#why are people named francis so good looking?

[lxkeee]

Stan milk man

-c

Save the cows, milk the milkman

[ansel-rae562]

The new Doorman

[Doppleganger!Milkman x Reader]

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{Author's note: So I accidentally made a promise to a bunch of people in tiktok so here I deliver you a smut, please note this is my first writing one since I'm more into Angst and I also made this gender neutral as I can so yeah.. Enjoy!}

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First day of Job being a doorman! finally you found a job, looking for one is a bit hard. And this is quite a high pay so why not but this one involves dealing with doppleganger's which is kinda dangerous but the D.D.D assured you that you'll be safe as long as you stay in your office.

After you watched the introductory film explaining about how the job works, you opened the metal window and saw the D.D.D personel

"Welcome and congratulations on your new Job! Remember you have to watch out carefully for the doppleganger's. There are times that the neighbors are not on the list, check their ID's closely and their appearance's as well, or else you and the others may end up dead.. That's all you may continue"

The personnel left and you decided to check the today's list

"Okayy.... So here will be the expected people..."

Izaack Gauss

Mia Stone

Albertsky Peachman

Elenois Sverchtz

Francis Mosses

Anastasia Mikaelys

"Wow... Uhuh that's quite alot....but nothing I can handle"

A few minutes later a person came "Good morning, I see you're a new doorman" The woman said as she handed in her ID "Good morning and Yes I am ma'am" You greeted then looked at her ID 'Gloria Schmicht'.... "Uh ma'am? May I ask why are you not in today's list?" You asked "Oh It's cause my mother had an emergency and I had to be there" After checking all the files and seeing almost no anomalies you called the apartment just in case and found out that the wife is actually home "Sorry nope, bye" you said immediately pressing the danger button and calling the D.D.D.

Hours passed by dealing with a few doppleganger's which some of them being visually creepy and threatening you till a man came, he was wearing a white button up shirt and a white hat that has 'Milkman' written on them. He looks tired, bags under his eyes showing then he spoke "Good afternoon, here's my ID and entry request" you stared momentarily before deciding to check all information, he also has an attractive voice which made you blush a little.

Learning that his name is Francis and he's the local milkman around town you couldn't help but have a little crush I mean he's attractive, his voice is also attractive, tired guys may or may not also be your type and he does have a pretty decent Job so he does perfectly fit your dream guy. Not long after it's finally night time and also the end of your shift, you packed your items that you brought with you then the one who'll exchange with you arrived "Hey..." She greeted "Hold on a sec, have to make sure you're the real one" you said checking all the workers files "Wow darling... Taking your job very seriously huh?.. impressive" she said with a subtle smile, she has green eyes and bags are shown under her eyes, she looks like she has been doing this for years.

"Well yeah... Don't want to lose a high paying job ya know" you replied and confirming that she's the real one "hmm, Understandable" you opened the metal door and she bid you goodbye "Careful darling, some doppleganger's are hostile and might attack you, here take this it's a 200v taser.... don't worry i have plenty" you thanked her and left to fo home. Walking home is kinda creepy especially at night, you wouldn't know when a creature of some sort is gonna pounce on you right now that's when you heard a rustle on a nearby bush then something jumped out.

It was cat... Quite a big one but it was injured on its side, you went closer and tried to reassure the cat "Hey... Hey there kitty, don't worry I'm a friend.." as you said those words the cat looked at you with a mix of hatred and confusion "I can help... I promise, I won't hurt you like whoever did that to you" The cat slightly calmed down and let you pick them up, you arrived home and put your bag down as well as settling the cat on your table and immediately finding the first aid.

You tended to the cat's wounds and surprisingly it just let you do your work, you winced to yourself finding that the wound is a bit deep "Gosh who would hurt a cat... They're sweet" finishing it up you wrapped the cat up with gauze "there you're all fixed up kitty... Hm.. i guess I could also feed you since you're at my house" you then went to your fridge to look for something to feed the cat and for yourself.

"You settling alright kitty?.." you asked, after feeding the cat you set up a box with a few soft rugs in them for the cat to sleep on and the cat looked at you with content eyes, chuckling lightly to yourself "you know it's amazing how your eyes can actually communicate, it's cute" you turned around to turn off the lights of you room "Night kitty..." You said finally falling asleep. The next morning you woke up and saw that the cat was nowhere to be seen and the window has few paw prints "Dang it I was planning on adopting him" you said sadly then started getting ready for the day.

Arriving at your workplace the girl from last night greeted you "Good morning darling!, did you have a good rest last night?" She asked "good morning, Yeah I did thanks for asking" you replied then she opened the metal door and went out "uh... You're not gonna check if I'm the real one?..." the girl turned around and said "Would you be asking that if you were a fake one?... And besides you're new it'll take a few days before they decide to copy you" she turned around again and left. Starting your shift like what you did Yesterday, letting a few people out giving them an entry request for when they come back, dealing with a few doppleganger's, letting people in once confirming that they're the real one till finally the guy from yesterday came; Francis "Hi mr. Milkman" you greeted, he looks a bit surprised when he saw you "Oh uh... Hello... " he said smiling slightly, you blushed then he handed you his ID only but you looked closely you saw he has a small mole on his left cheek which the real Francis didn't have. You kinda have memorized what he look and a few of his information from the files.... Kinda creepy of you but you couldn't help it, he was now your crush "Oh... I'm sorry, my good sir but I actually have this guy memorized and you're not him..." You said and before you could close the metal window you humped as he banged on the somehow sturdy window "What?!... How could!-... I see you like little mr. Milkman.. " the faker said his eyes were really angry and creepy "Yeah nope bye." you said then pressed the danger button and called for the D.D.D. Minutes later the metal window opened "There was no one in sight but I suppose the doppleganger already left before we arrive, you may now continue your work"

The day ended and you switched shifts with Loira, the name of the girl that you work with she bid you goodbye and you went home. Weeks later the things just go by on a repeat with some of them you going on a late night grocery, what's really interesting is that the doppleganger who always pretends to be Francis, he'd show up you find a small detail that the real Francis doesn't have, he'd get angry telling you things like "I'll get you next time" "I'll fool you one day" "Why are you so observative of the guy" then once you call for the D.D.D service he'd disappear before they could arrive like what's the deal with him?... Earlier he said something that actually sent shivers to your spine "Wait till I devour your fleshy body, Human" that was an actual pretty creepy threat, didn't realize that your already at your doorstep from a long day, you set down the groceries on the kitchen counter and went to take a quick shower and change.

After that you arranged all the groceries, it's pretty quiet around your house since you live alone, your parents on another country and your house is pretty far away from other residents so you'll be aable to hear anything out of the ordinary. Going up the stairs to sleep you decided to stretch around a little while you do so, you felt a weird sensation going up your leg, you looked down and a black substance of sorts but before you could scream another one covered your mouth as other one's quickly wrapped around your legs and arms separately, along your torso as well completely immobilizing you.

You looked around saw... Francis?... but his eyes are dark with white glowing dots on the middle "Hello... Doorman, I did say I will get you... Didn't I?" He spoke. You were confused, scared how did he know where you live? "Hey... Hey there... Little human, no need to get scared after all I'm a friend.... Aren't I?" That's when realization hit you. The cat that you helped was a doppleganger "you know human, you hurt me when you set your eyes on someone else... I thought you liked me?... Didn't you say so yourself?" He said which earned a muffled confused rambling from you "No... You must pay for making me believe you... " Before you could make another confused noise the tentacle like substance was removed around your mouth "What now-" you were cut off by something shoving into your mouth deeply making you gag, it was one of his tentacle.

[NSFW part]

He relentlessly attacked your mouth making you gag, you tried to squirm away but it was futile he has you wrapped around his other tentacle's. By then your eyes then started forming tears, you looked at the doppleganger of Francis which amused him "Look at you... Such an expression... I want more.. " he said. He set you down on your bed having your arms up above your head as he crawled between your legs "I did say I would devour your fleshy body... Don't worry it's not in a way I would eat you to the bone" he then slowly tore your garment earning a gaged up moan from you. He looked at you directly seeing that lewd expression from you also looking at him, he then slowly dipped his down between your legs which made you moan once again. You couldn't help but moan while he completely eats you out while also making you suck on one of his tentacle's, you were completely helpless making you take all of the pleasure like obedient slave.

That's when you felt something go in futher inside you, it felt like a very long tongue reaching up to the parts that you never could reach and hitting you perfectly on your spot making your body jolt and moan loudly than before "hmm?... is this your spot...?" He said while his tongue was still deep into you, he fastened up the pace than before almost a bit too fast than normal making your body more hotter and eager for a release. Not long after you came he adjusted himself, he humed in satisfaction "this will do..." He said then he removed the tentacle from your mouth as you looked at him with tired eyes "aww.... Already tired? Unlucky for you I'm not done yet" he adjusted his position, you didn't even notice that he entered you once again but this with his cock which made you yelp in surprise. He mercilessly pounded at a fast not giving you a preparation while his other tentacle's explore your exposed especially around your chest, waist and neck and his hands holding your thighs firmly to keep your shaking legs in place.

Release after release, you couldn't keep up anymore till you passed out from complete exhaustion and pleasure. He finally unsheathed his cock from you and loads mixed both of his and yours spilled out, staining the bed beneath the both of you. He then looked at your passed out form, your heaving chest, your belly slightly bulging and your beautiful sleeping face... "Such a perfect human.... I just wanna keep you" he fixed your sleeping form in a much comfortable position and pulled a blanket over before making his way to the telephone and dialed a number "Hello... Loira hey! I called a bit early so I could inform you that I'm sick..... Yeah please do.... Thank you I will bye!" He turned back to you and layed beside you "Rest now, my human...."

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 6

Word Count ~ 3.9k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ sexual content

Also available on AO3

taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

Early morning. Almost time for Francis’ delivery route to begin.

“Good morning.” You look at the doppelgänger. His face is pressed into the living room pillow he’d borrowed from the couch, offering you the solitary one on the bed. A sleepy smile of greeting.

“Good morning, love.” His hand cups your cheek and you trap his fingers, turning your face to kiss the inside of his wrist. “I’m glad you stayed last night.”

“Me too.” Its earlier than you’d normally rise, but you kind of like it. That sense that the rest of the world is slumbering and the two of you have this time reserved just for you.

“Tell me to go get ready. I don’t want to leave this bed.”

“Go get ready. I’ll press your clothes for you while you take a shower. Get coffee going.”

“M’kay.” He sighs, sitting upright. Stretching his arms, his legs hanging over the side of the bed. A dog barks outside and someone hisses for it to be quiet. The replicant freezes, his arms dropping down sharply.

“Francis? What is it?”

“It’s not a dog.” He stands and goes to the window, edging the curtain back. “I don’t recognize them. Not from my squadron.”

“A doppel?”

“Yes.”

You sit up, the languid, cozy feeling evaporating instantly. Bringing you right back to reality. “Does the owner know?”

“No. They’re human.”

“Are they trying to come in?”

“No. But they sense something. That’s why they barked. They’re already halfway down the street. You’re safe.” He lets the curtain drop back into place.

“Didn’t you say no doppels would try to enter the building anymore?”

“Yes.”

You worry your lower lip. “That’s going to look suspicious to the DDD.”

“The DDD.” He says the name of the organization contemptuously. “I wish you’d leave.”

“It’s not just a job. It’s my career. I can’t leave.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want to help people. I promised I would.”

“You could do something else and still help people,” he mumbles. “Fine. If it’s going to draw more unwanted attention here, I can make certain some doppels do come in when you’re working.”

So much for the relieved idea that you and the residents would finally be safe and secure. “You can do that?”

“Of course.”

“And not let them harm anyone?”

“That is more than I can promise.”

So you’d still be putting the residents at risk. Encouraging it, even. You’d have to make absolutely certain never to let one inside.

“You’d be condemning your own kind. I’d have to call the cleaners if they threatened violence.”

“I’m aware. I have to keep you safe. If that means risking some other doppels, so be it.”

You leave the bed, walking over to the closet. Francis didn’t have many clothes aside from his work attire. He’d had few personal possessions in general from what you’ve seen so far in the apartment. Living so humbly.

The imposter rests a hand on your spine on the way past you to the bathroom, pausing to kiss your cheek. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Yes.” You select a shirt and pair of pants, folding the items still on the hangers over your arm. “I’ll be fine. Go get ready.”

The sound of the shower starting fills the background as you collect the folded ironing board from inside the closet and plug in the iron. You pad barefoot into the kitchen to get the coffee pot on, wearing one of Francis’ undershirts and your panties. You’re a little sore from the previous evening’s events. Internally. The times he had pounded into you deeply. The new bite on your shoulder. The swelling and redness seem to have dissipated. The mirror above the dresser doesn’t reveal anything too drastic looking. The puncture marks are almost invisible.

You’ve got the milkman’s pants ready when he emerges naked from the other room, still slightly damp from the shower. The brazenness still makes you blush. You know what he looks like nude by now, of course, but it feels different when it isn’t during intimacy. You watch the imitator rummaging through the dresser drawers to retrieve underwear and socks and a bow tie, secretly admiring the way his muscles shift in the warm yellow glow of the lamp, the curtains still shielding the window. You can smell the coffee brewing in the other room, easily pervading the entirety of the tiny apartment, and you inhale that enticing aroma deeply.

“So you mentioned earlier you’re in a squadron. Like a military sort?”

“Not precisely as you know it, but I suppose there are a few vague similarities.”

“What rank are you?”

“The equivalent of a lieutenant colonel, if you had to label it.”

You inch the work shirt further over the side of the ironing board to continue the pressing, smoothing out the wrinkles. “Where is the rest of your squadron?”

He shrugs. “Around,” he replies vaguely. You think he knows exactly where they are and he’s not willing to give them up. Still somewhat loyal, in spite of what’s happened between you.

“They don’t wonder where you are? Or vice versa? You don’t have some kind of a leader you have to report to?”

He pauses midway through pulling on a sock. “It doesn’t quite work like that. We are…autonomous, I suppose you would say. Working independently, but striving for the same goal.”

You hand him the shirt and he slides it over his shoulders after finishing with the socks. “So why have ranks at all then, if you’re all equals?”

“Because we’re not. Not everyone can do what I did. It’s still rare. There’s no way to instruct how to do it. It just…happens. Or doesn’t.” He finishes buttoning the front of his shirt. You help him with the cuffs of his sleeves.

“Why did you choose Francis?”

“Opportunity. Nothing more. Sheer random encounter.” You step back as he pulls each pants leg on and stands, zipping and buttoning the fly. The belt is coiled on the dresser beside the black tie. “The best decision of my existence,” he says softly, his forehead bending to touch yours.

You’re so conflicted. He’d killed the man you’d loved. But in some ways was still the man you loved. Only not. An enemy you’re supposed to be guarding against, except he no longer seems to bear any malice towards your kind. Coexisting peacefully. But the cost of that. Oh, the cost.

“I can’t say I’m grateful for what you did. But I am glad it was you, and not someone else.”

His hand cradles your head and he draws you against him. You can smell soap and shampoo. Aftershave. Your arms tighten around him.

“What did happen? During that random encounter?” You ask against his chest.

“Why do you want to know the details? It won’t change anything.”

You draw back to see his face. “Consider it a weakness of humans. There is a car accident on the interstate. The vehicles wrecked, the passengers gravely injured. We slow down or stop to look, even after emergency services have been called, even though there is nothing left to be done. We can’t look away. We have to face it. Confront our fears head on. Grieve our losses. Knowing the truth of what happened is the only way to do that.”

“If I tell you, you’re admitting he’s gone.”

You chew your lower lip, hesitating. “I suppose that would be true.”

“If that happens, you won’t have any reason to be with me anymore.” He strokes a thumb over one cheek. “Is that really what you want?”

“I…no.” Your heart is beating madly in your chest. It would be like losing Francis twice, somehow. You can’t fathom it. “I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s best I don’t know. I won’t mention it again.”

After a time the replicant finishes dressing. The black bow knotted neatly. Belt secured. Wallet tucked into his pocket, followed by his keys. You’ve hastily gotten dressed in yesterday’s clothing. You’ll return home and get properly washed and changed before returning for your shift afterwards.

The imposter pours you both a cup of the freshly brewed coffee. Strong. The way you both like it. A little cream and sugar to kill some of the bitterness stirred in.

You’re standing by the front door now. The doppelgänger holds the milkman’s cap in his hands. He doesn’t like wearing it. You can tell. You pull it from his fingers and set it on his head. Tugging the brim down a little. Smoothing some of his hair back underneath. He really did need a trim soon. You’d never seen it get this long.

“Be safe today,” he says.

“You too.”

“Do you think I could get away with coming over tonight? Is your organization going to stalk me?”

“I’m hoping they’ll calm down after a bit. They are still watching you. Me. Us. So maybe wait a couple of days, make it not so obvious.”

“I don’t think I can manage a couple of days.”

“You’ll still see me in the booth.”

“That’s not the same.”

“I know, Francis. If circumstances were different…I’m trying keep you safe.”

“I know.” He sighs. “Alright. A couple of days, then. Surely the weekend as well?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

He smiles. “Things looking up already. Alright, sweetheart.” He bends to kiss your mouth. “I’ll see you later.”

You exit the apartment and he locks the door. Still no one else stirring in the building yet. He ignores the elevator and begins descending the staircase. You follow him. He’s faster than you, his longer limbs making short work of the steps. Already nearly an entire flight down from you.

He pauses on the landing, looking back at you as you halt, fingers curled over the railing.

“Francis.” You rush down the stairs, throwing yourself at him when you reach the bottom, the momentum pushing him back against the wall. Planting kisses along the freshly shaved cheeks and jaw. “I miss you already.”

“Me too, love.” His arms envelop you and you bury your face against his shirt. Suddenly you find yourself wanting to cling to him desperately. So afraid for him. More than you were even for yourself.

It’s a relief when you see him return safely later that day; it’s all you can do not to open the booth and fling yourself back into his arms. But the camera mounted on the wall over your shoulder is a constant reminder. You’re being watched.

You’re not safe at all.

***

Saturday morning finds you standing in what was once an impressive garden beside your house. Now chock full of wildflowers and overgrown with weeds. Francis’ copy is beside you, kneeling down, his fingers raking the earth, pushing impatiently at the intruding vegetation. “The soil is still good. You could plant here again easily.”

“My grandfather would have been happy to see that. It just got to be too much for him to maintain. He had a hard time finding help for the farm. People lured into moving to the city. Better paying jobs. Fancier homes. A variety of exciting new stores to shop in. My parents both had that itch.”

“You’re somewhere in the middle.” He stands, dusting his hands off.

You nod. “I guess I am. I can appreciate the value of being in the city. The benefits. But I recognize the drawbacks, too. I love being here. It always feels right. I wish I could restore things to the way they were.”

“Maybe you could. Not to the extreme of running a business with employees, but to build it back up, little by little.”

“It would be a full time process.”

“You could do it. We could do it,” he adds softly.

“Is that really what you’d want?”

“I want you,” he says, his hands now seated on your waist, drawing you closer. He kisses you and you sigh contentedly.

“When I’m with you, it’s like the rest of the world goes away. There is no DDD or invasion. It’s just us.”

“It could really be like that.”

“No one ever leaves the DDD voluntarily. And you’d be labeled a deserter, wouldn’t you? We’d be chased. Hunted down. There’s only one punishment for someone who’s a coconspirator.” It didn’t happen often, but occasionally there were stories of humans accepting bribes. Working together with the doppels. It did not end well for the humans making those bargains; did not end well for the invaders, either.

“We’ll keep running so they can’t catch us. To the ends of the earth.” He tugs on your hand and you allow him to, following him. Navigating through the overgrowth, threading through it to find your path. Moving faster and faster, a full jog now. Still anchored to the doppelgänger’s hand.

He halts abruptly and you collide with him. Both breathing heavily. He descends and you tumble down with him. You’re in a patch of wildflowers, their perfumed scent heavy in the air.

You lie together like that with your head pillowed on his chest, one arm tucked around you. “Did you ever have anything like this before? Was there someone else?”

“Never.”

You burrow a little deeper, satisfied with the answer. Would you have been jealous if he’d said yes? Strange to think that way. But yes, you would be, you realize. The concept of sharing, the idea of affection for someone other than yourself bothers you.

“Do you think you could ever find yourself caring for me? Not for the face I wear. What’s behind it, I mean. My true self.” Your head lifts, your eyes searching his features. “I want you to love me as much as you love the man. More than that.”

“You said…you don’t even have words for human emotions. They don’t exist for your kind.”

“They don’t. They didn’t. A change now. Evolution. Something unanticipated. That’s what the ache is, isn’t it? How terrible this feeling is. How wonderful. Paradox.” He pulls your face towards his, kissing you. “I need you, sweetheart. More than you’ll ever know.”

You kiss him back. You can’t speak with words. It’s too overwhelming. Too confusing trying to separate the man and the invader. You’d been telling yourself all along it was your feelings for the former that had driven all your actions. That had been true enough in the beginning. But now. Now there were doubts creeping in. Wondering it wasn’t the other that you had feelings for. Could you really love a monster?

“Need to feel you, love, please.” The sound of his belt being undone. Dark slacks today now that he wasn’t working. Your fingers join him there, finding his cock already hard, leaking in anticipation. So hungry, so fast. Your body responding in kind, drooling for him.

You straddle his hips, the hem of your skirt bunched around your waist. Struggling to hold the crotch of your panties aside, to guide him inside of you. Gasping when you succeed. You lower yourself down onto him. The sun is warm on your back. You lift up slightly and sit back down. Impaling yourself again. Your hips roll back and forth as you lean down to kiss him. Rocking, sliding that prick in and out of your pussy. He slips completely free and you hurriedly snake a hand between your bodies, realigning him. The drag against your clit sending sparks through you. You keep the hand there, touching yourself, touching him. Feeling the heightened friction of the panties digging against your hand, against your lover’s dick. The nails of your other hand raking his chest through his shirt.

You kiss him, tasting the salt of the perspiration that has begun. It’s so hot. Outside. Inside of you. His fingers touch your cheek, seed your hair, hold your mouth against his as his hips lift to meet you. Driving him deeper inside. You look down at the man whose face you’d seen behind glass for all those months. Those dark, tired eyes on yours. Lick his mouth back open, enjoying the mash of the hand still between your bodies, grinding against the bundle of nerve endings. His lips at your jaw and throat and beside your ear. “I love you,” he whispers, and you shatter around him, your walls spasming, your body jerking through release.

It’s easy to say the phrase back to him when you’re in the height of bliss, just three simple little words that escape above his face, panted between noises of pleasure.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

His hips snap up and you feel the jet of seed inside you. Your forehead drops to his, your arms and legs suddenly shaking. You dismount and drop down beside him, your face burrowing again.

“I meant it,” he says softly. “What I said.”

“I know. So did I.” It’s the truth, you realize. Somehow, the impossible had happened.

You’d fallen in love with a doppelgänger.

***

The weekend flies by.

You are back in the security booth once again the following Monday. Straightening out the desk once more. You really could not understand why your coworkers were so disorganized. You’ve nearly finished the task when you realize through your peripheral vision that someone has entered the apartment building.

Your head lifts to see Izaack Gauss.

Or what looked like him; your instincts kicking in once again. It’s most certainly a doppel.

The face has been perfectly replicated, the second floor resident’s exaggerated features all ones you recognize: the large cleft chin and wide nose, the thick dark eyebrows set above glacier blue eyes, that wide stretch of teeth just a little too large for comfort, becoming almost a rictus grin. One that doesn’t touch the imposter’s eyes.

“Good morning,” he greets you, sliding his ID card and entry request through the stainless steel slot at the bottom of the window.

You look over the identification first. Expiration date checks out, the image and name both correct. Your eyes flick up before you study the other document. On the day’s list. DDD logo present. Occupation of reporter correct. Address verified.

“May I come in? As you can see everything is in order.”

The ID card is still clutched in your hands. You tap it against the desk absently. You know it’s not really him. You just don’t have any evidence to support your suspicion yet.

“Let me just make a quick phone call to your residence.”

You lift the receiver off the hook, dialing the first number.

“I can smell him on you.”

Your hand freezes. “I’m sorry?”

The large nostrils flare and the suited figure inhales deeply. “All over you. Inside of you. He’s been there, hasn’t he? You’ve let him in.” Little burst capillaries spidering across his eyes now. A thin trail of spit glistening on his lower lip. “You could let me inside, too.”

You flip the plastic shielding covering the alarm down and slap the red button, the steel shutters instantly dropping down to cover the glass. Hanging up hurriedly and dialing a new number, the DDD operator answering you in the same calm manor they always adopt, assuring you the cleaners will be on their way shortly.

Time seems to slow to a crawl. You hear the sounds of the disposal team making their way inside. Yelling. Gunfire. Then silence. The alarm stops sounding. The steel shutter retracts. On the other side of the window, you can see a member of the DDD wearing a yellow hazmat suit. “The doppelgänger has been taken care of. You can return to work now.”

You nod, willing your shaking hands to be still.

***

“There was a doppel today.”

The piece of cake you’re chewing tastes like ash. It’s from your favorite bakery, a treat from your replicant beau. Washed down with an ice cold sample of the milk he delivers. You wish you could enjoy it. But your taste buds won’t cooperate. You’re still shaken from what had happened earlier.

“Yes. There were to be several. What’s wrong?”

“He knew about us, Francis.”

He sets his fork down slowly. “Tell me what happened.”

“He looked just like Mr. Gauss. The reporter that lives alone on the second floor. Paperwork checked out. But I could tell something was off right away. And he said he could smell you on me. In me. He knew what we’ve done together.”

You see the copycat milkman’s Adam’s apple move above his shirt collar as he swallows loudly. “And then you called the cleaners?”

“Yes.”

“Did he get a chance to say anything to them?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“And the surveillance cameras?”

“Video feed only, no audio.”

A heavy sigh. “Alright. I’m sorry that happened to you. That was not a member of my squadron, I assure you.”

“You said they wouldn’t come near the building, because of the marks. Other than the ones you sent as decoys to fool the DDD.”

“I didn’t think they would. Honestly, I didn’t. I would never deliberately put you in harm’s way. You know that.” His hand reaches for yours across the tiny kitchen table in the third floor apartment. “Had to just be an anomaly. Had to be,” he repeats, sounding as if he’s trying to reassure himself as well as you.

“What if it’s not?”

He pushes back from the table, kneeling beside you, reaching for one of your hands and pressing his lips to it, holding it against his cheek. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I swear to you. I love you,” he says, and your heart flutters. The palm of his free hand rests somewhere along your ankle. Sliding up, bringing the hem of your skirt with it. He kisses your knee. The top of the joint. The inside. Stands and pulls you with him. Lifting you and sitting you on the counter, your skirt gathered in messy folds around your hips. His fingers dig into the sides of the underwear clinging to them, dragging them roughly down. He’s impatient, possessive. Scared, you think.

“I want to make a baby with you.”

“Francis…” Your sex throbs at the suggestion. Such a dangerous idea.

“I want them to know you’re mine. Fuck the DDD and fuck the other doppels.” His face moves against your throat, one hand on your hip as he thrusts into you, the other braced on the overhead cabinet behind you.

“I am yours.”

He huffs a moan. “You’re so perfect for me.”

You gasp when he reaches deeper inside of you, clutching the back of his shirt collar, your other hand at his waist, knees digging into his hips as he ruts against you. Your fingers travel to his hair, those cocoa locks that are growing curlier the more they lengthen. You have to cut them for him, or send him to a barber, or…

“Say it. Please, please say it. Do you want me to beg? I’ll do it. Please…”

You know what he wants. What he needs to hear. “I love you.” The wood behind you groans with the tension his hand places on it as he fucks you harder, faster. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” uttered each time he’s sheathed inside you.

Touching his cheek now, watching his mouth fall open, the kind of wonder in those dark eyes, as if he’s discovering you all over again for the first time, coming apart, waiting to be rebuilt. You both shatter and then there is silence save for the ticking of the clock mounted on the kitchen wall and the breaths you trade, a warm exchange of air in the scant space that divides you.

[intheholler]

the appalachian murder ballad <3 one of the most interesting elements of americana and american folk, imo!

my wife recently gave me A Look when i had one playing in the car and she was like, "why do all of these old folk songs talk about killing people lmao" and i realized i wanted to Talk About It at length.

nerd shit under the cut, and it's long. y'all been warned

so, as y'all probably know, a lot of appalachian folk music grew its roots in scottish folk (and then was heavily influenced by Black folks once it arrived here, but that's a post for another time).

they existed, as most folk music does, to deliver a narrative--to pass on a story orally, especially in communities where literacy was not widespread. their whole purpose was to get the news out there about current events, and everyone loves a good murder mystery!

as an aside, i saw someone liken the murder ballad to a ye olde true crime podcast and tbh, yeah lol.

the "original" murder ballads started back across the pond as news stories printed on broadsheets and penned in such a way that it was easy to put to melody.

they were meant to be passed on and keep the people informed about the goings-on in town. i imagine that because these songs were left up to their original orators to get them going, this would be why we have sooo many variations of old folk songs.

naturally then, almost always, they were based on real events, either sung from an outside perspective, from the killer's perspective and in some cases, from the victim's. of course, like most things from days of yore, they reek of social dogshit. the particular flavor of dogshit of the OG murder ballad was misogyny.

so, the murder ballad came over when the english and scots-irish settlers did. in fact, a lot of the current murder ballads are still telling stories from centuries ago, and, as is the way of folk, getting rewritten and given new names and melodies and evolving into the modern recordings we hear today.

305 such scottish and english ballads were noted and collected into what is famously known as the Child Ballads collected by a professor named francis james child in the 19th century. they have been reshaped and covered and recorded a million and one times, as is the folk way.

while newer ones continued to largely fit the formula of retelling real events and murder trials (such as one of my favorite ones, little sadie, about a murderer getting chased through the carolinas to have justice handed down), they also evolved into sometimes fictional, (often unfortunately misogynistic) cautionary tales.

perhaps the most famous examples of these are omie wise and pretty polly where the woman's death almost feels justified as if it's her fault (big shocker).

but i digress. in this way, the evolution of the murder ballad came to serve a similar purpose as the spooky legends of appalachia did/do now.

(why do we have those urban legends and oral traditions warning yall out of the woods? to keep babies from gettin lost n dying in them. i know it's a fun tiktok trend rn to tell tale of spooky scary woods like there's really more haints out here than there are anywhere else, but that's a rant for another time too ain't it)

so, the aforementioned little sadie (also known as "bad lee brown" in some cases) was first recorded in the 1920s. i'm also plugging my favorite female-vocaist cover of it there because it's superior when a woman does it, sorry.

it is a pretty straightforward murder ballad in its content--in the original version, the guy kills a woman, a stranger or his girlfriend sometimes depending on who is covering it.

but instead of it being a cautionary 'be careful and don't get pregnant or it's your fault' tale like omie wise and pretty polly, the guy doesn't get away with it, and he's not portrayed as sympathetic like the murderer is in so many ballads.

a few decades after, women started saying fuck you and writing their own murder ballads.

in the 40s, the femme fatale trope was in full swing with women flipping the script and killing their male lovers for slights against them instead.

men began to enter the "find out" phase in these songs and paid up for being abusive partners. women regained their agency and humanity by actually giving themselves an active voice instead of just being essentially 'fridged in the ballads of old.

her majesty dolly parton even covered plenty of old ballads herself but then went on to write the bridge, telling the pregnant-woman-in-the-murder-ballad's side of things for once. love her.

as a listener, i realized that i personally prefer these modern covers of appalachian murder ballads sung by women-led acts like dolly and gillian welch and even the super-recent crooked still especially, because there is a sense of reclamation, subverting its roots by giving it a woman's voice instead.

meaning that, like a lot else from the problematic past, the appalachian murder ballad is something to be enjoyed with critical ears. violence against women is an evergreen issue, of course, and you're going to encounter a lot of that in this branch of historical music.

but with folk songs, and especially the murder ballad, being such a foundational element of appalachian history and culture and fitting squarely into the appalachian gothic, i still find them important and so, so interesting

i do feel it's worth mentioning that there are "tamer" ones. with traditional and modern murder ballads alike, some of them are just for "fun," like a murder mystery novel is enjoyable to read; not all have a message or retell a historical trial.

(for instance, i'd even argue ultra-modern, popular americana songs like hell's comin' with me is a contemporary americana murder ballad--being sung by a male vocalist and having evolved from being at the expense of a woman to instead being directed at a harmful and corrupt church. that kind of thing)

in short: it continues to evolve, and i continue to eat that shit up.

anyway, to leave off, lemme share with yall my personal favorite murder ballad which fits squarely into murder mystery/horror novel territory imo.

it's the 10th child ballad and was originally known as "the twa sisters." it's been covered to hell n back and named and renamed.

but! if you listen to any flavor of americana, chances are high you already know it; popular names are "the dreadful wind and rain" and sometimes just "wind and rain."

in it, a jealous older sister pushes her other sister into a river (or stream, or sea, depending on who's covering it) over a dumbass man. the little sister's body floats away and a fiddle maker come upon her and took parts of her body to make a fiddle of his own. the only song the new fiddle plays is the tale about how it came to be, and it is the same song you have been listening to until then.

how's that for genuinely spooky-scary appalachia, y'all?

[writa-anon]

"is that.. supposed to be me?"

francis mosses (the milkman) x artist!reader

a / n ~ boom! first fanfic :3 i was a little inspired by uh.. myself LOL when i started playing tnmn i realized i was horrible at memorizing faces so i started drawing the characters to help me remember and it works sooo much. but anyway, super cute oneshot where they first meet, hope u enjoy :D

content included ~ isaack mauss, francis mosses, reader is an artist and doorman, no pronouns mentioned for reader, use of (y/n), shy n wholesome first encounter

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 4.10.24 | 1.6k words

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Another slow day at work, huh?”

A enthusiatic-ridden voice boomed, instinctively making me look up to meet the gaze of a strong-jawlined man. I cleared my throat and placed my pencil on the scratchy sheet of paper, sitting up in my chair.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Gauss.” I greeted, grinning that customer-service smile.

“Good afternoon, (y/n). I assume work is treating you well?” He said before sliding both his ID and request form through the letter hole. “Only your third day and you’re occupying yourself with side hobbies!” He exclaimed, squinting a little to see my doodle through the glass screen. I chuckled a little as I examined his ID.

“Eh, yeah..” I sighed. “But this actually helps with my job, believe it or not!” I said proudly, pulling out the floor 2 folder to compare his ID number. “I’ve been drawing neighbors in order to remember their features better. It’s especially helpful because of my terrible memory.” I said, shaking my head. Isaack simply chuckled as I placed the folder to the side as I went through his request form.

“That’s pretty smart.” He commented. “Who have you drawn so far?” He asked, curiously tilting his head. As I went through the checklist as I idly thought to myself.

“Umm..” I hummed. “The Schmitts and the Mikaelys are definitely in here.” I finished up the last check before rolling back to my sketchbook, using my finger to thumb through the pages.

“Unfortunate. I haven’t been drawn yet.” He faked pouted. I rolled my eyes before flipping one or two pages before presenting the portrait to him.

“I’m not necessarily finish. Your face is pretty hard to encapture.” I sighed, looking at the smears of led blended together. Isaack was something of a character: a big prominent smile that is not hard to catch a glimpse of in a room full of people. His hair perfectly styled each morning that still manages to maintain its shape by the end of the day. His voice had depth to it, almost like he was born to be the daily news reporter for radios and TVs of all kind. He stared at the drawing in satisfied awe before leaning back.

“Wow, it surely is accurate!” He beamed. I smiled proudly before placing my sketchbook down.

“Thank you,” I politely nodded. I slid his ID back through the letter box. “Everything seems to be good to go. You’re allowed in, Mr. Gauss.” He nodded in his head in gratitude, but however, did not my window just yet. He took a minute to ponder, as if contemplating his next move, before beaming his teeth once again.

“Ah, before I go,” he quickly inputed. “is there by chance Francis Mosses is on today’s list? He’s the local milkman around here.”

I raised my eyebrow a little, not exactly sure as to why Isaack chose to bring up this person’s name. I shook my head gently before folding my arms in front of me. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gauss, but I’m afraid I cannot disclose that information for you.”

“—Ah, of course.” Isaack quickly fixed himself, putting his hands up a little in defense. “I understand. I was just curious is all. I’m sure you know him though, no?” Thinking for a minute, I’ve realized that this is a neighbor I have not encountered yet.

“No, actually..” I pondered out loud. “Huh, that’s interesting. I guess he works a morning or night shift because the name doesn’t really ring a bell.” I noted out loud.

“Interesting.” He muttered. “Well, keep the name in mind. He’s a rather interesting person, and I think you would find him just as interesting.” Before I could say anything else, he gestured a quick wink before walking through the unlocked door. I quickly snapped out my thoughts before locking the door back up again.

Isaack never really mentioned other names— it wasn’t necessarily out of character, but it felt a little outlandish. I looked down to see my pencil in hand again and blank surface of paper. My eyes trailed over to the paper taped on to the wall next to my window, realizing that Frances was in fact on today’s check-in list. Out of curiousity, I located his room number before surfing through the folders. After locating folder 3 and apartment 02, I was able to find more about him.

He was a slim, tall man with a crooked nose and ruffled brown hair. His eye bags were prominent from what I assume to be lack of sleep. As I stared at his picture, my hand moved by itself across my sketchbook, forming a circle to start defining out the headshape. I squinted slightly, trying to feel for each detail in his face. From the way his eyebrows were rotated a little outward, defining more of his tired expression, to the bump in his nose bridge, making it a bit more interesting to draw. It was mesmerizing, almost wishing I could sit here and draw his face in perso—

tap, tap!

I nearly jumped out of my seat. The pencil flung out of my hand, rolling off of the desk. My eyes flickered up—

and there he was.

My breath near caught in my throat as I stared up in shock. The man behind the glass was barely shocked to see my reaction. His white “milkman” hat rested perfectly on top of his brown hair with small curls slightly peaking out. I was swift to regain my composure in my head as I folded my hands in front of me with my legs crossed under the desk.

“Good afternoon, sir.” I smiled. “I haven’t seen you before. ID and entry request?”

He let out a small hum, barricaded by his pink lips, as he took out his paper and ID. He politely slid them through the letter slot before I took the items to examine.

“Mr. Francis Mosses.. Lives on floor 03.. Room 02.. Coming from work as a milkman.” I glanced up to look at him, comparing the photo ID to his face. His expression was exactly alike: tired eyes, slight frown on the lips, crooked nose, and a clean shaven face. I double checked with his file already on my desk, making sure that the ID numbers and the description aligned with his ID. “Everything looks good.” I confirmed as I slid his ID back to him.

“Mmm.. Thank you.” He hummed. I turned around to place his request form in a folder, but once I sat back up, I realized he was still standing at the window, curiously staring through the glass. I raised my eyebrow a little, confused as to why he was still lingering.

“I’m sorry, did I forget something?” I asked. Francis shook his head before pointing down at my desk.

“Is that.. Supposed to be me?” He asked. A tiny bit of emotion seeped into his voice, dripping in interest and curiousity.

“I— oh—” I looked down to see the rough drawing of Francis sitting at my desk, drawn with sketch lines still lightly defining his features, while the harder drawn areas sculpted his prominent details. “Yeah..” I mumbled. “I-I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable!” I exclaimed. “It’s just a way to help me remember faces and I was going through the files and I realized I haven’t met you before so I—”

“You make me look so pretty.” He mumbled, almost breathlessly. A faint pink color brushed his cheeks as he was unable to take his gaze away from the paper.

“W-Well.. I do aim for accuracy.” I chuckled, complimenting the man right back. My nerves had calmed down after noticing his calm demeanor. “You could keep it, if you’d like that is.” I offered. It would be awkward if I kept the drawing rather than give it to him— I mean— this is his first time ever seeing me and it was an awkward first interaction right off the bat. It was the least I could do for him. Francis nodded his head and in response, I tore the piece of paper out of the scrapbook before sliding it through the letter slot.

“There you go.” I smiled.

“Thank you..” He replied, graciously taking the piece of paper and admiring it once again. “Oh— um,” He quickly looked up to me. “What is your name? I’m sorry, I’m not really good with.. Introductions.” He trailed off, but something about his shyness and reluctant voice made me grin even harder.

“My name is (y/n). I’m the doorman in training for this building.” I greeted.

“Ah, of course. I’m Francis— Mmm..Though you already know that.” He said, shaking his head a little by the end of his sentence.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Francis. I’ll be seeing you around, I assume?” I said, sitting at the edge of my chair as I looked up at him.

“More often than before.” He smiled. It was the widest he’d grin throughout our whole conversation. Something inside me told me that he doesn’t pass around smiles like that easily. It made me feel accomplished in some sort of way. But with that, he departed from my window. I made sure to unlock the door and listen for the door closing behind him before locking it again.

Francis Mosses.

I think I have someone to look forward to on tomorrow’s entry list.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

really hoped you enjoyed! replies, reblogs, and even likes are super appreciated! thank you so much for reading :]

[talenlee]

Hanamusa, Explained

There is a nonzero chance if you follow me on tumblr, you’ve seen the term ‘Hanamusa’ attached to something I shared. It’s probably also some super cute art of Delia Ketchum and Jessie Teamrocket, and you may wonder what is going on and also, why is there so much good art of this.

Hanamusa as a term derives from the Japanese names of the characters – Hanako and Musashi. If you’re into shipping name structures, Hana-Musa implies that Hanako is the seme and Musashi the uke, but I don’t think that holds for all use cases of the type of terminology. It’s a ship. It’s an AU ship, as in an ‘alternate universe’ ship, where the two characters are presented in a context outside of the normal context of the anime presentation of them.

The Hanamusa ship as I understand it is set at some point after Jessie and James stop chasing Ash around, and Jessie settles down into a relationship with Delia. There’s tension about her history with Ash and the confusion about finding Your Personal Villain dating your mom, but mostly it’s about showing a sweet domestic life between two characters you know very well in a format I kind of see as like, Comedy-Sabot Romantic 4koma. Like, Hanamusa content is funny (and it is VERY funny) but it doesn’t need to be funny, because the main thing it’s about is showing these two characters and their relationship as they do cute things together.

It’s why people watch shows like K-On basically.

As for where this idea comes from, (EDIT: Slightly wonky wording here, I should have phrased 'this current fandom push' - I don't have any reason to believe Mai INVENTED the ship, just that when you go looking you'll wind up at her work) it seems to have its genesis with the work of one Kiana Mai, who developed this ship some time ago. Kiana Mai is also an extremely skilled artist, and one of those skills seems to be focus, creating these extremely clean-line excellently structured scene vignettes with no unnecessary content in them but also no need to rocket along. It’s amazing, engaging work that uses every part of the small format amazingly well. Which makes sense because one of the things Kiana Mai does is storyboarding work for Disney animated TV shows, a task at which I am sure she no doubt excels.

What I think is the most interesting aspect of Hanamusa, to me specifically, is that it manages to combine three things I don’t actually care about, in a way that doesn’t interfere with something I have unexpectedly strong opinions on. I do not watch Pokemon, and I have not shed a tear for Team Rocket and Ash Ketchum wandering into the sunset. That is a show that is not for or about my interests and that is okay. Indeed, imagining that it should be about what interests me is baffling. I think if I stopped watching a show twenty years ago, I have lost all right to act like I’m entitled to expect it remain the way it was all the way back then.

But I do have opinions on Jessie and James’ character voice. Not their voice acting – I mean, I know for a fact they’ve had to change over time and no voice actor should be obligated to kick it in the same role for what could be their entire career. I mean the way they talk about things and the words they use and kind of emphasis they put on words when they talk. About the way they voice their ideas, or the way they express who they are in the way they talk to one another, that stuff. It’s about affordances and persona, about the kind of people you project being by what words you choose to use and the affect when using them.

It’s why when, if a picture of a character is underneath it, you can read some dril posts as being ‘appropriately’ voiced by a character, even if it’s describing a candle situation that Francis Crozier did not have opinions on.

Jessie has a voice.

Jessie, in my head, is someone capable of moments of tenderness and friendship that is normally overwhelmed by an incredible confidence in ability she does not have and mere reality will never be given permission to infringe on it. Jessie is unassailably unstoppably sure of herself, thoughtlessly stupid in a way that doesn’t mean she is stupid, but which exists in a context of someone who has relentlessly pursued excellence in her job which is also the equivalent of being a late night 7/11 manager. She is the Girlboss that is Gaslighting herself into thinking she has something to Gatekeep.

Delia Ketchum by comparison is a very nice piece of wallpaper. Every appearance of her in my mind is someone Very Nice who is Very Patient and Very Supportive and has managed to keep literally all emotionally challenging conversations from happening around Ash, which can be perhaps easier when you remember that he, too, is an idiot. I don’t know how Delia Ketchum talks, but I do know that there are ways that Delia Ketchum does not talk.

This is interesting! It’s interesting because it presents a character where I am very sure I know what she does do when she does it, and a character about whom I can only be sure wouldn’t do some things. It creates a character space, and it creates expectations of affect and performance within that space. Ash and other characters show up as well, but because they get to interact with this already-defined space, you get treated to this really lovely kind of resonance. Would Ash call Jessie ‘dad’? Maybe, to bug her. He was good at being a twerp. Wasn’t he? I mean I remember it that way, he seems to work out that way, but… how would I know?

I know more of this AU where Jessie is studying to be a Pokemon Doctor and Ash wears glasses than I do of the source material any more. And if you’re wondering ‘hey, do Jessie and Delia ever meet in the source material?’ Like, yeah, for a few seconds. What, the point is creating something new.

If you want to check out Hanamusa stuff and read the comics, I recommend going and clicking on the hashtag on tumblr.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Anime #Media

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 4.1

This is embarrassing but I'm actually so obsessed with the first five minutes of this episode that I've got it bookmarked in my YouTube account. It's just so perfect!

“Say you don't looooove him, my salamander. Then why did you neeeeeeed him? Ono don't answer.” He genuinely thinks need and love are the same and I really hope he's got therapy for that messed up mindset by now.

Officially honored as the most successful musical composer and recording artist of all time. That damn well better be mentioned in his movie. And people still don't take him seriously. But also. John definitely smashed his TV.

I'm screaming. I love Linda the promoter so fucking much!! Interviewer: I knew a lot of your records had went gold and platinum and– Linda: a lot of them? All of them! Ugh I wish she was still with him now.

And then THIS! “What really happened between you and John?” As the first notes to “I Will Survive” play. It's too good. Everyone has to go watch that bit right now.

Linda coming in for the kill again with her fake posh accent: critics? Critics? Oooooh! … They're always three years behind.

Look at him (to the tune Bitch by Meredeth Brooks) he's a whore, he's a father, he's a star, he's a success, he's a lover he's smug, he's laughing, he's having fun, he's working hard. He's everything.

Interviewing Wings concert goers and this one girl goes, "oh I just got off on all of it" and another one goes “It was great, i came twice!” Literally it should've been me!!!!

The McCartneys are seriously such a big family. And it's been Paul's responsibility since was about 21, really, to make sure they're all okay financially. That Francie story of him crumbling in the street in Liverpool haunts me.

"Why shouldn't they go to the same school as everyone else goes to?" State schools should be the only legal schools btw.

I love what the creator does to contextualize their songs by pairing them with other contemporary footage. It makes it much easier for me to understand why something like “arrow through me” (which I love but none of the people I've shown it to do) would've been so popular.

Oh here we go again. Just show us the marriage certificate already.

Cackling at the contrast between “Old Siam Sir” which is one of my all time fav rockers and footage of the Stones being cringe AF and Dylan being so beyond done he's basically dead.

Oh. Okay. And then they slap us in the face with John's poor baby late 70s demo voice crooning, “Don't want your looooove. Anymore.” “I die each time I hear your name.” I'm fine. It's fine. I'm just vomiting my guts out because I'm sick. That's why.

The pairing of “Mr H Atom” with Paul's would've-been drag show is genius, but what is that clip of some sort of trial stuck in there? If anyone knows, please inform me. (16:15)

John sounds so sad talking about the “endless search for . . . Scotland . . . Within an hour of New York.” I can't help thinking of the Mull of Kintyre. But John was also the one who turned Paul on to Scotland in the first place, ≈always waxing poetic about the heather and the hills≈.

Sean is so adorable. Reminds me of my little guy a bit actually.

Why do I always want to tell Paul to be nice to John? John is worse to him. Idk maybe because John's pain is more visible.

[cindylouwhooo]

Chapter One

Gigi’ POV

There’s something about the spring breeze that instantly calms me.

Well, it usually does.

Now I’m just a ball of anxiety, counting down the seconds until I explode.

I’ve been in the studio for the past three days, wasting the time of my producer and assistant during the day, and getting no sleep while twiddling my thumbs and kidding myself that I can write another album at night.

I thought building a recording studio in my Monaco apartment while I stay here would help me. It hasn’t. At all.

And now I’m standing on my balcony, staring out on the packs of people running around the streets trying to get the place ready for the Grand Prix, contemplating whether I could be a good driver—well, just enough to quit my singing career.

I don’t mind the category; I could do F4. F1 Academy too. I’m really simple.

I drop my head on my hand and groan, just when my phone starts ringing from my back pocket.

“What?”

“Tell me you’ve written something.” Ally, my agent, demands through the device.

“I’ve written something.”

��Okay.” She sighs out. “Now tell me the truth.”

“I’m thinking ways of becoming a Formula 4 driver. Do we still have Susie Wolf’s number?”

“Gigi.”

“Ally, I’m serious. I don’t think I have another one in me.”

Ally starts yapping about something, and I put her on speaker while opening Twitter on my phone.

gigimymother

@gigisantos GIRL!!! RECKLESS THREE YEAR ANNIVERSARY IS COMING!!!! WHEN’S THE NEW ONE????

santoslover

@gigisantos delulu is the solulu cause i still think Gigi is surprising us with a new album on Reckless anniversary…

—> gigifan girl be ffr she’s forgotten all about us

—> santoslover shut up

—> dannylovesgigi SAME!! i do also believe my ex is still in love with me sooooo

—> sandyford absolutely not, she is SO over…fame got to her and she thinks two mediocre albums are enough to stay rich 🤑

dannylovesgigi

y’all why’s the tl saying Gigi quit music???

“Were my albums mediocre?”

“G, get off Twitter for fuck’s sake and listen to what I’m saying.” I do as she says, mainly because I’m pretty sure she’ll fly from Toronto and strangle me if I don’t. “Time is ticking. And not in your favour. There’s so much i can do to keep you afloat.”

It’s the same speech. Over and over.

The same speech that I hear every time I pick up the phone from her call. The same speech that drove me away from Toronto and onto Monaco and the same speech that has drenched all the inspiration from me. I don’t have anything to write about, no words to turn into a song. And with every speech I hear, I don’t even want to try.

It’s draining. I hate it.

“Look, I know it’s difficult but you have to have something.”

I want to cry, I really do because her desperation is so evident in her voice. She believes in me too much and it’s gonna hurt when I disappoint her at the end of the summer.

The phone vibrates against my ear a couple of times and I take that chance to get out of the phone call with my doomed future.

“I gotta go, Ally. Something’s come up. I’ll call you later, okay?”

I end the call before she can butt in and let out the longest sigh in the history of the world. I see my best friend’s name on the screen of the phone and inevitably smile the biggest smile at the words on her text.

francis the king

you, me, alcohol 🍷

tonight

no is not a good enough answer

~ ~ ~

Strangely, the sweaty, already drunk people distantly surrounding our table made my mood quite quickly. Flashes of light spark every other second and I’ve become all too aware of the fact that it’s my first public viewing in a while.

My best friend is nursing on her drink while rolling her eyes at her boyfriend that’s on the phone with her, and I giggle at her facial expressions.

She’s incredibly in love, yet acts like Pierre is bothering her on a girl’s night out.

“Yes, I’ll call you at the end of our night…no we won’t call an UBER…okay, okay. Bye.” She ends the call abruptly and with the biggest, most dramatic sigh. “Okay, now we can start having fun.”

“I was already having fun.” I giggle.

Spending time with Francisca is honestly the only time I feel without the baggage of the third album looming over me. The bartender brings us the second round, and two extra shots on the house, accompanied with a wink for both of us.

“He’s cute.” Kika whisper-yells close to my ear over the loud music.

“Uh, oh. Trouble in paradise with Pierre?”

She rolls her eyes and slumps on my shoulder. “I meant you, dumbass.”

I know she did. But no.

It’s not like I’m cancelling love out of my life, but even entertaining the thought of going through the stages of finding someone and everything that happens after I’ve found someone decent, makes me want to hurl.

“The only man in my life is the imaginary one I created in the studio in order to spike my inspiration to write that damn album. His name is Tim.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Am not!”

“Shut up and drink.”

“Amen.”

~ ~ ~

Four rounds and five shots each later, we’re laughing at our lives and wiping the runny mascara that’s dripping on our cheeks. I don’t know what time it is but I can definitely feel the early stages of a good hangover that I’ll be having once I wake up.

But I wouldn’t change it for the world. Because four rounds and five shots later, I feel ten times better than I did when Ally called me earlier. And not because of the alcohol, but because Kika has lectured the insecurities out of me. She spent our girls night out talking to me and listening to me go on and on about my block and the expectations I’ve put for myself—I talked about shit I wouldn’t admit out loud.

At the end of the night, we’re clutching each other outside of the club and laughing so loud, heads are turning to look at us.

“Jesus, your boyfriend might be fast on track but he’s taking his sweet time getting here.” I pout and drop my head on Kika’s shoulder. “If I make a joke, like, ‘didn’t know you were as slow as your single seater’ will he cry?”

Kika laughs as she slips and grabs me tighter to not fall. “Yeah, he’ll probably cry.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Well, now I feel betrayed.” Pierre’s voice reaches us and Kika bounces off me to jump on him. He grabs her immediately and twirls her around, breaking my heart and making me the happiest person at the same time.

gigisantos …

gigisantos girls night was a success 🍷🍾🎉 @francisca.cgomez

Liked by landonorris, pierregasly and 893,409 more

gigiismother give us the new album!!!!!

santosloverrrr girl, get in the studio

pierregasly thank god i arrived in time

—> gigi @pierregasly shut up tripod

gigisantoslvr love her relationship with pierre 😍

f1fanlover why’s lando in the likes???

—> gigigigi because she’s friends with the drivers?

—> f1fanlover yea but they barely speak

francisca.cgomez my soulmate ❤️

As I drop my still clothed body on my bed, a million lyrics fly through my head. Melodies and words swirl in my alcohol infused mind, suffocating me at once and frustrating me as I forget one by one in the aftermath of a night out at the club.

~ ~ ~

[monstrousgourmandizingcats]

Some books and stories that I think are worth reading in conversation with Yellowjackets

Shirley Jackson, all works but especially The Sundial, The Haunting of Hill House, and We Have Always Lived in the Castle. Jackson might or might not need any introduction in this fandom. The Sundial is her take on doomsday preppers, Hill House is of course her haunted house novel (one of the classics of that genre), and Castle has a female protagonist who makes Shauna look like a plaster saint.

Flannery O'Connor, The Violent Bear It Away. O'Connor's work has some of the most pervasive darkness and brutality of any major American writer (maybe Ambrose Bierce comes close), and the second of two novels that she completed before her death is no exception. (The first, Wise Blood, is also very good; the intended third, Why Do the Heathen Rage?, only exists as a fragmentary short story.) Francis Marion Tarwater is kidnapped and raised in the woods by his great-uncle, who is convinced that Francis is destined to be a prophet. The great-uncle's death commences a bizarre adventure involving auditory hallucinations, sinister truckers, an evil social worker, arson, developmental disabilities, and baptizing and drowning someone at the same time. Content warnings for all of the above plus rape. O'Connor is also a fairly racist author by today's standards--she was a white Southerner who died in 1964--so keep that in mind as well.

Ruth Ozeki, The Book of Form and Emptiness. Teenage protagonist is schizophrenic and also a channel for a genuinely supernatural force; well-intentioned but poorly-considered efforts to treat one of these issues make the other worse. Sound familiar? There are supporting characters who are affectionate parodies of Slavoj Zizek and Marie Kondo. A minor character is a middle-aged lesbian who cruises dating apps for hookups with much younger women. Some people find this book preachy and overwritten, but I really like it and would plug it even if I didn't because the author is someone whom I've met and who has been supportive of my own writing.

Yukio Mishima, The Decay of the Angel. Can be read in translation or in the original Japanese. This is the fourth and last book in a series called The Sea of Fertility but I wouldn't necessarily recommend the first three as particularly YJ-ish; Decay is because it deals at great length with issues of doubt and ambiguity about whether or not a genuinely held, but personally damaging, spiritual and religious belief is true. There's also more (as Randy Walsh would put it) lezzy stuff than is usual for Mishima, a gay man. Content warnings for elder abuse, sexual abuse of both children and vulnerable adults in previous books in the series, forced abortion in the first book if you decide to read the whole thing from the beginning, and the fact that in addition to being a great novelist the author was also a far-right political personality.

Howard Frank Mosher, Where the Rivers Flow North. An elderly Vermont lumberjack and his Native American common-law wife refuse to sell their land to a development company that wants to build a hydroelectric power plant. Tragedy ensues. I haven't read this one in a long time but some images from the movie stick in my mind as YJ-y. Lots of fire, water, and trees.

Leonard Cohen, Beautiful Losers. Yes, this is the same Leonard Cohen who later transitioned into songwriting and became a household name in that art form. Beautiful Losers is a very weird, very horny novel that he wrote as a young man; it deals with the submerged darkness and internal tension within Canadian and specifically Quebecois society. One of the main characters is Kateri Tekakwitha, a seventeenth-century Iroquois convert to Catholicism who was probably a lesbian in real life (although Cohen unfortunately seems unaware of this). This one actually shows up YJ directly; the song "God Is Alive, Magic Is Afoot" that plays in the season 2 finale takes its lyrics from a particularly strange passage.

Monica Ojeda, Jawbone. Can be read in translation or in the original Spanish. Extremely-online teenage girls at a posh bilingual Catholic high school in Ecuador start their own cult based on such time-honored fodder as Herman Melville novels, internet creepypasta (no, this book does not look or feel anything like Otherside Picnic), and their repressed but increasingly obvious desire for one another. The last part in particular gets the attention of their English teacher, whose own obsessive internalized homophobia grows into one of the most horrifying monstrous versions of itself I've ever read. Content warning for just about everything that could possibly imply, but especially involuntary confinement, religious and medical abuse, and a final chapter that I don't even know how to describe. Many thanks to @maryblackwood for introducing me to this one.

Jorge Luis Borges, lots of his works but especially "The Aleph," "The Cult of the Phoenix," and "The South." Can be read in translation or in the original Spanish. The three works I list are all short stories. The first deals with mystical experiences and the comprehensibility (or lack thereof) of the universe, the second with coded and submerged references to sexuality in general and homosexuality in particular, the third with leaving your well-appointed city home for a ranch in the middle of nowhere and almost immediately dying in a knife fight, which is surely a very YJ series of things to do.

H.P. Lovecraft, "The Colour out of Space," "The Dunwich Horror," "The Dreams in the Witch House," and "The Thing on the Doorstep." Lovecraft in general needs no introduction--the creepiness, the moroseness, the New Englandness, the purple heliotrope prose, his intense racism (recanted late in life but not in time to make any difference in his reception history) and the way his work reflects his fear of the Other. These short stories are noteworthy for having settings that are more woodsy and less maritime than is usual for Lovecraft's New England, for overtones of the supernatural rather than merely the alien, for featuring some of his few interesting female characters, and for their relative lack of obvious racial nastiness. Caveat lector nevertheless.

Herman Melville, Moby-Dick. It's Moby-Dick. Once you realize that Captain Ahab is forming a cult around the whale and his obsession with it you can't unrealize it.

[alienpossession]

"Ahahaha, yeah sir, just trying to keep up with the role, you know? As you said it yourself, cannot let other people know that I'm not myself any longer so I just play pretend being this straight Korean prick. Would've let you do anything you want to me if I know it was you from the get go, please, get in, you'll have so much more fun by being inside of me rather than going around as the little twink,"

After a while, I usually like to check out and test my various vessels which are spread across the globe. Aside from trying to know how well they integrate to human society, I find it amusing to toy around with their feelings and how easy their personality switched between their human persona and my dutiful vessels. It's also a way for me to test my power, like how well I could hide myself to be undetected by their senses which would indicate how well I could hide from other beings that might come to Earth and spoiled my fun. I find it handy to use Vince as my base body since he's loaded and despite claiming to be a very busy businessman when I first met him back then, most of his works are done by other people.

It left a lot of flexibility in his schedule so I simply head to the airport and his private jet ready to drop me anywhere I wished in a moment's notice. After I landed, I usually just dropped Vince's body in the hotel while I did my test, wearing temporary skins that my vessels wouldn't recognize as other vessels of mine and could keep me incognito. Here's what happened in the past few weeks

---

I just smirked as I quickly kneeled and get my tongue out ready to give that sweaty abs some licking it deserves. He's this close to bashed me to death, just like the real homophobic Seulgi would. I turned my incognito mode off and he directly stopped his fist a couple centimetres away from this cute university student's face I slid into earlier. Now, his fist turned into a lustful grab of my hair as he used it to rub me up and down his abs as if I'm some kind of washcloth. His lustful moan is as seductive as I remembered when I took him over in that Hongdae nightclub, and I couldn't help myself but squirted some loads into this university senior's pants while transferred myself to Seulgi through his navel

---

"Oh that was hilarious. I totally didn't see that coming. I really thought you are just one hell of an annoying new client I should endure jist because they could afford me. Totally sorry for being so hard and rude to you Sir,"

I simply smiled. Francis is a personal trainer, a succesful one at that, but I know he's not good with people that are not at least a decently-built individual yet. I slid into this fat fuck when he left Subway and I quickly devised the plot to tick Francis off. I bought some gym clothes to be in character, signed up to the gym where he worked at, asked....no....demanded to have him as my personal trainer and said all the things I know he hated. He's this close to lash out on me, I could tell, but just like the real Francis, he kept himself together. I also didn't find any flaws on the way he behaved like Francis so after about an hour, I turned my incognito mode off and he quickly realized it

"Well Sir, please just left that fat retard quickly and get into me Sir. That look doesn't fit you and I know he only drained you and made you out of breath. Please, it's been a while too since you get inside me,"

---

"Why would you do that, Sir? We are totally fool-proof, you don't have to test us. Is this random test or did you hear anything about us raising other people's suspicion? Now I feel bad for not welcoming you properly, you really played that role a bit too well to, I was this close to slap your face and called you names,"

"No no, you two are doing fine. This is just random test as I'm visiting Egypt anyway. And as for her, I just know you would hate her. Argumentative and loud gym girl that dared to talk back to you? Yeah, that's your trigger, just need to up the ante by disrespecting your mom and boy, I noticed that balled fist yo, I quickly shut off my incognito mode hahah!"

"We felt bad that you have to meet us this way. Maybe you want to slide into Farhan? You've went inside me during Mr. Olympia a couple months ago anyway, Farhan has been longing for you,"

"Well, I'm gonna do it from this chick's body so maybe let's search for somewhere private,"

---

"Master, sorry for being a bit direct but this is not an effective usage of your time. You have so many vessels, why fool around with the ruse?"

"Because I like to do it. And I can do it. Why are you the one questioning me now?"

"Sorry Master. It's just---"

"What?"

"Strip, and where's a bathroom? I need to fuck you with a mirror in sight so he can see that he's just a bottom bitch that lost thr ability to even control his own body and he's not going to influence you anymore even when I'm not inside you all the time. I will make him trapped so deep within his own mind, he wouldn't be able to leak through and influenced you any longer,"

---

"Certainly sir, everything I own belongs to you, including the bitch I'm going to visit. She's all yours. Heck, even if you want to fuck a white twink with my body, so be it, you do what you want with me and my schedule. I'm just so honored that you even bothered to come all the way down to South Africa for me,"

---

"What? Huh....I guess you played Romain a bit too well. Calm down a bit. Get hard. Fuck around more. Stop being so business-minded all the time. It gets annoying to see more of that guy surfaced you know. He's one tough cookie back when I eventually subdued him, turned out he remained tough up until now huh? Giving you a hard time to be loose and free while fooling all the people worked for him. Strip,"

"Oh wow, really? Fuck, I really am going to smash this whole thing with you inside of me during the competition. What a chance encounter this is. I really thought you were just an annoying fan and I only wasted my time here interacting with a fans, but turns out it pays off acting all nice and pretending like I'm this sweet All-American boy when you revealed yourself. Please, you can just jump right in sir, it's been a while since my navel welcomed you,"

[delightfully-deranged-dagur]

Finished my Total Drama OC Cast!

Let's meet the cast!

Alex. The Attention Hog

Doesn't care about anything except having everyone's attention on him. I mean, why wouldn't you pay attention to him. He's ripped, he's clever, he's hot, he's got muscles, did I mention he's ripped?

Finn. The Workaholic

Money, money, money. That's what Finn dreams about. It's why he works 6 different jobs and sleeps 2 hours a week. (If he's lucky) He loves money. He wants a lot of it. But the only way he'll accept it is through hard work.

And what's harder then winning Total Drama?

Gabriel. The Pretentious Goth

He barely glanced at you and he's already unimpressed with you. You're just not up to Gabriel's standards. Too mainstream and normal. Have you ever even worn a corset?

Just because he thinks he's better then you doesn't mean he has to constantly remind you of it. And yet he does.

Darla. The Visionary

Darla doesn't create art. She IS art. She breathes, eats and drinks art!

What exactly does she consider art? Oh you know, the usual. Glueing her schools desks to the ceiling. Swapping out the football uniforms for ballgowns. And of course, shaping her hair into the shape of the moon.

Rachel. The Rodeo Star

This devious diva has it all. Brains, brawn and beauty. And she's planning to walk away with the million keeping that all intact.

She's not a bad person, really. Just competitive. If she wasn't competing, she'd rather treat her fellow contestants to one of her Rodeo shows and some home-baked pie.

Raheem. The Oblivious Heartthrob

Raheem doesn't seem to realize how attractive he is. In fact, he doesn't realize a lot of things. He's kind and pretty book smart. But he's just terrible at reading social cues.

He feels terrible whenever he offends someone or make them upset because he didn't read their emotions properly. He doesn't really know to fix this issue so he just puts on a smile and suppresses his turmoil.

Olive. The Doormat

Coming from a big family where she doesn't feel like she fits in, Olive tries her best to help people so she'll feel accepted.

Now if only there was a way to help people without dragging so much attention to herself.

Lulu. The Clown

Lulu just wants to put a smile on people's faces and have fun. She can get easily carried away when she's excited. But once she calms down you'll notice just how pragmatic this Clown is.

Just because she's silly doesn't mean she doesn't have common sense, she might just surprise you in ways you didn't expect.

Phoenix, aka Francis. The Menace

Phoenix identifies as a problem. An inconvenience. An absolute menace you're never quite sure is messing with you, or is joking around. He randomly SHOUTS random words when he speaks, either another way to annoy people or just a disorder.

He lost his arm in a fire he may or may not have definitely caused himself. But he survived which is how he got the name Pheonix.

Cherry. The Competitive Dancer

Cherry values teamwork more then anything. She tries her hardest to be a valuable teammate and keep everyone focused. Of course, they might listen to her more if she tried to spend more time with the team outside of challenges.

After a recent betrayal in her dance troupe where someone sold routines to rival troupes, Cherry doesn't trust new people easily. And clings to the ones she does trust.

Augustus. The Religious Do-Gooder

Augustus is a sweet kid. Always looking to do a good deed for someone. That's how he was raised in what is definitely not a cult.

Good deeds are very important to Auggie here. After all, once you do a good deed for someone, they have to do a good deed for you. They have to. Because if they don't, things get ugly...

Janus. The Hippie

Janus is like, Fer sure, the chillest guy around. He's all about that inner peace stuff. And outer peace. And of course, in-between peace. He spreads his message of peace by sharing crystals, flowers, and songs played on his guitar.

People say Janus is incapable of feeling any hate. He loves everybody. But he's a romantic at heart and is still looking for that special someone to love.

Marlo. The Prankster

Marlo loves pranking people. Fart cushions. Prank calls. Acid in the towns water supply. You know, the usual. Okay so Marlo may be lacking some, what do you call it? Morals! And yes he's uncapable of feeling empathy.

But. He's also got a criminal record. So point is. When you see Marlo, run the other way.

Flo. The Rebel

Flo isn't a big fan of authority or "The man" telling her what to do. She'd rather live her own life, free from anyone's expectations or rules.

Her favorite past time is rocking out with her band, Voltageous Chaos! She's lead singer and bassist. Her little sister Beast is on the drums, BFF Prof. Cavity on keyboard, sleepy gal Moot on Sax and incomprehensible Zips on Trumpet.

Still looking for a Guitarist though...

Parvati. The Mythology Buff

Parvati adores learning about Mythology. Especially the creatures. Fantastical beasts she can only fantasize about. Of course while learning Mythology she also learns a lot of history and cultures from around the world.

She has so many thoughts going through her head sometimes she loses focus on what she was doing. But after stumbling a bit she gets right back at it and gives it her all. For a nerd she's quite athletic.

Sasha. The Nepo-Baby

Wait, you guys don't have family members working high in the industry and getting you onto TV-shows? But there's so many people in the industry, surely you're related to some of them?

That's what Sasha thinks at the least. She doesn't really see how many privileges she has in life. Which thankfully means she never taunts less fortunate people with those privileges.

Her dream is to become a famous singer, and she has enough connections to make that dream a reality. Of course she herself works hard on her singing and encourages others to work on their dreams too. She's very sincere and optimistic.

Tony. The Short-Tempered Greaser

Tony has always been a bit, vertically challenged. Something bullies picked up on. Which then got picked up by his younger twin brothers, who did get blessed with the tall genes and at 14 tower over their older brother.

The constant bullying at school and at home, unable to tell his mom in fear of worrying her, and never quite properly dealing with the grief of losing his father, has left Tony with a lot of bubbled up anger. And it doesn't take much for him to snap.

Madileighn. The Annoying Influencer

Madi worked hard to gain a following. But her general cluelessness about the problematic brands she endorses, sharing videos about animals that look cute but are in distress, and accidentally joining a pyramid scheme makes her tiring to be around.

As she genuinely believes she's doing nothing wrong.

Well. That's it. My Total Drama Cast! I'm planning on writing a fanfic about them.

Taking place after the 2nd season of the Revival, where the show goes back to the abandoned film lot for a Take 2 of Total Drama Action.

18 contestants. 9 per team. Only 1 winner.

Stay tuned for more news.

[m-jelly]

The bunny's keeper - Chapter 5

@ladycheesington <3

Levi x fem! reader.

Modern AU, fluff, romance, falling in love, Levi has tattoos and piercings, bad boy Levi, protective Levi, smut, oral, outdoor sex, breeding kink, reader has implant.

In this chapter: You talk to a friend and manage to rally the journalists and reporters for Erwin and Levi. While you help Levi works hard on a gift for you. Levi takes you on a date where he asks you something important and after the two of you make love in the woods on Levi's bike

Massive thank you to @ladycheesington for helping me flesh this story out and helping with the side plot of Erwin and how the gang started <3

Part 6

You set up your little area and made sure you looked nice. You gave Levi a big grin as he kept glancing over at you. “Levi, you’re staring.”

He blushed a little. “Well, because you’re pretty.” He walked over to you. “Is my office okay for you to make these calls?”

You nodded. “Of course.”

He sat down next to you. “You’re amazing.”

“You’re more amazing.”

Levi wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you against him. “I love you.”

You rubbed Levi’s chest. “I love you too.” You kissed his temple. “Is everything okay?”

“I just…I’m possessive. This big-shot journalist you’re friends with will take one look at your pretty face and want to marry you.”

You hummed a laugh. “I’m with you, Levi. I won’t leave you for him, I promise.”

He kissed you over and over. “I want to make love to you.”

You cupped his face. “I will ride your hard cock on this sofa once I’ve finished with this video call.”

Levi felt his whole body tingle. “I can’t wait.”

You patted his thigh. “Have a good day, my love.”

“I’ll make you something.”

You hummed a laugh. “Okay, handsome.” You shuffled in your seat and smiled at the camera when the call came in. You tapped it and smiled. “Hello, Jacob.”

Jacob adjusted his glasses and smiled at you. He was a very tall and charming man, a well-looked-after stubble, his smile was big and friendly. He softly called your name. “Great to see you. I read your email and you have interested me. Why don’t we talk this through.”

You smiled brightly. “Thank you! So, the big man Francis Seymore. We’re here to talk about him.”

He hummed. “He’s dangerous.”

“I know and I have a plan to take him down.”

He sat back in his seat. “Do you now? It’s a dangerous thing you’re doing.”

You leaned closer. “I know, but the thing is. Recently, someone for the website I help with made a report on him and he wasn’t happy.”

“This supposed to convince me?”

“Let me finish, Jacob.” You giggled. “One person he noticed and can stop, but what if a whole fucking army of people do reports on him? Expose him for the lies and the abuse. One voice shouting up is putting a target on you, but if you have a whole group, you can stand against him. You want to attack him all at once. If he questions things, then throw my name in there I don’t mind.”

Jacob smiled at you. “This is a fantastic idea. I mean, this man brought in countless drugs in this city. He’s bleeding the common person dry and allowing crime to run rampant all the while he strokes the egos of the rich.” He shook his head. “The shit poor people are being put through and it’s this endless cycle too. They take his drugs, then borrow money from him to get more and to get money they are employed by him to sell more drugs to others.”

You clasped your hands together. “Yes, that’s how I feel about this.”

He tilted his head. “But I know your lover is in Erwin Smith’s gang. You want me to destroy one gang leader to put another in his place, I’m not sure about that.”

You shuffled closer. “Jacob. I know Erwin is a gang leader, but he means well. He has nothing to do with drugs or guns. His main income and purpose is to clean the streets of the bad. He also protects businesses at a small price and in return, he helps them as a business. He buys out businesses and saves people from ruin. He works with them and gives them some of the money. He also plans to build more shops and cafes to bring in money to areas that have had businesses leave.”

He hummed in thought. “Interesting. So, he’s trying to help people by going about it in a not-so-legal way a lot of the time.”

“Exactly. Plus, they have caught incredibly bad people. Sometimes the law can’t stop everyone and they are restricted, but Erwin captures these bad people and runaways. He can punish them and hurt them.”

“Does he work with police?”

You whined a bit. “Yes.”

He released a long sigh as he thought. “Sometimes you have to get dirty. Justice fails a lot of people. So, you want all of us to work together?”

“I want us all to do reports on Mr Seymore and release them all at the same time. There is safety in numbers. He’ll see all this information getting out about him, there will be no hiding. There is so much coming out that it’s impossible to hush every single person. We need to keep talking about him too.”

He laughed. “Fuck, that might work. So, what is Erwin doing?”

You shuffled. “Well, he is going to work with the mayor. He is also going to go to those housing complexes where there are a lot of poor, bad shops and terrible parks. He’ll help build them up, pour money into them and work with the community to improve it.”

“It’s a lot of money to do that. What does he want back?”

“A small donation from each person living there to help him build the place. He’ll get them jobs in new shops there too. Once they have a good income going, again it’ll be small donations to Erwin to keep the protection there and the upkeep.” You smiled. “Plus, he’ll own a lot of the shops and as an owner, he’ll earn income.”

Jacob nodded. “He’ll be putting a lot of trust in people. He means well. From what I’ve heard, the people he deals with adore him and he’s helped so many. Plus, he doesn’t hurt good people.” He clapped his hands together. “Okay! Sounds like a plan to me. I’m in.”

You gasped. “What!? Really?”

He smiled. “Of course!” He leaned forward and said your name. “People have wanted to take down Seymore for a while, but it’s been so hard. The reason is we’re not organised. People have been trying to play the hero and going at it alone. There is safety in numbers. It’s time for the people to take back their city.” He winked at you. “Leave it with me, okay? I’ll organise the reporter and journalist riot.”

You felt your cheeks burn. “Amazing! Thank you so much! So, if you need me for anything, please contact me.”

“I will. This is your idea and I want to keep you in the loop. I swear to you as your long-time friend, we will get this fucker.”

You welled up. “Thank you, Jacob.”

He blushed hard. “Please don’t cry, okay? I didn’t realise how much this meant to you. I’m dedicated to this, okay? I’m all in.”

“You’re the best.”

“You’re too sweet.” He tried to hide his blush. “I’ll get to work and rally the troops. You keep Erwin focused, okay? Good intentions only and he’ll go far.”

“Promise!” You waved to him as the call ended. “That’s amazing news.”

While you were busy with Jacob, Levi had set himself a little mission. The love he had for you was overflowing. There was only one thing on Levi’s mind, so he told his workers to take care of everything while he worked on a little project. He gathered some good metal and started changing the shape and manipulating it. He huffed a bit when he got the shape perfect, but it seemed too simple.

One of his workers approached him. “Hey, boss?”

Levi gazed at him. “Yeah?”

“How about choosing a nice stone and some patterns?”

Levi hummed. “I’d love to, but I don’t know how to get hold of stones.”

He smiled at Levi. “Got an idea. We’ll make something for you. You focus on nice patterns.”

Levi did as he suggested and made sure everything was delicate and intricate. He looked up when the man returned. “I hope you haven’t stolen anything.”

He shook his head. “Nah, boss. I made something for you. We’ve got a lot of heat in here and well I thought I’d make a tiny bit of glass with some colour.” He lifted a glass stone with pride. “Tiny, but pretty.”

Levi was in awe of it. “It’s perfect.”

“You think it can fit in what you’re making?”

Levi showed him. “I think it will.” The two worked together to set the glass in. “It looks perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome boss, now you better ask her the important question. Yeah?”

Levi blushed. “I will. Thank you again for your help.”

“Here for you, boss.”

Levi bowed his head and hurried over to you just as you were coming out of his office. “Bunny. Did it all go okay?”

You nodded. “It went fantastic! He said yes! We have help.”

He wrapped his arms around you. “That’s fantastic. Thank you so much for getting the media on our side.”

You giggled. “I’m so happy. I didn’t think it’d go well, but it did.” You hugged Levi tightly. “I feel so emotional.”

“It’s understandable. You’ve been through a lot.” He lifted your head. “I’m so sorry I’m putting you through all this. I’m a dangerous man and I’ll be even more dangerous as time goes on.”

You gazed at Levi with a sparkle in your eyes. “I’m never leaving you. You and me, Levi. You are my forever. I adore you so much. I love you.”

“I love you forever and always.” He kissed you and hummed. “I know you wanted to do naughty things in my office, but I’m thinking about a date.”

You bounced up and down. “Really? Are you sure we can afford it?”

“We can.” He wrapped his hand around yours. “You ready to go?”

You trotted along behind him. “Now?”

He smiled back at you. “Yes, now.” He led you to his bike and put your helmet on you. “Hold on.”

You sat behind Levi and hugged him tightly. You squealed in delight as Levi raced through the city and made his way out of it to the woods. It was so peaceful and pretty. Cheap dates were what you and Levi did and it made you appreciate each other so much more. The two of you had secret spots all over the place where you could enjoy each other’s company and bodies.

Levi moved up a tight road and began to drive very slowly until he found the perfect spot. “What do you think?”

You pulled your helmet off and walked over to the river and pool. “It’s perfect.” You turned to him. “Do we have food? I didn’t pack anything.”

“I put things together, don’t worry.” He walked up to you and caressed your cheek. “Allow me to take care of you.”

You felt your cheeks burn. “I want to look after you though.”

He chuckled. “You do too much of that.” He smiled at your pout. “So cute.” He pinched your cheek and wiggled. “Little bunny.”

“Bunnies bite.”

“Do they now?”

You turned your head and bit his hand. “Mm.”

He purred a little. “I like it.” He reached over and lightly gripped your neck. “Look at me, bunny, I’m covered in tattoos and piercings. I like a little bit of pain.” He crashed his lips against yours and hummed in delight. “I have something for you.”

“You’ve said that before and it was your dick. Is it your dick?”

He lifted you and sat you on his bike. “I did put a bow on it.”

“It was very cute and fun.”

He smirked at you. “I thought so too. I loved it when you did the same thing for me with a bow over your boobs and a bow on your pelvis.”

“I should do that again.”

He cupped your face. “No need. I’ll do it again for you.” He kissed the end of your nose. “I have something for you and not the rude thing you were thinking.”

You nibbled your lip. “What is it?”

He put his hand in his pocket and then pulled out when he was making all day. “While you were being my amazing girlfriend, I was making something for you.”

You giggled. “What were you making?”

He released a long and shaky sigh. “I know I ain’t got much money. I know I ain’t got the smarts compared to people like Jacob or Erwin. I know I am this rough and tough guy who says shit and fuck too much.” He smiled a little. “I know what I’m not. I know what I’m lacking and I know I’m fucking lucky to have a woman like you in my life.”

You welled up. “Levi, you’re more amazing than you think. You’re my world.”

“You’re mine too. I love you more than words can describe. I will make a better life for us both and our children.” He held up what he made to reveal it was a delicate ring. He said your full name. “I have no money to offer. I have no riches or expensive home or car. I haven’t made a big name for myself. What I do have is love. You can have every drop of my love. Will you marry me?”

You nodded as you started shaking from pure excitement. “Yes, yes I will.”

He slipped the ring on your finger and let out a shaky sigh. “I made it the right size.”

You sniffed a bit. “I can’t believe you made this! Levi, this is incredible.” You leaned up and kissed him. “I love you so much, Levi.”

He tangled his fingers in your hair and kissed you with ferocious passion. “I love you too.”

You blushed a little. “Have you ever had sex on your bike before?”

He frowned. “No.”

You whined a little. “Do you want to?”

He turned you on his bike so you straddled it. “I would love to.” He pushed you back a bit while he pulled your hips closer. He smiled as you lay back a bit with your head by the handles. “This is a great idea. Hold on and be good. If you want me to stop, just say it.”

You mewled. “Levi.”

He slipped your panties off and shoved them into his pocket. He threw your legs over his shoulders and dove for you. He gripped your thigh tightly as his other hand pressed on your pelvis. He dragged his tongue up your delicious heat and made sure to flick your clit with his piercing. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the delight that was your clit and pussy. The heat and taste from you was addictive, no matter how much heat ate you he could never get enough. He hummed in happiness as you panted and moaned below him.

You tangled your fingers into Levi’s hair and tugged. You arched your back off the bike as you cried out in delight. You gulped hard as your pleasure increased and your coil tightened. Your legs shook hard as your body became overwhelmed with the pleasure that Levi was giving you. You could feel your body burning with pleasure.

You threw your head back. “Levi.” You moaned out loud as you felt the pleasurable pop inside you. “Mm.”

Levi dragged his tongue up and hummed. “You are so perfect.” He straddled his bike and slipped your legs over his thighs. “Now, if I remember correctly…”

You sat on his lap. “I wanted to ride you.”

He smiled at you. “Do you want to?”

You undid his trousers and pulled his thick hard erection out. You played with his piercings making him grunt and moan. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

You shifted and sank on him. Both of you let out long moans as he slowly filled every inch of you. You tapped your forehead against Levi’s and mewled in delight. “I can’t bounce, sorry.”

Levi smiled at you. “Just roll your hips, my darling bunny.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and did as he suggested. The two of you locked eyes and panted as you rolled your hips against him. You tapped your forehead against Levi’s as you moved together. He pressed all the right places inside you. His tip kept kissing you as his piercings rubbed sensitive parts. A tingling went through every inch of you as pleasure spread with every beat of your heart. You clenched your walls around him and softly smiled at the man you would be marrying.

Levi tilted his head and smiled for a moment before kissing you. He ran his hands up your back and held you against him. He pumped his cock into you just a little causing your toes to clench tightly in delight. His pierced tongue moved against yours making you shiver in ecstasy. The way the piercing on his lip brushed against your lip made your heart race. Every inch of Levi Ackerman was incredible to you. The two of you were made for each other and nothing could get in your way.

He pushed his hand down to your bum and gripped. He moved you a little harder and faster on him. He wanted you to cum and to cum as hard as possible. You are his fiancée now and soon-to-be wife, so he had to spoil you as much as possible. He pulled from your lips and ran his tongue up your neck before softly biting the side of your neck and sucking a strong mark. A ring was not enough for your finger, he wanted to mark you in pretty lovebites.

You dragged your nails across Levi’s back as your coil tightened. “Mm!” Your body shook on top of Levi as you felt a pop and pleasure burn through you. “F-Fuck.” You gasped as your orgasm consumed you.

Levi held you close and panted as your walls massaged him. “Bunny.”

You mewled. “Grumpy.” You pouted a little. “No cum?”

He smirked. “Not yet.”

“Mm, then bend me over the motorbike.”

Levi lifted you and stood you up. He slipped off the bike and helped you bend over the bike, your feet couldn’t touch the floor so you held the handles and knew that you would be at Levi’s mercy. He stood behind you and ran his hand down your back as he moved his tip up and down your pussy lips. He pushed his tip into you and plunged deep until he had nothing left to give. He massaged your hips and began pumping himself in and out of you. He marvelled at your sweet moans that echoed in the beautiful woods.

You pushed up on the bike and leaned your head back as you moaned. You looked back over your shoulder at your lover and smiled at him. A little whimper from you was all Levi needed to hear to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. He pressed your body against the bike and kissed you with all the love and passion in his heart. He kissed along your cheek and then to your neck. He nipped and sucked the back of your neck causing you to shiver in delight. Your fingers gripped the bike tightly.

You purred. “Levi, harder.”

He gripped your hips and started pumping hard and fast into you. He wanted to see if all his love could be poured into you. He leaned over you and kissed your back. Everything about you was perfect and cute. Marrying you was a dream come true. Part of him couldn’t believe that he was in the middle of the woods with your hips up for him as he pounded his cock into you. He eyed your body and found himself looking down at how wet his cock was as it slid in and out of you. Hearing you mewl and shiver at every pop of his piercing was arousing.

You panted and moved your hips as best you could, but as soon as you moved your clit rubbed on the bite seat. You cried out as pleasure burned through you. You panted heavily as you felt every inch of Levi fill you, he was always so damn perfect. You turned your head a little and felt yourself drooling. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you felt your pleasure rushing towards you. With a harsh movement of your hips against the seat on your clit, your orgasm burned through you and consumed your body.

Levi stilled his hips as your orgasm rushed through you. “Bunny.”

You mewled. “Grumpy. Still no cum?”

He chuckled. “Not yet.” He dragged himself out of you. He shifted your body and sat you sideways on the bike facing him. “One last position.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and linked your weak legs around him. “Mm, Levi.”

He pressed back into you and rolled his hips slowly. He smiled against your lips before kissing you. “I love positions like this the most, being close to you and kissing you.”

You nipped his lip. “I love these too. Kissing you is wonderful.” You tangled your fingers in his hair and tugged a little. “I love you.”

He bucked himself against you. “I love you too. I love you so much.” He grunted a little. “I don’t know if I can last much longer, my love. Your pussy and lips are too good.”

You cupped Levi’s face. “Cum inside me. Cum deep. Give me a lot.” You smiled at him. “Imagine we’re making a baby.”

Levi growled. “Yes!” He pumped harder and faster. “Fill you up with everything I have.”

You hugged him close to you, his lips against the crook of your neck. “My love, my darling, my Levi.”

He panted and grunted against your skin as you shivered in delight. “Mine, all mine.”

You kissed along his cheek to his lips. You cupped his face and gazed deep into Levi’s eyes to see it was full of love and your eyes were full of love for him. You moved one hand between your bodies and started playing with your clit. You shivered and purred at him as your walls massaged him over and over. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you felt your coil tighten up once again. You leaned your head back as Levi bit your neck and sucked your skin.

You screamed in euphoria as you felt your orgasm rush you. “F-Fuck.”

Levi bent you backwards a little, your hips raised as he bucked harder. He slammed his cock in deep. “A-ah! Mm.” He mewled in delight as his cum poured into you. He panted and hummed in delight. “I love you.” He softly called your name. “I love you.”

You smiled sweetly at Levi. “I love you too.” You nibbled your lip. “Mm, hot and a lot of it.”

He blushed a little at your words. “Your words fuelled me.”

You giggled. “They did, didn’t they?”

He dragged himself out of you and tucked himself away. “I’ll get your panties.” He pulled them out of his pocket and slowly dragged them up your legs. “Did I go too rough?”

“No, you are always wonderful.” You linked your arms around his neck. “I can’t believe I’m going to marry you.”

Levi smiled. “I can’t believe I am either.”

You ran your fingers over his lips and lightly played with his piercing. “So pretty.”

“You’re the pretty one.” He bit your thumb. “You’ve got me horny again.”

You giggled. “Sorry.”

He lifted you into the air. “Do you want to go for a paddle?”

“I’d love that!”

He carried you over to the pool of water and placed you on your feet. “You ready to get naked?”

You purred at him. “Does it involve having some fun sex?” You leaned closer and grazed your lips against Levi’s. “Pretending to make a baby.”

Levi gripped your hips and growled. “I love kinky breeding talk.” He pulled your top up and stared at you in a bra and skirt. “Having a baby with you would be incredible. Let’s get all the practice in making one.”

[tildexart]

Hello again! Please elaborate on why you don’t like Bram Stokers Dracula (1992) I love hearing people go off and I think I’ll agree with your conclusion since I don’t like it either haha

HI thanks for sending this as an ask!! Here's a very long, convoluted response. Warning: it is not proofread.

So, the main reason I don't like Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992) is because of accuracy. Now, I am completely fine when a book-to-film adaptation isn't a perfect recreation of the book (frankly thats impossible imo) but MAN does this adaptation do the original book injustice. The romance between Dracula and Mina?? The plot line about Dracula's dead wife? Renfield originally working with Harker?? MINA ATTEMPTING TO SEDUCE VAN HELSING???? Really, most of the injustice is done to Mina as a character. Book!Mina is such a strong, well written character. She is integral to the plot and to the book's structure (we would not have had all of the letters, newspaper clippings, and diary entries without her). The book itself states this with how often the Dude Squad (I think I got that title from an Overly Sarcastic Productions video, im going to keep using it) directly tell Mina that they could not have defeated Dracula without her. She is resilient, smart, and stands up for herself. 1992!Mina is not this. James V. Hart, who wrote the screenplay, took everything that made Mina Mina and created a stereotypical damsel character. It's a shame because I strongly believe that Winona Ryder could play a killer, book-accurate Mina Harker.

Speaking of who plays the characters... the cast is really hit or miss for me personally. I do think Winona Ryder and Anthony Hopkins are good picks (especially based off of the book portrayals) and I remember liking Cary Elwes as Arthur Holmwood. Tom Waits as Renfield is a pretty inspired choice ngl.

But. Keanu. Don't get me wrong, I love Keanu Reeves. I think he is great in Bill and Ted's and John Wick. But that's why it confuses me as to why he was cast in this film. He can't do the accent, he shows no emotion, and it sounds like he is remembering his lines as he says them. In fact, my family and I quote his lines in this film as a joke all the time ("Is the castle far?"). None of his former roles at the time implied that he would be a good Jonathan either.

I can't remember much of Gary Oldman's performance, I just know I didn't like it lmao. He made Dracula too suave when he's really just a Creature.

Note: in looking up the cast I was reminded that Richard E. Grant plays Seward and as a fan of Saltburn (2023) that is just. hilarious to me.

I only went into this movie because I was told I would like it because the production design was pretty. Honestly? It's not. The film is poorly lit and the costumes are questionably accurate. The few shots I can remember are for the wrong reasons- such as that One Scene with Lucy in the cemetery. I won't get into it much more, it makes me extremely uncomfortable, but its another instance of Bram Stoker's Dracula taking away everything that made the female characters interesting.

Honestly? The best thing I can say about this movie is that it included Quincey. He's my favorite and he usually doesn't make it to screen adaptations. I'm happy you're here buddy.

I think what infuriates me is the title. Bram Stoker's Dracula implies that this adaptation takes a lot from the book. It's not just Dracula, it's Bram Stoker's Dracula. It's like saying that this adaptation is the most faithful. But... it's not. Bram Stoker's Dracula takes more of it's inspiration from old Universal films and previous Dracula adaptations than it does from the actual book. Thats okay! I'm all for new interpretations of old stories. But if you're a new interpretation that changes half of the characters and plot, don't market said interpretation with the original authors name.

This is not Bram Stoker's Dracula, it's Francis Ford Coppola's Dracula.

Which, even then, this is weak for Coppola. I'm not a huge fan of his work (I've seen The Godfather and Apocalypse Now) but I can understand and appreciate why he is as influential as he is. I think his films are well written and beautifully shot. He has great casts who elevate the writing and make their characters memorable. This film goes against all of that and that bothers me so much. It feels like a cheap imitation of Coppola's work.

Anyway- that sums up my thoughts on Bram Stoker's Dracula. I reallt enjoyed writing this, as someone who wants to be a film historian but doesn't actually get to do film-deep dives this was pretty refreshing haha. Good reminder that this is a film blog, not a podcast one.

Feel free to ask me more about movies, especially if you like Dracula! I am of the opinion that there is no good adaptation of Dracula... but I have ideas on how to fix that so...

[oumaheroes]

Congrats for the 1000 followers! :D You and your fics are such a blessing to this fandom

If I'm not mistaken, one of your answers said about the brit bros getting drunk and ends up in Wales' garden but Wales himself nowhere to be seen? O.o My mind went to that news about a drunk Welshman swimming across the hoover dam (I know it happened in the U.S but still) and your answer makes me very curious. Where he disappeared to? To the comfort of his own room or is he outside doing God-knows-what? I need some answers, please.

Thank you so much, @notnobleone! And I did say that, you're right! They go out drinking, Ireland ends up passed out in Wales' garden bushes, England's missing his shoes or something sat stupid on the doorstep, and Scotland's been trying to drunkenly unpick the door all night long. And Wales, the homeowner?

Wales is nowhere to be seen

And you know what? I spent hours looking for that post to link this to and I CANNOT find it; your memory is incredible! I don't even know how far back I wrote that!

Here are the answers you seek, just for you and your lovely brain ❤️

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

Jail Break

Wales emerged into the Police Station waiting room behind a very stern looking young constable, overdressed for the weather in a long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans. The constable looked away when Wales tried to smile at him in thanks, his mouth a disapproving hard line before he began to read him his exit procedure.

Wales was mostly presentable looking from his brief stay in the cells, despite wearing only last night’s clothes, and the only real sign that anything was amiss was that he was alarmingly more rumpled that Belgium had had reason to see him in years- hair all angles, dark circles under his eyes, and a curious amount mud around his hems.

He smiled at her once he caught her eye, giving her a small nod, ‘Hello, Marie.’

‘Rhys.’ Belgium smiled to the constable as Wales came closer and motioned with her arm towards the door, ‘After you.’

‘No forms to fill out?’

‘Already done.’

‘You’re a treasure.’

Belgium smiled, ‘I know.’

Outside, Wales blinking gritty eyes in the bright midday sunshine, Belgium took the arm he offered her and began to lead him forwards through to the centre of Brussels.

‘I’m so sorry about this.’

‘Don’t be.’ She squeezed his arm, ‘Was exciting. I’ve not been woken up by a call from the police in a good few decades.’

‘Francis?’

‘Lars.’

Wales raised his eyebrows but didn’t enquire further, ‘Were you asleep?’

‘Most people are at six in the morning.’

‘Six.' Wales rubbed his eyes, ‘Lord. I don’t even remember twelve in the morning. I'm surprised I remembered your land-line number.'

'You didn't. The police picked you up stumbling about outside the train station. You told them my name and I'm known enough by a few authority figures for them to make the connection.'

Wales held a hand over his eyes and sighed something in Welsh that sounded offensive. 'I won't ask you to keep that between us; it's too good not to share.'

Belgium watched him run his tongue across his lips, looking sheepish and uncomfortable, for long enough to make the early wake up worth it, and then took pity on him. She dug about in her handbag and handed him a fresh bottle of water. ‘Here.’

‘Ta.’ He took a long drink. 'You'd think I'd learn by now not to mix hops and grapes.'

‘I wanted to come and get you earlier,' Belgium told him, 'but there was some hassle with border control. They were a bit concerned that you’d managed to get through border control without a passport and it took a while to get them to drop it.’

Wales capped the bottle and shook his head helplessly. ‘I can’t tell you how. Didn't even have one when out.’

‘Yes, I thought that. Why would you ever carry a one at all.'

They fell silent as they came to a crowded crossing. The press of human bodies that close was a bit too warm even for Belgium in her summer dress and sunhat. She could only imagine how Wales felt, dressed for a presumably Welsh summer evening and legs stuck in thick denim.

‘Where are we going?’ Wales asked as they began moving again, across the road and then down a cobbled side street further into the heart of the historical part of town.

‘Home.’

‘Oh no,’ Wales looked horrified, ‘No love, you don’t have to do that. I’ll take myself home; get out of your hair.’

‘No offense, but you do need a bath-‘ Wales winced, ‘and I’d rather you leave my lands in decent condition, at least. Despite the inelegant arrival.’

Wales laughed awkwardly, ‘That’s fair enough.’

‘So, come on then.’ Belgium tugged his arm again, ‘Tell me. Consider it payment,’ she said as Wales made a face, ‘For breaking you out of jail.’

‘Like a hoodlum.’

‘Like a hoodlum.’

Wales let out a breath of air, ‘I do wish I could tell you. I’m not sure what happened, honestly. We were-‘

‘-out in Cardiff?’

‘Bristol.’

‘Oh.’

‘We all took trains there; none of us could have driven home again, of course. I remember being in a pub and then-‘ Wales waved a hand, ‘bit and pieces in between. I remember the train seats, oddly enough, because they looked like the material of one of Alisdair’s shirts, you know those really ugly ones that he has-‘

‘Oh I love those. The terrible retro 80’s ones.’

‘Hideous things, absolute disgrace. But anyway, I remember the chairs, and I remember being at a station. I think Patrick was there, or maybe all of them were...’

He trailed off, thoughtful, ‘Actually, now that I think about it, I think Patrick put me on the train. He told me the platform and was there when I went through the gate, at least. How the fuck I didn’t realise I was going to London, I’ll never know. Then the Eurostar? Maybe night ferry? I would have had to have got the Tube to get that line, somehow, and I couldn’t have been in any fit state to-‘

He stopped, cheeks pinking.

‘Why were you in Bristol?’ Belgium asked, taking pity on him.

‘Arthur’s turn to pick the place we went. Bastard chose the nearest city to my house though, presumably knowing that I’d host rather than us needing to get a hotel or travel far back again.’

‘I’m surprised you let him.’

‘He said London’s too expensive.’

‘Still.’

Wales shrugged, ‘It is too expensive.’

Down another street, the smell of chocolate shops with their wide open doors and windows making the heavy air sickly. Wales took another sip of water. ‘So, Bristol it was.'

'And they just left you alone.'

'I'm starting to think it was more a planned abandonment.'

It took Belgium a considerable amount determination not to show her amusement openly. 'I'm sure they didn't know you'd end up in Brussels.'

'No,' Wales acknowledged gracefully with a rueful smile, 'That little mess is all my own.'

'I'd say safely making your way through several different transport methods and customs to illegally slip into the European Union is a decent achievement. I really hope you remember how you did it, the government won't like that gap sitting about.'

'I'm very sure I couldn't have done it any way other than by being far too drunk for sense. And maybe with a dash of fraternal vendetta.'

Belgium laughed, 'Well. Lucky you because now you can spend your day here with me instead of waking up with them.'

'Lucky me too,' Wales patted his pocket with a grin, 'Because I've still got my house keys with me.'

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

AN: This fic was written in honour of the many Brits who get drunk and end up wandering about in Europe with no memory of how they got there, like Switzerland, Spain, the Netherlands, France... it's common

[diatomaceous-worth]

More on the youtuber au... (from this art)

Ok don't kill me but it's also a soulmate au. and because I've been drafting it for a long time and it might be good while before anything finished sees the light of day, here a detailed synopsis.

So...we can start with Alfred. He lives with his brother who is getting fed up that he's late on rent each month. It's been months since Alfred's graduated high school and maybe he'll enroll in the community college but he doesn't really know what he wants to do. He's just been working odd jobs. The best he can do now is at the pizza joint, which is always sure to never give him enough hours to go full time. But it's ok, because when he's not doing that he's making youtube videos.

He and Kiku would make them as kids, and now he's giving it his all, trying the cinnamon challenge, posting videos of him playing minecraft and crazy Dota moments. He's really hoping something will take off. But it's hard. None of his shit gets any views. Not nearly as much as the most fucking annoying youtuber: Arthur Kirkland.

He makes the most basic ass lifestyle videos like "my boyfriend does my makeup" and "going to high tea" or "animal crossing house tour" shit. Why millions of people care about that pip pip cheerio fuck is beyond him.

Something about him just irrationally ticks him off. Maybe it's because he doesn't seem deserving of fame. Maybe because Arthur has many times been petty and gotten involved in twitter spats that just make him look bad. Maybe it's because he's weird. In every video, he always wears gloves. He never takes them off, and he always dodges questions about it.

On r/KirklandSnark some people have picked up that he always wears long sleeves, too. The leading theory on the sub, which became such an often repeated and heated topic that Alfred banned discussion on it, is that he's hiding his soulmate mark. That it extends from his hands onto his arm. (Alfred's theory however is that he does it to seem eccentric for views)

But maybe it's true, maybe it's not. Alfred's gut tells him that Francis is not Arthur's soulmate. Alfred has noticed Arthur does share a lot about his life but he is also closed off in a lot of ways. Yet making a video on the topic of soulmates would only benefit Arthur. Youtubers talking about which soulmate mechanism they have, or how they met their soulmate; people eat that shit up. Because all the unmatched young people want to imagine themselves meeting their soulmate and how magical it could be, or they want to figure out which soulmate mechanism they will have.

Alfred doesn't openly admit it but he has spent way too much time watching videos like that. Can you blame him though? For being nineteen and never having felt any connection to his soulmate? If they even exist?? He has never woken up with words on his skin nor felt any sensation that wasn't his. Never seen a glimmer of a red thread out of the corner of his eye nor found any mark on his body that might tie him to another.

Meanwhile he has to sit on the bus and bear witness to strangers bumping into each other and freaking the fuck out about it because they said each other's words. They don't even carry barf bags on buses did you know that?

But Alfred doesn't want to give up hope. Someone is out there for him.

Arthur Kirkland on the other hand?

The topic of soulmates brings him misery. Soulmates are a blight. They are bloody inconvenient. Why should he be destined to anyone? Doesn't he have a choice? Will his dense as bricks soulmate every stop cheating on tests?

He was ten when the first ink appeared on his skin. He remembered how profound it felt. To watch the scribbles bloom over his arms and palms. He knew what it was, and he wrote back a simple reply. An introduction, his name.

The lack of response was the first step to his disillusionment with the whole thing. By the time he was in year 10 he resolved to stop looking. It was easier to cover up his hands to avoid catching whatever drivel his soulmate wrote or drew. They seemed dead set on ignoring him, and Arthur grew tired of wondering why his messages didn't seem to go through.

Occasionally he wouldn't be able to avoid it. The year Arthur tried uni was when the cheating started. First it was chemistry formulas and the next year it was math equations, all crammed under his navel in an absurd number of rows. Sometimes he caught the to-do lists written on the back of his hands. Things like "ch.2 east of eden" or "socks 4 matt". He tried to avoid catching those things, knowing that going down that path of trying to figure out who Matt was would drive him insane. But based on the spellings, he was sure he was American. And that was enough to put Arthur at ease.

His soulmate was far far away, and Arthur could be free to live his life and tend to his overly massive youtube channel (the one that afforded him a flat in London, dates with Francis, and even a meeting with the queen. (Never mind that the meeting with the queen was almost a disaster, that in the car before they set foot on the grounds he watched Francis's eyes grow in horror as they stayed glued to his brow, watching a crude sharpie penis appear on his forehead. Francis tried to scrub it off even, despite Arthur's protests (soap never worked, ever), but in the end an obscene amount of makeup saved the day.)

It was a lot to ignore, but continuing on despite it all was all he ever knew. So he entertains himself with his channel, savors the good moments with Francis, and occasionally indulges in the strange people who try to start drama with him online.

And this is where Alfred's "Why Arthur Kirkland SUCKS" video comes into play. Because Alfred's finally had enough of the mediocrity. And he just goes for it. Buys a stupid fake fancy hat and suit from party city (And of course his stupid gloves!), and rants to the camera about everything that annoys him about the guy.

"All his fans just like him for his stupid accent. Being hot and british is not an excuse for a personality! Look at me! I'm Arthur Kirkland and blimey the other day I had the spiciest cracker! Think they might have put salt on it!"

And Arthur has no qualms about ripping back into Alfred. It's only fair because Alfred certainly didn't hold back. Arthur's response video is fairly successful, and Arthur moves on from it, happy with the chatter it generated and satisfied that he out-roasted that git, while Alfred is so extremely shocked that Arthur responded to him that a week goes by in the blink of an eye and when he finally goes to check out the subreddit he's been neglecting, he locks every post discussing the video and finally approves the guy who had been bugging him to be the second moderator (some guy named Peter). It's simply too weird to see discussions about himself, and maybe the whole dedicated subreddit was a little too much...?

But back to Arthur, part of his decision to make the video came from its convenience. It was easy to make while he was moving. He moves to the US for Francis's career, settling in Chicago (and you'll never guess where Matt and Al live). They break up when Francis wants to move on (Arthur thought it was perfect to be with someone whose soulmate was dead, because then he could never complain about his own situation, but here's another thing that didn't work out).

Arthur finds himself living out of hotel, drinking too much, and on one night, ordering pizza. Alfred isn't normally the guy who delivers, but after the normal driver clocks out early, his boss forces him to deliver this order some asshole put in ten minutes before close.

It's very strange when he knocks on the hotel door, and Arthur Kirkland answers, fully clothed and gloved, staring back at him with a similar shocked recognition in his eyes.

...

crazy right. not going to say what happens in the hotel but I'll say that Alfred goes back home to his couch, dreams a peaceful dream instead of his frequent nightmares, and Arthur finds himself surprised that he wants to see his internet hater again.

[zeauxie]

Found Some More Hatchetfield Lore!

I remembered that one of the Lang brothers said that Wiggly is based off of Cthulhu, so I decided to do something digging on a piece of shit author, H.P. Lovecraft and y’all… Okay, I don’t know if it counts as lore, but Hatchetfield is right under our noses.

tldr; at bottom

CW: H.P. Lovecraft’s writing is full of bigotry, and if you plan on reading it, prepare yourself. For example, there is an evil entity named Shub-Niggurath. Yeah.

I don’t like H.P. Lovecraft, nor do I enjoy his writing in general, so here are some things that people should look up if you want to find out Hatchetfield’s inspiration. More thoughts on why I cannot write about him are at the bottom.

Also! I do not look down or dislike people who enjoy H.P. Lovecraft’s writing and his creations, and would really love for people to continue to look into things I cannot. I hope my little notes help!

(I’ve linked the stories in pink!)

SPOILERS: Hatchetfield? I guess? The Cthulhu Mythos & The Dream Cycle.

Cthulhu Mythos:

Just read ‘The Call of Cthulhu’. Everything makes sense.

Miss Holloway is based off of a character named Horvath Blayne from ‘The Black Island, Being the Narrative of Horvath Blayne’.

Duke Keane is also taken from ‘The Black Island’.

The narrator of ‘The Call of Cthulhu’ is named Francis Wayland Thurston.

Professor Hidgens is based off of an art student named Henry who is known for being eccentric and living in solitude. (The Call of Cthulhu)

Emma Perkins is named after a ship called the Emma. The crew got into a battle with Cthulhu’s cult members, which resulted in the Emma having one survivor. (The Call of Cthulhu)

John MacNamara is based off of the police officer John Legrasse. (The Call of Cthulhu)

Willabella Muckwab resembles Lavinia Whateley, from ‘The Dunwich Horror’. She has a son, Wilbur Whateley (Wilbur Cross), whose father is the cosmic entity Yog-Sothoth (Wiggog Y’rath). Lavinia went missing on Halloween, and the assumption is that Wilbur killed her. 👀

The Black Book is the Necremonium.

There’s always professors somewhere.

The Dream Cycle:

LOL. The Dream Cycle is a collection of short stories surrounding dream cities. I honestly haven’t read anything about this other than brief stuff from the Wiki, but the connections are painfully obvious.

The word ‘oblivion’ is written in the Black Book. H.P. Lovecraft has a poem titled Ex Oblivione. The narrator sees a gate in his dreams and wants to get past it, but he can’t access it. He eventually does, though. Yikes. Read this post, picture Willabella Muckwab as the narrator for Ex Oblivione, and enjoy.

Bonus: Some of the covers of the magazine that published H.P. Lovecraft’s work (Weird Tales) are sprinkled throughout Hatchetfield.

“Pete, get behind me! I’ve got a gun.”

“Steph… it’s a ghost. I don’t think that’s gonna do any good.”

Rosary? Killer Track, much? Also, the art style for the Black Book kind of resembles this… huh.

-

Note: I had planned to read all of H.P. Lovecraft and the associated work, but the racism is too much for me. I can’t “separate the art from the artists”, especially when everything evil is so obviously and horrendously based on Black people, as well as other races. Again— Shub-Niggurath. Like, seriously?

It’s a huge bummer, because I have so many thoughts— like the implications behind Willabella Muckwab associated with Lavinia Whateley, and Wilbur Cross also being associated with Wilbur Whateley. So much is at our finger tips.

I’m still going to be writing other things, though!

I have more of the Black Book deciphered, so that’s exciting, especially since I actually got some stuff right in my first post. (It was looked at through a more religious lenses rather than an H.P. Lovecraft lenses, though.) BUT STILL. MY EYES HURTING FROM INTENSE SQUINTING SESSIONS WAS NOT FOR NAUGHT! And I know I state some of these things as if they’re facts, but they’re ‘probably based on’ stuff.

Alright. I’m off to read about physics, the concept of nothingness, and the æther in the name of theatre kid.

tldr; the Lang bros made a the TTRPG Call of Cthulhu homebrew and turned it into musicals.