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fuzzyporcupine · 3 years

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lead me with your hands tied | chapter 7

chapters:

FULL - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

rating: explicit

word count: 15,443

summary:

In the midst of a crumbling kingdom at war, Levi Ackerman is commissioned by King Jaeger to paint a portrait of his overzealous son.

chapter 7:

Eren entered the studio with more than enough time to spare. Not in any way dressed for a portrait, but on time nonetheless. Thankfully, Levi only needed to accomplish a sketch today. The attire could be forgiven for now.

Eren leaned against the doorframe, a tight golden waistcoat highlighting the man’s frame.

“I see your illness has faded, Your Highness.” Levi continued to clear his workstation as the prince sighed dramatically.

“As you commanded, artist.” Levi’s fingers stilled over the brushes. He thought about the venom he’d spewed at the prince in the bedroom. Thought about how angry he had been as he marched out of the room. The guards hadn’t paid him any mind as he shuffled back to the studio with tight fists and a furrowed brow, well-warned by Petra. The time alone had allowed him to decompress, to curb his thinking from wrapping his hands around the prince’s neck to that of a brush instead.

“Quite,” Levi muttered, returning to shuffling through his supplies. The sound of advancing footsteps bounced off the stone as Eren approached him from behind. He felt a headache beginning to swell deep beneath his eyes. One that would surely only add fuel to this infuriating fire. Bringing thin fingers between his brow, Levi pressed gently against the soft skin. Usually, he could simply will the pain away. Could push the ache into the dark abscesses of his mind to be reignited on another day. However, now with Eren’s gaze demanding attention, he was finding it hard to ignore the subtle throbbing.

“Are you alright?” The prince’s breath fluttered delicately over the back of his neck, twisting heat around the bones of his spine. And he hated it, almost as much as he despised the goddamn royal family. Hated the way Eren was able to pick and probe these reactions out of him as if he were some young girl vying to lose her maidenhead. It was unequivocally, irrevocably insane. To be nearing his thirtieth year and still acting like a young boy going through puberty. Levi could curse himself - curse the dreadful prince, as well.

He turned around slowly, cautious of the ever-growing pounding ricocheting inside of his skull. Levi expected to see a smug grin, a look of enjoyment over his suffering. He figured that Eren would be all the more pleased to find that his own drunken aliment had seemingly shifted its host over to Levi. The irony was indeed thick, Levi supposed. However, instead of a gleeful smirk and self-righteous glare, Levi found a wrinkled brow. Eyes that were normally so wide and full of pride were now narrowed and searching, darting quickly across Levi’s face. Thin lips pressed tight as Levi’s fingers dropped to fiddle with the sleeve of his linen shirt.

“It’s just a headache,” he mumbled wearily, watching the way Eren’s brows pulled a little tighter. “I’m fine.” There was a short pause, and then the prince was nodding, feet shuffling backward against the hard grey stone. The whole scene was baffling. More so than when Eren stormed into the dining room in nothing but nightclothes. The thought had his palms going sweaty against the white fabric still being fussed about between dexterous fingers.

Eren stared at him, looking one half bewildered and the other half perturbed. Finally, the man cleared his throat. “Petra knows a great remedy for those. Tastes like shit but does its job,” Eren laughed awkwardly. The sound had his toes curling uncomfortably in his boots. The prince looked away then, sparkling eyes roving over the blank open canvas. “Where do you want me?”

“The fireplace,” he said without hesitation. Levi remembered how the location had called so loudly to him. The elegant lines, the stone etched to perfection. His only hope would be that the backdrop would not upstage the prince himself. It would be a far cry, though, as loathe as Levi was to admit it.

Eren was a handsome man, a strong jaw and high cheekbones. Thick dark brows hovering over fierce wide eyes that almost verged on too large. An artist’s muse in all aesthetic senses.

The aching in his skull had thankfully drizzled off into a manageable thud by the time Eren found a spot in front of the fireplace. The man hovered there, hands gracelessly hanging off to the side. It was slightly satisfying to see Eren looking so out of place especially after being so often on the receiving end of the prince’s brash humor.

“I believe that I’m at a bit of a loss here, artist,” Eren admitted, sagging broad shoulders with a heavy sigh.

Levi looked boredly over the edge of the canvas. “Haven’t you done this before?” Eren bristled marginally at that, and Levi had to fight back a devilish grin.

“When I was twelve!” The prince’s voice cracked hilariously and a fabulous flush crept up onto the man’s cheeks as Levi watched Eren sway anxiously back and forth. He took pity on the poor soul, scoffing as he placed the pencil down on the table next to the empty canvas. Standing, Levi gave Eren an assessing look, analyzing the man’s position as he stepped closer.

“Act natural.” Eren huffed crudely at the comment, spine stiffening beneath Levi’s stare. The stance was similar to a toy soldier Levi once owned as a child, wooden limbs ramrod straight at the sides. While appealing to a figurine young boys and girls could play with, the posture was thoroughly horrid for a portrait. An artist’s muse in all aesthetic senses, Levi reminded himself. “Now you look like you need to take a royal shit,” he chided, crossing his arms against a sturdy chest.

The blush on Eren’s cheeks deepened brilliantly. “You’re being far too vague,” the prince muttered quietly, pride effectively wounded. A small part of Levi wanted to reassure the man that the art of posing for a portrait did not come as natural as one would expect. However, a much larger part enjoyed seeing Eren’s tail tucked between his legs like a kicked dog.

“Relax your shoulders,” Levi said. Eren did as much, rolling them back into what appeared to be a much more comfortable position. “Now turn your body to the left.” He watched as Eren turned on his heels, eyes now facing the Jaeger family crest posted to the wall. Levi stepped forward. “Bring your chest towards me. For fuck’s sake, not your entire bloody body.”

Eren scowled, frustration clearly nearing the end of its rope. “This is damn near impossible.” That was a rather final word for it, Levi thought. The game had seemingly run its course, and despite his gratification over watching Eren squirm, he did not want to risk having the prince storm off in a snit like before.

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” he surmised, thumb stroking the underside of a pointed chin. Confidence supporting his gait, Levi strode forward until he was within arm’s reach of the prince. “Face the wall again.” He watched the prince eye him up and down warily. “Before the sun falls, Your Highness.” Eren sighed irritably as the wide gaze was once again fashioned to the vibrant green tapestry.

“Absolutely impossible,” he heard Eren mutter quietly into the air. The breath was sucked straight back into the man’s lungs, however, when Levi wrapped tentative fingers around either side of the thin waist. Time seemed to still for a quiet moment, and the prince stiffened. The skin felt red hot beneath his touch, warmth seeping through the fabric and onto the pads of his fingertips. Could feel the way the muscles moved and flexed beneath the flesh as he twisted Eren’s upper half marginally to the right. Levi dropped the clutch, satisfied when the prince held the position without being corrected. Next, he grasped Eren’s right arm, bending it at the elbow before trailing his palm down to the man’s wrist.

“Take hold of your belt,” Levi requested.

“Rather uncouth of you to assume my innocence is so easily won, artist,” Eren jested, mouth pulling maddeningly at the corners. To hear the prince describe himself as innocent almost yanked a chuckle from his throat. Almost. Instead, he gifted the infuriating bastard with a deadly glower as he dropped his hand.

“Grab the damn belt.” With the instructions delivered, Levi turned and shuffled back over to the canvas, hoping that the grit of his teeth wasn’t too audible. The expectation that the pose would be held was minimal at best, nonexistent at worst. However, when Levi looked back over his shoulder he saw to his surprise that the stance was exactly as he’d envisioned - give or take the shit-eating grin.

Moving behind the blank linen, Levi selected a pencil from the complied lot of tools to begin the sketch. It was a soft, smooth grey. Perfect for capturing lines and easily covered with the drag of a brush. For now, he only needed to reproduce the simple shapes that would eventually be reconstructed into the prince’s form.

Hooded eyes only barely reached above the edge of the canvas, his short stature dwarfed by the coarse cloth. Levi typically didn’t work on portraits so large, and if he were capturing anyone other than the shitting smiling bastard before him, Levi might be apt to ask for a stool. As it was, he would rather face the entire Shiganshina army with only his paintbrushes as a means of defense.

He worked in relative silence, save for the scratching of the pencil across the linen. His gaze flitted quickly between the man and the canvas. Rough lines began to appear, boxy shapes symbolizing hands and shoulders.

“I beg your pardon if I’ve caused offense.” The statement caused a line to go astray. Levi swore quietly beneath his breath, rubbing away the error with the side of his hand. The prince would truly be the death of him. Perhaps literally.

To be quite honest, he was wholly surprised that Eren even had the ability to utter words that weren’t a vulgar insinuation or an infuriating quip. An apology was definitely not considered to be a part of the man’s vocabulary.

Levi's voice failed him as he tried to conjure up a worthy response. One that would likely tell Eren which unspeakable place the man could shove the pleas of forgiveness. Instead, Levi was left to hide shamefully behind the canvas as he attempted to avoid Eren’s pointed stare.

“You simply intrigue me.” Levi’s breath caught painfully in his throat. Intrigued? He had no idea how to respond to such a claim. One was intrigued by the leaves morphing colors on the trees or the way the stars glittered brightly at night. But Levi? Intriguing? He should perish the thought.

When Levi looked up, an unyielding stare immediately sought out his eyes. “I can assure you,” he finally said, voice not quite as steely as he’d hoped, “that this curiosity is misplaced.” Levi watched as the man’s posture slipped. “As is your right arm.” The prince quickly righted himself back into position.

“How self-loathing,” Eren muttered.

Levi ignored the quip, returning to the sketch. To anyone else, the scribbles would be puzzling. A scattered mess of unconnected dots and lines. However, Levi recognized the sketch for what it was - the beginning of a potential masterpiece. The majority of the prince’s outline lined the canvas. Hands, legs, arms, and torso all sketched to represent an estimated length and width. Levi had saved the face for last. It was, without question, the most crucial element of the portrait. Oftentimes, he had been asked to substitute hands that were thought to look too old or bellies that appeared to be too fat. But the face was always that of the owner’s. He gazed at Eren’s now, noticing how the intensity behind the man’s eyes had not diminished even with Levi’s blunt rebuttal. He tried to read them, to find something within the swirling depths. Though it was unclear to Levi what he was even looking for. Sarcasm? Ridicule?

Curiosity?

He scoffed softly to himself, eyes falling away from Eren’s commanding stare.

The face would have to wait until the morrow when his head was sat correctly on his shoulders. Regardless, the fireplace still needed to be outlined into the background, something that would not require Eren’s presence.

“We are finished for today, Your Highness,” Levi said, bowing slightly. The rumblings of the headache reawakening began to whistle between his ears. Unlike the others, Levi couldn’t help but feel as if this one was well-deserved. Thinking so deeply about how Eren perceived him or what the man’s intentions were would do nothing but drive him utterly mad.

The prince relaxed, falling out of the chosen position. “Thank the gods.” Levi did feel at least a modicum of sympathy for the man. Despite his chiding, Eren had remained steady for the majority of the session. It was more than he could say for most clients. “Will you require me again tomorrow?” Levi nodded, pencil going back to work as he etched out the beginnings of the fireplace. “Good. I shall require you, as well.”

The line crooked to the side as his hand twitched.

Eren’s boots clicked against the floor as he approached the canvas. “Meet me in the courtyard after breakfast is served.” Levi looked up at the man as if he had grown two heads. In actuality, that feat might have been more realistic than the thought of Levi Ackerman campaigning with a member of the Jaeger family after breakfast. The very idea had his gut twisting in a feeling that he couldn’t quite describe. “Until tomorrow, artist.”

And with that, Eren took his exit, leaving behind a very befuddled - if not slightly captivated (though he would wholly deny it) - Levi to wonder what glorious plan the prince had in store.

#ereri fanfic #ereri #riren #fic: lead me with your hands tied #another day another chapter

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jencsi · 3 years

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Let’s Talk- Finn and Russell;

From the very beginning, we get the hint, notion, presence of a deeper connection between Julie Finlay and DB Russell. In Seeing Red, when she hears him, not even having to look and know he’s there during the crime scene reconstruction, just his voice alone makes her roll her eyes, gets her fired up with some sort of passion, anger, emotional reaction. As evidenced from their conversation about the blood spatter case, her resistance to proceed further with him again shows she is not quite over what has happened to them in the past and it makes viewers want to know, what the heck happened? What could this seemingly unbothered hippie like guy have ever done to cross this already sullen yet spirited woman? Despite her futile attempts to deflect him, she cannot help but be drawn to the case, he sought her out after all, he must be desperate. When she retrieves the file he leaves behind and it piques her interest, she gives in, with probably a lot of hemming and hawing off screen, before venturing to CSI for the first time.

That single solitary scene cemented in my brain their dynamic from that day forward. There was no going back for me. Whatever they had in the past, whether that be something romantic, friendly or just work related, my soul ached to know more and even better, my heart yearned to watch them more, to listen, to observe the bantar, the sarcasm, the snark, the sheer and utter pure honesty that comes from their conversations. DB Russell is not trying to trick Finn, he’s not trying to make her figure out some silly puzzle or game, he just wants her expertise and guidance. Once she accepts his offer, her personality begins to shine via her work (Should I wrap it up and take it back to the lab? Took the words right out of my mouth smart ass” “You know me so well” “And you know blood, better than anyone I know”) her bonding with her colleagues, and even better, the little hints at what was between her and Russell back in Seattle.

When we finally do get to see that past revealed, ripped open like a fresh wound, via CSI on Fire, we see the headstrong and overheated Finn on a mission, prove that Tom Cooley is a killer and bring justice to the families of his victims. Of course that journey is not without complications and wild accusations, of course Finn would never kill anyone, that I firmly believe, unless of course it’s to save a friend or colleague (saving Greg from that supposed innocent victim of the Gig Harbor Killer in The Twin Paradox) but Cooley rattles her, gets under her skin in a way different from Russell. In fact it’s Russell warning her to be careful, to go with caution, but her typical rebellious nature of “I’m not listening” pushes her further to the truth and to danger at every turn.

Her tone when speaking to Russell about the discovery of Cooley’s body in his hotel shifts our thinking that maybe she isn’t the same person she was two years ago. If what we are observing right now is the casual cool collected Finn, just how reckless was she in Seattle? She feels the disappointment from Russell in his tone, the way he looks at her, and she hates that, she doesn’t want to disappoint anyone, especially him. His presence in her life since the Seattle days has created this combination of not wanting to let him down or disappoint him mixed with her fierce loyalty to the truth, to the victims and their families, clashing with her exuberant personality.

With CSI on Fire resolved, Finn melts back into a rhythm with her ex-husband, also a component of her former life in Seattle, all seems right between Russell and her, a trademark of their friendship, forgiveness and acceptance.

Looking at their dynamic from the perspective of the actors who portray them, Ted Danson has referred to them as the bickersons, like oil and water, but at the same time, Finn/Elisabeth and her characters intrusiveness helps him do his job better and see things clearly when it comes to cases as well as other aspects of his characters life. Elisabeth meanwhile seemed to enjoy the back and forth dialogue and the testiness of their relationship, she seemed invested in their past in Seattle and wondered where the writers would take that.

In Homecoming, the season 12 finale, we see corruption and problems arise amongst the police force and Russell apologies for seeming to drag Finn into this mess and bringing her there to work but she states that she makes her own decisions and doesn’t seem bothered by the issues until she is thrown into the chaos of it all when she trails Crenshaw and stumbles into the violence they have created around them with the assistance of McKeen and Kimball.

The Finn and Russell dynamic gets tested here when Katie, Russell’s grand daughter is kidnapped and Finn attempts to save her. In the chaos, she sends Katie out into the unknown alone while she does battle with Crenshaw (a violent but epic struggle, major kudos to the stunt work they did here, it felt so real and made me love Finn even more, seeing how far Elisabeth was willing to take this character) Russell is devastated to learn Finn let Katie escape alone but is also distraught knowing both were hurt and in danger. His anger at Finn boils over when she insists she’s fine, how he refers to her as “Finn” on the phone instead of the sweeter Jules we are used to hearing, and when she discusses the case with him in the bedroom where Katie was taken from and he punched the wall, leading to a missed clue. Despite the resentment towards her, they figure out Katie’s whereabouts and stop McKeen from carrying out his plans. We can see and feel Finn’s guilt deep down for her mistakes, even if everything works out, the way she stands holding the phone, the way she looks at Moreno who tries to assure her it will be okay.

At the end of Karma To Burn, Finn and Russell reconcile again, not so much with words but in the way she snaps him out of his fantasy of ever having to use his gun in a real life situation, of how far he was almost pushed to the brink when it comes to saving his work family, not just Katie. His use of the nickname Jules on several occasions, something she claims to hate but also doesn’t, comes back when Barbara inquires if she will stay for dinner. All is well again.

The final blow and perhaps the deepest cut of their relationship occurs with the reopening of the Gig Harbor Killer case. From the get go, we start off with a bang, literally and figuratively. It is Russell who is at the mercy of Winthrop who demands he admit they did not capture the correct killer in order to relinquish Finn from the confines of her bomb invested car. With much reluctance, he admits their mistake and Finn is spared. The hug they share in the parking lot after she is freed breaks me every time and just further adds to the complicated but always present nature of their relationship. The next go around, Maya, Russell’s daughter is targeted, but this time, she is used as bait to try and lure the copycat out to play and be captured. When that fails, Finn unwillingly becomes the next target and once again Russell is thrown for a loop. This time however, there is no mercy, no chance at redemption, Finn is ripped from him violently and with no regard. Worse still, we get to see a tiny bit of his life afterwards, via CSI Cyber, when he observes another coma patient in Hack ER. Avery Ryan takes notice of his demeanor and quietly brings up Finn. Russell’s memories play out in quick flashbacks and we see where his heart belonged the entire time. He speaks of reading to her, hoping she’d wake up, then darkness, never to see her eyes pierce him again, no more bantar, no more snark, no more intrusiveness. The fact that almost a whole year later we get a resolution for Finn and get to see Russell pine for her one last time gives us closure and really showcases how strong this bond was for three and a half years.

I will always wish for a better outcome for Finn, as originally scripted, but somewhere in the chaos of writing and producing, we lost her. I will always be sad we didn’t get to see more of Russell at her bedside waiting for her to wake up. That emotion would have been so raw and real coming from Ted. These characters deserved a proper ending and reunification because it just wasn’t justified to wreck their metaphorical ship that was so strong and sailing along fine before colliding with the iceberg of violence. Nevertheless, this dynamic holds strong in my heart to this day. There are plenty more examples to pull from the show, every time they chatted about cases and made progress just by talking it out, every time they fought about their thought processes and reckless behavior, every soft sweet utterance of “Jules” will forever gut me, weaken me, bring me to my knees, but somehow give me strength. That’s how powerful their relationship was and appeared to me on screen, they were a paradox, love, hate, push, pull, oil and water as Ted stated before, give and take, and boy did they give me so much more than any naysayer could ever attempt to take from me. No matter where anyone stands on the fandom line, so much heart and soul went into Russell and Finn, and when you really sit down and watch and listen with perspective and acceptance, you can see it and feel it. I think that type of power transcends just your typical acting alone, it truly feels real. Give me that dynamic everyday, sign me up. I don’t think I’ll ever be as lucky as I was to witness such greatness on the screen between these two. Good things don’t happen twice, as I have unfortunately learned the hard way over the years, once it’s gone, it’s gone.

But in the heart and soul of Russell and Finn is an incredible ability to keep a stronghold on viewers like me, or maybe not, maybe I’m just crazy, but here were are, years after things have ended and the screen has faded to black.

#julie finlay #db russell #ted danson #elisabeth shue #thank you for coming to this ted talk #literally #csi crime scene investigation #that novel I’ve been working on #here you go #let’s talk

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horrorslashergirl · 4 years

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Chromeskull with a singer!reader who he meets at a bar while observing his next victim and her voice enchants him.

Chromeskull x Singer!Reader- Show me how you burlesque

Authors Note: I watched this morning the movie Burlesque 2010 and this idea struck through my head, so why not write it down since I have a request that has this type of plot. For a better vibe listen to the song by Christina Aguilera Show me how you burlesque.

Rating: Just some blackmail and Jesse being an egoistical asshole.

Words: 2.3k

Stalking and observing was probably one of the best things Jesse was good at, especially when it came to hunting piggies and fishies. He never rushed into abducting his next victim for his next game, in time Jesse learned that patience was the key to success and he was feeding on said success, be it of any kind.

The Cromeans manor was empty and silent, save for the shower that turned off, Jesse stepping out after he dried himself, taking a glance into the foggy mirror, observing himself. From the neck down it was the dream of every woman to have in bed, but from the neck up it showed his inner monster, despite the multiple plastic surgeries and face reconstructions, he was never the same and probably never be, but in time he learned to accept it. After all money, a nice car, and an impeccable suit could make any piggy fall to her knees and suck on his cock.

Jesse exited the bathroom and walked to the master bedroom to the walk-in closet, picking out a black suit; black just like death, because he was death. He dressed up, checking himself in the huge mirror, proud of the look.

He walked downstairs, the enormous house so devoid of anyone; it was just him. After losing his wife he accepted the fact that he was going to die alone at some point, just like everyone used to tell him back when he was a shy kid.

The saying was true; Money cannot buy really anything.

Entering the garage he unlocked his Chrysler and got in, exiting his house and driving into town, the more liveable part of Jacksonville where all the night clubs and brothels were. It wasn't random, Chromeskull never did things out of the blue, everything was planned out neatly with precision, like playing chess.

Recently, he stalked a young woman, who spends her time adventuring herself into clubs, looking for some fresh meat or better said a fat wallet to suck on. The typical piggy undercover.

'No! I don't sleep with rich men for their money.'

Jesse snorted at the words; every woman was disposable, he learned that when he was a broke teen and after he lost his face. Spending some genuine time with someone over some drinks and just enjoying each other's company was just an illusion, the world itself was prostitution, in different forms but it was.

You are either a pimp or a whore.

After arriving at the nightclub, he parked his car and got out, walking up the steps to the front entrance, the guys at the front with their lists, checking the people that wanted to enter.

Talk about exclusivity.

Oxford shoes walked up the steps to the entrance, the guys there a little intimidated by Jesse's height, a very big perk when you're 6'7, none dares to mess with you, plus the eyepatch that covered one of his eye was another plus.

"Umm...Name?" a guy asked, clearing his throat, trying to steady his voice and not let fear show, but he failed miserably.

Jesse pulled out his phone, typing in.

'Cromeans.'

The security guy's eyes widened at the name, gulping down and stepping aside to let him enter, not saying anything else.

Jesse smirked, stepping inside, knowing that only his name was a weapon good enough to make these sheep scrambles away to their dens. It was weird to go hunting without his mask, but wearing a chromed skull mask to a public place such as this night club where all the rich and blessed were, gossiping like it was a need to live like breathing.

Brown eye looked around the dim-lit place, looking for his target and his gaze stopped when he found her, sitting down on an old geezers lap, giggling and rubbing his chest. He could be his grandfather for fucks sake.

No surprise from a filthy piggy.

The place was full of people, but he managed to find an empty table, just his presence made the job done, plus the owner of the night club was trying to kiss his ass to get on Jesse's good side. Not that Jesse minded, he loved when people worshipped him like he was God.

He internally chuckled at the comparison....God, more like Devil.

As he sat down at a table in the back, his form enveloped by the darkness, a waitress quickly came to take his order.

'Whiskey. Best Brand. Make it quick.'

The girl gulped down and nodded, quickly walking away to bring Jesse his drink. That's what power feels like, everyone quickly coming to you, to please you in all forms. It wasn't respect. Respect doesn't exist, only fear can make one be what the other wants.

The drink came in less than five minutes, probably just two, but Jesse wasn't counting, taking the glass of liquor and waving the waitress off like she was scum.

Scarred lips pressed against the edge of the crystal glass, taking a sip of the strong alcohol, letting it burn his throat, then he pulled out a silver pack-box that held his Cuban cigars, pulling one out and lightening it, taking in the rich taste of smoke.

His gaze observed the piggy-target, his mind wandering to how he should start when the moment was opportune. Will he take it slow, fooling her into a sense of safety then break her whole world down? Or maybe he just takes it rough, with brute force and knocking some sense into her plastic brain.

Either way, he was going to enjoy it, very much. He could picture her face filled with horror, wet from tears and sweat, mouth full of blood, choking on it as he will take her life away like it was nothing of importance.

Before his fantasy could go into more detail, the music started to play, but it wasn't the usual music, this one was live. The club used to hire singers or bands to play from time to time, so this was a surprise they went to their old ways.

The lights on the stage turned on, the musicians in the background with their instruments playing, then a feminine, but so strong voice started to sing, catching every men's attention, even the old geezer who had the piggy on his lap, long forgotten, because of the beauty on the stage.

The outfit you were wearing could be considered very inappropriate, but that's how you pull the attention of the male audience, the females too, only to burn into envy; the black lace hugging everything just right, the dark make-up around your eyes sparkling and showing how passionate your eyes were as you singed, your red lips moving with every note, your body moving like it was ready to pull the males on a spell.

The tightening in the black slacks was very much getting uncomfortable, the piggy long forgotten and brown eye struck on your form as you moved, the imagination getting the best of Jesse, who only could wonder how your pretty red lips would look wrapped around something else than your mic.

His hand tightened in envy at the men who were too close to the stage, basking in your pretty little self, so confident, the type of confidence that makes you want to drown in it.

These legs, clad in black fishnets, he wondered how they would look wrapped around his hips, your hair into his fist as he takes you from behind. The gruesome scenarios about the piggy vanished only to be replaced with the erotic fantasies with you.

He felt like a kid in a toy store, finding a doll that he really liked and he would get it. Jesse licked his lips, adjusting himself into his seat as you turned around, wiggling your ass, that pretty little ass that he wanted to spank with black nitrile covered hands.

Finally, the show was over, your eyes sparkling with pride, luscious lips pulled into a grin as you waved your audiences, then finally disappearing backstage.

Finishing his drink, Jesse got up, stalking towards the backstage, wanting to take another glimpse of you and he did, only, it wasn't an image he was liking. Actually, if he had his knives with him, he would probably throw them at the guy who was hugging and kissing you.

"You did amazing, baby! You were stunning." the guy said, making you giggle and smile brightly.

"You always know how to pull me up." you said, kissing his cheek.

"That's what a husband should always do to his wife." the guy said, spinning you around.

Alright, the last sentence made Jesse's world crumble down, a bitter feeling setting in his gut, then he quickly walked away, stalking fastly out of the nightclub and into the parking lot of it, taking his phone out, fingers hovering over the digital keyboard, fury evident in his gaze.

He wanted to badly to kill someone, no matter the gender, he wanted to rip flesh and make the blood flow.

'You shouldn't feel jealous. She is not yours.'

The inner voice only spurred his anger more; not jealous, but territorial. If he wanted something he would get it, even if he had to make some unorthodox decisions, not like it would be the first or last time.

'Destroying a happy marriage isn't right. What would your dead wife think?'

Fuck his dead wife! She was no more. Fuck morals! His fingers quickly typed a text then send it to Spann.

'I've got some work for you.'

After 2 months...

It's like the world playing in every favor for Jesse, blackmailing your husband was the easiest job he has ever done and Jesse felt more than prideful when that punk divorced you. Of course, the hard part was seeing you cry and be a confusing mess, but that would go away, eventually.

When he got to the same night club he expected to see you on stage, singing, but it was another girl.

She was definitely doing playback and she wasn't as beautiful as you. His eyes landed on you, sitting down at a table alone, tight red dress hugging your body as you sipped on a glass of scotch, watching the girl, a bored look on your face.The singing ended and everyone went to their own discussion.

Time to step in.

Jesse walked towards you, making you look up with a cute face of puzzlement.

'Seat free?'

Your eyebrows raised up.

"Be my guest." you offered and he took a seat.

'I could only notice that you look a little lonely. Weren't you supposed to sing tonight?' Jesse typed on the electronic reader, making you sigh.

"Yes, but I wasn't feeling up to it. I'm here mostly for my friend. It's her first time." you explained, looking at your drink.

'Am I bothering you?'

"Oh no! It's just....personal problems." you muttered, taking a sip of your drink.

'Talking helps. I don't have anything else to do. I am all ears.'

You gulped down, the alcohol helping you express your problems to this stranger who introduced himself as you did too, getting aquatinted with one another, talking over all kinds of subjects.

Jesse had to admit you were a deep breath of fresh air, opening up so much too him, but he guessed that's what divorce does to a woman. You both talked so much that you didn't realize that people started to go away, one by one leaving the club to do their own business.

"I'm sorry if I burdened you with my problems." you spoke over a deep breath of Malboro smoke, blushing a little, an aspect Jesse was looking forward to doing more to you.

'Not at all. I enjoyed our time together, and let me tell you, if a man doesn't know what a beauty he has before his eyes and doesn't appreciate it, he should just drop dead.'

You laughed at his words, you were glad that after weeks of mourning yourself into blankets and watching drama movies, someone could actually make you laugh and smile.

"Thank you. For your time and everything. I'm sure you could have been doing something better than listening to a little girl's problems." you said, finishing your cigarette and taking a sip of your drink.

Jesse smirked, brown eye sparkling with mischief.

'I doubt it, sweetcheeks.'

You blushed and looked down, the pet name he called you making your stomach do all kinds of twists.

He got up and offered you his hand which you took, walking with him towards the exit. You were the only people left in the club, the owner probably sighing with relief that Cromeans finally left without causing problems.

As you exited through the double doors, you both were met by heavy rain. His car was just a few feet away, but the rain would probably make you both soaked reaching the black luxury vehicle.

Jesse pulled his black dress jacket off and put it around your naked shoulders, the piece of clothing enveloping you in warmness, obviously too big for your so much smaller frame.

"T-Thank you." you said, looking up at Jesse, whose gaze was centered on your lips, looking so inviting and delicious too taste.

He couldn't hold himself anymore, his face moving towards your, his rougher lips pressing against yours, the kiss starting so simple that it turned into a make-out session, tongues running against one another; the taste of alcohol so appetizing and the expensive male cologne he was sporting didn't help you either.

It felt like an eternity, but the kiss finally ended, your eyes looking into the deep pool of brown that promised so many sinful images and it consumed your rational part of your brain.

Fingertips typed on the phone.

'My place?'

"Yeah."

#Chromeskull #Laid to rest #Laid to rest 2009 #Chromeskull: Laid to rest 2 #chromeskull x reader #Jesse Cromeans #jesse cromeans x reader #slasher x reader #horror movies

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detroit-become-human-analyze · 4 years

Text

Is Daniel/Simon (PL600) a sexual companion like North or a Traci?

Analyzing the game again, a controversy has sparked because of this picture, so let’s take a look at how much of “canon” (real game canon) might or not be behind it:

Now, we see this PL-500 picture that clearly states that, although “romantic mode” is optional, the PL-500 is intended as a intimate (sexual) partner, and if one thing we’ve notice from the androids in this game is that the first two letters usually determine “the category” (just like RK are military/police, or the YK are children). And there are two major characters on the game that are later versions of this “PL-500”, and that is the PL-600 Daniel and Simon, that although are described as “household/caretakers/companions”, it’s never specified up to what point.., and possibly the fact that they can cook meals and care for your kids is actually the NEW feature, as PLs where originally sexual/romantic companions on previous models.

This is never actually “explicit” but it’s weirdly hinted during the entire game. - So, we mostly see Daniel, a PL-600 android during the chapter “The Hostage” (witch is also the demo of the game) and maybe a bit of him (depending on what you do) at the end on the chapter “Last Chance Connor”, but we can all conclude that Daniel life was at the house of the Phillips.

At first glance everything was good at the Phillips house, and, there’s even this very nice picture of them as soon as you get off the elevator with Connor.

Connor is given very little time to determinate the best approach to rescue the hostage (Emma) from their now deviant android Daniel.

One of the first interesting things I’ve noticed, despite the fact that the Phillips are actually quite rich to be living in such an apartment (during such rough economic times in Detroit, as Kara sees it on the trip at the beginning, on Todd car), is that the mother never, EVER says ANYTHING about her dead husband. Never laments or screams or even mentions it (her husband is right there dead on the living-room, I mean...), Caroline Phillips (little Emma’s mother) is only focus on saving her daughter, and spitefully says “keep that thing away from my daughter” referring Connor, but we all assume her hate is shared to all androids (witch it’s odd, she owns one that even plays with her daughter).

This very vaguely hints the mother of the house has a quarrel with androids (for some reason) from BEFORE the incident at hand, and when you go see Captain Allen, you walk into the main bedroom.

One thing that caught my eye is that, despite having a household android, it’s nighttime and the incident has being occurring -since one hour- before Connor arrival (meaning an hour ago wasn’t the morning either, you see this on the news on the fridge area), AND, for some reason, the bed sheets are all messed up on the parent’s bedroom.

If you (Connor) analyze/re-construct where Daniel got the gun of the father, you see he never touches the bed when he goes for the gun.

I doubt Captain Allen is letting his SWAT team fool around in the bed, so that’s discarded.

The father of the family (the now “late” John Phillips) has being watching TV and using the tablet to order another android... so... why are the sheets on the parent’s bedroom undone?

If the wife was suffering depression or simply “in bed”, she would have seen Daniel go into the room in panic and get/load the gun right in front of her.

This indicates that possibly the mother was either out of the house at the moment of the event, or somewhere else (the bathroom, etc).

If you examine Emma’s room you will see that she was listening to music, as Connor concludes that this is why Emma didn’t heard the shooting, again, the mother must have being out, if not, she would have heart the entire thing... but there is a darker twist as to why Emma might have being with her music full on... Yes, there is a high provability that John Phillips, “dear old dad”, was having sex with Daniel in the bedroom next door, and there is a grater chance that obviously this was “a regular thing”. Therefore a broken relationship with his wife and that “rich people perfect family photo” was just a charade, thus, also, why “mom was out of the house”. - Even if all evidence is circumstantial, it just fits right in too fast and too perfectly to ignore in a game that pays so much attention to details and talks so much about abusive relationships and dysfunctional families.

Connor can reconstruct events but not “audio”, if you examine the late John Phillips body, you will see that Daniel stood up behind him and they actually had “a talk” BEFORE Daniel starts shooting.

By the food that was left overcooking in the kitchen, the bet is that “dad” had it with Daniel at the main bedroom (maybe even realizing at that point that having sex with the same android was “getting boring”, thus, since they obviously have the money, start considering buying another “sex android toy”).

Then Daniel went to do dinner, oversaw the same men that just had sex with him ordering another “replacement” android, got pissed off like a lover would (this is very common actually, a couple or sexual/romantic partner shooting the other if they know that they’ll being left for “someone else”), run to the bedroom, takes the gun, confronts John (his lover) verbally, Daniel finally snaps, shots him to death, and then runs (like a mother would), to get Emma.

Possibly THAT was the moment where Caroline Phillips returned to the apartment and Daniel saw/heard the elevator blocked, so he head outside.

Now, another interesting thing is that Daniel has a very close relationship with Emma (the little girl), almost “motherly like”, up to the point in witch after shooting the dad, the first thing he can think of is taking Emma (much like Kara when shooting Todd and gets Alice).

Sure, then in desperation and confusion, is shoot by the first cop that arrives and everything escalates “pretty quickly”, but any mother would tell you that after a traumatic event, the first thing you get with you is your kids.

This talks a lot about how Daniel at least “felt” he was indeed one of Emma’s parents, he has a mother instinct until Emma starts to reject him due to the situation and he realized that the girl doesn’t see him the way “he sees her”, feeling all the more betrayed.

* On a side note:

If you see where Daniel and Emma video (tablet, Emma’s room) was taken, you will see the background well enough to realize it’s the same park that Markus cross every time he goes to get paintings for Carl Manfred. - As we established before, Markus is a “patient zero” regarding deviancy.

Markus has the “virus” of deviancy (possibly implanted by Kamski itself before giving him as a “gift” to Carl Manfred), and unaware of it, spreads it to any android near him (remember the “androids are constantly shearing information, and during Freedom March, when Markus becomes aware of his ability, he can turn deviants from almost a couple blocks away from his location).

Then, if the infected android gets into a traumatic or emotional event, the “symptoms” of deviation occur. - Thus, there is a high chance that Markus infected Daniel with deviancy without even noticing when crossing the park one day, and the detonating stressful emotional trauma was later on when Daniel saw, what he obviously considered “his family” replacing him.

Simon, being also a PL-600, has also relevant behaviors to that matter, especially regarding Markus.

For instance, it’s only him and North the only ones who can “give Markus their heart” (source of power, AKA “battery”) if Markus gets wounded during the violent final protest. - This is interesting because while North might or not have an “intimate relationship” with Markus at that point, and Simon validates his point by “if you (Markus) die, our cause dies with you” kind of thing, he does seems a lot emotionally involved, and, plus... Why isn’t there a scene where, let’s say, equally important character like Josh, offers to sacrifice himself too for the good of the cause??? (let’s say you never develop a relationship with North, you let Simon die at some point, and, North being an egocentric psycho-maniac that only wants to “kill and burn”, I guess Josh would have had more chances to give his life for “the cause”).

* By the way, North has NO excuse, I’ve already explained this before, she killed (strangled) the human that “rent her” (so her immediate abuser is already dead), but also she wants to kill all other humans as well, AND!, she is quickly to say “let’s kill androids too”, so... other androids are North “victims” too, either it’s because she wants to fight and they’re being slaughter, or because “Shoot Simon!” (when, there where a lot other options).

By the way, this scene where Simon gets shot at the roof is one that makes you wonder, developers (as it’s obvious in the EdenClub chapter and Hank later reflections over it, as if it was a future where all sexuality is embraced as normal), have no issue regarding the sexual orientation of any character (if per-se’ androids are genderless and only assigned a gender to look like humans making interactions more comfortable). - If you take the gun and follow North “orders” to shoot Simon on the roof, you’ll be given a second chance to reconsider things, as Simon reminds you that “there is always another way”, but it’s up to you (Markus). - If you decide to put the gun down (disappointing North lust for blood of any color), next time this two characters meet, they hug each other very warmly, ...witch isn’t odd given that Markus thought that Simon was death and left behind... but still, quite an emotional response, because this isn’t Kara and Alice “hugging all the time”.

Add to this, during the Freedom March, Simon, being basically “the coward” throughout the whole game and avoiding conflict, if Markus gets shot (and you don’t have any other androids that came with you from the where house of Cyberlife), jumps into the fight like crazy and even dies for Markus at that point. - This goes basically against every fiber of Simon good judgment and behavior traits from the star, he is always scared and passive, even pessimistic regarding the android revolution although it supports it.

Conclusions:

Overall there aren’t hard evidence, there isn’t a “fools-proof” signature telling you any of this things, but when too many circumstantial evidence piles up, you also have a case...

The entirety of the situation with Daniel might be interpreted differently, if you stretch things up, to a more “innocent like” explanation (that I personally don’t see how could fit at this point). And trust me, this blog is for analyzing the main canon of the official game, if there was any other feeling or evidence, I would point it out... but some things are beyond any explaining, like why the bed is all messed up at night if you have a domestic android just to take care of stuff like that (even Kara makes Todd’s bed).

So, for me, the first chapter (or “demo”) sums up the end of an abusive relationship on a love triangle that torn apart a marriage and a family (like even Magazines during the game indicate, that because of “sex androids” couples where getting divorced).

But tell me what you think or if you have found any other evidence that points out otherwise!

#dbh daniel #dbh simon #dbh sex android #dbh headcanons #dbh cannon #pl500 #pl600 #simon #daniel #the hostage

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electronicgrowth · 4 years

Text

Guardian Angel: Chapter 6

We’re getting in to where we overlap with the movie a bit. So, spoilers. I think we’re getting close to the end here friends.

WC: 2308

Warnings: talks of Plan B, police, major spoilers

One of the first things I did when I got back to San Francisco was stop by the pharmacy to get Plan B. On the plane I realized that now wasn’t the time for a baby.

Ethan was irate that I went back to Massachusetts so close to the wedding, he was also angry that I didn’t tell him. I had to remind him that I was an adult. I just proceeded to help Maya with wedding details.

Ethan and Maya got married at a hilltop winery in Napa Valley. Just family and close friends. It was a beautiful wedding. Anyone with eyes could see that Maya and Ethan were ridiculously in love. I couldn’t help think of Ransom. The last time I had seen him, he had promised me this kind of life. The marriage, the kids. I resolved to call him tomorrow.

During the reception I received several calls from a number I didn’t recognize, although the area code was a Boston one. Finally after the ninth call I answered.

“Hello?” I said, stepping outside away from the festivities.

“Leah?” The voice on the other end asked. It was a woman’s voice.

“Yes, this is Leah,” I answered.

“Leah, it’s Linda Drysdale. Ransom’s mother,” she said.

“Oh, Linda. Hi,” I awkwardly uttered.

“Hi, sweetie,” she said. What? Sweetie? Had this woman ever called me sweetie? The last time she had seen me I was getting called a whore.

“Is everything okay, Linda?” I asked.

“Actually, no,” she answered, “I need you to come back to Massachusetts. Ransom’s been arrested. And we need you as a character witness.”

“Oh god. Okay. Arrested for what?” I asked.

“We can talk about everything when you get back here,” she answered.

“Um, I’m at my brother’s wedding. But I can fly out tomorrow is that good?” I said.

“That’s fine honey,” Linda sighed, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a good night,” I murmured before ending the call.

The next morning I pack all my stuff and flew back to Massachusetts. I didn’t tell Ethan and Maya any specifics. But I promised to call and text.

I landed in Boston that afternoon and got a car to Ransom’s house. There were more cars in the driveway than I had ever seen. Ransom’s car wasn’t there though. I let myself in this time. Ransom was sitting in the living room surrounded by Linda, Richard, and three men I had never seen before. When I barged in, everyone turned to look at me.

“Leah, dear,” Linda smiled walking toward me, “I hardly recognized you. Your hair looks great that color.” She pulled me into a stiff hug and kissed my cheek. I wasn’t used to this level of affection from Linda, but returned the hug nevertheless.

“Leah, these are Ransom’s lawyers, Kenneth Hill, Eric Musgraves, and Rodney Phillips. Gentlemen, this is Leah Becker, Ransom’s girlfriend,” Richard said.

I awkward waved from where I stood next to Linda near the doorway. I didn’t realize I still held the title of girlfriend.

“Ransom, why don’t you help Leah with her luggage?” Linda scolded. This prompted Ransom to look at me for the first time since I had arrived. He rolled his eyes at his mother, but stood and grabbed my suitcase with one hand, he grabbed my hand in his other. He hauled the suitcase and me back to his bedroom. I could feel all the eyes on me. He quickly shut his bedroom door behind us.

“What is going on, Ransom?” I asked.

“I messed up,” he murmured, eyes on the floor. I took off my coat and scarf and grabbed his face. He looked me in the eyes, tears welling up in his blue eyes.

“We have to go back out there, the lawyers will explain,” Ransom whispered.

“Okay,” I said, nodding turning to go back to the living room.

“Wait,” he commanded, “Please put this back on. For me.” He held up my necklace. The one he’d bought me for my last birthday. The one I took off before I flew to California.

I nodded, turning around so he could put it on me. He quickly fastened it. He leaned down to kiss my neck. I closed my eyes, absorbing the pleasure. I backed into him, wanting to get closer. He turned me back around and pushed me against the bedroom door, he quickly kissed me. I opened my mouth to his and pulled him closer to me. He pulled away moments later.

“I’m sorry that I left,” I apologized, “I was going to call you.”

He kissed me again.

“Please don’t leave me again,” he begged.

“I won’t,” I promised.

Ransom held my hand and lead me out of his room. We returned to the living room, Ransom took the seat he had been in when I’d gotten there. I sat on the arm of Ransom’s chair, and he put his arm around me.

“So, who’s going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked.

The lawyers proceeded to tell me what Ransom was accused of. Conspiracy to commit manslaughter, arson, and murder. His grandfather. Fran. It was a lot to absorb.

“The police claim to have a recording where Ransom admits everything,” said one lawyer, I wasn’t clear on which was which.

“If that recording goes away, it’s all circumstantial, right?” Linda asked.

“Yes, without the recording, no jury alive would convict Ransom,” said another lawyer, “especially, if his girlfriend takes the stand and talks about how amazing he is.” Everyone looked at me. Was I supposed to say something? Luckily, I was saved by my phone ringing.

“That might be my brother, so I should get that,” I mumbled weakly. I got up and saw that it was not Ethan. I didn’t recognize the number, but answered anyway, to get out of this conversation, if nothing else.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Is this Leah Becker?” The voice asked.

“Yes, it is,” I said, walking into the kitchen, away from listening ears.

“Miss Becker, this is Detective Lieutenant Elliot. I understand that you just returned from a family wedding on the west coast,” he stated.

“Umm, yes,” I stammered, “how can I help you?”

“I would like to ask you to come down to the station. We would like to ask you some questions about Hugh Drysdale,” he declared.

“Oh, I don’t know. I—“

“Today, Miss Becker,” he said, before hanging up the phone.

I walked back to the living room. And went to sit back by Ransom.

“Who was that on the phone, baby?” He asked.

“The police,” I answered, “they want to talk to me. As soon as possible.”

*****

I went to the station later that afternoon with the youngest of Ransom’s lawyers, Rodney Phillips. I was greeted by an older woman with straw-like hair, and eyes clouded by mascara goop. I told her that I was there to meet with a Detective Elliot. I was shown into an interrogation room, I assumed that was done to freak me out. I waited about fifteen minutes before two men walked in.

“Miss Becker, I’m Detective Elliot, and this is Trooper Wagner,” one man said.

“Hi, so why am I here?” I asked.

“We just have a few questions,” Trooper Wagner answered.

“Tell us about your relationship with Ransom Drysdale,” says Detective Elliot.

“I met Ransom years ago. He was my brother, Charlie’s roommate at Harvard. I’m Charlie’s baby sister, so he went to college when I was still really young. Charlie and Ransom did everything together. Best friends, I guess. My mom disappeared when I was a kid. She decided that she was sick of the whole wife of a public defender thing. She hated kids, so she left the three of us with dad. And then my dad died when I was sixteen. He got in an accident, the other guy was drunk. So, I went to live with Charlie and Ransom after that. They had just graduated a few years before. So, having me around must have really cramped their style,” I said.

“Where is Charlie now?” Elliot asks.

“Charlie is— Charlie passed away about four years ago. After college he got a job on Wall Street. And you know, coke is the name of the game for young guys over there,” I hesitated, “He didn’t overdose or anything. The doctors think he had an arrhythmia that he never knew about. I fell apart after Charlie died. My other brother, Ethan, is out in California doing the whole tech thing, so he wasn’t there.”

“And around that time, you became much closer with Ransom Drysdale?”

“Yes. He took care of me. I could barely get out of bed. I didn’t really know what to do. He made sure I ate and showered. Helped me go to school,” I responded.

“When you were 23 you were involved in a car accident. One where you were pretty critically injured. How did that affect your relationship with Ransom?”

“Well, it was right after I graduated college. I was working an unpaid internship at a super small publishing company and working shitty hours as a receptionist. But, I was on my own and it was fun. But yeah, I was driving home late one night and my brakes went out. I— I, um, went off the road. Well, actually I flipped the car. A few times. I was pretty badly injured. Like the works, broken bones, concussion, cuts, I actually had to have my left knee totally reconstructed. While I healed Ransom took care of me. He even convinced Harlan to help foot my hospital bills.”

“After you recovered, you went to work at the publishing company owned by the Thrombey’s? Is that correct?”

“Yeah. When I graduated, Ransom offered to help me get a job there. Initially, I turned it down because I wanted to make my own way. After my hospital stay, I really needed the money. So, Ransom helped me get a job.”

“Has your relationship with Ransom evolved beyond just one of friendship?”

“Ransom has been— the only constant in my life for five years. He’s my guardian angel, my very best friend.”

“But is there more to your relationship than a friendship, Miss Becker?”

“No.” I lied.

“Really?” Asked Trooper Wagner.

“We have numerous members of the Thrombey family on record saying that you two were involved. Sexually,” counters Detective Elliot.

“What does that have to do with the matter at hand?” I inquire.

“I suppose we’re just curious about the type of woman who gets involved with a man like that,” Trooper Wagner spits out, “Did he tell you what he did?”

I look down, at my fingers laced together on the tabletop. I refused to answer.

“Here’s the recording of Ransom admitting everything,” Detective Elliot said, placing his phone on the table in front of me. The recording was horrifying. I listened to it for about a minute.

“Turn it off,” I demanded.

Both men ignored me.

“I said, turn it off!” I yelled throwing the phone against the wall of interrogation room.

“We’re leaving now,” said Rodney.

“You can’t leave,” Trooper Wagner exclaimed, “she just destroyed evidence.”

“What?” I gasped.

“That was our only copy of that recording,” Trooper Wagner shouted.

“Miss Becker had no way of knowing that. Her outburst was clearly a stress-induced reaction and if you wish to charge her, you know where to find her,” Rodney maintained, pulling me out of the interrogation room, and escorting me out of the police station.

When Rodney and I returned to the house, everyone else was still there, having coffee.

“I think Leah just found a solution to our biggest problem,” Rodney smirked.

“What do you mean?” Kenneth asked.

“She threw the cell phone with the recording at a wall. And it was the only copy of the recording,” Rodney’s smirk grew into a mischievous smile.

“We’ll have to make verify that it was the only copy of the recording with our guy on the inside,” said Eric, “But this is good, very good.”

“Gentlemen, I think that is enough for today,” Richard called. The lawyers all agreed that we would meet again tomorrow. Everyone filed out. I gathered the coffee cups that had been left scattered in Ransom’s living room.

Ransom locked the door behind the lawyers and his parents. I took the used cups to the kitchen and began loading the dishwasher. Ransom followed me into the kitchen He sat at the counter, watching me place the mugs precariously on the top rack of the dishwasher.

“I guess we deserve each other,” I mumbled.

“What do you mean?” Ransom asked me.

“You commit crimes, and I unwittingly destroy police evidence,” I laughed hysterically, slapping my hands over my eyes. Ransom stood up and closed the dishwasher, he then lifted me up to sit on the kitchen counter, he came to stand in between my legs.

“How about we say that we deserve each other because we love each other?” He murmured, “Maybe the rest doesn’t matter, at least not in terms of our relationship.”

“How do you feel about everything?” I asked, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

“I don’t know,” he answered, holding my hand in place with his, “Aren’t you going to ask?”

I hesitated. I knew Ransom well enough to know what he was referring to, but I wasn’t sure that I wanted to know.

“Come on, Bunny. Ask me,” he urged, looking in my eyes.

“Why did you do it?” I relented.

“Harlan was cutting me off. I knew that I could never deserve you without the money,” he answered, “It just got out of hand.”

“Ransom, the money is nice, but it’s never mattered,” I placated.

“I’m going to find a way to provide for us,” he insisted, “And anyone else who comes along.”

@marvelismysafezone @captainsmallassrogers

#ransom drysdale #Ransom Thrombrey #ransom drysdale x ofc #ransom drysdale fanfiction

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annewritesessays · 4 years

Text

Passover Favor

[an email blast I sent to pals on the occasion of Passover 5780/2020]

Dear friend,

Passover approaches. It’s the holiday I look forward to most because of the beautiful community, family even, that has gathered at my home each year. If we’ve celebrated together before, I’ve loved it and will miss you this year. If we haven’t spent Passover together, please know that I’m thinking of you and consider you an important part of my community. This year, Passover celebrations take a different form.

I sat in on a zoom call with a few rabbis some weeks ago. The rabbis discussed how each of their congregations were approaching social distancing, and what measures they were taking to continue to practice Judaism (zoom minyan, anyone?). I came into the call feeling really down about Passover. My favorite community holiday has been stolen from me! I am not allowed to gather which, including the unique joys and challenges of accommodating 16 people in a one-bedroom apartment, is the best part of the holiday. Matzah tastes most like cardboard when eaten by oneself.

My reality check came from the Orthodox rabbi on the call. He noted how Passover celebrations will be different this year, and that they should be. Should be? Yes, he said, we should not go on with business as usual in the midst of such a major public health crisis. Though it is our custom to gather, to do so now would be irresponsible, negating the health of others even if we feel healthy ourselves. I had been clinging to the idea that Passover should remain the same even as the world burns around us, and felt disappointed that it couldn’t transcend. But this rabbi helped me let go of my expectations and pointed out the value in adapting our traditions to our situation (usually a Reconstructionist value, but I’m not complaining). If virtual minyans were encouraged, why not virtual Seder? I felt comforted and heartened after the call. Surely I could find some connection and virtual gathering thanks to the powers of the internet.

Cut to today. Through some strange but ultimately responsible family decisions, I am in Northern Michigan by myself. The benefits of this situation do not include streaming-quality wi-fi, or even any wi-fi unless I drive into town and sit in my car outside an establishment whose wi-fi password I had previously saved on my devices. I’m not able to join a virtual Seder. The grocery stores here don’t even sell matzah. It’s just going to be me and some charoset – and, I hope, some light participation from you.

I am asking you for a Passover Favor. *insert matzah emoji* Please reply to this email with a note (or poem or story or drawing) about a time when you found liberation in solitude. Your contribution will help me feel less alone (and more empowered) on this holiday.

If you’ve read this far in my email, you deserve some good news. Last year’s Seder I called “Next Year in Detroit.” My homebuying process extended longer than I anticipated, and it turns out I couldn’t have hosted folks even if I did have a home. But! I am closing on a house in Detroit on April 9, aka Second Night Seder. I take it as a good omen that even though I am not hosting Seder in my new home this year, I will come out the other side of Passover as a homeowner. (And I am seriously considering a “Christmas in July” moment, but for Passover, and maybe later in the fall depending on how healthy everyone is feeling by July.)

So, think about your liberation in solitude moment, and please write me back by the start of Passover (April 8). Next Year in Person!

Love,

Anne

P.S. Need some definitions? If some terms in this email are not accessible to you, please see below. I don’t have much internet, as mentioned above, so these definitions come from my brain.

Passover: the holiday marking the exodus of the Jewish people from Egypt. Through the efforts of Moses the Jewish people were freed from bondage (though still into discipline). Highlights include the ten plagues and the parting of the Red Sea.

Minyan: the minimum number of Jewish people needed for group worship

Matzah: upon the escape of the Jewish people from Egypt, they did not have time to wait for the bread to rise! Therefore we eat unleavened bread, or matzah, during the week of Passover. Also, confusingly, represents bricks. Jewish spring cleaning involves removing all leavened items, or chametz, from the home in advance of Passover. Folks may also cleanse themselves of spiritual chametz, anything they don’t need or that’s holding them back from the past year.

Reconstructionist: a denomination of Judaism that “reconstructs” Judaism to apply to the present. Reinterpretation of traditions is the name of the game. More structured, in my experience, than Reform Judaism, but also can be more woo-woo (and has more singing).

Charoset: the metaphorical mortar to the bricks that are matzah. A common favorite Passover food – I like mine with pistachios and apricots, as well as the traditional chopped apples and nuts.

Detroit: my new home! Among other books, I’m reading Broke by Jodie Adams Kirshner to understand the history of this city and its residents.

#passover #passover 5780 #matzah #Detroit #liberation in solitude

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adacarisi · 6 years

Note

Can you do something where Barba loves rough sex but the reader really doesn't but she doesn't say anything cause she loves Barba too much and then he finds out and super sweet smut ensues? 😊😊😊

Honesty about sexual preferences is very important, you don’t see that kind of open communication a lot in the media, but in real relationships it’s very important. That being said, enjoy.

You had never met anyone like him. He had a presence that dominated any conversation, and when you were in a room with him you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his fashionably clad body. Lucky for you he seemed to have the same predicament with you. Rafael Barba had asked you out the night you met, despite wanting to play the long game with you, as was his specialty. He had strode over as soon as he saw another handsome ADA begin chatting gaily with you and interrupted your conversation with his introduction.

Rafael treated you in glorious fashion, as you continued to date he became more and more attentive despite his busy schedule. He adored you, it was all he could do to not tell you so every minute of the day. You never left his thoughts, he would find himself smirking at his legal pad in court, envisioning the next time he would see you.

You were gentle and kind, he was strong and firm. You matched and complimented each other so well. Except for one thing, Rafael was a bit rough in the bedroom, at first you assumed it was just pent up anticipation or anger from a trial, but he was consistent. Everything felt wonderful, and he never hurt you, you both even had a safe word, but you wanted everything to be softer, slower, closer.

You hesitated to bring it up because you were terrified of shaming him, making it seem as if his sexual preference was out of the norm, or deviant. Especially with his line of work prosecuting sex crimes you feared that he would think the sex you had was non consensual. It wasn’t, you just wanted him, Rafael, you wanted the sweet man you had come to know so well in the last few months.

You planned to tell him when he got home from court, you had exchanged house keys a few weeks back and would wait for him to come home at his apartment. You took it upon yourself to make him dinner, or at least pick something up seeing as he would never find the time. You cared for him deeply, you might have even loved him. So now you were waiting in your sweatpants and his Harvard Law t-shirt, laid on his couch watching his press brief from earlier in the day.

His keys sounded loudly in the door as he jangled them about and your first worry was that he was drunk. It happened more often than you would like. Rafael could hold his liquor, but on his worst nights he would drink more than he could handle and stumble home, frustrated and drunk. He always apologized profusely as you helped him out of his suit and into bed. It was hard. But every time it happened you would forgive him with a kiss before tucking him in next to you. He would pull you hard against him like a doll and roughly nuzzle your head with his cheek before falling fast asleep.

You sat up on the couch as he fell into the apartment, dusted in snow that had been falling all day. He paused and smiled at you before taking off his coat and dropping his briefcase with a thud.

“You would not believe the day I’ve had…” He started as he approached you, kicking off his shoes in the small hallway off the living room.

“Wanna talk about it?” You asked, already knowing most of it having watched his press brief a few times before he walked in the door.

“Not right now…right now…all I want to do…is fuck you until neither of us can stand.” He pounced on you, growling as he bit at your neck and sucked along your jaw.

“Raf…”

“What’s our word?” He asked gruffly, his hands slipping underneath his Harvard t that clung loosely to your body.

“Raf…Raf…Rafael!” You pushed him off of you and stood, heart pounding and eyes filling quickly with tears you desperately did not want to fall.

He sat up quickly with wide eyes, reaching a hand towards you as if trying to calm a skittish animal.

“I don’t want…”

“Hey…hey, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” His voice trembled and he looked so shocked it broke your heart.

You started to cry, and Rafael didn’t know what to do. He wanted to pull you into his arms and comfort you but he was still confused at what had happened. Did you not like him anymore? Did you want to end your relationship? Had he done something? Said something?

You could almost hear the thoughts pounding away on the inside of his scull so you sat yourself in his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck as you cried softly. His hands were hesitant but they found their way to your thigh and back. He took a few sharp inhales, obviously trying to keep himself from crying too. You had to say something now, you had panicked him.

“Raf…I…I really care about you, and I really like being with you, but…but sometimes…I just wish…you weren’t so…so rough.” You spoke slowly, worry and caution coating every word.

“Okay…I can do that…of course I can do that, cariño, why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Rafael took a deep breath to calm himself and rubbed a hand up and down your back in a soothing motion.

“I…oh Raf…I…” You struggled for words, not knowing how to tell him why you had waited without revealing the depth of your emotions for your man.

“You’re not…afraid of me…are you?” He lightened his grip substantially as you broke away to face him.

“No baby no…I just…I want you to be open with me, I don’t want you to think I don’t like what you like in bed, because I do, I just want you to be softer, more gentle.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, his voice low and eyes lost.

“Sweetheart you didn’t know, baby all that matters is we’re talking about it now.” You reassured him with a light kiss on his brow.

He looked devastated and it broke your heart in two. All Rafael could think was that he had hurt you, every time you had sex, he had hurt you.

“Are you okay…I mean…” He didn’t know the words to express how sorry he was, suddenly a montage of your sexual dalliances flickering before his eyes, wondering how he had missed your discomfort.

“Raf you didn’t hurt me, I’m fine, I’m more than fine, I’m with you.” You ran a hand through his hair but he flinched slightly as if somehow trying to distance you from further harm.

“But now I’ve ruined it. I’ve ruined us.” His voice was dejected and his expression one of total despondence.

“You have not! Rafael the last thing I want to do is have you blame yourself, or somehow think that I haven’t enjoyed our time together. Being with you is, god, so wonderful, please don’t think I’ve been hurt or…traumatized.”

He fell silent and the look on his face worried you, you could physically see the mask fall over his features as his eyes returned to yours in an expression of neutrality.

“If you would like to…go. I understand.” His voice betrayed his emotions, as his arms left your body entirely.

“Rafael, I’m never going. Never. I love you. And I’m going to stay by your side for as long as you’ll let me.” This was the only thing you could have possibly said to heal him, to save him from himself.

There are moments in life, terrible situations of loss or grief in which one is totally and utterly at a loss for words. One cannot know what another needs so desperately to hear, the many or few words that would soothe and suffice. But sometimes, sometimes those words are spoken into the heavy silence, by chance or by a bond so deep they seemed the only words that could be spoken, and they heal, salve and reconstruct.

These were the words Rafael needed to hear. The words he had been waiting to hear for decades. Though he would have no one think so, he had felt horribly, terribly, miserably, desolate…for so many years. Left in the cold by one lover and then another, his trust fading until he no longer trusted anyone, unable to relinquish his guard he had constructed so flawlessly.

But here you were, saying the only words that silenced the screaming congress in his head, the only words in the entirety of the English language that would allow him to forgive himself.

“I’m never going. I love you.” You repeated and his mask fell, melting like a cascade of silk ribbons into your hands as you caressed his face, pulling him from deep within himself where he had retreated.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeated once more as you stroked over his brow and nose, placing delicate kisses in a path as you went.

You took one of his hands and placed it on your chest so he could feel the calm beat of your heart as it pulsed against your ribcage. That seemed to soothe him, his fingers flexed and pressed against the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Rafael Barba, you have nothing to be sorry for.” His eyes flicked up to yours and you couldn’t help but gasp softly at the total lack of inhibition in them.

He was relaxed and at peace, the weight of you on his lap and the beat of your heart under his fingertips. Rafael Barba surrendered himself to you, to your scent, to your voice, to your words.

“I trust you.” He spoke, his voice light at this admission.

You took his other hand and kissed each finger slowly, taking his middle finger into your mouth with a light suck and brush of your tongue.

“I will never betray that trust.” You spoke after removing his finger from your mouth and pressing his palm to your cheek in a tender motion.

“Did you mean it?” His voice was small and so unlike him it gave you pause.

“What baby?”

“You love me?”

“I’m afraid so.” You smiled softly trying to return your usual humorous rapport to the moment.

He brushed his hand over your cheek, feeling the rise of the bones in your face as he moved over them.

“If you’ll let me, I’ll show you how you can love me too.” You moved forward on his lap to convey the physicality of your intentions.

He nodded and you rocked your hips over his a few times before standing and pulling him with you towards his bedroom.

It was dark, you didn’t turn on the lights, you didn’t need them. Light from the city flickered in and out, street lamps below and headlights acted as candle light, soft and seemingly natural as you pulled him down beside you on the bed.

He hooked one leg over yours and kissed you so lightly you wondered if your lips had made contact at all. You moved your hands along his suit clad body and helped him push off one layer at a time until his chest was bare. Rafael slipped you out of his t-shirt in one smooth motion, kissing at your upper arms as they were revealed to him.

It felt as if everything were moving in slow motion, the kisses were long and languid, his touches even longer and softer. You moved his hands to your breasts and demonstrated on top of them how you liked to be squeezed and fondled. He observed carefully and repeated your motions exactly before he brought his mouth to your nipple. He rolled his tongue around the raised skin, sucking ever so softly before dragging his tongue wetly down the swell of your breast towards your ribcage.

You moaned softly and he watched as you pressed your head into the pillow behind you, rolling onto your back from your previous position facing him on your side.

He continued downward, kissing your stomach softly and then wetly, sucking along the plump area around your belly button. Rafael looked to you, not taking his eyes from your face as you watched him move even lower before waiting for your approval.

He wrapped his arms under your thighs and anchored himself to you before kissing your center once, twice, three times with the upmost tenderness. You reached for his face and caressed where you could make contact as he licked you slowly, his tongue tasting your arousal more strongly than ever before.

Rafael hummed and moaned as he moved agonizingly slow, working you with the tip of his tongue before lapping at you even more slowly. Just when you were almost over the edge he gave you a final kiss before moving his body over your own.

You pressed against his chest with your hands until he landed on his back, your faces maintaining the same distance apart as you moved. You sucked on his jaw in the spot you knew he loved and listened as he moaned quietly. Ghosting a hand down his torso you let a finger fall and drag along his center, chest to pelvis before unbuckling his belt and removing his pants.

He looked painfully hard when you eased his briefs down, so you rewarded him with a few kisses of your own before taking him into your mouth. He whimpered a few, “Oh God’s” before collapsing back onto the pillows with a hand on his forehead.

You moved gently and carefully, extending every pleasure you gave him tenfold. Your tongue tasted him as he had tasted you, and it sent sparks through your stomach and spine. He fought to keep his hips in place as you took him further, nearly his entire length in your mouth and throat. You saw his hands clench his sheets and he cried out, meaning if you wanted him inside you you had to stop now.

You laid on your back and he rolled on top of you, taking care not to press too hard against your body as he did. Now he was afraid, afraid of losing control and being too rough with you. You saw this written across his features and pulled his head towards you to kiss him, firmly and surely.

“I love you.” You spoke tracing a finger down his cheek.

Rafael lined himself up with you and pushed inside of you slowly. He watched every motion of your body as you took him in, observing for any hesitation or pain. You were in raptures as he bottomed out, throbbing inside of you as he stilled.

He still hadn’t moved after a couple of moments so you placed your hands on his bare hips and urged him with the motion of your hands. You instructed him silently with your legs, moving along his back and thighs in tandem with his slow thrusts. Rafael cried and whimpered at the intimacy of the moment, you joined him delighted by the sounds he was making. You urged him a little faster with a nip on his ear and he obliged while moving a hand to your clit, his fingertips brushing along his cock as it slid in and out of you.

Rafael moaned your name, his eyebrows knit together in concentration, his jaw slacked and open at the pleasure he didn’t know was possible. The pleasure of intimacy, slow, undistracted intimacy.

He rolled your clit softly and you kissed him hard before sobbing into his open mouth, that was his cue that you were seconds away from your climax. Rafael repeated the motions and you reached for his hands, pulling them up to rest in yours beside your head. He tented over you as he continued thrusting, the both of you whimpering and sighing, groaning and gasping at the strength of the sensations caused by such soft and tender ministrations.

His eyes fell shut and he choked as his own climax began to eat away at his synapses.

“Look at me baby…look at me.” You moaned, his grip on your hands even tighter as his body began to contract.

The second his green eyes flashed open you came, focusing all your energy on keeping them open to maintain the bond of eye contact. He gasped loudly as you squeezed around him with the force of your climax. Rafael fell further onto you pressing your breasts into his chest as he came, every bone in his body melting away into an array of glitter that burned like fire.

He couldn’t stop moaning as he recovered, only pulling out of you minutes later. As he struggled for his breath and words you laid your head gingerly on his chest and purred.

“I love you.” He managed, the words sliding from his tongue as if they had been on it’s tip for months.

“I love you too. Thank you…for being so…gentle.”

“Was that…” He tried before taking a deep inhale.

“Very…I’d say the–” You almost finished before he stole the words from your lips.

“Best?” You could almost feel his smile as his arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer.

“Yes.” You chuckled softly, stroking his chest hair with the tips of your fingers.

“You know…we can do the rough stuff sometimes, I don’t mind. Just not…all the time.” You spoke truly, genuinely wanting to indulge him every once in a while.

“Whenever you want.” He closed his eyes and you knew he was about to fall asleep so you kissed him once more with a hand on his cheek.

“Thank you…for understanding.”

“Of course…I love you.” The words made him feel warm, warm and safe.

They had a similar effect on you as well. You whispered the same to him with a smile before drifting off into sleep, blissfully at peace in Rafael Barba’s strong arms knowing this was only the beginning of something truly wonderful.

#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba #raul esparza #barba #law and order svu #adacarisi #smut

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deanssexplorations · 4 years

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“There Was So Much Going On I Didn’t Always Know Who Was Between My Legs” (Three-Couple Dinner and Sex Party Part 2)

Ah, where to begin on this one? I recently blogged about my friend Calliope and me conspiring to throw a three-couple dinner and sex party, one of her big bucket list items. There was a bit of a back and forth to get the guest list all settled, but in the end we had an all-star line up. Adam and Jennifer, Eve, and my young, new friend Chuck would all be joining us at at the Airbnb Calliope had rented for the occasion. A lovely spot near the beach.

It was a great group, and I was confident it would be a great night.

After weeks of anticipation, the day finally arrived (this was last Saturday as it turns out). A last-minute flurry on our Kik thread saw Chuck again generously offering to bring whatever we needed, while Eve wondered if there was a pre-party because she was so ready to fuck, like now. Adam and Jennifer confirmed their wine selections. All was set.

Until Eve let us know, about an hour before the scheduled arrival time, that she had accepted an offer to hang out with one of her new friends, naked on the back of his motorcycle, while he and his buddies paraded, also naked on their motorcycles, down the streets of Santa Cruz. I guess they do this once a month or so. It was a bucket list item that Eve couldn’t pass up.

She told us to start without her and she wouldn’t be more than an hour late.

I got there a bit early and caught up with Calliope while we finished preparing and got the music set. Jennifer, Adam, and Chuck arrived on schedule, and soon we were enjoying delicious hors d’oeuvres (Calliope, remind me the name!), listening to our Mad Men-inspired playlist, and sampling the wonderful selection of wine Jennifer and Adam had brought. And the delicious Zinfandel that Tony and Michelle had donated in our honor.

That Michelle and Tony. So generous of them.

Appetizers led to dinner, a delicious three-course affair. Calliope started us with a bright fall salad, followed by pan-seared halibut and roasted potatoes, then a refreshing pomegranate-based dessert. Adam poured the perfect pairing for each course, and we enjoyed lively, sex-charged conversation throughout.

Eve texted updates, including a selfie of her and her guy friend naked on his Harley. Right around when we were finishing dinner she texted that she was outside the front door. Opening it, I saw that she was wearing a short, sexy black overcoat that showed off her fabulous legs. And bright red come-fuck-me stilettos. I offered to take her coat, but learned she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

Did I mention I love how Eve rolls?

As Eve caught up with the plate we had saved for her we launched into an STI/testing/limits conversation (everyone was recently tested, no one was reactive, and we were very compatible in terms of limits and desires). I then launched us into a (single) round of Never Have I Ever, which I was planning as a bridge from dinner to the bedroom, having been stymied before by one too many awkward “who moves first” group dynamics. As it turned out, I needn’t have worried as everyone was a pro, or at least was very game, and all it took to get people going was a glance at my watch and a suggestion that we move to the sex part of the evening.

That said, we did learn that our 30-year-old, second-time-having-sex-in-a-group friend Chuck was the only one there who joined the Mile High Club. That in the midst of one of the most sexually uninhibited six-somes I’ve ever been part of.

Nicely done, Chuck!

Everyone stood up from the table, paired up and began kissing. Adam started kissing Calliope, Chuck was kissing Eve, and I was enjoying Jennifer’s tall stature and luscious lips. As clothes started coming off I discovered that the dress Jennifer had chosen that evening was equally apropos. It had a single tie, which when loosened opened the entire front of the dress, only to reveal that she too was wearing absolutely nothing underneath.

I guess Jennifer and Eve were fortunate that I hadn’t chosen strip poker as our way to ease into the bedroom.

After ducking out to prepare the adjoining bedroom (those candles were not about to light themselves), I took Jennifer by the hand and led her to the waiting king-sized bed (which Calliope and I hadn’t been entirely sure would handle all the bodies that night!)

Normally I’m pretty zoned in during sexual encounters, doing a good job paying attention to what’s going on around me, and I’m usually also good at reconstructing the chain of events. But this night was crazy epic, with a flood of sensory overload that made it impossible for me to keep track of all the details.

I know I started out by going down on Jennifer, which I had been really looking forward to. In the several times we’d played together, I’d only gone down on her once, and that was a learning experience as much as anything as I got to know her pussy’s hot buttons. I was excited to put my knowledge to work, and that excitement seemed to be contagious, as she started out with what seemed to be a very nice orgasm.

From there it starts to become a bit of a blur. At various points of the evening, I fucked each of the women, I went down on each of the women, and each of the women sucked my cock. Each woman paired up with each man in every imaginable coupling, and each woman played with the other women in some way, shape, or form. I am pretty sure they all went down on each other at some point, but it was beyond my ability to keep careful track.

It was crazy. It was wonderful. It was epic.

But even more than the individual couplings, of which there were many, the defining dynamic of the night was the multi-person group play, of which there was a copious amount. Our session lasted for about two hours (we started a little after 10:00 p.m. and wound down a bit after midnight), and for most of that time people were engaged in multiple simultaneous couplings. Just a giant pile of writhing bodies.

We would spend a few minutes in some particular configuration, and then people would fluidly, organically shift to the next position, to the next person. There were times I wasn’t sure whose ass was next to me or whose tit was in my hand (well, that’s maybe a bit of hyperbole but you get the point). And everyone was just as interested in giving as receiving. No one was neglected, even for a moment.

Or as Calliope said when we were texting the next day, “there was so much going on I didn’t always know who was between my legs.”

But even against the Caligula-like pastiche of naked bodies sucking and fucking, a few moments stand out. During dessert Eve told us she likes being restrained, to which Adam replied that he can bring out a rough edge if the situation warrants. We were taking a bit of a break about three quarters of the way through the evening when she invited him to restrain her while she tested his beast mode by trying to escape. Watching the two of them writhing around on the bed was crazy fun, with the added bonus that we got an amazing view of Eve’s gorgeous pussy and ass. (She did escape, but only because he suffered a small cramp in the tussle. We’ll have to do a rematch one day and see which wins out - the irresistible force or the immovable object.)

A second vignette came when someone - maybe Eve, spotted the candles burning in the windowsill and thought it would be fun to drip a little hot wax on each other. Eve dripped some on Calliope, and Chuck driped it on Eve’s chest and tits. She yelped a bit with each drop, but said it hurt so good and asked him to continue. I even did a drop just to see. It definitely had a bite.

Adam had to remind me that I (almost) made Jennifer squirt. I had been fucking her, then pulled out to start fucking Eve, when Adam saw Jennifer was at the edge and reached between her legs. With just the right touch, he helped push her over that edge to a gusher. She normally holds back because she can soak a bed - and occasionally has - but just the right stimulation in the right order, combined with multiple explosions earlier that night, all made it happen.

I should probably mention that I love how Jennifer rolls.

Another vignette, around that same mini-break, came when Jennifer and Eve left to get a drink of water, leaving the three men on the bed with Calliope. My motor was still going, and so was Chuck’s, so I asked Calliope how she would like to have three cocks all to herself. Now keep in mind that we are still working to give her her first MMF experience, so my proposal was to sort of bypass that and go straight to an MMMF! Calliope was more than game, and lay on her back while I fucked her, and she sucked Chuck’s cock and played with Adam’s with her hand. I suspect that particular memory will remain with her for some time to come.

I do love how Calliope rolls.

But maybe my favorite moment, even more than Calliope and her three cocks, came at the very end of the evening. We were winding down and Jennifer and Adam were talking about hitting the road when Chuck spoke up to mention that he had never had a double blowjob. Which he had asked me about during the run-up to the event, and I told him that the attendees would probably be delighted to give a young man a bucket list item. Jennifer and Eve gladly obliged while I luxuriated on the bed, enjoying the lovely embrace of Calliope’s lips around my cock. Probably my most indelible memory of the evening is watching him stand there in pure bliss as the two women knelt before him, taking turns enveloping his cock with their mouths while the other ran her lips up down his shaft and cradled his balls.

He told us it was so amazing that he couldn’t decide who to have suck his cock, and we told him that wasn’t his job to worry about, and to relax and leave everything up to the two lovely ladies.

Finally we did wind down, dressed (an easy task for Jennifer and Eve), and bid each other good night. I felt (slightly) bad about leaving the place such a mess - dishes still on the dining room table, hors d’oeuvres spread around the coffee table, the kitchen a mess, and the bedroom in shambles. But I knew that Calliope would be basking in the afterglow as she straightened up the next morning.

And I knew she would relish every moment.

[Post-script: in the days following the party as we we were exchanging memories, compliments, and pictures via Kik, Chuck let us know he had come down with flu-like symptoms and asked if anyone had been to China recently. No one had. Then Eve came down with it, followed by Calliope, Jennifer, and finally Adam. Only I - for whatever reason - had been spared. And it’s not for lack of kissing the other lovely dinner guests, I can guarantee you that.

As we were comparing notes and commiserating over everyone’s ailments (and by the way, it’s not coronavirus, at least according to the doctors Chuck consulted), Calliope pointed out that it’s possible to be contagious with the flu even when you feel great, adding that “everyone in my life has gotten the flu this year. I am the last to fall.”

Responded Adam, “But what a way to fall.”]

#ThreeCoupleSexParty #MassOfArmsAndLegs #AndCocksAndPussies #OrganicFluidSexualCouplings #Calliope #Jennifer #Eve #Adam #Chuck #Michelle #Tony

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cooperjones2020 · 7 years

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What’s Past is Prologue, What to Come pt. 2

The fire alarm in my building won’t stop going off. It makes for a fun editing soundtrack.

Part 2 of 8 (maybe?)

TWs for stalking and self-harm

(ao3-->http://archiveofourown.org/works/11394858/chapters/25540770)

(part one)

Proteus: Ay, gentle Thurio: for you know that love

Will creep in service where it cannot go.

(Two Gents, IV.ii.19-20)

Jughead Jones sat in his booth at Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe and fought a war with his baser urges. He itched to take his phone out of his pocket. To relive the triumphs of his evening.

But he had deadlines to meet. Self-imposed they might be, but they were deadlines nonetheless. He hovered his cursor over the apps at the bottom of his screen, then opened the word document he’d been typing in earlier.

“don’t know any better — or they’re old and they don’t want to know any better. This story is about a town, a small town and the people who live in the town, and work there, and fall in love there, get married there, have children there, and yes, even die there.

At a certain point, though, you look close enough — and you start seeing the shadows underneath the town. And sometimes…the shadows take over. And you’re living in this place you don’t recognize anymore. And you’re feeling a lot of things, but safe isn’t one them.

The name of this town is Riverdale.

And our story begins, I guess, with what the Blossom twins did this summer. On the fourth of July, just after dawn, Jason and Cheryl Blossom drove out to Sweetwater River for an early morning boat-ride. The next thing we know happened for sure is that Dilton Doiley, who was leading Riverdale’s Boy Scout Troop on a bird-watching expedition, came upon.

Riverdale Police dragged the river for Jason’s body, but hours later, still nothing…

Needless to say, there were no fireworks in Riverdale that night. A week later, the Blossom family buried an empty casket, and Jason’s death was ruled an accident, as the story Cheryl told made the rounds.

That Cheryl saw a ribbon in the water, and Jason reached down to get it, and accidentally tipped the boat, and panicked, and drowned which is super-weird, because Jason was captain of almost every sports team at Riverdale High, including water polo. Not that anyone examined those facts too closely, or asked too many questions. See, the Blossoms had their tendrils wrapped around the entire town — no one wanted to make enemies o”

It was not his best work. It read like the voiceover of a supersaturated period piece rather than the tightly controlled, forensically measured prose he was going for. But he’d written and rewritten the beginning of this chapter more than a dozen times. He would get to the end of it tonight if it killed him. He would find out what happened next.

Then he caved and opened Photos. Maybe he could—

The bell over the door jingled and Jughead looked up to see who’d come in. He quickly toggled his windows and pulled Word back up.

He opened a new document: “It was midnight when my old friend Archie Andrews arrived at the one place in town that was still open. He was looking for the girl next door. Instead, he found me.”

Archie Andrews’s bowtie had come untied and his shirt was half-untucked. His hair looked like a drunk girl had been running her fingers through it. She probably had. Jughead watched Archie’s eyes as they seemed to drift toward his booth. Their booth. He ignored the feeling that settled in his stomach. He crossed his arms on the table in front of him and frowned.

“Hey, Pop. Betty hasn’t come in tonight, has she?”

“No. Just the nighthawk’s in tonight.” Pop inflected the first syllable of ‘nighthawk’ as he nodded toward Jughead.

He groaned internally. Did a more banal reference exist?

“Thanks.” Archie hesitated.

“Uh, can I sit, Jughead?”

“If you want.” He did.

“What are you working on?”

“My novel. It’s about this summer, and Jason Blossom.” Good. Evil. Innocence. Guilt. Sin. Obsession. Endings.

Archie tapped the bottom of his phone against the table. “Seventeen years old, and how will he be remembered? As captain of the water polo team?” His eyebrows approached his hairline.

“The Aquaholics? Considering how he died, probably not.”

“No, what I mean is, was he doing everything he was supposed to do? Everything he wanted. I mean, did he even know what that was?”

Jughead flared his nostrils and turned his eyes from Archie to the window. He was talking about Betty. Or that new dark-haired girl. Or, hell, about switching what brand of hair gel he used. But he could have been talking about Jughead. He could have been talking about how Jughead had spent his evening, what he’d done instead of going to the dance and the subsequent Cheryl Blossom-sponsored mating ritual.

“Coach Clayton was in here talking to Pop Tate. Varsity. Does that make you—what—Mr. Popular-Football-God now?”

“No.” Archie stared at the table. “In fact, I’m kind of terrified I lost my best friend tonight.”

“If you mean Betty, whatever happened, just talk to her, man. It would go a long way. Would’ve gone a long way with me.”

Archie nodded. Jughead hoped that would be enough to push him back out the door. It was.

Jughead needed Archie to leave so he could get back to what he was doing. But he also needed Archie to fix whatever he’d done to Betty. The drama of Archie and Betty was the narrative structure to his own life. It was the story he was always writing and deleting and reconstructing. Archie Andrews was the protagonist. Jughead Jones was the understudy. They were the only two people he trusted with Betty Cooper. He refused to contemplate what would happen if Archie broke Betty.

When Betty had left Riverdale, that early morning in the middle of June, Jughead had, as with all the important moments in her life, been on hand to observe. He had said goodbye to her the night before, with a projection-booth viewing of Picnic. He knew she was saving her final goodbye for Archie, so he got up at six am and camped out in the treehouse before Fred was up to see him through the kitchen windows.

That morning, her hair had been in a braid rather than a ponytail. She looked impossibly beautiful. Archie looked half-asleep. He watched them hug, watched Archie let go of her quickly, watched Betty cling to his shoulders a beat longer. Then he watched Archie go back to bed. Later that day, they were supposed to marathon the new Call of Duty.

That morning, he watched Betty Cooper drive away from him, and Archie Andrews, and Riverdale — that Riverdale that was and no more could be — in a wood-panelled station wagon.

When he’d watched her melt into the vanishing point, he headed to Sweetwater River. His backpack held his laptop, a notebook and pen, two packets of pop tarts, a small fishing knife. He knew words weren’t going to be enough to fill his chest cavity. He needed to fill it before he came back for the video games.

They never played Call of Duty that day. Or any of the days that came after.

When Archie had left, Jughead reached into his pocket to pull out the cord and phone stashed there. He plugged them in and pulled Photos back up.

He began clicking through the pictures as they uploaded. The first framed Betty’s window. He’d nearly fallen off the ladder trying to lean back far enough to take it. Through the fluttering curtains, her room was as pristine as it had been the months she’d been gone. But for the white cardigan discarded on her bed and the tube of lipstick lying on its side on her desk.

The next photos showed the inside of her closet, his hand pushing back some of the clothing. He catalogued each new piece. The bright blue of her cheerleading uniform interrupted a gradient of pastels and and creams.

Her hamper contained three pairs of underwear, two bras—one a sports bra, one pale purple lace, one of the ubiquitous white sweaters, black shorts, and a white baseball tee with yellow sleeves. He photographed them on her bed with the hamper balanced teetering off the corner.

In her bathroom, five orange pill bottles stood where there used to only be four. Two were the same, though one bore the label of a pharmacy in California and the other Riverdale Rx. They were almost entirely full.

In her trash can, he could see a used make up wipe, an empty container of acne treatment from the skincare brand he knew she liked, and three cotton balls, crumpled, moist, bloody.

He took a picture.

He took the knife out of his pocket, scored four smalls cuts into his palm and let them drip onto the cotton ball. He took another picture.

He fingered the panties in his other pocket and clicked back to his albums. He saved the new photos under ‘August 2016.’ The July album was despairingly empty, containing only two pictures: a single view of her deserted bedroom and a side view of her closet, so he could see what she’d taken with her and imagine what she looked like.

He brought the word document back, deleted the section he’d been staring at before, and replaced it.

“Our story is about a town. A small town. And the people who live in the town. From a distance, it presents itself like so many other small towns, all over the world.

Safe. Decent. Innocent. Get closer though, and you start seeing the shadows underneath.

The name of our town is Riverdale.

And our story begins, I guess, with what the Blossom twins did this summer. On the fourth of July, just after dawn, Jason and Cheryl Blossom drove out to Sweetwater River for an earring morning boat-ride. The next thing we know happened for sure is that Dilton Doiley, who was leading Riverdale’s Boy Scout Troop on a bird-watching expedition, came upon Cheryl by the river’s edge.

Riverdale Police dragged the river for Jason’s body, but never found it. So a week later, the Blossom family buried an empty casket, and Jason’s death was ruled an accident, as the story Cheryl that told made the rounds. That Cheryl dropped a glove in the water and Jason reached down to get it, and accidentally tipped the boat, and panicked, and drowned.

As for us, we were still talking about the July Fourth tragedy on the last day of summer vacation, when a new mystery rolled into town.”

His photos had finished uploading. He unplugged the USB cord and unlocked his phone. He selected one picture to remain and deleted the rest.

In his hand, an image of a photograph of the two of them at eighth grade graduation stared up at him. Betty was smiling at something off-camera—Archie taking the photo. Jughead was looking at her. It had been tucked in the side of her mirror in early June. It was gone in July. Now, it had returned.

#bughead fanfiction #riverdale fanfiction #bughead #dark!jughead #jughead jones #mine #betty cooper #riverdale #wpip #the beast within

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whydoyouwantmyname · 7 years

Text

Imagine finally going home to Carl....

I Wrote a part three.... I did it guys!

Part One

Part Two

You sat in the bedroom Negan had provided you, looking at the latest book he gave you, hoping it would help occupy your time.... unaware the books didn’t fill your time, but your memories did, mostly the one’s you had with Carl....

It had been so long that you were in this bedroom, you had forgotten what the outside even looked like.

There were two times Negan came in to your prison looking sour though, normally he would come to you and tell you about his day, or tell you a story from his past life... But those two days he was cross.

"Well Well well... Looks like our mutual friend has flown the coop. Funny how he found stealing a jar of my peanut butter far more interestin' then savin' you." His voice boomed in the small space as your eyes focused on the corner away from him, however you knew his facial features wouldn't match his voice. He was pissed.

"Funny how you said you would let me go too and yet here I sit still." You answered back with a sassy tone, your eyes never meeting his face as he scoffed, and left the room, knowing that was the only attitude he would get out of you.

"Did ya hear all the gunfire last night?" His voice was harsh, as he entered the dull room with Lucille over his shoulder.

"Yes sir. Figured it was just Simon playing a little game with some other prisoner." You retorted as he pulled the desk chair around so that the back was facing you, he lifted one leg over and sat down, one arm over the back as he glared you down.

"No. See now that is where you are wrong. Seems that your little boyfriend decided that he wanted to pull a rescue mission, save his little girl last night. However seeing how you are still here..."

"I swear if you so much as hurt a single bone in his body..." You growled as Negan smiled, sending a shiver up your spine.

"I would never dream of it. Why I was quite impressed by his performance. Hell I wish Carl was my own son. I simply just brought the boy back to his father, and told him if he ever wanted to see ya again he better behave himself."

"You took him back?"

"Yes ma'am. I must say there is only one flaw in that boy, and last night I found it a real annoyance. See he seemed to think that after comin' in here and shooting up the place he earned the right to ask my men over 67 times if he could see ya. The boy would be a real warrior, if his only weakness wasn't you."

A scoff rose up in your throat as you looked at the aging man before you, "you are wrong."

"I wish I was sweetie." He smiled again before pushing off the chair and slammed the door behind him as he exited.

Today however was a happy day....

"Guess who is finally gonna go see her home?" Negan boomed in the early morning as he barged into the dull space.

"Negan.... What are you talking about?" You groaned sleepily as he laid beside you, arms under his head as he stared at the ceiling.

"Well I figured I could use ya' today, as a form of leverage, prove I kept my word on keepin' you alive and well. I can't use Eugene cause hell he might as well have been one of us this whole time. And Sasha, well I don't know how she feels about me yet, who knows she might just say no to my offer to go home. But you.... You are Carl Grimes's southern bell, the apple of his eye, the owner of his vcard, and probably someone who is special to Rick too, seeing how you are the only hope of his son being happy.”

“So what, you take me there, make ‘em think you are finally returning me after our little show in the RV, and that they won’t want to put a bullet in your eyes for keeping me for so long. For torturing Daryl. For killing Glenn and Abraham. Or for the rest of the shit you have done?”

“Not as long as I have a gun to your pretty little head.” He smiled at the ceiling, “Now I suggest you get the fuck up, and get something nice on. Today is a BIG day.” And with that he rolled off your bed as you kept repeating in your mind, ‘I’m going home.’

“I am Negan.” You heard Eugene say into the megaphone as you watched from tinted windows, your eyes glued on to the one which belonged to the aging man who stood on the watch tower you sat upon when Carl asked you out. He looked weary, and it broke your heart knowing that the entire reasoning behind this was because of the man sitting beside you.

“Now sweetheart. I’m going to go out there first, and when I give you the signal....”

“I go out there, and you put a gun to my head, after revealing Sasha is unharmed in the casket.” You blankly said, your tone monotone as he smiled.

“You might not see it now Sweetheart, but this is for their own good, I wanna show them....”

“Just how broken they can get.”

“Damn! I am gonna miss you.” He grinned as he threw open the door, leaving you in the truck, unsupervised.

Once he was away from the truck, and everyone’s attention was turned towards him and the unopened casket on the truck bed you slowly opened the door which you sat behind, and softly slid out of the truck, looking back and forth before quickly and silently making a break for the woods. It was there where you followed the fence, looking for....

“OH PRINCESS! YOU CAN COME OUT NOW!” You heard him scream, sure that he was now looking at the truck, and noticing the opened door....

“Where is she?”

“I swear sir she was in the truck.”

“Well where is she....”

“You have [Y/N]?” You knew that was Rick, and you knew at the sound of your name everyone in the gates would know what it meant, and you could only imagine the look on Carl’s face, and while you wanted to listen to the conversation you knew you couldn’t right now, seeing how....

“FIND HER!” Negan screamed as you quickened your pace, knowing it wasn’t far. And then.....

“Carl I gotta show ya something.” You said as you walked into the room, your heart dropping at the sight of him sitting with Enid on the bed.

“Yeah. What is it?” He answered, as Enid turned and scowled at you, as you shifted uncomfortably

“Sorry I didn’t know you had...”

“Oh no, Enid was just leaving.” He answered as Enid’s head whipped around and she sighed loudly, before rushing out of the room.

“She seemed pissed.” You replied as Carl smiled.

“She’ll get over it. Now what did ya wanna show me?”

“Oh, I found a way for us to get in the woods, without these insane people knowing.”

“No way, I gotta see this.” He excitedly answered as he jumped up, as you smiled and rushed down the stairs, knowing Carl was rushing behind you.

And it was today that you found the entrance again, thankful it wasn’t patched over when the wall was reconstructed. As you got on the forest floor and crawled through you looked at the house of Aaron and Eric, and hurried towards the back door, praying no one would notice you. As you softly shut the back door to the house, you heard the sound of gunfire, wondering if it came from inside the fence or on the outside. You slowly started up the stairs of Aaron and Eric’s house you knew you would have to hide in one of the guest bedrooms, knowing the one closest to the bathroom would have the best view of the square.You softly stalked into the room and climbed onto the bed, looking out the window in time to see Negan pointing Lucille at Rick and Carl, all the Saviors standing behind him. However there was no sign of Sasha, but the observation was quickly pushed aside when you saw the old, worn, dark brown sheriff hat.

The sight of his back caused your heart to flutter, your breath became caught in your throat, and your palms became clammy. It was like something you would see in a romance movie, and you were overjoyed to see that he was at least whole. However it only lasted a second before becoming dread as you watched Lucille get pointed at Carl, while Negan pointed towards the field between the houses, the one which you almost forgot about....

“Babe.” Carl softly whispered as he shook your shoulder, a soft groan leaving your throat as he did.

“Babe.” He repeated, as you replied with a groan again, “I know you are awake now babe, so why not you point those beautiful [Y/C/E]s towards me.”

You slowly rolled over, and opened your eyes to the still dark room, your eyes landing on the bare chest and smiling face of Carl Grimes as his own blue eye stared down at you, a twinkle in them both as you groaned, “Babe, it isn’t even sunrise yet.”

“I know, but I want to do something.” He sounded like an excited child, which was a rare tone for Carl to have, for so long now most people had heard him bear a very mature tone, as though he was an adult, even though he was 16.

“And you couldn’t have told me before I went to bed, and slept?” You smiled as he looked at you apologetically.

“Sorry about that one. Now lets goooooo.” He whined as your eyes rolled with a giggle.

Five minutes later you had both managed to get out of the front door of the house without alerting any of the members in the home, and were now wandering hand in hand down the street of Alexandria, the moon and a flashlight lighting your path.

“So you woke me up just to walk me down the street?” You asked as you gripped the blanket closer to your chest.

“I mean this is just the second part of the plan, we thankfully got through the first part and got out of the house. Turn here.” He instructed as you turned between the house of some citizens of Alexandria, and into an empty field of overgrown grass.

“Oh look love, some tall grass.” You mockingly whispered as you walked by the houses, as Carl chuckled.

“Just you wait for what else you are going to see. Now close your eyes.” He whispered as he took the blanket from you, your eyelids slowly falling over your eyeballs, “And don’t peek.”

“Why, scared I will see some more tall grass.” you joked as you heard the sounds of the blanket, and felt his hands wrap around your arms, slowly lowering you until your legs met the soft fabric of the blanket, his hand then lightly pressing your shoulder as your upper body also joined the blanket. you then heard the thud of a body lay next to you and felt Carl’s fingers entangle yours.

“Okay, open.” He whispered into your ear in a hot breath as you opened your eyes to the black blanket of the sky and looked at all the twinkling stars above. Your breathe taken away as you took in the sight of the sky.

“I know it is nothing special but I feel like with the way the world is right now, neither of us have taken the time to look and see that there is still some beautiful things in the world.”

“I see beauty in the world everyday Carl, all I gotta do is look at you.” you smiled looking at his once smiling face, which was now blushing.

“I also was hoping I could take ya out here tonight and tell ya that I love you.” He whispered as your eyes widened.

“You love me? Even though I am annoying?”

“yes.”

“And always steal the last of the chocolate pudding.”

“Yes.”

“And insist on wearing the hat sometimes when it is too hot?”

“Yes.”

“And steal all the....”

“I love you and all the little things you do, even if I say I hate them.”

“Well I love you too Grimes, even if you did wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me.” you smiled as you leaned forward, both of your lips inching closer and closer and then....

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a tiger roaring, and the screams of men. As you looked out the window you saw everyone running around in the street, guns rapidly firing everywhere. The sight of the battle below caused a fire to burn in your gut, as you quickly leapt into action, running once more out the back door.

When you reached the front of the house you noticed that a bloody rifle laid on the corpse of a man, he seemed to belong to the Saviors. You wasted no time collecting the weapon quickly and aiming it to shot whomever you recognized as a Savior.

You got 6 good shots in, each one dropping a man or woman, before the smoke grenades came in, the smoke cloaking the streets as the Saviors and their allies fled. You aimed again, and pulled the trigger, however nothing happened, causing you to quickly discard the weapon and start toward another body you dropped, take the weapon, and follow the crowd after truck. You noticed the trailer and figured if you were to get a good shot on them, this was the best spot. You quickly climbed up the side, and when you reached the top, had a gun pointed in your face.

#twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd imagines #twd imagine #twd one shot #twd one shots #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #walking dead fanfiction #walking dead fanfic #the walking dead one shot #the walking dead one shots #walking dead one shots #walking dead one shot #walking dead imagines #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead imagines #walking dead imagine

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beatles-mpreg-yuriedition · 4 years

Text

here is my brother telling a biased and american centric recent history, but things got replaced with pokemon

The year is 1776 and the Dwebble declare their independence from the Inteleon empire fighting in the dwebble revolution for their independence eventually winning and gaining their independence for the 13 colonies of dwebble and then after that in 1812 the sandslash declare war on the dwebble the newly formed dwebble empire and fight the war of 1812 with that but we both win at the same time they send the roofers down the truth in their search for Western expansion but with meanwhile in a year up the slack ass or decide they want more liberty equality and fraternity and at overthrow the aristocracy and king

OK to the swablu for a revolution which is shortly before axew Bonaparte comes and sees his power but meanwhile once again on the Americas, dweebles think less of the shiny dwebbles and enslaved them until they fight a Civil War were the northern to be able to come up on top and sign the 13th and 14th amendment giving the freedom to the shiny dwebble more rights but then president sneasel lincoln that the third is assassinated by an angry crabominable Jackson. takes a cursola again bashing reconstruction but then nothing happens until Etiwanda loon reunion nights this one at the swallow Inn Empire reunites and then a little bit later, oh yeah, during all this time there is the wheezing revolution were the wheezing is industrialized everything with bronzer and magneton klink klinklang and then after the snom revolution of 1905 Apom shoots a phantump in single parasect sparking World War I. which eventually all the countries of Europe fight in before the allied powers come up Hydreigon forcing that I forgot with Germany is Empire Hydreigon to sign the treaty of Electabuzz forcing Hydreigon to give up the land of magmar as well as pay heavy reparations. However during this time as well with the ood mustache he is very not happy about this and is countries to feet so he goes to art school but fails miserably but he becomes more important later. At the same time the snoms are even more angry and launch the snommunist revolution of 1919 eventually overthrowing the tzar before fighting in the snommunist in the Civil War against the white Snom before establishing the snomunist union. and snommunist across all of Russia during the same time in dwebble miss plays the balltoy market causing the great the big sad of 1919 before a president wedwebble Roosevelt comes in with his new deal and saves it. but back in Europe Hydreigon as well as with this weird guy with a mustache takes power after burning the Parasect and stunfisk March before establishing the Hydreigon empire deeming that him and leader. he then goes and invades the countries of elgyem and market to golduck. to for more land and control of the Hydreigon people before ultimately invading seviper sparking World War II as the Allied powers of inteleon will just change. inteleon we had rainbow beers inteleon is now inteleon. and France is swablu was the oil it is wow empire and other bedroom empire declare war on the mesprit empire for their annexation of seviper which they finally had enough after years of just accepting and not doing anything like the centrist they are and eventually World War II begins. and they fight and it's very bloody but then Genger bombs Pearl Harbor and causes dwebble to enter World War II against it for the allied forces along with other snommunist empire on and then eventually they win but after it's very bloody and everyone dies. including a genocide of the Geodude people. but after that the geodude their own state but that's very controversial I had an excellent end of life for us and it's a fight still going on today. but after World War II the very odd Hydreigon killed himself with a mustache and everyone was happy. and then and then begun the cold war between the dwebbles in the snommunists as a fight for power through proxy wars in Africa. including of the heart of aerodactyl Stan which was very bad at the same time they were developing cloister weapons that could annihilate the entire world in just one blow/ and things got very hot during this time and I am weevile a president John and John anti-Kennedy the third assumes the presidency before he was assassinated I was assassinated and was it taken over by Komala Johnson who signed the civil rights act giving the dweble all the shiny we will see even more rights allowing them to vote in certain Congress even more meanwhile the snommunists have developed their own rocket and are aiming for the lunatone. which scares the rebels who launch their own program called Wassa. and so they do that and eventually the dwebbles get to the Luna tone they land on the Luna town planting the flag winning

planting the flag winning the space race. very angry but they keep tensions down as the cold war rages on The cold war rages on other countries are rebuilding establishing fairy thriving social democratic societies around human need rather than human greed while America is capitalism not America I mean dweble and snommunists is authoritarian which is very bad everyone's bad we should nuke everyone. but during all this the 70s and 80s happened then came a very dwebble Ronald gave all who is very bad and trickle down economics is a myth. who eventually through peace deals lowers the nuclear arms capacity but everybody lies about that. and then in the snommunist empire a shiinotic Gorbachev takes power. and an extra form such as swoobat and woobat for more openness and a free economy. but eventually that causes revolution and the entire union collapse is eventually leading to the biggest country, but I'm in assuming off Geo political power that it had but then it's kind of boring there for a bit so then not much happens the US has some things a president Bill CinderAce did not have sexual relations with that woman. and then I found President George Eiscue that comes into power but this is not long after the after his up controversy elections. the 9/11-where terrorist from the terrorist group unown crash plane twin gmax duraladon and spark the new war on terror. in which we will country in Vegas petil in 2001 and in 2003 then with the neutral country if they're claiming that they had weapons of mass destruction this whole war was later determined to be a farce only for the enrichment of the power of the military industrial complex in the money which they return to the politicians who enabled it. but then after that Bush Bush whoever Bush was becomes very unpopular and is then voted out in 2008 by Barack quilava who is also a total farce as in a faux progressive who claim to be for progress but he's really a radical centrist shell who voted with the Republicans, and is basically a 1980s Republican which is also even worse so that's why we hate quilava. but not much happens and then in the summer a scrafty bin laden is killed from the owner of a terrorist group responsible for the 9/11 attacks on the twin gmax duraladons. but then quilava leaves in 2016 with the election of Donald raquaza or who claims to protect the borders from the evil electrode people down south and establish new trade deals against the corphis people who also had a revolution in the 1960s where shelgon-zo Don kills landlord is good .and the statue so then in 2016 also during the same time there's a primary for that the Democratic we will nomination between Hillary Sedra and a good Bernie Tangler who is burned by the establishment and screwed over. and yeah but that happens that's exactly why a rayquaza one the election who then took power and then is it more fascist authority. and that is world history explained through Pokémon now gamefreak make this game.

#mine #pokemon #i stayed up l night editing this because we recorded using diction and nothing was correct

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