her shoulder. 

“Good for you, Princess,” he said with a smile, the hard lines around his eyes softening a bit. “Mind eating over there? You’re dripping.”

With a happy whine, she took her prize a few yards away and began tucking in with glee. You smiled but glanced away, ignoring the visceral wet sounds of hundreds of teeth gnashing into meat and scraping against bone. 

“Where’s mine?”

You dropped down across from him, crossing your legs and propping your back against the pillar. “Jealous?” you asked, an echo of before that had his mouth curling again. “Have you been a good boy?” 

“Doubt it.”

“Then,” you continued, “earn it.”

“Woof.”

Glowing red eyes watched you, their depths inscrutable, as he took another pull from the cigarette. The smoke curled from around his lips, slipping from the cracks in his teeth. The shadows under his eyes had darkened since you last saw him, the hollows in his cheeks deeper.

“You weren’t at the Wick the other day,” you said, careful to keep your voice level. “Skipping out on your tab?”

Smoke exuded from his nose as he sighed, head drifting back as his eyes closed. “Hm. Didn’t feel like company. Pissed I didn’t show?”

“No. Not like we’d agreed to meet,” you said easily. That was true - though over the past few months, it had become something of a regular thing: moseying into the Wick some time after dusk, having a drink with the other at the bar, sometimes lazing the night away in the booth in the corner, nursing pints and heckling Leander. “And now?” At his look, you added, “feel like company?”

“If I don’t?”

Witha short nod, you swept your bag over your shoulder and prepared to leave, when Ais’s eyes opened. “Stay.”

“Ass,” you murmured under your breath but slouched back to the ground. 

In silence, you watched the water, the blood red surface still as stained glass. Ais resettled, his head back, eyes closed, his expression almost meditative except for the furrow on his brow. Once in a while the cigarette was lifted, his frowning mouth wrapping around the end, before another ghost exhumed from his lips.

You sat back, content to wait, thoughts drifting hazily as though you were spread out on a sunny hillside rather than the threshold of hell. 

Ais could be mercurial at times - his moods swinging from playful smirks to grim contemplation, sharp with an icy rage or coddled by an almost drowsy boredom, with little warning. Some of that you knew was due to the Seaspring and the hivemind created amongst those who had drunk from the water, but it was difficult to tell how much. 

Every now and then, Ais would disappear for a while, locked somewhere deep in this temple, and resurface after a time, his countenance steadier, more controlled. You couldn’t be sure - you had only known him for a few months, after all - but you wondered if that was his time to center himself amidst the hundreds of others swimming through the hivemind’s pool.

Hours could have passed before you felt his gaze on your face. The cigarette was barely a nub between his fingers. He dropped it into an iron tray by the tea kettle with a flick of his wrist and watched you for a long moment before he lifted his hand. 

You lifted one brow in silent question, but Ais just curled his fingers, beckoning.

With narrowed eyes, you sighed before rising from your slouch and approaching him. Once in range, his hand whipped out and grabbed your arm, tugging you into his lap. Your knees hit the ground behind his hips, burning white hot for a moment before aching like a fresh bruise. 

Muffling a curse into the front of his kimono, you sat back on his thighs, pushing against the hand that had settled on the small of your back. “Here I thought you wanted to earn that ‘good boy’ title,” you griped, shooting a glare at the mouth just inches away.

But Ais wasn’t teasing as you’d expected. His mouth, rather than twisting into a smirk, had stiffened, a muscle flexing on his tight jaw. Red eyes bore into you, the color of wine, not bright with humor but full of a deep, bottomless darkness that hooked into you with a strange mixture of trepidation and desire.

“Far from it,” he said, his voice low and empty. Before you could react, his hips turned, both legs hanging over the pier, as he slowly leaned forward. 

Your arms, once draped loosely around his shoulders, now clenched around him as he held you over the Seaspring with an arm bracing your back. Your hands clutched fistfuls of the kimono, the fabric slippery between your sweaty fingers. 

Ais continued to bend until your back was near parallel to the surface of the water. Out of growing panic, your legs had wrapped around him, thighs gripping as tightly as you could hold. 

“Ais,” you started, but froze, the words caught in your throat.

His face turned toward you, burrowing deeper into your neck, his lips brushing against your ear. “Sometimes, the thought of you drinking from the Seaspring grows inside me.” His nose trailed against your cheek as until his mouth hovered against yours. “I dream of it. Taking a drink myself. Letting the blood pool in my mouth. Then…” A brush of hot, wet tongue teased against your lips, trying to coax you into opening for him.

A shudder ran down your back. Heat pooled and thrummed between your thighs, even as your stomach twisted at the idea. You’re caught between fear and desire, struggling to keep pace with him.

“Or like this,” he continued, his body pressed tightly to your front as he lowered you ever closer to the water. You realize with a thread of panic that the ends of your hair were now dipping beneath the surface. “Trapping you in my arms, and just… sliding in.” 

Something hard and unyielding pressed against your groin, rubbing against you.

You swallowed thickly, staring into his eyes. The simmering red had been completely subsumed within the black. An abyss peered back at you.

“He whispers it, in my head.” His arm loosened at your back, dropping you another inch closer to the water even as your legs and arms tightened desperately. 

The words sent icy fear flooding through your veins. He whispers it, in my head. That could only mean one thing, one being. A name you had only heard once before.

Ocudeus.

 “The thought of losing you, of someone taking you far from here,” Ais whispered, his voice rough. “He wants you to become one with the Seaspring. To bind your soul and body within this temple. To drown forever in these waters.”

His hand slid up your back and sunk into your hair. He crushed your mouth against his, more bite than kiss, his breath hot against your face. “Sometimes, sparrow,” he said softly, pressing the words into your lips, “I want that too.”

For a long moment, you hung there over the still water, holding him as tight as you could. You felt cold, your body paralyzed with fear.

Beneath you came the sound of faint, thin pops of air. Bubbles. One, two, a cluster breaching the surface. 

A scream was building in your throat. Instead of giving in to it, you stared into his eyes, searching. “You’d have to think of a new nickname for me,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Sparrows can’t swim.” 

You licked your lips, your tongue just brushing against his, and - there. A flicker of that familiar red curling around his pupil. “‘Seagull’ doesn’t have - quite as nice a ring to it,” you gasped, heart pounding in your chest. 

The bubbles were emerging more frequently at your back, the water gurgling, near boiling.

A thin whine from nearby cut through the air.

Just as it seemed the Seaspring might reach up and wash you beneath its undertow, you’re jerked upward. As easily as he might a bag of flour, Ais rolled you both back onto the pier. Stars burst behind your eyes as your head knocked on the pier, your hair snagging on splinters and nail heads.

Blinking through the pain, you forced your eyes open.

Ais was braced over you, his hair drifting about his face, the white tips hovering along his jaw and his horns. He was stiff and pale, his jaw taut, his eyes clenched shut as he fought himself. 

When you twitched, his whole body tightened around you. His hand beneath your head which had once softened the blow, now slid down and gripped your nape, holding you in place. The silver pendant that rested on his chest now nestled against your collar, a cool kiss of metal against your clammy skin.

Panting, shaken, you laid there without complaint as your body slowly calmed. 

After a long moment, the tension seeped from him, a tidal wave easing back into the ocean. His eyes opened, and the familiar bright, brimming red finally set your heart at ease.

His lips parted but no words came forth. He seemed unsure what to say.

Gathering your courage, you sighed, “... good boy.”

Ais blinked. 

Stared, inscrutable, for a tense pause before his head hung between his shoulders. His forehead dropped against your collar bone, his face practically nestled in your chest, and just like that your heart was thundering again, knocking insistently at your rib cage. 

He tilted his face toward you, his cheek rubbing against your shirt like a cat. “Do I get my treat now?”

“Think you deserve it?” you shot back, still shaken, but fighting through it to smirk. “After that performance… maybe I should muzzle you.” 

Ais hummed, his hands idly stroking up your waist. “Would find a way to bite you regardless.”

“How about you bite my buns instead, if you’re so desperate for a nibble?”

His brows rose, but Ais smirked, his hands drifting lower, headed for your ass. “Read my mind, sparrow.” He managed to grab two, squeezing handfuls while you were reaching above your head and digging through your bag. 

Wiggling out from under him and sitting up, you pushed another parcel into his now empty hands, flushing hot beneath your clothes. “These buns, asshole.”

Bemused, Ais maneuvered himself back into his preferred seat, leaning against the pillar with one knee drawn up. He inspected the parcel before unwrapping the edges. Three golden balls of bread were crowded together, their skins glazed with butter and lightly roasted. Inside, he’d find braised meat and chopped root vegetables, all marinated in a spicy sweet sauce.

He looked up, that fanged smile spreading across his face. “Really did miss me, huh. Sap.”

Huffing, you avoided his gaze and stared out over the water, drawn inevitably to the place where the Seaspring had begun to boil. The surface was once again calm, the depths impossible to distinguish. A shiver slipped down your spine, the hair on the back rising. 

“Here.” 

A bun hovered in front of your mouth. You stared him down over the top. 

“Sharing is caring. Can’t be known as that terrible of a host,” he said dryly, “Think of my reputation.”

“You just want your balls in my mouth,” you grumbled but bit into the bun to hide your smile as he grinned again. 

“Been told the taste is to die for.”

“Who told you that, Vere? I guess he would know.” 

“Ask him. Get a second opinion.”

“An expert opinion, I bet. I’ll do that.”

Debating the point amidst bites from the mean buns, you sank into the comfort of the familiar as that moment grew further and further away. Princess, evidently finished obliterating her cow shoulder, approached and curled up next to you for a post-dinner nap, her head resting on your thighs. She seemed a little unsettled but calmed after a couple scritches. 

As you stroked her head and fed her the last of your bun, all beneath the soft, dark veil of Ais’s gaze, you resolved to tuck that memory to the side for now, to examine later. 

The first true moment that the Seaspring’s maw attempted to swallow you whole.

__________________

a/n: thanks for reading!

[open-hearth-rpg]

#RPGCovers Week Ten Rolemaster series (1985 on) Angus McBride

In my youth, there was a cohort of players about five years older than me, some of them part of my sister’s crew and others just among the rabble at the game shop. There was a certain kind of “elitism” to what folks played. When Champions came along, Villains & Vigilantes became passe for example. Rolemaster, in its original incarnation of heavy stock parchment booklets and glossy magazine-style supplements, was one of those. It was the fantasy rpg the cool, older kids played. 

And throughout high school it was what I gravitated towards, giving up on AD&D entirely for the more rarified air of RM (ironically paired with Harn, but that’s another story). Rolemaster at that point was a weird set of printings and editions, a mess which looked incoherent and made it hard to tell folks exactly what they actually needed to buy.

Then in 1985 Iron Crown Enterprises consolidated everything into a set of books with a standard cover design and unified art. These became the standard for years (if you ignore the layout and design of the weird Rolemaster Companions). What really pull them together, beyond the book design, was McBride. 

Angus McBride had already been doing Middle Earth RPG covers for years. They were all great. Before that he’d been an illustrator for various Osprey Men-at-Arms series, bridging that gap between wargaming grognards and role-players. These RM were great because we got to see repeating, iconic characters– kind of a first I think. I don’t know that we’d had other games with recurring figures and an implied story. 

The first three books: Character Law & Campaign Law, Arms Law & Claw Law, and Spell Law used them effectively. Plus you could now buy a box that had all of them bundled together. Ten years later, ICE would reuse these images with a new cover design for their Rolemaster Standard System, with a few new books with new illustrations by McBride that sort of fit in with the existing story and sort of didn’t make any sense (see Creatures & Monsters). But as Rolemaster began to crash and go through multiple editions and changes, they lost control of their cover designs, leading to an absolute chaos that, ironically, felt more like first edition’s mess.

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

The Scottish winter scuppered plans for a second domestic series of Men in Kilts.

Sam Heughan revealed he had hoped to make a follow-up to the 2021 Starz TV show and Clanlands book which was set in Scotland.

But the 43-year-old Outlander star has revealed the follow-up, which was filmed in New Zealand, was moved down under due to a combination of short days and the schedule of his and co-star Graham McTavish, 63.

He said: “We initially looked at options in Scotland, doing another season of the show exploring the north of Scotland, Shetland, its ties to Scandinavia, Ireland etc.

“I am very much interested in the Viking influence (growing up in Galloway near Whithorn and the Viking settlement there).

“My initial idea was to do ‘Men in Kilts - in boats!’, have us in Viking longship, speed boats, kayaks, swimming/scuba, however challenges with our schedules meant our window for filming would fall in the winter months, not ideal for daylight in the UK.”

Mr McTavish added: “We’d really enjoyed the first experience and hopefully will do another. We did New Zealand because I live there and New Zealand has a very strong connection with Scotland.

“One in five have Scottish ancestry, and it’s a mirror of Scotland in many ways - the people, the landscape, you can see why the Scots settled so easily.”

And the pair are set to reunite for a third chapter.

Mr McTavish added: “Our sights are set on North America particularly the eastern seaboard, from Nova Scotia down through Maine, New York, Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, places with a strong connection to Scotland.

"There are bears and moose. I’m sure Sam is drawing up a list.”

It is unclear when SH and GMcT were selected and interviewed by the Scottish Sun to reveal their plans 🤔 Whether there are any projects underway at commitment level for a third chapter.

In fact, excavations showed a Norse trading settlement around the Galloway coast. SH was born in New Galloway, which is 34.7 miles (about 55 km) from the Viking settlement of Whithorn; I don't think he went very far to play every day when he was a kid. I don't remember him being interested in Viking Ages, maybe he likes watching Vikings: Valhalla drama series 🤷‍♀️

Filming has never been easy, but filming in the middle of a Scottish winter, in the Shetland islands, during the dark British winters, means that the goal was not clearly defined, unless his idea was to go to Lerwick to the Up Helly Aa parade with torches marching a Viking longship through Lerwick, during the "Shetland Fire Festival", and the idea didn't work. Lerwick Up Helly Aa is a superb spectacle, a celebration of Shetland's history, from the Norse sagas.

But there is something interesting that SH always forgets to mention: in winter 2021 he had a motorcycle accident 🏍️ which would also have prevented him from filming. So the hours of darkness and his demanding schedule led him to an unforeseen change of location for MiK2: he tries to tell a different story and that doesn't convince. He went to New Zealand to have fun and to recover physically from the motorbike accident. MiK2 was filmed when the country was on “Red alert level” 🚩 of the Omicron virus new variant and was closed to foreigners.

There is no doubt they really enjoyed the New Zealand experience because GMcT lives there, and GMcT confirmed that Sam's trip to New Zealand was a "well-deserved" holiday. However the strong connection to Scotland was not present and indeed the mirror of Scotland in New Zealand was not shown in MiK2. A trip dedicated to enjoying adventure adrenaline activities, it was a fantastic holiday.

If he misses Scotland and is looking forward to seeing it on screen with Men in Kilts: why a Roadtrip in North America, why not take up the original idea of doing it in Shetland? Or it will continue with an American romance novel construction about Scotland.

So what is the goal of MiK3, or are these two trying to turn MiK3 into something more than a business? 🤷‍♀️ while SH makes a list?

@dlansing53 His mishap was in Scotland, after a training. On that occasion, he didn't mention anything and tried to cover it up. The accident was mentioned months later in an interview in the U.S. he confirmed that he fractured his knee and tore his MCL, as you can seen in the New Zealand’s photos he received stitches and has a large scar on his left leg after the mishap.

Here at Pharos Athletic Club with Pieter Vodden (He’s not in the picture) trainer in the U.S. he’s not his physio. This photo is from before his trip to New Zealand 🇳🇿

@ajrajraj In Britain Motorcycle is a Motorbike or "Bike" 🏍️ and motorcyclists are called "bikers". When SH says "bike" he fell off a motorbike, not a bicycle. The mishap occurred when he was supposedly on his way home from the gym. SH doesn't go to the gym on a bicycle, he goes on a motorbike 🏍️

After his trip to New Zealand 🇳🇿 He mentioned his accident on the GMA show it was posted by @imahalfemptykindofgirl I reblogged her post

and days later he confirmed it in a talk in Men's Journal. if you are interested you can see both published on my blog.

@ajrajraj On 14 December 2021, on Twitter (X) SH posted that he had been in an accident "on a bike". In a conversation with Charles Thorp of Men's Journal, in the article SH says: he was on a bike, not on a bicycle. If you have the interview where he clarifies that he was on a bicycle, I would like to know more about it, because his injuries did not correspond to this situation.

He limps to the gym to pose for a photo to his fans. He plays stupid games and wins stupid prizes.

[greatyme]

Having some scatterbrained thoughts over ifylita and the way it uses drawings, photography, and the seriality of film. Each of these is an image. The drawings are a reproduction of something Jom really saw in the past which allows him to have faint temporary access to the future. On the other hand, photography is the “exact” reproduction of something one has seen. A literal image that glimpses the past as it “is” for one frozen moment. But Jom isn’t meant to be there, and with every photograph we’re reminded of this fact as he’s fading away. These images continually progress Jom’s journey back into his original time period. In a similar act, we as viewers take part in moving Jom forward. While, yes, the series has already been filmed and edited to completion, it’s our viewership that gives life to the advancement of the series. The more images we watch of Jom, the closer we push him back to the present. Perhaps if we paused the series somewhere between the middle of ep10 after Mr. Robert & Khun Soradech are arrested and before the end of ep10 when Jom notices he’s fading and confesses he’s from the future, we’d have the power to freeze Jom and Yai forever in time together. Of course, no one’s going to do that because we all want to know what happens next. So instead we continue watching, creating more images, and forcing Jom into his time period, thus pulling him & Yai apart.

[3-2-whump]

From your ask game:

(1) share an excerpt you're proud of, and elaborate on why.

(13) which aspects of worldbuilding are your favorites? (if not applicable: which parts of the setting interest you most?)

(16) what sparked [project]? what was the original premise or jumping-off point, and do you have any records of the first notes from its creation?

Omg thank you for the ask!

Writer ask game found here

(1) I think in general I’m really proud of how It Started With A Gray Hair went, but in particular I just really love this part:

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He did both.

Like, this is Khaled’s rock bottom here, mentally speaking, but he is voluntarily doing something he hates and he is doing it on his terms. So, to just be in the worst possible state yet be there on your own terms, to delude yourself into thinking you’re in control when when the world around and within you is falling apart -ugh, I don’t think I can express how much I enjoyed writing that!

(13) A much as I’m convinced I suck at worldbuilding and consequently don’t think I enjoy it (you know, because of the whole ‘I suck at worldbuilding’), I actually enjoy coming up with the names of the gangs and the shadowy entities that run this alternate NY-like setting. (And, to answer the other question, I think the setting that intrigues me the most is Julio’s garage, mostly because it seems like one of the safest places to be in this series.)

(16) Um, so this is gonna sound nuts, but the renewed interest in a certain true crime event during its 10th anniversary got me thinking about how to fictionally whump the person of interest. Yeah, the person who was involved in real-life events that actually impacted real people (pls don’t come at me, I know it’s fucked up) Although, if we go way back -like way, way back- I have been daydreaming about a morally conflicted master and his unfairly attractive slave boy since high school, be it in the middle of class or in the relative privacy of my room. In the initial drafts, master was what we’d call a carewhumper, and he struggled so hard to keep his vices in check, but it was only recently that I was like “hey, what if he didn’t?”

I have notes and sketches dating back to the original concepts. They are very bad lol. We all got to start somewhere though. And no, you may not see them.

[rabidlittlestrawberry]

I posed this a while ago but deleted it immediately.

Here’s a story I wrote that is definitely not autobiographical organ harvesting.

This is original fiction so nobody needs to read it. Enjoy… I guess.

Slice

Do you remember the first time we did this?

I regret the words even before they’ve forced their way up my windpipe. I want to choke them back down. It’s warm out in the field tonight, the clouds sealing in the humidity and coating the sky in a vast, dark blanket. The air sticking to my skin and coating my windpipe and making me say things that should be kept behind the closed doors of my lips.

But when Crissy looks up at me, her expression is bright and open. She smiles. And it looks like it used to. Feels just like it used to.

Maybe everything is fine, maybe everything has always been fine.

The reassurance is only temporary. The clawing burning need only kept at bay for as long as the smile stays on her face. Back with a vengeance as soon as its warm light fades from my skin.

We haul the body onto our shoulders. We have the technique down to a fine art. They aren’t heavy really, not when you get the mechanics of lifting right. Not when there are two of you. Not when you work together.

Of course I do, she flashes teeth. You seemed to come out of nowhere. Asking me about lungs.

It’s ground we’ve trodden before, familiar lines to a familiar script. I find myself smiling.

I just knew.

How did you know? There’s no way you could’ve.

I just had a feeling. Like magic.

It had been magic, that night. Something deeper and bigger than both of us. Than any of us. I’d seen her in the middle of a moonlit field, not unlike the one we are in now. It might be the very same one. People dragging their own vessels all around us, the perfect night for harvesting.

I’d been dragging mine behind me, vying for a good spot. Dreading the mess I was about to make trying to scoop out the insides. To manoeuvre my way under a ribcage. It’s not easy, the small movements, a flick of the wrist, a twitch of the fingers.

I’ve never been any good at subtlety.

I like the blunt force needed to get through to the heart. I always thought there was something honest about it. No need for sleight of hand. A straight shot.

Then there was Crissy. Dragging a body of her own.

Making a line in the grass, moving slowly, but with an ethereal grace. The sheen of sweat on her forehead glittering in the moonlight. White shirt. Not a speck on it.

I didn’t recognise it at the time, what that knowing feels like. She looked up, face turned towards the sky, saying a sacred prayer. I followed her lead, knowing my lips were moving in time with hers.

Her energy was electric as I approached. Connected. Buzzing, amplifying my own.

Are you any good with lungs?

She looks up, bright and grinning. Glowing. Somehow gold in the silvery blue light.

I’m great with them. Can’t ever seem to get to the heart though.

Don’t worry, that’s just what I need.

We worked together that night. I watched her long fingers make delicate cuts, watched crusted nails slip under bone and pull. I never thought it could be so beautiful.

It felt like we’d been doing this for our whole lives. We caught eyes, laughed. Ignoring the sideways looks of strangers, looking only at our work and at each other. You’re supposed to harvest alone. To connect to them with respect, to introduce them to the earth and to your soul. A straight line from your beating heart to their still one. Capturing the essence of life itself in our fragile hands.

You first, she says, and I nod.

Yes.

Me first.

There is a procedure to these things. You can’t just slice and cut and take. It’s more than just a series of motions.

But this is different. We needed to pour our whole selves into the work, and without the other, we were no longer able to do that. We were suddenly one soul, one entity, one connection. There was no end to her and no beginning to me. By the end of the night we were hand in bloodied hand as we said the final prayer. Tossed the vessels into the pit and the organs into the basket.

Maybe we put one or two in our pockets. Nobody had to know. Not to sell, of course. For us, just a taste.

I look at her now and her eyes are all over me, both of us drenched to the bone in memory. I wonder what she sees there. I wonder if we ever really understood each other at all.

You were just what I needed.

I don’t mean to say it, not really. But I don’t take it back.

It’s what I mean. She is what I needed. What I need. Even now, as everything between has turned to rot and rust.

We lapse into silence, more comfortable in living that moment than in this one. When we didn’t know each other at all really, when there was nothing more complicated than two bodies, moving as one together under a clear sky.

Her scalpel glistens in the moonlight. Flowing blood is unusual, especially for one this old. It makes me pause.

I thought this one was from last week?

She frowns. It is. Long dead.

Long dead.

Doesn’t look it.

She examines the scalpel, turning it over and watching the blood drip down her wrist.

Strange.

Wind whipping through us, until the blood ends up splattered on my face. My lips. I lick it clean.

She begins to slice, so I don’t say anything else. We work like we used to. Anticipating each other’s movements, dancing around each other. One cut here. An artery there. Veins pulled like strings over a violin.

You take the heart, I’ll take the lungs.

We cut with precision. We beat in time.

For a moment, everything might still be the same. We still know how to be. Still made of the same stuff, at our core. Still understand each other. Still, still, still.

I aim right for the chest. Crack through ribcage and the sternum and carve out space for myself. Destroying everything delicate in my wake. An approach that only works sometimes, when it isn’t making an awful mess.

Where have you been?

The question almost blown away with the wind, but she reacts as if I’d spoken directly into her ear. Immediately, I regret darkening the nostalgic glow we’d been engulfed in, bringing us crashing back to the present. I’ve never been any good at subtlety.

I’ve been busy.

She looks me dead in the eye. Her sterile words their own blade on my skin. I swallow my reply along with my feelings. How can I argue with that? We’ve all been busy lately. Too busy for the small things that used to worry us. Too busy for things that don’t matter, too busy for our usual chores.

This isn’t about you, her eyes say. Grow up.

I feel as if it’s my organs on display. Not sure if she’s pressing down on my lungs or if I am tearing out my own heart. Maybe the suffocating silence has been all in my head after all. People have lives and problems and responsibilities that have nothing to do with me. I shouldn't have taken it so personally, shouldn’t have let her know I’d taken it so personally.

If I’d stayed silent, we might have been able to sweep it all away. Play pretend until we forgot all of the jagged broken pieces that lay between us. Maybe then I’d still be clinging to the corners of her smile with white-knuckled determination. To the time when we didn’t need words, when we had an understanding that ran soul deep, that lived beyond blood and bone and sinew.

I never used to feel like this. Hanging by the thread of her waning attention. I didn’t know she had curled herself around the air until I couldn’t take a breath without her. Too late.

In my most honest moment, I know that it could never last. Nothing so fragile and sacred could ever be kept. Not malleable enough to fit into any other shape than this. I try to trace the roots of where we are now, follow the map of resentment back to a single moment.

A night one moon ago, a night just like this one. I brought a vessel alone. She was tired and late and I thought I could help.

Let me do it.

Let me take care of you.

You take on too much. Give some of it to me. Give all of it to me, I can take it, I can hold all of it. Let me. Let me.

When she arrived, I’d managed to get the vessel to the middle of the field. Crissy had looked down at it. At her. The vessel had been a woman, I just hadn’t thought to check. It didn’t usually matter.

Stares down at the body with wide eyes, letting the wind blow her hair across her face. I can see her breath leaving her in small puffs.

I know her.

Is that going to be a problem?

No. No, it’s fine.

Sleight of hand. Subtle seeds of resentment that didn’t make a sound as they sprouted.

You first.

Me first.

Maybe there was something in her eyes, in the tight press of her lips as I plunged the scalpel directly through her chest. It's not as if I’d killed her. It was a beautiful thing really. She’d always loved how I worked. Intertwining my life force with the organs, creating the food of existence itself, ripe for consumption. It makes the skin younger, the mind sharper. It is a beautiful thing to take something apart.

That was the first crack in the smooth glass of what we were. The first hairline fracture that splintered out until a strong gust of wind could shatter us to a million jagged pieces.

Now, the blood runs into the ground as I work, flowing until it sits in a puddle around me, soaking through the knees of my jeans. There are too many clouds tonight, pressing down, trapping the heat. Blocking out the moonlight that usually guides me as I work.

And it’s wrong. Something is terribly wrong.

As I reach my fist into the cavern of the chest my slick fingers close around the heart, muscle memory kicking in as I pull with the strength gained from years of practice. And–

The heart jumps in my hands. Just a quick one-two. There in an instant and then gone. The chest seems to rattle with the dregs of an impossible breath in the corpse’s lungs. I struggle to hold myself still, not to jump back in shock, not to move at all. It is a delicate process and I cannot stop once I have started.

I look into her face and know somehow that she did this. To punish or test or catch me, I don’t know. Or maybe she just has too much life, so much energy that she can keep old blood flowing, a dead heart beating.

No amount of prodding and poking can resurrect what’s already dead. Even if it moves, even if it bleeds, even if the heart is still pulsing in aborted judders under my hands.

And Crissy is looking at me expectantly, like nothing in the world is wrong.

You first.

Right.

Me first.

[byericacameron]

Hi! I figure you have a ton of asks so I’ll try to keep this brief but I read Island of Exiles in fifth grade (a little young? maybe. but I had free rein of the library and inhaled books faster than my parents could keep track of), and it absolutely changed my life. Not only did I love it (and find out just how much I could ship a ship, that is, as much as a fifth grader can), but the existence of a third gender in your fictional society started the wheels turning in my own mind of just how much I wanted that, and honestly, I don’t think I would have figured out I was nonbinary if not for your book. It was a long and hard journey of identity and it would have been so much harder if my sheltered self hadn’t had anything or anyone to relate to at all. Not to mention how me and my twin incorporated your magic system and world into the stories we’d dream up for hours every night. A few years later, I went looking for the other books and ultimately gave up on reading the rest of the series because the third had been out of print at the time and I didn’t think I’d be able to handle another cliffhanger ending of the second if it was like the first, but this time, unresolved forever. But recently I started thinking about it again, did some googling, and saw they were re-released— and let’s just say that my day and maybe my year is made. I’m so unbelievably excited to fall in love with this universe and these characters all over again. From the bottom of both my heart and that of my eleven year old self, thank you for sharing your writing and, by extension, your soul with us all.

Okay, first off...

And possibly all of my 2023. Many readers assume that authors receive hundreds of emails and messages, but for a lot of authors who aren't New York Times bestsellers, that's not true. Messages like this are incredibly rare, and I deeply appreciate you taking the time to send this to me.

It means more than I can say that you identified so strongly with the way I described gender and society in The Ryogan Chronicles. A huge part of why I included a standard third gender and made bisexuality a more standard norm is that I wanted people to see how easily we could shape our society to be just as equal and inclusive. For readers who had never heard of intersex, trans, bi, or ace people, this was a chance to see them portrayed in a story where they could go on adventures and live in a world where they weren't judged for who they were but for what they did. I hoped this might help some readers understand those who were different from them. It's even better if the story somehow helped you figure something out about yourself.

Writing and reading have helped me figure things out about myself before, too, so I know a little bit of what you're feeling. For me, it was a lot later in my life that these realizations came because representation like I now include in my books didn't exist in any of the stories I read growing up. Maybe if stories had been more inclusive when I was in elementary and middle school, I would have walked a very different path in my teens and twenties.

Honestly, it's the rare messages like yours that kept me working toward re-publishing the Ryogan Chronicles series even after my original publisher pulled them from print. I knew it was unlikely that the series would suddenly explode in popularity or anything like that, but it was worth the work for the few people I knew would care about being able to finally reach the end of Khya's journey.

As a bonus, because I had complete control over everything that went into the new versions, I was able to include multiple maps and other special features to make the books even more special.

The whole series is finally available again on Amazon. I hope you enjoy the final book even half as much as you enjoyed the beginning of the series, and maybe one day you'll come up with your own wonderful world that can help the next generation figure something out about themselves. Keep reading and keep writing, even if it's just for yourself and your friends/family, and thank you again for letting me know you were out there. Readers like you are exactly why I wrote this series, and you're also why I made sure I eventually got these books back out into the world.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. I hope you have a wonderful New Years full of new stories and wonderful new experiences!

[ncisfranchise-source]

Last TV season gave us the first-ever three-way crossover involving a trio of NCIS series: the original, D.C.-set mothership, NCIS: Los Angeles, and relative newcomer NCIS: Hawai’i.

NCIS: LA has since bid us adieu, ending after 13 seasons, but with the arrival of NCIS: Sydney, the question becomes: Is another three-way crossover in the cards for the well-watched, now-international franchise?

After all, though NCIS: Sydney long ago wrapped filming its eight-episode season — and a Season 2 has not yet been ordered — members of its cast could ostensibly guest-star on an upcoming episode of NCIS and/or Hawai’i, both of which just started production after the months-long Hollywood labor strikes.

It just would require at least some nifty on-screen logistics to have an in-person crossover, seeing as Hawai’i is a good 10-hour flight from Sydney, and the Washington. D.C. area is at least 14 hours from the Aloha State.

“As I have said before, part of the thrill of a franchise like this is that it’s a universe that’s stitched together by a common DNA,” O’Neill, a Sydney native, went on to say. “We’d love to crossover with those guys, and there would be some pretty exciting ways that you could crossover — with Hawai’i in particular, given that it’s relatively close” to Australia. “It’s definitely right there in the middle.”

But at the very least, O’Neil conceded, an NCIS: Sydney actor could simply guest-star on the other NCIS shows via an MTAC video conference or some such remote appearance.

“The audiences should feel like those crossover episodes, which are such fan favorites, are definitely top of our mind,” he reiterated.

Heck time it right, for when LL Cool J is still playing NCIS: LA‘s Special Agent Sam Hanna on NCIS: Hawai’i, and one might even tout it as a historic 4-way crossover!

[gacmediadaily]

EXCLUSIVE: Great American Media, the faith and family-focused company that launched in 2021 under Bill Abbott, is the latest to get hit with layoffs.

Deadline has learned that roughly 13 people were cut from top jobs on Monday, including Loren Schwartz, Chief Marketing Officer; Jamie Kramer, EVP Digital & Strategic Growth; Max Pinigin, Chief Financial Officer; Angela Sullivan, VP Corporate Communications, Brian Pancarik, Exec VP User Experience & Operations; Michael Hough, Head of Financial Planning and Analysis; and Nicole Gardner, Pure Flix Creative Director.

In a statement released to Deadline, the company said, “In 2023, Sony invested in Great American Media and rolled its PureFlix streaming video on demand service into GAM’s business to be run by GAM management for the purpose of maximizing the synergies between the two.  On the heels of a highly successful year, we excelled with our Christmas launch and we kicked off 2024 hosting the Rose Parade, announced the network’s first-ever original series, “County Rescue,” and announced the launch of our own mystery franchises. And we will be launching even more programming, content and experiences throughout the year.”

“We are now looking to maximize the synergies of our brands just as NetFlix narrowed its focus this year, we are taking steps to focus on our strengths,” the statement continued. “We are a streaming platform with a linear audience approaching 70 milion viewers in our platforms and our objective is to maximize the synergies between the audiences.  Technology is critical to our success, so the decision was made to align the technology intersection with content marketing to enhance the viewer and consumer experience across platforms, meet our viewers where they are with the content they want.  With an experienced CTO, we consolidated key marketing functions into our technology team to align our marketing and technology platforms to ensure we maximize synergies between our estimated 70 million linear/cable viewers and our leading faith, family and streaming offering, Great American Pure Flix.”

Before the layoffs, Great American Family has said business has been robust. It says it entered the 2023 Christmas season by posting 12 consecutive months as TV’s fastest growing linear channel. 

And in a statement released Monday, Abbott said, “We are continuing to build on the phenomenal growth of our media brand and are excited to now fully capitalize on the synergies now available with Sony and Great American Pure Flix. Our portfolio of content is a trusted source of family friendly and faith-based entertainment, and our 2023 results greatly exceeded our expectations.”

The statement came with the announcement that GAF is getting into the scripted series business by launching County Rescue, an action-adventure medical drama starring Julia Reilly (Stranger Things) as an EMT in training. The five-episode first season will premiere on Great American Pure Flix beginning February 16 and on Great American Family beginning February 17. Great American Pure Flix is the company’s streaming service that was rebranded in September 2023.

GAF is also planning a Q1 launch of mystery franchises — original movies centered on the lighter side of mysteries and whodunnits and starring fan favorites from the network’s family of talent.

In an interview with Deadline in September, Abbott admitted that running a new network in this current environment has been a challenge.

“I would never have thought we’d be at the point where we still were running pretty hard,” he said. “We’re in the middle of an advertising recession, the strike, and cord cutting accelerating. There are a number of overall macro factors that have made the business that much more difficult in 2023 than we anticipated in 2021. And then you add to that the competition and the model being very much in question around how ultimately programmers get paid for creating great content. We know the streaming model needs a lot of work and is underwater in a lot of places. So there are big challenges out there that make it that much tougher.”

[starset21]

Sincerely, Yours

Standard disclaimer: I only own my original characters, I've done some research but there will likely be Navy/military inaccuracies, and I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may be found is on tumblr and Wattpad under @.itswildflower A/N: I hate having to say this but please leave a comment or reblog because I have no idea if people are actually reading this series and if people are liking it. Summary: The results of the bird strike and Ria gets to spend time with Jake before getting some bad news

Looking for previous chapters? Sincerely, Yours Masterlist  

Chapter 7:

Ria grunted as she landed harshly, collapsing to the ground as her shute drifted down behind her. She checked herself over and only found a few scrapes but knew she would definitely be sore later. “Elliot!” She yelled as she took off her helmet and began looking for where he landed. When she heard no response she untangled herself from her shute cords and walked a little ways away from it. “Elliot!” she yelled again. “Ria!” he called out climbing up and over a hill to where they finally spotted each other. Elliot raced down the slope, taking her into his arms. The two felt like they could breathe again now that they were holding onto one another. “I’m so sorry Eli,” Ria cried into his chest. “Hey, hey, Ria- look,” he said, brushing the hair that had come loose from the bun she’d had it in back from her eyes. She wouldn’t look him in the eyes. “Indira Kazansky! Look at me. I am right here. We are both alive and we are both ok. You did your job.” Tears ran down Ria’s face but she looked at him. “You did your job,” he told her again and she nodded, burying her face into his chest again. Elliot pressed a kiss to her head as he held her tightly. A Coast Guard MH-60T Jayhawk soars over the landscape toward the two aviators. It landed on the desert floor and a crew member came to check them out and help them to the helo. Soon enough Ria was strapped in beside Elliot and one of the rescue crew members and laying her head on Elliot’s shoulder, exhaustion setting in. 

They are brought to the base hospital to get checked out, per protocol. The flight medic found nothing life-threatening but wanted to be completely sure. They weren’t allowed visitors until their commanding officer had been briefed on exactly what had occurred. The nurse was in the middle of applying a butterfly closure to the cut on Ria’s forehead when Admiral Simpson walked in. “Admiral,” Ria and Elliot greeted the latter wincing as a nurse prodded at one of the more noticeable bruises on his wrist. “At ease, I just have a few questions to ask.” The head nurse turned to look at the Admiral. “They’re pretty banged up, we’d like to keep them overnight for observation, just in case something changes.” The Admiral nodded before dismissing them. Ria motioned for him to ask away. “In the course of training, have you felt Captain Mitchell was forcing you beyond your natural abilities?” he asked and Ria furrowed a brow. “No, sir,” she responded immediately. “Would you say that his training left you no margin for error?” he asked. “We suffered a double engine failure at low altitude. We had no choice but to eject sir,” she replied. The Admiral turned to Elliot. “Would you say that his training left you no margin for error?” The two aviators share a look. “Don’t look at her. Answer the question. Would you say that his training left you no margin for error?” the Admiral demanded. “I know what you want me to say, sir. I’m not going to say it,” Elliot said firmly. “We did what the mission calls for. It was a bird strike that cause engine failure. Captain Mitchell is not responsible for what happened out there,” Ria told him, not backing down. 

 Maverick waited anxiously in the waiting room. Cyclone emerges from the room and approaches him. There is a long, uncomfortable pause as Cyclone ponders what to say. “Admiral.” Maverick and Cyclone turn their heads to see Warlock and Hondo approaching. “At the request of Hondo here, I’ve just been down to inspect Captain Mitchell’s plane,” Warlock tells the other Admiral. Cyclone looks to Hondo. “Well?” he asked. “Bird strike, sir,” Hondo tells the man. “Come again?” the Admiral asks. “There’s bird guts all down the starboard side of Mav- Of Captain Mitchell’s plane, sir. Lieutenant Kazanksy was flying in tight formation with him. I’m guessing the wreckage will show she took a flock of birds head-on.” Cyclone looks at Maverick for another beat, then walks away. Warlock follows, leaving Maverick and Hondo to share a look. “Go check on them, see for yourself that they’re ok,” Hondo advised, seeing the almost haunted look in Mav’s eyes. Maverick nodded before turning down the hallway where their room was. He knocked gently on the door twice before he opened it to see Ria and her wizzo talking quietly. Elliot stiffened, immediately shutting up. “Captain,” he greeted. “At ease Lieutenants,” Maverick said, not moving further than the doorway. “I’m so glad you both are alright, you did good,” he said after a moment. “I should have seen them coming,” Ria said, looking down. “I hardly saw them until they hit my canopy, you did absolutely everything right, there was no fault today,” he reassured. “I’ll leave you guys to get some rest now. Good work today,” he told them before turning and leaving the pair alone once again. 

“Can I help you?” a nurse at the front desk asked him as Jake walked up. “I’m looking for Indira Kazanksy, she was brought in a few hours ago,” he told her. The woman raised a brow. “Relation to the patient?” she asked. “Boyfriend,” Jake said with no hesitation. “Oh, alright,” she hummed before typing a few things into the computer. “Visiting hours are over in an hour. Room 189,” the nurse told him. “Thank you, ma’am,” Jake replied before turning to head down the hallway toward the room he had been told. He knocked on the door gently before opening it to see Denver quietly talking on his phone to someone and Ria laying on her side with her eyes closed, resting. Denver smiled at him before nodding his head over in Ria’s direction. Jake nodded as he walked further into the room, hesitating for a moment before making his way over to her bedside. Jake reached out to gently tuck a few stands that lingered around her face behind an ear. Ria’s eyes fluttered at the contact before opening and revealing her blue eyes. “Jake?” she says quietly. “Hey,” he whispers, withdrawing his hand as he takes a seat in the chair beside her bed. “What are you doing here Jake?” she asks, sitting up and adjusting the pillow she had been resting on. “Had to come to check on you myself,” he told her simply. “Didn’t they tell you guys we were fine?” she yawned. “Yeah, just needed to see you, that’s all.” Ria felt like she could just melt into a puddle at his words. “You scared the crap out of me Ria, hearing everything that happened,” Jake said quietly. Ria reached out for his hand, and he gave it to her, ‘m, right here,” she whispered, squeezing his hand before placing it right on her heart. Jake nods and allows it to rest there for a moment. Ria frowned as he went to remove his hand, grabbing it before he could go very far. She scooted over and patted the bed beside her, silently asking Jake to lay with her. He obliges, carefully laying beside her and wrapping her into his arms, almost sighing with relief as she lays her head on his chest and closes her eyes.  

It can’t have been longer than a few hours before she’s shaken awake by a nurse and Jake moving to stand. “I’m sorry honey, there are some men here to see you and visiting hours are over,” the nurse whispers, checking her monitors. Ria rubbed at her eyes as Jake stretches his arms over his head, thanking the nurse quietly for letting him stay as long as she did, looking over at Elliot who was now sitting up, his eyes focused on the two uniformed men standing in the doorway. Following her backseaters gaze, Ria recognizes the uniformed men and her hand darts out to grab Jake’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Miss Kazansky, we have some news for you if you’d come with us,” the one on the left says. Ria shakes her head. “No. no. They- they can hear too,” she says, her voice a little hoarse. She had a feeling she knew what they were going to say. “Very well, we regret to inform you miss Kazansky, that your father, Admiral Tom Kazansky has passed away in his home of San Diego, California.” Ria swallows, their words sinking in. She licked her lips before nodding. “Thank you for the information, I have my support system here, so you are dismissed,” she says professionally and the two men look at her, unsure. “Do I need to repeat myself sir?” she asks. Jake gives them a look and they both shake their heads. “Very well ma’am, goodnight.” Jake takes a seat on the edge of her bed, pulling her into a tight hug as Elliot begins shifting his thin blanket so he can get up. “I’m sorry to say this, but visiting hours are over. Mr. Seresin will need to be leaving now,” the nurse spoke up. Ria clutched Jake tighter at her words, burying her face in his chest, silent tears streaming. “Can’t he stay, just for the night?” Elliot whispers to the nurse. “She’s just been told her dad is dead, surely you can make an exception.” The nurse bit her lip. “I suppose I can, but if anyone asks, he’s her fiance,” she said after a moment and Elliot thanked her profusely. “Alright, push the call button if you three need anything,” she said before she briskly exited the room. Elliot makes his way over to sit on Ria’s other side, rubbing her back soothingly as she cried into Jake’s shirt. 

The next morning Jake had dropped Elliot off at his temporary housing and proceeded to drive Ria to her parents home. She was silent the whole drive but as soon as he put the truck in park Ria was out and running for the front door. Junior opened the door and Ria immediately pulled him in for a tight hug, whispering words of love as he clutched onto his big sister. Ria sniffled as she felt him loosen his grip and took that as he was ready for her to let go of him. Jake had slowly made his way up the few steps to the front porch. “Atlas is up in Mari’s room with her. Mom’s in their room,” Tj tells her and she nods before clearing her throat. “Tj, I dont know if you remember him but this is-” Ria begins only to be cut off by her younger brother. “Jake. I remember,” he deadpans.  Jake rubs the back of his neck almost sheepishly. “Right well, I’m going to go up and see Mari, then mom, be nice to him,” Ria says before heading for the stairs. “You hurt my sister again and I swear to whoever is out there you’ll regret it, Rhett’s not here to threaten you anymore but I’ll do it for him,” Ria manages to hear Tj tell Jake from her position halfway up the stairs. She smiles softly, before knocking twice on Mari’s door before opening it to see her sitting up in her bed, watching something mindless on her tv, Atlas laying across her legs. 

Atlas lifted his head and looked at her as Ria crossed the room and sat down beside her little sister, scratching Atlas’s head in greeting. Ria opens her arms and Mari then flings herself into them, Atlas jumping up at the movement before settling across Ria’s legs. “Why weren’t you here last night?” she mumbles into Ria’s chest. “Mari, love, I can barely hear you when you do that,” Ria begins, “But if you asked where I was last night I was in the base hospital, I uh, I had a little bit of training mishap and they kept me and Elliot overnight, wouldn’t release us,” she told the 13-year-old. Mari squeezed Ria a little tighter at her words. “Easy Mari, I’m still a little sore,” Ria laughed. “I could have lost you too,” Mari begins sobbing. Ria softened at her words, “Mari, honey, it’s always a possibility with my job, you know that.” Mari just cried more and it hurt Ria’s heart. “You also know that I do absolutely everything I can to come home,” Ria told her. “Rhett didn’t come home though,” Mari sniffled and Ria just squeezed the younger girl to her tighter. “I know Mari, and it sucks, but we knew the risks when we signed up. We keep his memory alive through us all, and we’ll do the same for Dad too.” Mari cried for a bit longer and Ria just held her through it. Eventually, Mari fell asleep and Ria carefully picked her up off of her and placed her back in the middle of her bed. Atlas moved to lay beside Mari and Ria patted his head before leaving to go check on her mom.

She carefully walked down the hallway to her parents room, knocking gently before entering. “Hey mama,” she greets softly, seeing her mother curled up on the big bed with the pillow her father had used tucked in her arms. Sarah Kazansky in her pajamas looks up at her eldest daughter with unshed tears in her eyes. “Hi, baby,” she whispers, setting the pillow back into its place and opening her arms. Ria crawled onto the bed beside her mother, welcoming the embrace. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “He’s not in pain anymore,” her mother replied. Ria sniffled and nodded as her mother tightened her grip on her daughter. “How are Tj and Mari?” her mother asks softly. “They’re as ok as they can be momma,” Ria told her. “And you?” she asks. “I’m ok, mama. I’ll always be ok,” she told her mother. Sarah pushed some of the hair out of Ria’s eyes. “You’ve always been my strong and independent girl, it’s ok if you aren’t,” she said. “I know mama, I know.” Her mother squeezed her tightly for a moment. 

A portrait of Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky presides over his funeral the next day. Ria, in her dress blues, stands somewhat stoically beside the rest of the Kazansky family, Atlas at her feet. She hardly listened to the preacher or some of her father’s closest co-workers as they told stories of how great of a man her father had been and how he would be missed. She already knew how great of a man he was, he was her father. Taps played as Cyclone received the folded flag from the officers and presented it to her mother, who took it gently and holds it to her chest before looking at Maverick, who had been standing beside her. He steps forward, moving to the little podium before addressing the crowd. “Ice understood what it is to be a wingman. A wingman is willing to defend your life with their own and stay with you no matter how impossible the odds are. More than anything, a wingman is there to push you beyond your limits and encourage you to find the very best in yourself. Ice was a wingman to his family, his friends, to every life he touched. That is why I know he’ll never be truly gone.” Maverick steps forward to the casket, slams his wings into the casket, and salutes, as do all service members. There’s the rumbling crescendo of jets as four F-18s fly overhead. One pulling up into a vertical climb: the “missing man” formation is when Ria allows a single tear of her own to slip down her cheek. 

[natromanxoff]

Evening Post - November 25, 1991

(x)

Pop world mourns loss of Queen singer

FREDDIE MERCURY DIES OF AIDS

[Photo caption: Mercury pictured in September]

[Photo caption: SHOWMAN: Mercury’s unique stage style that made him a rock legend]

FANS and friends of pop star Freddie Mercury were today mourning his deah from Aids.

The 45-year-old singer of rock group Queen died peacefully during the night at his luxury London mansion, just hours after telling the world he had the disease.

Mercury's publicist Roxy Meade said: "His death was the result of broncho-pneumonia brought on by Aids."

The flamboyant star had lived like a recluse for the past two years, the illness leaving him frail and gaunt.

Tributes soon poured in for the singer who had helped make Queen one of the most successful acts in the world.

Ultimate

DJ and comedian Kenny Everett, a close friend of the singer, said: "He burnt the candle at both ends — and in the middle."

Rock critic Paul Gambaccini told TV-am: “What a star. They don’t make them like him anymore. He really gave life and showmanship to (…).

“He could command an audience, hold an audience in the palm of his hand. The climate was when he and the group absolutely stole Live Aid.”

Queen rose to force in the early 70s with a series of epic albums and singles culminating in the Number One smash hit Bohemian Rhapsody.

That was the song which began the video revolution in pop music. and the band stayed ahead of the pack with a run of spectacular and sometimes outrageous promotional films for their hits.

Mercury will be cremated in a private ceremony later this week.

He confirmed only on Saturday that he suffering from Aids. He issued a statement saying he wanted to end speculation about his health.

His statement to The […]

Mercury dies

[…] Press Association said: “Following the enormous conjecture in the press over the last two weeks, I wish to confirm that I have been tested HIV positive and have Aids.

“I felt it correct to keep this information private to date in order to protect the privacy of those around me.

“However, the time has now come for my friends and fans around the world to know the truth and I hope that everyone will join with me, my doctors and all those worldwide in the fight against this terrible disease.”

Musician turned politician Screaming Lord Sutch, who played on the same bills as Queen in the early 1970s, said: “We have lost a most original and entertaining singer who inspired many, many people.”

He said Mercury deserved to ranked alongside Mick Jagger and Elvis Presley.

DEATH OF A SHOWMAN

Front door exit for a legend

THE BIG FINISH

By JAMES BELSEY

FREDDIE MERCURY died as he lived last night… in a worldwide blaze of publicity.

It was only on Saturday that the over-the-top rock singer confirmed what we’d all suspected for months — that he was suffering from Aids.

Rare sightings of Mercury this year had shown a shockingly different picture of the man.

The chin-forward, grinning arrogance and that amused, boyish look had vanished.

Fortune

In its place was a spectral shadow of the Mercury who had catapulted Queen to worldwide fame and kept them there for almost two decades.

His kamikaze lifestyle of sex and drugs and rock'n'roll had finally taken its toll.

Rock music’s long list of stars who thought they were immortal and could live by a different set of rules to the rest of us had found its latest casualty.

Freddie had enormous talent and a stage presence that magnetised an audience at the swivel of a hip or the raising of an arm in his characteristic pose of defiance.

He amassed a huge fortune, lived in a £5 million mansion home in Kensington, showered gifts on friends and lovers but remained, at heart, a lonely, increasingly bitter man.

He once said: and "You can have everything and still be the loneliest man and that is the bitter tupe of loneliness.

Success has brought me world idolisation and milions of pounds, but it has prevented me from having the one thing we all need… a loving, on-going relationship.

I can't win Love is a Russian roulette for me. I try to hold back when I’m attracted to someone, but I just can’t control love. It runs riot. All my one night stands are just me playing my part.”

Freddie made no secret of his bisexuality. “I’ve had a lot of lovers. I’ve tried relationships on either side — male and female. But all of them have gone wrong.”

His longest love affair was with blonde Mary Austin which ended after seven years. They remained close friends and she worked for him as part of his staff.

He even became godfather to her son Richard two years ago and spoke of a new sense of responsibility.

His lavish generosity and party-living was outrageous and legendary.

Banquet

After Wembley in 1987 he hired a body painter from Germany and guests were amazed to find the “uniformed" bell boys were, in fact, naked. And at a banquet in New Orleans he hid a nude model in a huge tray of raw liver, making it quiver.

For another he hired Concorde and flew friends over the Atlantic at vast expense.

In one of his final interviews a few weeks ago, the by now painfully thin Mercury said: “I don’t really think about when I’m dead or how they are going to remember me.

“When I'm dead, who cares? I don’t”.

How Mercury became the first video star

FREDDIE MERCURY was born Frederick Bulsara in Zanzibar on September 5, 1946, son of a government accountant. He was educated first at a boarding school in Bombay.

When the family returned to England he became a student at Ealing College of Art. For a decade Britain’s art schools had been the breeding ground for a string of the world’s top groups.

Freddie longed to be a star and in 1971 teamed up with like-minded students Brian May, John Deacon and Roger Taylor.

Their aim: to shock and amuse their way to the top. A new, young generation of glam rockers were pressing hard on the heels of the now mature Sixties superstars.

What was the most outrageous title for a band? They chose Queen, with its clear double meaning and, just in case anyone had missed the point, dolled themselves up with make-up.

Within a year they were the talk of the college circuit. Within two years they’d been signed up by EMI and their debut album Queen was released in July 1973, followed up with two gigantically successful national tours in 1974 and 1975.

Queen came to the Colston Hall in Bristol on November 12, 1974 and November 17, 1975. After the second gig Freddie changed out of his stage gear, a slashed to-the-waist catsuit and threw a party for pals and the road crew.

They returned to Bristol Hippodrome on December 9, 1979, as one of the world’s top attractions.

Mercury knew how to sell himself and the band better than anyone. It’s no coincidence that Queen single-handedly changed the rock industry overnight.

They knew they had s huge hit with their dynamic single Bohemian Rhapsody. But how to sell it?

In came the innovative answer. At the cost of a few thousand pounds they recorded a video film to promote single. Within months the rock video had ceased to be a novelty — and became an essential part of the business.

Typically, it was Freddie who’d been the first rock video star.

Avon Aids campaign launched

FREDDIE Mercury's death comes as health experts in Avon launch a new campaign to highlight Aids.

A series of events began today as part of a week-long Avons Aids Week designed to bring the disease into the public eye.

Experts are keen to dispel any complacency — particulary among heterosexuals — about the HIV virus.

anyope had missed the point,

And Health Secretary and Bristol West MP William Waldegrave has backed the campaign.

Increase

*We have done slightly better than was initally predicted but there is a slow-ticking time bomb of the disease moving across to the heterosexual community,” he said.

“Unless we act now we can predict that in five or ten years’ time we will see a big increase again of the disease in the straight community.

“We have got to get everybody as sensitive to this issue as they gay community is now.”

FAY GOULD

[Photo caption: THE CHAMPION: Top, Mercury had it all. Above, on stage during Queen’s Colston Hall concert back in 1975]

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Whitechapel series 4 press pack

Sally Woodward Gentle – Executive Producer

What can we expect from the new series?

In the first two series we had copycat killings, in the last series we moved onto three original gothic crimes, with the team using history to help solve the cases. This series has moved on slightly again as we go into the mystery of Whitechapel, the grim history.

In terms of the three stories, the first one centres around people who are being killed in the way women used to be tried as witches. The middle one starts off with a flayed face and in the third one we find people have been dragged into the sewers and disembowelled.

For this series each character has there own demon to face, is that something new?

The characters have always had their own arcs, but in this series there is more for them to play with. Because if Whitechapel really is a place where terrible things happen, what impact does that have on the characters in the centre of it? Are they being manipulated or is this something that’s coming out of their own psyche? So they all have quite a substantial journey to go on.

Can we touch on Chandler’s demons?

He lost his father when he was very young, and the impact of that is revealed as we go across the series. What we know about Chandler is that he’s obsessive, he’s driven but he also cares deeply. The fact that he’s never brought a suspect in alive, never been seen to give justice to the victims, is something that is really torturing him in this series.

And Miles?

As we found out in the second series his father was a criminal and it’s a path Miles could have gone down, but he is in fact a deeply moral human being with a very very good core. And as much as he rubbed up against Chandler at the beginning he loves Chandler and he loves his team. He feels Chandler’s pain as much as the rest of them, but unlike Chandler who is an atheist, Miles is Catholic and has got some faith. He’s got a sense that evil actually exists. So when you set the two against each other you’ve got quite a good clash.

Do you think the show has found its feet now in terms of the three part format?

I really like the format, over two hours you’ve got the space to tell quite a juicy story and you’ve also got space for characters. If you’re trying to tell one story in forty-six minutes you don’t have a lot of space for character, or really to be sophisticated in your storytelling. Whitechapel is so full of historical references and you’ve got twists and turns and you’ve got to introduce suspects and then catch them and you’ve got to kill a lot of people and fit in six character arcs so I think the six parts works really nicely.

Would you say Whitechapel has more of a supernatural feel to it in this series?

We don’t think there’s much that is really scary on telly at the moment so we’d like Whitechapel to be properly scary. It isn’t supernatural but what we do play with this season is the idea that if Whitechapel is the centre of all of these terrible crimes, and unsolved historical murders, what is it about this place in particular that sucks in evil spirits and evil people. We play psychologically with that in terms of our core characters’ superstitions and fears and insecurities.

Do you think this series is more psychologically scary than gory?

I think it’s both actually! I’ve got quite a high gore threshold but I think it is quite gruesome. At the same time we want the fear to impact our characters because if the characters feel scared then hopefully we’ll feel scared. I’d like it to be properly scary and I hope we achieve it.

Can we talk about Steve Pemberton writing the middle story?

Ben and Caroline have written all of the previous Whitechapel episodes and it is a tall order to write six hours so we thought it might be nice to have someone else write a story. Steve is really the natural choice for it, he loves the show and he knows the tone and what works for the characters. Plus his work on Psychoville and League of Gentleman is just genius. And he can do that black comedy, he can do the gore, so we’re thrilled that he wrote the story and we think its brilliant.

Did you think that it might affect the group dynamic, having Steve write some of the series?

We did think hard about it, whether it would affect the group dynamic, it’s potentially putting him in a hard position, writing the lines for his fellow actors. But we spoke to Steve and rest of the cast and everybody thought it was a brilliant idea because he’s so popular and he really gets it.

What was the writing process like for Steve?

Steve’s written some of Benidorm before but I don’t think he’d written a straight television hour, but we really didn’t go through many drafts because he just got it. The trickiest part was that he had to start writing the middle story before Caroline and Ben had written the first and last episodes. So he had to sort of write the story and put place holders in for the character arcs and then go back to them and join the dots. So technically that was probably the most difficult part.

Because the stories are based on real historical cases, do you think there’s a longevity in that or do you think there’s a finite amount of stories to use?

I don’t think it is finite because the crimes now are entirely original. Then we go back and look at relevant cases, and sadly there are an infinite number of crimes, and not just crimes but oddities in human nature that have gone on throughout history. Like the fear that created the hunt for witches or why people have been flayed in the past, so its not just crimes its gothic ideas and horror genres. We want to be original each time and the hardest thing is what the motivation is for the current crime in each story, more than the four or five historical cases that we then lace through each episode.

Is that what comes first then, the current crime and then finding the historical cases to fit?

We tend to think about territories that we like. For example we liked cannibalism, we nearly did that in the last series, so it tends to be territories first then Ben and Caroline think about crimes and then we also try to think about how the crimes resonate with our characters arcs because we like there to be some kind of connection in there as well.

Is there anything Whitechapel won’t do?

There are certain things we don’t do. Beyond the original Ripper case we don’t do sex crimes against women. It’s a personal choice as above everything else we’re an entertaining format, we’re not looking to make a comment on society, we’re trying to be hugely entertaining and sex crimes against women aren’t entertaining and they shouldn’t be. And we don’t kill children…to date.

What makes Whitechapel so popular?

I think it’s the combination of a lot of things. The relationship between Rupert Penry- Jones and Phil Davis - the fact that they’re two brilliant actors and friends off screen means you get this magical chemistry. I think it looks great, the stories are entertaining, people like being thrilled by the gore factor and people like to learn, its is full of interesting, slightly morbid facts, and it’s funny!

What has it been like working with a new director this series?

This is the first time we’ve had the same director doing two parts. Jon did the last story of season three, and now he’s doing the first and last part of this series, he’s brilliant, we love working with him, and he loves Whitechapel. We do encourage there to be differences between directors, there is a house style, we have our Whitechapel moments, but they interpret the material differently. Daniel (who directs story two) is new, and Australian, so he doesn’t know ITV or Steve Pemberton or his reputation so he’s reacting in a very pure way to the material which is fantastic, and he definitely gets it, especially the humour in Steve’s scripts.

What are your favourite moment of the show so far?

All I can say is zombies visit Whitechapel so…watch out. I very much like a character called Annie Chapman, who gets pulled down a manhole into the sewers after she’s delivered her meals-on-wheels. I love all the moments between Chandler and Miles. There are some fantastic moments between Kent and Mansell and brilliant Riley and Buchan scenes. And there are always brilliant sections with Claire Rushbrook playing Dr Llewellyn whose character has a stomach of steel but in reality she’s very squeamish.

Were there any challenges while filming this series?

No not really. The only challenge is making each series better than the last.

Is there pressure now to up the anti after each episode?

There’s no pressure from ITV, there’s only the pressure we put on ourselves. There is absolutely no point in just doing the same stuff, it gets boring and lazy and so you do want to keep challenging yourself, and the actors want to be challenged, they want to be doing new things. We also want to reward our loyal viewers by making it even better each time.

Does the new series work as stand alone episodes or do you need to have followed the last three series to get the most out of it?

You can absolutely join us at any point. You will be rewarded if you are a loyal viewer because we have developed those character relationships, but the stories are so strong you can drop in at any point and absolutely get it.