#but i think the rest of the game IS v critical of cops | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

96harmony96 · 3 years

Text

Chapter 6

Hey, Dad. I caught you.” I adjusted my grip on the phone receiver and pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar. I missed my father. For the last four years we’d lived close enough to see each other at least once a week. Now his home in Oceanside was the entire country away. “How are you?”

He lowered the volume on the television. “Better, now that you’ve called. How was your first week at work?”

I went over my days from Monday through Friday, skipping over all the Lauren parts. “I really like my boss, Mark,” I finished. “And the vibe of the agency is very energetic and kind of quirky. I’m happy going to work every day, and I’m bummed when it’s time to go home.”

“I hope it stays that way. But you need to make sure you have some downtime, too. Go out, be young, have fun. But not too much fun.”

“Yeah, I had a little too much last night. Cary and I went clubbing, and I woke up with a mean hangover.”

“Shit, don’t tell me that.” He groaned. “Some nights I wake up in a cold sweat thinking about you in New York. I get through it by telling myself you’re too smart to take chances, thanks to two parents who’ve drilled safety rules into your DNA.”

“Which is true,” I said, laughing. “That reminds me…I’m going to start Krav Maga training.”

“Really?” There was a thoughtful pause. “One of the guys on the force is big on it. Maybe I’ll check it out and we can compare notes when I come out to visit you.”

“You’re coming to New York?” I couldn’t hide my excitement. “Oh, Dad, I’d love it if you would. As much as I miss SoCal, Manhattan is really awesome. I think you’ll like it.”

“I’d like anyplace in the world as long as you’re there.” He waited a beat, then asked, “How’s your mom?”

“Well…she’s Mom. Beautiful, charming, and obsessive-compulsive.”

My chest hurt and I rubbed at it. I thought my dad might still love my mom. He’d never married. That was one of the reasons I never told him about what happened to me. As a cop, he would’ve insisted on pressing charges and the scandal would have destroyed my mother. I also worried that he’d lose respect for her or even blame her, and it hadn’t been her fault. As soon as she’d found out what her stepson was doing to me, she’d left a husband she was happy with and filed for divorce.

I kept talking, waving at Cary as he came rushing in with a little blue Tiffany & Co. bag. “We had a spa day today. It was a fun way to cap off the week.”

I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “I’m glad you two are managing to spend time together. What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?”

I hedged on the subject of the charity event, knowing the whole red carpet business and astronomically-priced dinner seats would just highlight the gap between my parents’ lives. “Cary and I are going out to eat, and then I plan on staying in tomorrow. Sleeping in late, hanging out in my pajamas all day, maybe some movies and food delivery of some sort. A little vegetating before a new work week kicks off.”

“Sounds like heaven to me. I may copy you when my next day off rolls around.”

Glancing at the clock, I saw it was creeping past six. “I have to get ready now. Be careful at work, okay? I worry about you, too.”

“Will do. Bye, baby.”

The familiar sign-off had me missing him so much my throat hurt. “Oh, wait! I’m getting a new cell phone. I’ll text you the number as soon as I have it.”

“Again? You just got a new one when you moved.”

“Long, boring story.”

“Hmm…Don’t put it off. They’re good for safety as well as playing Angry Birds.”

“I’m over that game!” I laughed and warmth spread through me to hear him laughing, too. “I’ll call you in a few days. Be good.”

“That’s my line.”

We hung up. I sat for a few moments in the ensuing silence, feeling like everything was right in my world, which never lasted long. I brooded on that for minute; then Cary cranked up Hinder on his bedroom stereo and that kicked my butt into gear.

I hurried to my room to get ready for a night with Lauren.

“Necklace or no necklace?” I asked Cary, when he came into my bedroom looking seriously amazing. Dressed in his new Brioni tux, he was both debonair and dashing, and certain to attract attention.

“Hmm.” His head tilted to the side as he studied me. “Hold it up again.”

I lifted the choker of gold coins to my throat. The dress my mom had sent was fire engine red and styled for a Grecian goddess. It hung on one shoulder, cut diagonally across my cleavage, had ruching to the hip, and then split at my right upper thigh all the way down my leg. There was no back to speak of, aside from a slender strip of rhinestones that connected one side to the other to keep the front from falling off. Otherwise, the back was bared to just above the crack of my buttocks in a racy V-cut.

“Forget the necklace,” he said. “I was leaning toward gold chandeliers, but now I’m thinking diamond hoops. The biggest ones you’ve got.”

“What? Really?” I frowned at our reflections in my cheval mirror, watching as he moved to my jewelry box and dug through it.

“These.” He brought them to me and I eyed the two-inch hoops my mother had given me for my eighteenth birthday. “Trust me, Camila. Try ’em on.”

I did and found he was right. It was a very different look from the gold choker, less glam and more edgy sensuality. And the earrings went well with the diamond anklet on my right leg that I’d never think of the same way again after Lauren’s comment. With my hair swept off my face into a cascade of thick, deliberately messy curls, I had a just-screwed look that was complemented by smoky eye shadow and glossy nude lips.

“What would I do without you, Cary Taylor?”

“Baby girl”—he set his hands on my shoulders and pressed his cheek to mine—“you’ll never find out.”

“You look awesome, by the way.”

“Don’t I?” He winked and stepped back, showing off.

In his own way, Cary could give Lauren a run for her money…er, looks. Cary was more finely featured, almost pretty compared to Lauren’s savage beauty, but both were striking people that made you look twice, and then stare in greedy delight.

Cary hadn’t been quite so perfect when I met him. He’d been strung out and gaunt, his emerald eyes cloudy and lost. But I’d been drawn to him, going out of my way to sit next to him in group therapy. He’d finally propositioned me crudely, having come to believe the only reason people associated with him was because they wanted to fuck him. It was when I declined, firmly and irrevocably, that we finally connected and became best friends. He was the brother I’d never had.

The intercom buzzed and I jumped, making me realize how nervous I was. I looked at Cary. “I forgot to tell the front desk she was coming back.”

“I’ll get her.”

“Are you going to be okay riding over with Stanton and my mom?”

“Are you kidding? They love me.” His smile dimmed. “Having second thoughts about going with Jauregui?”

I took a deep breath, remembering where I’d been earlier—on my back in a multi-orgasmic daze. “Not really, no. It’s just that everything’s happening so fast and going better than I expected or realized I wanted…”

“You’re wondering what the catch is.” Reaching out, he tapped my nose with his fingertip. “she’s the catch, Camila. And you landed her. Enjoy yourself.”

“I’m trying.” I was grateful that Cary understood me and the way my mind worked. It was just so easy being with him, knowing he could fill in the blanks when I couldn’t explain something.

“I researched the hell out of her this morning and printed out the interesting recent stuff. It’s on your desk, if you decide you want to check it out.”

I remembered him printing something before we got ready for the spa. Pushing onto my tiptoes, I kissed his cheek. “You’re the best. I love you.”

“Back atcha, baby girl.” He headed out. “I’ll head down to the front desk and bring her up. Take your time. she’s ten minutes early.”

Smiling, I watched him saunter into the hallway. The door had closed behind him when I moved into the small sitting room attached to my bedroom. On the very impractical escritoire my mother had picked out, I found a folder filled with articles and printed images. I settled into the chair and got lost in Lauren Jauregui's history.

It was like watching a train wreck to read that she was the Daughter of Geoffrey Jauregui, former chairman of an investment securities firm later found to be a front for a massive Ponzi scheme. Lauren was just five years old when her dad committed suicide with a gunshot to the head rather than face prison time.

Oh, Lauren. I tried to picture her that young and imagined a handsome dark-haired girl with beautiful green eyes filled with terrible confusion and sadness. The image broke my heart. How devastating her father’s suicide—and the circumstances around it—must have been, for both her and her mother. The stress and strain at such a difficult time would’ve been enormous, especially for a child of that age.

Her mother went on to marry Christopher Vidal, a music executive, and had two more children, Christopher Vidal Jr. and Ireland Vidal, but it seemed a larger family and financial security had come too late to help Lauren stabilize after such a huge shakeup. she was too closed off not to bear some painful emotional scars.

With a critical and curious eye, I studied the women who’d been photographed with Lauren and thought about her approach to dating, socializing, and sex. I saw that my mom had been right—they were all blondes. The woman who appeared with her most often bore the hallmarks of a KaKasian heritage. she was taller than me, willowy rather than curvy.

“Magdalene Perez,” I murmured, grudgingly admitting that she was a stunner. Her posture had the kind of flamboyant confidence that I admired.

“Okay, it’s been long enough,” Cary interrupted with a soft note of amusement. He filled the doorway to my sitting room, leaning insolently into the doorjamb.

“Really?” I’d been so absorbed; I hadn’t realized how much time had passed.

“I would guess you’re about a minute away from her coming to find you. she’s barely restraining herself.”

I shut the folder and stood.

“Interesting reading, isn’t it?”

“Very.” How had lauren’s father—or more specifically, her father’s suicide—influenced her life?

I knew all the answers I wanted were waiting for me in the next room.

Leaving my bedroom, I took the hallway to the living room. I paused on the threshold, my gaze riveted to lauren’s back as she stood in front of the windows and looked out at the city. My heart rate kicked up. Her reflection revealed a contemplative mood. Her gaze was unfocused and her mouth grim. Her crossed arms betrayed an inherent unease, as if she was out of her element. she looked remote and removed, a woman who was inherently alone.

she sensed my presence or maybe he felt my yearning. she pivoted; then went very still. I took the opportunity to drink her in, my gaze sliding all over her. she looked every inch the powerful magnate. So sensually handsome my eyes burned just from looking at her. The rakish fall of black hair around her face made my fingers flex with the urge to touch it. And the way she looked at me…my pulse leaped.

“Camila.” she came toward me, her stride graceful and strong. she caught up my hand and lifted it to her mouth. Her gaze was intense—intensely hot, intensely focused.

The feel of her lips against my skin sent goose bumps racing up my arm and stirred memories of that sinful mouth on other parts of my body. I was instantly aroused. “Hi.”

Amusement warmed her eyes. “Hi, yourself. You look amazing. I can’t wait to show you off.”

I breathed through the delight I felt at the compliment. “Let’s hope I can do you justice.”

A slight frown knit the space between her brows. “Do you have everything you need?”

Cary appeared beside me, carrying my black velvet shawl and opera length gloves. “Here you go. I tucked your gloss into your clutch.”

“You’re the best, Cary.”

He winked at me—which told me he’d seen the condoms I had tucked into the small interior pocket. “I’ll head down with you two.”

Lauren took the shawl from Cary and draped it over my shoulders. she pulled my hair out from underneath it and the feel of her hands at my neck so distracted me, I barely paid attention when Cary pushed my gloves into my hands.

The elevator ride to the lobby was an exercise in surviving acute sexual tension. Not that Cary seemed to notice. He was on my left with both hands in his pockets, whistling. Lauren, on the other hand, was a tremendous force on the other side of me. Although ahe didn’t move or make a sound, I could feel the edgy energy radiating from her. My skin tingled from the magnetic pull between us, and my breath came short and fast. I was relieved when the doors opened and freed us from the enclosed space.

Two women stood waiting to get on. Their jaws dropped when they saw Lauren and Cary, and that lightened my mood and made me smile.

“Ladies,” Cary greeted them, with a smile that really wasn’t fair. I could almost see their brain cells misfiring.

In contrast, Lauren gave a curt nod and led me out with a hand at the small of my back, skin to skin. The contact was electric, sending heat pouring through me.

I squeezed Cary’s hand. “Save a dance for me.”

“Always. See you in a bit.”

A limousine was waiting at the curb, and the driver opened the door when Lauren and I stepped outside. I slid across the bench seat to the opposite side and adjusted my gown. When Lauren settled beside me and the door shut, I became highly conscious of how good she smelled. I breathed her in, telling myself to relax and enjoy her company. she took my hand and ran her fingertips over the palm, the simple touch sparking a fierce lust. I shrugged off my shawl, feeling too hot to wear it.

“Camila.” she hit a button and the privacy glass behind the driver began to slide up. The next moment I was tugged across her lap and her mouth was on mine, kissing me fiercely.

I did what I’d wanted to do since I saw hee in my living room: I shoved my hands in her hair and kissed her back. I loved the way she kissed me, as if she had to, as if she’d go crazy if she didn’t and had nearly waited too long. I sucked on her tongue, having learned how much she liked it, having learned how much I liked it, how much it made me want to suck her elsewhere with the same eagerness.

Her hands were sliding over my bare back and I moaned, feeling the prod of her erection against my hip. I shifted, moving to straddle her, shoving the skirt of my gown out of the way and making a mental note to thank my mom for the dress—which had such a convenient slit. With my knees on either side of her hips, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and deepened the kiss. I licked into her mouth, nibbled on her lower lip, stroked my tongue along her…

Lauren gripped my waist and pushed me away. she leaned into the seat back, her neck arched to look up at my face, her chest heaving. “What are you doing to me?”

I ran my hands down her chest through her dress shirt, feeling the unforgiving hardness of her muscles. My fingers traced the ridges of her abdomen, my mind forming a picture of how she might look naked. “I’m touching you. Enjoying the hell out of you. I want you, Lauren.”

she caught my wrists, stilling my movements. “Later. We’re in the middle of Manhattan.”

“No one can see us.”

“That’s not the point. It’s not the time or place to start something we can’t finish for hours. I’m losing my mind already from this afternoon.”

“So let’s make sure we finish it now.”

Her grip tightened painfully. “We can’t do that here.”

“Why not?” Then a surprising thought struck me. “Haven’t you ever had sex in a limo?”

“No.” Her jaw hardened. “Have you?”

Looking away without answering, I saw the traffic and pedestrians surging around us. We were only inches away from hundreds of people, but the dark glass concealed us and made me feel reckless. I wanted to please her. I wanted to know I was capable of reaching into Lauren Jauregui, and there was nothing to stop me but her.

I rocked my hips against her, stroking myself with the hard length of her cock. Her breath hissed out between clenched teeth.

“I need you, Lauren,” I said breathlessly, inhaling her scent, which was richer now that she was aroused. I thought I might be slightly intoxicated, just from the enticing smell of her skin. “You drive me crazy.”

she released my wrists and cupped my face, her lips pressing hard against mine. I reached for the fly of her slacks, freeing the two buttons to access the concealed zipper. she tensed.

“I need this,” I whispered against her lips. “Give me this.”

she didn’t relax, but she made no further attempts to stop me either. When she fell heavily into my palms, she groaned, the sound both pained and erotic. I squeezed her gently, my touch deliberately tender as I sized her with my hands. she was so hard, like stone, and hot. I slid both of my fists up her length from root to tip, my breath catching when she quivered beneath me.

Lauren gripped my thighs, her hands sliding upward beneath the edges of my dress until her thumbs found the red lace of my thong. “Your cunt is so sweet,” she murmured into my mouth. “I want to spread you out and lick you ’til you beg for my cock.”

“I’ll beg now, if you want.” I stroked her with one hand and reached for my clutch with the other, snapping it open to grab a condom.

One of her thumbs slid beneath the edge of my panties, the pad sliding through the slickness of my desire. “I’ve barely touched you,” she whispered, her eyes glittering up at me in the shadows of the backseat, “and you’re ready for me.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I don’t want you to help it.” she pushed her thumb inside me, biting her lower lip when I clenched helplessly around her. “It wouldn’t be fair when I can’t stop what you do to me.”

I ripped the foil packet open with my teeth and held it out to her with the ring of the condom protruding from the tear. “I’m not good with these.”

Her hand curled around mine. “I’m breaking all my rules with you.”

The seriousness of her low tone sent a burst of warmth and confidence through me. “Rules are made to be broken.”

I saw her teeth flash white; then she hit a button on the panel beside him and said, “Drive until I say otherwise.”

My cheeks heated. Another car’s headlights pierced the dark tinted glass and slid over my face, betraying my embarrassment.

“Why, Camila,” she purred, rolling the condom on deftly. “You’ve seduced me into having sex in my limousine, but blush when I tell my driver I don’t want to be interrupted while you do it to me?”

Her sudden playfulness made me desperate to have her. Setting my hands on her shoulders for balance, I lifted onto my knees, rising to gain the height I needed to hover over the crown of Laurens thick cock. Her hands fisted at my hips and I heard a snap as she tore my panties away. The abrupt sound and the violent action behind it spurred my desire to a fever pitch.

“Go slow,” she ordered hoarsely, lifting her hips to push her pants down farther.

Her erection brushed between my legs as she moved and I whimpered, so aching and empty, as if the orgasms she’d given me earlier had only deepened my craving rather than appeased it.

she tensed when I wrapped my fingers around her and positioned her, tucking the wide crest against the saturated folds of my cleft. The scent of our lust was heavy and humid in the air, a seductive mix of need and pheromones that awakened every cell in my body. My skin was flushed and tingling, my breasts heavy and tender.

This is what I’d wanted from the moment I first saw her—to possess her, to climb up her magnificent body and take her deep inside me.

“God. Camila,” she gasped as I lowered onto her, her hands flexing restlessly on my thighs.

I closed my eyes, feeling too exposed. I’d wanted intimacy with her and yet this seemed too intimate. We were eye-to-eye, only inches apart, cocooned in a small space with the rest of the world streaming by around us. I could sense his agitation, knew she was feeling as off-center as I was.

“You’re so tight.” Her gasped words were threaded with a hint of delicious agony.

I took more of her, letting her slide deeper. I sucked in a deep breath, feeling exquisitely stretched. “You’re so big.”

Pressing her palm flat to my lower belly, she touched my throbbing clit with the pad of her thumb and began to massage it in slow, expertly soft circles. Everything in my core tightened and clenched, sucking her deeper. Opening my eyes, I looked at her from under heavy eyelids. she was so beautiful sprawled beneath me in her elegant tuxedo, her powerful body straining with the primal need to mate.

Her neck arched, her head pressing hard into the seatback as if she was struggling against invisible bonds. “Ah, Christ,” she bit out, her teeth grinding. “I’m going to come so hard.”

The dark promise excited me. Sweat misted my skin. I became so wet and hot that I slid smoothly down the length of her cock until I’d nearly sheathed her. A breathless cry escaped me before I’d taken her to the root. she was so deep I could hardly stand it, forcing me to shift from side to side, trying to ease the unexpected bite of discomfort. But my body didn’t seem to care that she was too big. It was rippling around her, squeezing, trembling on the verge of orgasm.

Lauren cursed and gripped my hip with her free hand, urging me to lean backward as her chest heaved with frantic breaths. The position altered my descent and I opened, accepting all of her. Immediately her body temperature rose, her torso radiating sultry heat through her clothes. Sweat dotted her upper lip.

Leaning forward, I slid my tongue along the sculpted curve, collecting the saltiness with a low murmur of delight. Her hips churned impatiently. I lifted carefully, sliding up a few inches before she stopped me with that ferocious grasp on my hip.

“Slow,” she warned again, with an authoritative bite that sent lust pulsing through me.

I lowered, taking her into me again, feeling an oddly luscious soreness as she pushed just past my limits. Our eyes locked on each other as the pleasure spread from the place where we connected. It struck me then that we were both fully clothed except for the most private and intimate parts of our bodies. I found that excruciatingly carnal, as were the sounds she made, as if the pleasure was as extreme for her as it was for me.

Wild for her, I pressed my mouth to her, my fingers gripping the sweat-damp roots of her hair. I kissed her as I rocked my hips, riding the maddening circling of her thumb, feeling the orgasm building with every slide of her long, thick penis into my melting core.

I lost my mind somewhere along the way, primitive instinct taking over until my body was completely in charge. I could focus on nothing but the driving urge to fuck, the ferocious need to ride her cock until the tension burst and set me free of this grinding hunger.

“It’s so good,” I sobbed, lost to her. “You feel…Ah, God, it’s too good.”

Using both hands, Lauren commanded my rhythm, tilting me into an angle that had the big crown of her cock rubbing a tender, aching spot inside me. As I tightened and shook, I realized I was going to come from that, just from the expert thrust of her inside me. “Lauren.”

she captured me by the nape as the orgasm exploded through me, starting with the ecstatic spasms of my core and radiating outward until I was trembling all over. she watched me fall apart, holding my gaze when I would’ve closed my eyes. Possessed by her stare, I moaned and came harder than I ever had, my body jerking with every pulse of pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she growled, pounding her hips up at me, yanking my hips down to meet her punishing lunges. she hit the end of me with every deep thrust, battering into me. I could feel her growing harder and thicker.

I watched her avidly, needing to see it when she went over the edge for me. Her eyes were wild with her need, losing their focus as her control frayed, her gorgeous face ravaged by the brutal race to climax.

“Camila!” she came with an animal sound of feral ecstasy, a snarling release that riveted me with its ferocity. she shook as the orgasm tore into her, her features softening for an instant with an unexpected vulnerability.

Cupping her face, I brushed my lips across her, comforting her as the forceful bursts of her gasping breaths struck my cheeks.

“Camila.” she wrapped her arms around me and crushed me to her, pressing her damp face into the curve of my neck.

I knew just how she felt. Stripped. Laid bare.

We stayed like that for a long time, holding each other, absorbing the aftershocks. she turned her head and kissed me softly, the strokes of her tongue into my mouth soothing my ragged emotions.

“Wow,” I breathed, shaken.

Her mouth twitched. “Yeah.”

I smiled, feeling dazed and high.

Lauren brushed the damp tendrils of hair off my temples, her fingertips gliding almost reverently across my face. The way she studied me made my chest hurt. she looked stunned and…grateful, her eyes warm and tender. “I don’t want to break this moment.”

Because I could hear it hanging in the air, I filled it in. “But…?”

“But I can’t blow off this dinner. I have a speech to give.”

“Oh.” The moment was effectively broken.

I lifted gingerly off of her, biting my lip at the feel of her slipping wetly out of me. The friction was enough to make me want more. she’d barely softened.

“Damn it,” she said roughly. “I want you again.”

she caught me before I moved away, pulling a handkerchief out from somewhere and running it gently between my legs. It was a deeply intimate act, on par with the sex we’d just had.

When I was dry, I settled on the seat beside her and dug my lip gloss out of my clutch. I watched Lauren over the edge of my mirrored compact as she removed the condom and tied it off. she wrapped it in a cocktail napkin; then tossed it in a cleverly hidden trash receptacle. After restoring her appearance, she told the driver to head to our destination. Then she settled into the seat and stared out the window.

With every second that passed, I felt her withdrawing, the connection between us slipping further and further away. I found myself shrinking into the corner of the seat, away from her, mimicking the distance I felt building between us. All the warmth I’d felt receded into a marked chill, cooling me enough that I pulled my shawl around me again. she didn’t move a muscle as I shifted beside her and put my compact away, as if she wasn’t even aware I was there.

Abruptly, Lauren opened the bar and pulled out a bottle. Without looking at me, she asked, “Brandy?”

“No, thank you.” My voice was small, but she didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she didn’t care. she poured a drink and tossed it back.

Confused and stung, I pulled on my gloves and tried to figure out what went wrong.

6 notes · View notes

macgyvertape · 3 years

Text

50 or so hours into Cyberpunk 2077

This should be roughly the correct amount of time, ive been leaving the game running as I get up to get food or do stretches. Quests are roughly in order I did them

non spoilers above cut:

i haven't found a single hat/helmet i like, and since you can't hide them I just am not wearing any. It matters that much.

I posted the other day about bugs, every few hours I play I find new bugs. some require me to go back and reload a save others I honestly can’t tell if it’s a bug or just really poor development

there are several perks that don’t quite do what the description says, like the Anamesis perk. Based on reddit and trying it out it seems to just not do anything.

sometimes in car chase segments the passenger will say “look out” as cars spawn in my path and hit me. Can’t tell if that was deliberate or a pop in issue

Yeah I’ve just totally given up on doing pacifist things unless required by a mission. Given up on doing stealth too unless a mission objective, except for sneaking around to set up a fight.

:readmore:

the delemain car quest is fun. From the shock of the one going "beep beep motherfucker" and doing a hit and run to start it off, to the GLADOS car i see a lot of people talking about. It was fun to explore the city when i might have missed places like the landfill apparently there is follow up on T-bug's death if you go back to the quick hack shop in Kabuki. It's not much but better than nothing I made the pass with Panam of "what if the room just had one bed". I know she won't do a wlw romance, which is fine since I wouldn’t have chosen her. I enjoy her as a character, don’t get me wrong, my V considers her as a friend, but it seems like theres always drama going on which would be tiring. I would have gone for a fling, i like her leotard-pants combo with all the straps

but also her questline was buggy as hell. Multiple cases of having to reload due to clipping into objects, including her in a driving section, or just insta-dying when collision physics with some rocks broke "your neural network can no longer function independantly of the chip" me slapping my desk: s y m b i o te!!! come on lets have some s y m b i o s i s

in the scene with hellman i really liked how Johnny moved around the room. It made him feel like he was really there. it was hard to follow the convo as I left the room, i would not have understood it without subtitles. But i guess Takemura fucking waterboarded hellman. :|

lol I hope the dialogue is different b/c i refuse to smoke for Johnny

i am level 18 and still can't beat the first opponents in the fist fighting quest. ffs

I looked up the romances options so I went to do the I fought the law quest as soon as i got it. ACAB, but like I literally just met River Ward 2 minutes ago, and I really like him. His earring and cyborg eye, his big fluffy coat. I'm definitely gonna sleep with him Ok i like how when River Ward is dealing with the tiger claws if you interject it leads to a fight. It goes better if you follow his instructions and let him deal with it. Seriously I enjoy that sometimes its good to not pick a dialogue choice.

during the red queen club part, there was no dialogue over the phone. So i reloaded a save and got myself spotted and attacked. Then River showed up to help me <3 and it was more enjoyable having him there. I honestly am not sure if him not going to the club level is bug or not.

then uuuuuugh the worst of irl police "cops are my family" from Detective Han. Again ACAB "FRATERNITY OF CITY COPS RESEMBLES A [Nomad] CLAN NOT AT ALL" ok a few minutes ago i was complaining about bugs, but the character modeling in this game is good (when they're there). You can see body posture, characters jiggle their legs when they are nervous. Like I though character A was just throwing a cigarette on the ground, but then character B flinches back; I realize Char A threw it at B as a fuck you

I'm honestly curious if "I fought the Law" quest will have any impact later on. My choices were that I thought there was more going on than Holt being the only person behind this (based on how complicated the main questline heist is, and keeping an eye on some of the in game news), and told him not to take it to internal affairs, and I loved his response of how he doesn't give a shit what we think, he's doing it anyway.

In the elevator to report in, Johnny said "this muck is deeper than you think, tell them nothing", so i just said that the case was complicated. anyway i love how much of a sarcastic asshole V is

I thought i was being nonlethal with the monk quest, but it seems i accidently killed someone. RIP, but thats kind of the problem with this game. Like when i do the non lethal cyberpychosis quests I equip my non lethal modded gun and hope for the est. I like how a go here kill things quest led to Charles the ripperdoc. He's getting all his parts from scav gang members so I felt obligated to take him out. I got a police bounty for it but w/e.

I merged the Delemain fragments with the whole. Guess he's the meta now. (Side note: some of my favorite rvb fanfic plots are Ai consiousness/memory merging with the humans, so I’m having fun with this game and look foward to introspective fanfic)

Honestly Jonny made some good points, the fragments didn't deserve to die; but also destroying the core and freeing the fragments, they couldn't really function alone.

I was able to rescue Saul fine with stealth. Using cameras and the synapse overload really made it easy. Can't use the sniper rifle reward b/c I don't have the stats for it, and while it has a silencer the fact that it's a ricochette weapon and not a shoot through walls weapons, makes it not as good imo; and theres a legendary one that is stats free for only 100k.

Lol made a pass again at Panam, and she immediately shut me down. I then did Mitch's quest and I love every time someone tells V they area good person.

I hacked the operation carpe noctem shard, and wow the corporations are using ai to make people have cyberpsychosis, or something like that. What a shocker /s, I've played Deus Ex HR before

lol driving through the unifinished interstate, past the fight from Panam's first quest I found a "batcave" with a very nice car, and a manifesto written by "muckman'. But here's my complaint about the loot, there is a legendary top, but it had 16 armor. My current top has 84 armor, like why would i switch?? then later i found a bunker with soviet spies in it. Wild

Doing River's second quest, love the timing of as soon as you ask, why are we breaking in, someone shows up to tell you he got kicked off the force. It's funny how Johnny comments how maybe River's into you, and V just doubts Johnny's words. Love how the first kid asks River if I'm his girlfriend. also wow like oof both the second parts of Judy and River's quest are SUPER fucked UP!! oof like i stopped doing first person mode on the braindances for those quests as soon as i could, just made me too uncomfortable seeing that in first person.

DRIVING IN THE GAME IS BAD! nowhere is it more apparent than the sinnerman quest, which took me 3 times to get the driving section done, as cars spawned out of nowhere to hit me. Then when you restart, there is a bunch of dialogue it doesn't let you fast forward through. The rest of the Sinnerman questline is interesting. My V took every option to tell the dude that he was messed up, and what he was doing was wrong. idk, I was surprised how much dialogue there was that let you buy into his whole "forgiveness thing" and how there wasn't any real dialogue to call him the fuck out, that in seeking forgiveness he continues to do harm both emotional to the mother of the man he killed, but also that he got the husband killed via cop. The later follow up quest, I told him that what he is doing is crazy, studio is just going to profit off this vid. Then I refused to join him prayer, and told him fuck no i wasn't going to hammer him to the cross, or even watch. Yes, the man is scared of dying, and the corporation is exploiting him, but he keeps creating burdens for others. I think the discussion on this quest will be interesting to read, it's definitely my own personal experience with religion coloring my view. Anyway back to a main quest, yeah i don't trust Placide, especially in that scene where he grabs my hand, then jacks in. I ran off to do most of the sidequests here and got some criticism from him. I do love how in the cinema the western movie switches to a mission brief as the netwatch agent talks. its a fun enviromental detail. I took the netwatch offer, i don't think he's being fully honest with me, but he didn't put a virus in my head. As I told Placide later, I didn't pick a side. I like how you can then talk with the agent, who is a fan of Western movies, b/c they show "a simpler time where all good guys carry badges" :eyeroll:, and then V recommends Unforgiven, which from the wiki summary goes against that theme.

Looks like the Voodoo boys all got killed by Netwatch, but I as revenge for them trying to set me up I'm fine with it. Honestly after speaking with ai!Alt I don’t believe their plan of trying to be on good relations with AI would work.

doing the johnny flashback 2, and wow Johnny really is an asshole. Like I had gotten so used to him in side missions I forgot how self centered and unlikable he was.You constantly get prompts to drink or do drugs, which I ignored. But i do love the goth/punk love Rogue and others have.

lol i called it, when Hellman said that the engram would seek to override the host, put V on the engram. I really like how as the relic malfunctions, you wind up in the chair with a cigarette, which you can either smoke and say you are turning into Johnny or throw away. My dialogue "your problem is the ends justify the means", which is true!!! He and Rogue detonated a nuke downtown, does anyone know that, and like ask Rogue about it????

(Funny you can ask Rouge about Johnny silverhand, over the phone, then the game bugs out and spawns her npc where you are. She doens't say much about the nuke, but she does say no one trusts you for jobs). The line of no one trusting you for jobs is pretty funny at level 46 street cred where im at “respected” status. really loving the family atmosphere at River's 3rd quest. Also his big strong arms, and the fact he is no longer a cop. I totally let the kids win, and wow the family dinner where they GRILL YOU over the relationship and try to set the two of you up, then the water tower scene!!!!! I don't love the first person sex cutscenes but they do have personality. I'm glad afterwards you got to tell River about the biochip and that you might die. Because he's so far removed from your personal plot. So I took that option to back out of a relationship.

I do love that you wake up with "river's tanktop" that says "fuck the police" It actually has extremely good armor stats, so thats what I'll wear now.

panam 3rd quest, when shes like why did you help me, I'm like "because it's important to you". Basically the closest you can get to "when a friend asks for help you help them", which as an ex-nomad backstory I really choose the nomad options when ever i can Paralezes quest part 2! I love the piano song but I always think of it as ocean's 11 music. It's also fun to see the computer and see Judy recommended you for the first quest. The emails talk about "forgetting" to hire a staffer, on the balocony a strange antennia was scannable, the color of the roses was remembered wrong... lol guess i was right with those giant wall screens. Its fun environmental details that spell things out before you can notice, and it ties into some other quests where people's behavior is being altered. Actually, this quest "Dream On" I love it! For a while I've been like "wheres the illuminati conspiracy! Here it IS! I chose to follow Elisabeth's wishes and not tell her husband he was being brainwashed. In best case they program him to forget again, in worst case he ends up dead. The gaslighting Elisabeth described is CHILLING, her husband describes a vacation she can't remember and she doesn't know whose memories have been messed with. On your way to the plaza you get a call from someone/something that says the know exactly WHAT you are, any you black out!!! It's such a great feeling of helplessness that you're just one person in a world so big that you can't fight every power. As Johnny said, could be a corporation, could be a rogue ai, either way Jefferson is fucked (and so are you).

#cyberpunk 2077 #mac plays video games #a lot of this journaling i do #so in a few years i can look back #and see my first impressions

6 notes · View notes

bees-for-the-wildmother · 5 years

Text

The 100 Ask Game

I was tagged by the wonderful @thehundredtimesobsessed forever ago (or what feels like it, but I’m finally getting around to it today.

1. What Station on the Ark would you be from?

Probably Agro. My mom’s side of the family definitely has a green thumb.

2. What would you get arrested for on the Ark?

Umm...theft?

3. Would you take off your wristband when you landed on the ground?

No. No, I would not.

4. What would the Necklace Finn would make for you look like? (Clarke: deer/Raven: a raven duh…)

DRAGON! Dragons are my favorite. Followed by red pandas, but I feel like a dragon would be better (I already own a few dragon necklaces).

5. If you could resurrect any MINOR character who would it be?

Roan kom Azgeda - I miss him. <<< Same. Possibly Wells, but I became much more attached to Roan (probably because he had more episodes)

6. Create a squad by of 5 characters to go on missions with. Who are they?

Bellamy, Clarke, Raven, Monty, and Murphy. (This was basically pick your five favorite characters for me...)

7. What Grounder Clan would you belong to?

Podakru - the Lake People...I’m just going on that based on where I live, i.e. a place where there are lakes

8. What would your name be in Trigedasleng? (example: Octavia=Okteivia…just make it up!)

Shilbi, I think that’s what they’d do with it. I literally looked up to see if they even had a “sh” sound in their language; right when I was about to lose hope and resigning myself to “Silbi” or the like, I found a phrase with “sh”.

9. Thoughts on Finn? Some people hate him, and others love him, so I’m curious

I didn’t like him from the beginning. I didn’t hate him initially, but he got two people killed yet survived his own idiocy or taking off his seat belt. I thought he was going to be a detriment to their survival because he would take stupid unnecessary risks to show off.

10. Be honest. How willing would you have been to take the chip without knowing all the horrible things it does?

Probably not. My dad yells and me and my mom because we always need answers to motivations and the why of things. I don’t think I would put something in my body without fully knowing what it is and the ramifications of taking it.

11. What character do you relate to most?

I want to say Harper, but also some Clarke. In Harper, I see a lot of the traits I like about myself; in Clarke, I see a lot of the traits I don’t like about myself.

12. What character do you like the least?

This is difficult...I feel like it’s a cop out to say one of the villains of the show, but it’d probably be Cage Wallace. I don’t know who it’d be out of the people who are still alive.

13. Describe your delinquent outfit. (Would you wear something like Murphy’s jacket with the spikey red shoulder patch or have a trademark like Jasper’s goggles? Be creative, yet practical)

Charcoal grey jeans with a forest green v-neck t-shirt that has those criss-crossed strips of fabric, a dark brown leather jacket, and brown combat boots.

14. Favorite type of mutant animal?

...I don’t know...a mutant fox?

15. What would your job be on the Ark?

Probably like historian, archives, or teacher or something (based on my real life career path).

16. Would you have willingly pumped Ontari’s heart if Abby asked?

Yeah, I’d do what I have to. Probably would be admiring the ceiling as I did it, but I’d do it.

17. If Lexa wasn’t Heda, but she was still alive then who would have made the best commander?

I don’t know. I feel like it there was a more ruthless, battle ready heda, the 100 (and the rest of the Ark) would have been in a worse position.

Wait! An answer came to me when I was looking at question twenty: Lincoln! My friend and I liked to joke that Lincoln was one of the few characters with a head on his shoulders and realistic ideas and expectations for relations.

18. How would you act if you ate the hallucinogenic nuts like Jasper and Monty?

I’d probably just be giggling, at EVERYTHING.

19. How would you have dealt with Charlotte’s crime? A more John Murphy approach or Bellamy Blake approach?

Definitely a more Bellamy Blake approach.

20. Who should have been the Chancellor, if anyone?

Monty. Monty is another character who had a good head on his shoulders.

21. Would you have been on Pike’s side like Bellamy or on Kane’s side? Or Clarke in Polis?

Kane’s side. No question.

22. Mount Weather had a lot of modern commodities. (example: Maya’s Ipod) What is the one thing you would snatch while there?

Maybe a kindle if they had that. They probably would have different books than the Ark had, or the grounders. Give me all the books.

23. What would your Grounder tattoos look like? Hairstyle? War paint?

Probably a couple tribal tattoos on my arms, maybe connecting with something spanning my shoulders and upper back. Definitely ALL the braids; I already wear braids in my hair a lot, but I think they would just get more intricate for the grounder style. Some nice, swirling black warpaint around my eyes when I have to go to battle.

24. Favorite quote?

For someone who regularly collects quotes (though usually from books), I don’t actually have one. But a quick internet search and choosing quickly, I’ll say a favorite is, “I say, screw fear. I’m telling my own damn story.” (Bellamy Blake, 1.13). It reminds me a little of my one of my favorite song lyrics, “I’m the hero of the story; don’t need to be saved,” from “Hero” by Regina Spektor, which is actually a pretty decent song for the show.

25. If all of the characters were in the Hunger Games, who would have the best shot at winning?

I’m gonna go with Clarke. She’s smart and tactical and she does what she has to do. But if it came down to a straight up fight, probably Luna; she’d have the knowledge to survive the land and the talent to survive the fight.

26. Least favorite ship? Favorite canon ship? Favorite non canon ship? NOT INCLUDING CL OR BC OR BE

Miller/Jackson - It just came out of nowhere, with no build up, and I like to see how things unfold, especially relationships, and so I’m being stubborn about them trying to tell me it’s a thing. Zaven - All I wanted was for Raven to finally find someone who could make her happy and show her what she could should have. So, yeah, I’m in denial and not the happiest person right now. (I haven’t even watched the new season yet--I know, I know, I’m a horrible fan, but I was sick and then busy catching up on life--and this is something that got spoiled for me even though I’ve been trying to avoid tumblr for a week; I blame Critical Role for encouraging me to go on Tumblr last Thursday) Minty - I found the ship in fanfiction and jumped on board quickly and happily.

27. A song that should be included in the next season? If there had to be another guest star like Shawn Mendes on the show, who would you want to make a cameo?

I’m going with the song that I actually used as a title to one of my fanfics, “Heathens” by Twenty One Pilots. (I also just am bad at knowing songs, so this I’ll stick with what I already know fits with the story)

Celebrities, another of my knowledge downfalls--seriously, if you ever want a guaranteed win in a trivia game against me, go with Pop Culture as the topic.

28. What would you do if you were stuck in the bunker with Murphy for all that time?

Play card games? Drink? There wasn’t a whole lot to do.

29. Your an extra that gets killed off. How do you die?

You wouldn’t actually see me die, I’d just be one of the bodies bloody and lying on the ground.

30. A character you’d like to learn more about and get flashbacks of?

I think it’s actually Echo and/or Emori, both would be best; I’m curious about everyday life on the ground before the timeline of the show.

31. A character you’d bang?

Can I say all of them? If I have to select someone I‘d choose Bellamy, Clarke, Raven, or Roan. Basically the same answer as Toni. Ooo, I’m adding Lincoln to the list, too.

32. Would you stay in the Bunker? Go up to Space? Or live on your own in Eden?

Assuming I could survive it (nightblood), Eden. I need my green and I don’t mind being alone, though I’d probably still talk to the radio or the animals or plants.

33. In the Bunker, would you follow Octavia? What would you do to pass the time underground?

Yup. I’m a follower. Read, draw, think up stories.

34. What crime would you commit in the Bunker that lands you in the fighting pits?

These questions keep asking me questions with the assumption that I am not Lawful Good down to my core. I have no idea what law/rule I would willfully break and what the circumstances would have to be for me to do it.

35. Up in Space, who would you bond with first? Who would be the most difficult for you to get along with?

Harper, no doubt about it. Probably more so Murphy wouldn’t get along with me. He’d catch me making a face at something he said, and I didn’t honestly mean anything by it, my face just reacts, and he’d hold a grudge against me for a while.

36. How long do you think you would last on Earth by yourself?

If I had survival skills (know what to eat, how to find it, etc.) probably a long time. If I tried it at this exact moment, not very long at all.

37. When the Eligius ship lands what do you do?

Run, hide, observe, freak out. I don’t know.

38. Favorite Eligius character? Least favorite?

Shaw. (Why must all the good ones go?) Vinson, he was creepy AF.

39. Would you Spacewalk?

Assuming I could do it when it wasn’t illegal, yeah!

40. Would you prefer to eat Windshield Bugs, Space Algae, or Bunker Meat?

Windshield bugs. I was about to say Space Algae, but then I thought about the texture it’d be, and I’m pretty sure it’d be the texture that makes me gag when I try to eat it.

41. Would you start a war for the last spot of green on earth? What would your solution be to avoid it?

Yeah no, I don’t want to go to war. I would try to work out a way to share it.

42. Would you rather dig out flesh-eating worms or stick thumb drives into bullet holes?

I think I’d stick a thumb drive into a bullet hole. The first is turning my stomach to think about, but somehow the second isn’t doing the same.

43. Are you willing to poison your sister for the Traitor Who You Love? What would you do to stop Octavia?

Gut reaction against it, but that’s because I love my sister and she’s the sweetest. But if she did what Octavia did and had that personality, probably, as long as I knew she wouldn’t be killed by it. What they did seemed to work...?

44. Would you go to sleep in cryo or stay awake like Marper?

Sleep in cryo.

45. Who are you waking up first to explore the new planet?

Clarke and Bellamy, Raven and Shaw, Murphy and Miller. <<Same, probably Emori too, she’s resourceful.

I’m not gonna tag anyone because chances are they already did this while I’ve been avoiding Tumblr and so I missed their answers. But if anyone hasn’t done this and wants to, please tag me in your post! I want to see what other people have to say!

#the 100 #tag game #I'm such an awful fan for not watching the new season yet #I feel guilty about it #and I don't know if I'll be able to get the first episode done before the second one tonight #I already spoiled Shaw for myself #which devastated me #i was so so so excited for Raven to have someone after all she's been through #every episode and season for the pas few seasons I had two mantras #stop shirting on Monty #and stop shirting on Raven #I guess I got one of those because Monty got a happy ending #but first Finn being a dirtbag #then Wick disappearing off the face of the planet #and now this?#why?!?!#It almost makes me want to not watch #which is kind of where I guess I was always at #if I don't watch I can write my own happy ending for all of them in my brain #but if I watch I have to accept whatever trials and fates the writers give them

2 notes · View notes

mrkwonandmrchoibabygirl · 6 years

Text

BARED TO HIM- SEUNGRI AU PT.6

Genre:Fluff/Smut/Angst

Rated:NC-17

Pairing: Seungri x Reader

Wordcount: 4,939

Part.5 Part.6

Masterlist

Please let me hnow in my ask box what do you think about the chapter or story in general same for 50 shades of kwon ji yong,THANKS!

“Hey, Dad. I caught you.” I adjusted my grip on the phone receiver and pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar. I missed my father. For the last four years we’d lived close enough to see each other at least once a week. Now his home in Oceanside was the entire country away. “How are you?” He lowered the volume on the television. “Better, now that you’ve called. How was your first week at work?”

I went over my days from Monday through Friday, skipping over all the Seunghyun parts. “I really like my boss, Mark,” I finished. “And the vibe of the agency is very energetic and kind of quirky. I’m happy going to work every day, and I’m bummed when it’s time to go home.” “I hope it stays that way. But you need to make sure you have some downtime, too. Go out, be young, have fun. But not too much fun.” “Yeah, I had a little too much last night. Hae and I went clubbing, and I woke up with a mean hangover.” “Shit, don’t tell me that.” He groaned. “Some nights I wake up in a cold sweat thinking about you in New York. I get through it by telling myself you’re too smart to take chances, thanks to two parents who’ve drilled safety rules into your DNA.” “Which is true,” I said, laughing. “That reminds me… I’m going to start Krav Maga training.” “Really?” There was a thoughtful pause. “One of the guys on the force is big on it. Maybe I’ll check it out and we can compare notes when I come out to visit you.” “You’re coming to New York?” I couldn’t hide my excitement. “Oh, Dad, I’d love it if you would. As much as I miss SoCal, Manhattan is really awesome. I think you’ll like it.” “I’d like anyplace in the world as long as you’re there.” He waited a beat, then asked, “How’s your mom?” “Well…she’s Mom. Beautiful, charming, and obsessive-compulsive.” My chest hurt and I rubbed at it. I thought my dad might still love my mom. He’d never married. That was one of the reasons I never told him about what happened to me. As a cop, he would’ve insisted on pressing charges and the scandal would have destroyed my mother. I also worried that he’d lose respect for her or even blame her, and it hadn’t been her fault. As soon as she’d found out what her stepson was doing to me, she’d left a husband she was happy with and filed for divorce. I kept talking, waving at Hae as he came rushing in with a little blue Tiffany & Co. bag. “We had a spa day today. It was a fun way to cap off the week.” I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “I’m glad you two are managing to spend time together. What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?” I hedged on the subject of the charity event, knowing the whole red carpet business and astronomicallypriced dinner seats would just highlight the gap between my parents’ lives. “Hae and I are going out to eat, and then I plan on staying in tomorrow. Sleeping in late, hanging out in my pajamas all day, maybe some movies and food delivery of some sort. A little vegetating before a new work week kicks off.” “Sounds like heaven to me. I may copy you when my next day off rolls around.” Glancing at the clock, I saw it was creeping past six. “I have to get ready now. Be careful at work, okay? I worry about you, too.” “Will do. Bye, baby.” The familiar sign-off had me missing him so much my throat hurt. “Oh, wait! I’m getting a new cell phone. I’ll text you the number as soon as I have it.” “Again? You just got a new one when you moved.” “Long, boring story.” “Hmm…Don’t put it off. They’re good for safety as well as playing Angry Birds.” “I’m over that game!” I laughed and warmth spread through me to hear him laughing, too. “I’ll call you in a few days. Be good.” “That’s my line.” We hung up. I sat for a few moments in the ensuing silence, feeling like everything was right in my world, which never lasted long. I brooded on that for minute; then Cary cranked up Hinder on his bedroom stereo and that kicked my butt into gear. I hurried to my room to get ready for a night with Seunghyun.

“Necklace or no necklace?” I asked Hae, when he came into my bedroom looking seriously amazing. Dressed in his new Brioni tux, he was both debonair and dashing, and certain to attract attention. “Hmm.” His head tilted to the side as he studied me. “Hold it up again.” I lifted the choker of gold coins to my throat. The dress my mom had sent was fire engine red and styled for a Grecian goddess. It hung on one shoulder, cut diagonally across my cleavage, had ruching to the hip, and then split at my right upper thigh all the way down my leg. There was no back to speak of, aside from a slender strip of rhinestones that connected one side to the other to keep the front from falling off. Otherwise, the back was bared to just above the crack of my buttocks in a racy V-cut. “Forget the necklace,” he said. “I was leaning toward gold chandeliers, but now I’m thinking diamond hoops. The biggest ones you’ve got.” “What? Really?” I frowned at our reflections in my cheval mirror, watching as he moved to my jewelry box and dug through it. “These.” He brought them to me and I eyed the twoinch hoops my mother had given me for my eighteenth birthday. “Trust me,Y/N. Try ’em on.” I did and found he was right. It was a very different look from the gold choker, less glam and more edgy sensuality. And the earrings went well with the diamond anklet on my right leg that I’d never think of the same way again after Seunghyun’s comment. With my hair swept off my face into a cascade of thick, deliberately messy curls, I had a just-screwed look that was complemented by smoky eye shadow and glossy nude lips. “What would I do without you, Hae?” “Baby girl”—he set his hands on my shoulders and pressed his cheek to mine—“you’ll never find out.” “You look awesome, by the way.” “Don’t I?” He winked and stepped back, showing off. In his own way, Hae could give Seunghyun a run for his money…er, looks. Hae was more finely featured, almost pretty compared to Seunghyun’s savage beauty, but both were striking men that made you look twice, and then stare in greedy delight. Hae hadn’t been quite so perfect when I met him. He’d been strung out and gaunt, his emerald eyes cloudy and lost. But I’d been drawn to him, going out of my way to sit next to him in group therapy. He’d finally propositioned me crudely, having come to believe the only reason people associated with him was because they wanted to fuck him. It was when I declined, firmly and irrevocably, that we finally connected and became best friends. He was the brother I’d never had. The intercom buzzed and I jumped, making me realize how nervous I was. I looked at Hae. “I forgot to tell the front desk he was coming back.” “I’ll get him.” “Are you going to be okay riding over with Johns and my mom?” “Are you kidding? They love me.” His smile dimmed. “Having second thoughts about going with Lee?” I took a deep breath, remembering where I’d been earlier—on my back in a multi-orgasmic daze. “Not really, no. It’s just that everything’s happening so fast and going better than I expected or realized I wanted…” “You’re wondering what the catch is.” Reaching out, he tapped my nose with his fingertip. “He’s the catch, Y/N. And you landed him. Enjoy yourself.” “I’m trying.” I was grateful that Hae understood me and the way my mind worked. It was just so easy being with him, knowing he could fill in the blanks when I couldn’t explain something. “I researched the hell out of him this morning and printed out the interesting recent stuff. It’s on your desk, if you decide you want to check it out.” I remembered him printing something before we got ready for the spa. Pushing onto my tiptoes, I kissed his cheek. “You’re the best. I love you.” “Back atcha, baby girl.” He headed out. “I’ll head down to the front desk and bring him up. Take your time. He’s ten minutes early.” Smiling, I watched him saunter into the hallway. The door had closed behind him when I moved into the small sitting room attached to my bedroom. On the very impractical escritoire my mother had picked out, I found a folder filled with articles and printed images. I settled into the chair and got lost in Lee Seunghyun’s history. It was like watching a train wreck to read that he was the son of LEE Jinyoung, former chairman of an investment securities firm later found to be a front for a massive Ponzi scheme. Seunghyun was just five years old when his dad committed suicide with a gunshot to the head rather than face prison time. Oh, Seunghyun. I tried to picture him that young and imagined a handsome dark-haired boy with beautiful blue eyes filled with terrible confusion and sadness. The image broke my heart. How devastating his father’s suicide—and the circumstances around it— must have been, for both him and his mother. The stress and strain at such a difficult time would’ve been enormous, especially for a child of that age. His mother went on to marry Christopher Vidal, a music executive, and had two more children, Christopher Vidal Jr. and Ireland Vidal, but it seemed a larger family and financial security had come too late to help Seunghyun stabilize after such a huge shakeup. He was too closed off not to bear some painful emotional scars. With a critical and curious eye, I studied the women who’d been photographed with Seunghyun and thought about his approach to dating, socializing, and sex. I saw that my mom had been right—they were all brunettes. The woman who appeared with him most often bore the hallmarks of a Hispanic heritage. She was taller than me, willowy rather than curvy. “Magdalene Perez,” I murmured, grudgingly admitting that she was a stunner. Her posture had the kind of flamboyant confidence that I admired. “Okay, it’s been long enough,” Hae interrupted with a soft note of amusement. He filled the doorway to my sitting room, leaning insolently into the doorjamb. “Really?” I’d been so absorbed; I hadn’t realized how much time had passed. “I would guess you’re about a minute away from him coming to find you. He’s barely restraining himself.” I shut the folder and stood. “Interesting reading, isn’t it?” “Very.” How had Seunghyun’s father—or more specifically, his father’s suicide—influenced his life? I knew all the answers I wanted were waiting for me in the next room. Leaving my bedroom, I took the hallway to the living room. I paused on the threshold, my gaze riveted to Seunghyun’s back as he stood in front of the windows and looked out at the city. My heart rate kicked up. His reflection revealed a contemplative mood. His gaze was unfocused and his mouth grim. His crossed arms betrayed an inherent unease, as if he was out of his element. He looked remote and removed, a man who was inherently alone. He sensed my presence or maybe he felt my yearning. He pivoted; then went very still. I took the opportunity to drink him in, my gaze sliding all over him. He looked every inch the powerful magnate. So sensually handsome my eyes burned just from looking at him. The rakish fall of black hair around his face made my fingers flex with the urge to touch it. And the way he looked at me…my pulse leaped. “Y/N.” He came toward me, his stride graceful and strong. He caught up my hand and lifted it to his mouth. His gaze was intense—intensely hot, intensely focused. The feel of his lips against my skin sent goose bumps racing up my arm and stirred memories of that sinful mouth on other parts of my body. I was instantly aroused. “Hi.” Amusement warmed his eyes. “Hi, yourself. You look amazing. I can’t wait to show you off.” I breathed through the delight I felt at the compliment. “Let’s hope I can do you justice.” A slight frown knit the space between his brows. “Do you have everything you need?” Hae appeared beside me, carrying my black velvet shawl and opera length gloves. “Here you go. I tucked your gloss into your clutch.” “You’re the best, Hae.” He winked at me—which told me he’d seen the condoms I had tucked into the small interior pocket. “I’ll head down with you two.” Seunghyun took the shawl from Hae and draped it over my shoulders. He pulled my hair out from underneath it and the feel of his hands at my neck so distracted me, I barely paid attention when Hae pushed my gloves into my hands. The elevator ride to the lobby was an exercise in surviving acute sexual tension. Not that Hae seemed to notice. He was on my left with both hands in his pockets, whistling. Seunghyun, on the other hand, was a tremendous force on the other side of me. Although he didn’t move or make a sound, I could feel the edgy energy radiating from him. My skin tingled from the magnetic pull between us, and my breath came short and fast. I was relieved when the doors opened and freed us from the enclosed space. Two women stood waiting to get on. Their jaws dropped when they saw Seunghyun and Hae, and that lightened my mood and made me smile. “Ladies,” Hae greeted them, with a smile that really wasn’t fair. I could almost see their brain cells misfiring. In contrast, Seunghyun gave a curt nod and led me out with a hand at the small of my back, skin to skin. The contact was electric, sending heat pouring through me. I squeezed Hae’s hand. “Save a dance for me.” “Always. See you in a bit.” A limousine was waiting at the curb, and the driver opened the door when Seunghyun and I stepped outside. I slid across the bench seat to the opposite side and adjusted my gown. When Seunghyun settled beside me and the door shut, I became highly conscious of how good he smelled. I breathed him in, telling myself to relax and enjoy his company. He took my hand and ran his fingertips over the palm, the simple touch sparking a fierce lust. I shrugged off my shawl, feeling too hot to wear it. “Y/N.” He hit a button and the privacy glass behind the driver began to slide up. The next moment I was tugged across his lap and his mouth was on mine, kissing me fiercely. I did what I’d wanted to do since I saw him in my living room: I shoved my hands in his hair and kissed him back. I loved the way he kissed me, as if he had to, as if he’d go crazy if he didn’t and had nearly waited too long. I sucked on his tongue, having learned how much he liked it, having learned how much I liked it, how much it made me want to suck him elsewhere with the same eagerness. His hands were sliding over my bare back and I moaned, feeling the prod of his erection against my hip. I shifted, moving to straddle him, shoving the skirt of my gown out of the way and making a mental note to thank my mom for the dress—which had such a convenient slit. With my knees on either side of his hips, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and deepened the kiss. I licked into his mouth, nibbled on his lower lip, stroked my tongue along his… Seunghyun gripped my waist and pushed me away. He leaned into the seat back, his neck arched to look up at my face, his chest heaving. “What are you doing to me?” I ran my hands down his chest through his dress shirt, feeling the unforgiving hardness of his muscles. My fingers traced the ridges of his abdomen, my mind forming a picture of how he might look naked. “I’m touching you. Enjoying the hell out of you. I want you, Seunghyun .” He caught my wrists, stilling my movements. “Later. We’re in the middle of Manhattan.” “No one can see us.” “That’s not the point. It’s not the time or place to start something we can’t finish for hours. I’m losing my mind already from this afternoon.” “So let’s make sure we finish it now.” His grip tightened painfully. “We can’t do that here.” “Why not?” Then a surprising thought struck me. “Haven’t you ever had sex in a limo?” “No.” His jaw hardened. “Have you?” Looking away without answering, I saw the traffic and pedestrians surging around us. We were only inches away from hundreds of people, but the dark glass concealed us and made me feel reckless. I wanted to please him. I wanted to know I was capable of reaching into Lee Seunghyun , and there was nothing to stop me but him. I rocked my hips against him, stroking myself with the hard length of his cock. His breath hissed out between clenched teeth. “I need you, Seunghyun ,” I said breathlessly, inhaling his scent, which was richer now that he was aroused. I thought I might be slightly intoxicated, just from the enticing smell of his skin. “You drive me crazy.” He released my wrists and cupped my face, his lips pressing hard against mine. I reached for the fly of his slacks, freeing the two buttons to access the concealed zipper. He tensed. “I need this,” I whispered against his lips. “Give me this.” He didn’t relax, but he made no further attempts to stop me either. When he fell heavily into my palms, he groaned, the sound both pained and erotic. I squeezed him gently, my touch deliberately tender as I sized him with my hands. He was so hard, like stone, and hot. I slid both of my fists up his length from root to tip, my breath catching when he quivered beneath me. Seunghyun gripped my thighs, his hands sliding upward beneath the edges of my dress until his thumbs found the red lace of my thong. “Your cunt is so sweet,” he murmured into my mouth. “I want to spread you out and lick you ’til you beg for my cock.” “I’ll beg now, if you want.” I stroked him with one hand and reached for my clutch with the other, snapping it open to grab a condom. One of his thumbs slid beneath the edge of my panties, the pad sliding through the slickness of my desire. “I’ve barely touched you,” he whispered, his eyes glittering up at me in the shadows of the backseat, “and you’re ready for me.” “I can’t help it.” “I don’t want you to help it.” He pushed his thumb inside me, biting his lower lip when I clenched helplessly around him. “It wouldn’t be fair when I can’t stop what you do to me.” I ripped the foil packet open with my teeth and held it out to him with the ring of the condom protruding from the tear. “I’m not good with these.” His hand curled around mine. “I’m breaking all my rules with you.” The seriousness of his low tone sent a burst of warmth and confidence through me. “Rules are made to be broken.” I saw his teeth flash white; then he hit a button on the panel beside him and said, “Drive until I say otherwise.” My cheeks heated. Another car’s headlights pierced the dark tinted glass and slid over my face, betraying my embarrassment. “Why, Y/N,” he purred, rolling the condom on deftly. “You’ve seduced me into having sex in my limousine, but blush when I tell my driver I don’t want to be interrupted while you do it to me?” His sudden playfulness made me desperate to have him. Setting my hands on his shoulders for balance, I lifted onto my knees, rising to gain the height I needed to hover over the crown of Seunghyun’s thick cock. His hands fisted at my hips and I heard a snap as he tore my panties away. The abrupt sound and the violent action behind it spurred my desire to a fever pitch. “Go slow,” he ordered hoarsely, lifting his hips to push his pants down farther. His erection brushed between my legs as he moved and I whimpered, so aching and empty, as if the orgasms he’d given me earlier had only deepened my craving rather than appeased it. He tensed when I wrapped my fingers around him and positioned him, tucking the wide crest against the saturated folds of my cleft. The scent of our lust was heavy and humid in the air, a seductive mix of need and pheromones that awakened every cell in my body. My skin was flushed and tingling, my breasts heavy and tender. This is what I’d wanted from the moment I first saw him—to possess him, to climb up his magnificent body and take him deep inside me. “God. Y/N,” he gasped as I lowered onto him, his hands flexing restlessly on my thighs. I closed my eyes, feeling too exposed. I’d wanted intimacy with him and yet this seemed too intimate. We were eye-to-eye, only inches apart, cocooned in a small space with the rest of the world streaming by around us. I could sense his agitation, knew he was feeling as off-center as I was. “You’re so tight.” His gasped words were threaded with a hint of delicious agony. I took more of him, letting him slide deeper. I sucked in a deep breath, feeling exquisitely stretched. “You’re so big.” Pressing his palm flat to my lower belly, he touched my throbbing clit with the pad of his thumb and began to massage it in slow, expertly soft circles. Everything in my core tightened and clenched, sucking him deeper. Opening my eyes, I looked at him from under heavy eyelids. He was so beautiful sprawled beneath me in his elegant tuxedo, his powerful body straining with the primal need to mate. His neck arched, his head pressing hard into the seatback as if he was struggling against invisible bonds. “Ah, Christ,” he bit out, his teeth grinding. “I’m going to come so hard.” The dark promise excited me. Sweat misted my skin. I became so wet and hot that I slid smoothly down the length of his cock until I’d nearly sheathed him. A breathless cry escaped me before I’d taken him to the root. He was so deep I could hardly stand it, forcing me to shift from side to side, trying to ease the unexpected bite of discomfort. But my body didn’t seem to care that he was too big. It was rippling around him, squeezing, trembling on the verge of orgasm. Seunghyun cursed and gripped my hip with his free hand, urging me to lean backward as his chest heaved with frantic breaths. The position altered my descent and I opened, accepting all of him. Immediately his body temperature rose, his torso radiating sultry heat through his clothes. Sweat dotted his upper lip. Leaning forward, I slid my tongue along the sculpted curve, collecting the saltiness with a low murmur of delight. His hips churned impatiently. I lifted carefully, sliding up a few inches before he stopped me with that ferocious grasp on my hip. “Slow,” he warned again, with an authoritative bite that sent lust pulsing through me. I lowered, taking him into me again, feeling an oddly luscious soreness as he pushed just past my limits. Our eyes locked on each other as the pleasure spread from the place where we connected. It struck me then that we were both fully clothed except for the most private and intimate parts of our bodies. I found that excruciatingly carnal, as were the sounds he made, as if the pleasure was as extreme for him as it was for me. Wild for him, I pressed my mouth to his, my fingers gripping the sweat-damp roots of his hair. I kissed him as I rocked my hips, riding the maddening circling of his thumb, feeling the orgasm building with every slide of his long, thick penis into my melting core. I lost my mind somewhere along the way, primitive instinct taking over until my body was completely in charge. I could focus on nothing but the driving urge to fuck, the ferocious need to ride his cock until the tension burst and set me free of this grinding hunger. “It’s so good,” I sobbed, lost to him. “You feel…Ah, God, it’s too good.” Using both hands, Seunghyun commanded my rhythm, tilting me into an angle that had the big crown of his cock rubbing a tender, aching spot inside me. As I tightened and shook, I realized I was going to come from that, just from the expert thrust of him inside me. “ Seunghyun .” He captured me by the nape as the orgasm exploded through me, starting with the ecstatic spasms of my core and radiating outward until I was trembling all over. He watched me fall apart, holding my gaze when I would’ve closed my eyes. Possessed by his stare, I moaned and came harder than I ever had, my body jerking with every pulse of pleasure. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growled, pounding his hips up at me, yanking my hips down to meet his punishing lunges. He hit the end of me with every deep thrust, battering into me. I could feel him growing harder and thicker. I watched him avidly, needing to see it when he went over the edge for me. His eyes were wild with his need, losing their focus as his control frayed, his gorgeous face ravaged by the brutal race to climax. “Y/N!” He came with an animal sound of feral ecstasy, a snarling release that riveted me with its ferocity. He shook as the orgasm tore into him, his features softening for an instant with an unexpected vulnerability. Cupping his face, I brushed my lips across his, comforting him as the forceful bursts of his gasping breaths struck my cheeks. “ Y/N .” He wrapped his arms around me and crushed me to him, pressing his damp face into the curve of my neck. I knew just how he felt. Stripped. Laid bare. We stayed like that for a long time, holding each other, absorbing the aftershocks. He turned his head and kissed me softly, the strokes of his tongue into my mouth soothing my ragged emotions. “Wow,” I breathed, shaken. His mouth twitched. “Yeah.” I smiled, feeling dazed and high. Seunghyun brushed the damp tendrils of hair off my temples, his fingertips gliding almost reverently across my face. The way he studied me made my chest hurt. He looked stunned and…grateful, his eyes warm and tender. “I don’t want to break this moment.” Because I could hear it hanging in the air, I filled it in. “But…?” “But I can’t blow off this dinner. I have a speech to give.” “Oh.” The moment was effectively broken. I lifted gingerly off of him, biting my lip at the feel of him slipping wetly out of me. The friction was enough to make me want more. He’d barely softened. “Damn it,” he said roughly. “I want you again.” He caught me before I moved away, pulling a handkerchief out from somewhere and running it gently between my legs. It was a deeply intimate act, on par with the sex we’d just had. When I was dry, I settled on the seat beside him and dug my lip gloss out of my clutch. I watched Seunghyun over the edge of my mirrored compact as he removed the condom and tied it off. He wrapped it in a cocktail napkin; then tossed it in a cleverly hidden trash receptacle. After restoring his appearance, he told the driver to head to our destination. Then he settled into the seat and stared out the window. With every second that passed, I felt him withdrawing, the connection between us slipping further and further away. I found myself shrinking into the corner of the seat, away from him, mimicking the distance I felt building between us. All the warmth I’d felt receded into a marked chill, cooling me enough that I pulled my shawl around me again. He didn’t move a muscle as I shifted beside him and put my compact away, as if he wasn’t even aware I was there. Abruptly, Seunghyun opened the bar and pulled out a bottle. Without looking at me, he asked, “Brandy?” “No, thank you.” My voice was small, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he didn’t care. He poured a drink and tossed it back. Confused and stung, I pulled on my gloves and tried to figure out what went wrong.

26 notes · View notes

rennesairanenlove · 4 years

Link

Hämmästyttävän tyylikäs ja ajatuksia herättävä tämä elokuva Predestination. Predestinationissa on ammattiosaamisella tehty tarina.Tämä pohjautuu Robert E. Heinleinin kirjoittamaan novelliin All You Zombies jota ei olla suomennettu mutta jonka englanniksi löytyy netistä jonka olen kopioinut Robert E. Henlein All You Zombies: 2217 Time Zone V (EST) 7 Nov. 1970--NTC-- "Pop's Place": I was polishing a brandy snifter when the Unmarried Mother came in. I noted the time---10:17 P. M. zone five, or eastern time, November 7th, 1970. Temporal agents always notice time and date; we must.The Unmarried Mother was a man twenty--five years old, no taller than I am, childish features and a touchy temper. I didn't like his looks---I never had---but he was a lad I was here to recruit, he was my boy. I gave him my best barkeep's smile.Maybe I'm too critical. He wasn't swish; his nickname came from what he always said when some nosy type asked him his line: "I'm an unmarried mother." If he felt less than murderous he would add: "at four cents a word. I write confession stories."If he felt nasty, he would wait for somebody to make something of it. He had a lethal style of infighting, like a female cop---reason I wanted him. Not the only one.He had a load on, and his face showed that he despised people more than usual. Silently I poured a double shot of Old Underwear and left the bottle. He drank it, poured another.I wiped the bar top. "How's the 'Unmarried Mother' racket?"His fingers tightened on the glass and he seemed about to throw it at me; I felt for the sap under the bar. In temporal manipulation you try to figure everything, but there are so many factors that you never take needless risks.I saw him relax that tiny amount they teach you to watch for in the Bureau's training school. "Sorry," I said. "Just asking, 'How's business?' Make it 'How's the weather?'"He looked sour. "Business is okay. I write 'em, they print 'em, I eat."I poured myself one, leaned toward him. "Matter of fact," I said, "you write a nice stick---I've sampled a few. You have an amazingly sure touch with the woman's angle."It was a slip I had to risk; he never admitted what pen--names he used. But he was boiled enough to pick up only the last: "'Woman's angle!'" he repeated with a snort. "Yeah, I know the woman's angle. I should.""So?" I said doubtfully. "Sisters?""No. You wouldn't believe me if I told you.""Now, now," I answered mildly, "bartenders and psychiatrists learn that nothing is stranger than truth. Why, son, if you heard the stories I do---well, you'd make yourself rich. Incredible.""You don't know what 'incredible' means!""So? Nothing astonishes me. I've always heard worse." He snorted again. "Want to bet the rest of the bottle?""I'll bet a full bottle." I placed one on the bar."Well---" I signaled my other bartender to handle the trade. We were at the far end, a single--stool space that I kept private by loading the bar top by it with jars of pickled eggs and other clutter. A few were at the other end watching the fights and somebody was playing the juke box---private as a bed where we were."Okay," he began, "to start with, I'm a bastard.""No distinction around here," I said."I mean it," he snapped. "My parents weren't married.""Still no distinction," I insisted. "Neither were mine.""When---" He stopped, gave me the first warm look I ever saw on him. "You mean that?""I do. A one--hundred--percent bastard. In fact," I added, "no one in my family ever marries. All bastards.""Oh, that." I showed it to him. "It just looks like a wedding ring; I wear it to keep women off." It is an antique I bought in 1985 from a fellow operative---he had fetched it from pre--Christian Crete. "The Worm Ouroboros... the World Snake that eats its own tail, forever without end. A symbol of the Great Paradox."He barely glanced at it. "If you're really a bastard, you know how it feels. When I was a little girl---""Wups!" I said. "Did I hear you correctly?""Who's telling this story? When I was a little girl---Look, ever hear of Christine Jorgenson? Or Roberta Cowell?""Uh, sex--change cases? You're trying to tell me---""Don't interrupt or swelp me, I won't talk. I was a foundling, left at an orphanage in Cleveland in 1945 when I was a month old. When I was a little girl, I envied kids with parents. Then, when I learned about sex---and, believe me, Pop, you learn fast in an orphanage---""I know""---I made a solemn vow that any kid of mine would have both a pop and a mom. It kept me 'pure,' quite a feat in that vicinity---I had to learn to fight to manage it. Then I got older and realized I stood darn little chance of getting married---for the same reason I hadn't been adopted." He scowled. "I was horse--faced and buck--toothed, flat--chested and straight--haired.""You don't look any worse than I do.""Who cares how a barkeep looks? Or a writer? But people wanting to adopt pick little blue--eyed golden--haired morons. Later on, the boys want bulging breasts, a cute face, and an Oh--you--wonderful--male manner." He shrugged. "I couldn't compete. So I decided to join the W.E.N.C.H.E.S.""Eh?""Women's Emergency National Corps, Hospitality & Entertainment Section, what they now call 'Space Angels'---Auxiliary Nursing Group, Extraterrestrial Legions.'"I knew both terms, once I had them chronized. We use still a third name, it's that elite military service corps: Women's Hospitality Order Refortifying & Encouraging Spacemen. Vocabulary shift is the worst hurdle in time--jumps---did you know that a 'service station' once served oil fractions? Once on an assignment in the Churchill Era, a woman said to me, 'Meet me at the service station next door'---which is not what it sounds; a 'service station' (then) wouldn't have a bed in it.He went on: "It was when they first admitted you can't send men into space for months and years and not relieve the tension. You remember how the wowsers screamed?---that improved my chance, since volunteers were scarce. A gal had to be respectable, preferably virgin (they liked to train them from scratch), above average mentally, and stable emotionally. But most volunteers were old hookers, or neurotics who would crack up ten days off Earth. So I didn't need looks; if they accepted me, they would fix my buck teeth, put a wave in my hair, teach me to walk and dance and how to listen to a man pleasingly, and everything else---plus training for the prime duties. They would even use plastic surgery if it would help---nothing too good for our Boys."Best yet, they made sure you didn't get pregnant during your enlistment---and you were almost certain to marry at the end of your hitch. Same way today, A.N.G.E.L.S. marry spacers---they talk the language."When I was eighteen I was placed as a 'mother's helper'. This family simply wanted a cheap servant, but I didn't mind as I couldn't enlist till I was twenty--one. I did housework and went to night school---pretending to continue my high school typing and shorthand but going to a charm class instead, to better my chances for enlistment."Then I met this city slicker with his hundred--dollar bills." He scowled. "The no--good actually did have a wad of hundred--dollar bills. He showed me one night, told me to help myself."But I didn't. I liked him. He was the first man I ever met who was nice to me without trying games with me. I quit night school to see him oftener. It was the happiest time of my life."Then one night in the park the games began."He stopped. I said, "And then?""And then nothing! I never saw him again. He walked me home and told me he loved me---and kissed me good---night and never came back." He looked grim. "If I could find him, I'd kill him!""Well," I sympathized, "I know how you feel. But killing him---just for doing what comes naturally---hmm... Did you struggle?""Huh? What's that got to do with it?""Quite a bit. Maybe he deserves a couple of broken arms for running out on you, but---""He deserves worse than that! Wait till you hear. Somehow I kept anyone from suspecting and decided it was all for the best. I hadn't really loved him and probably would never love anybody---and I was more eager to join the W.E.N.C.H.E.S. than ever. I wasn't disqualified, they didn't insist on virgins. I cheered up."It wasn't until my skirts got tight that I realized.""Pregnant?""He had me higher 'n a kite! Those skinflints I lived with ignored it as long as I could work---then kicked me out, and the orphanage wouldn't take me back. I landed in a charity ward surrounded by other big bellies and trotted bedpans until my time came."One night I found myself on an operating table, with a nurse saying, 'Relax. Now breathe deeply.'"I woke up in bed, numb from the chest down. My surgeon came in. 'How do you feel?' he says cheerfully."'Like a mummy.'"'Naturally. You're wrapped like one and full of dope to keep you numb. You'll get well---but a Cesarean isn't a hangnail.'"'Cesarean' I said. 'Doc---did I lose the baby?'"'Oh, no. Your baby's fine.'"Oh. Boy or girl?"'A healthy little girl. Five pounds, three ounces.'"I relaxed. It's something, to have made a baby. I told myself I would go somewhere and tack 'Mrs.' on my name and let the kid think her papa was dead---no orphanage for my kid!"But the surgeon was talking. 'Tell me, uh---' He avoided my name. 'did you ever think your glandular setup was odd?'"I said, 'Huh? Of course not. What are you driving at?'"He hesitated. 'I'll give you this in one dose, then a hypo to let you sleep off your jitters. You'll have 'em.'"'Why?' I demanded."'Ever hear of that Scottish physician who was female until she was thirty five? ---then had surgery and became legally and medically a man? Got married. All okay.'"'What's that got to do with me?'"'That's what I'm saying. You're a man.'"I tried to sit up. 'What?'"'Take it easy. When I opened you, I found a mess. I sent for the Chief of Surgery while I got the baby out, then we held a consultation with you on the table---and worked for hours to salvage what we could. You had two full sets of organs, both immature, but with the female set well enough developed for you to have a baby. They could never be any use to you again, so we took them out and rearranged things so that you can develop properly as a man.' He put a hand on me. 'Don't worry. You're young, your bones will readjust, we'll watch your glandular balance---and make a fine young man out of you.'"I started to cry. 'What about my baby?'"'Well, you can't nurse her, you haven't milk enough for a kitten. If I were you, I wouldn't see her---put her up for adoption.'"'No!'"He shrugged. 'The choice is yours; you're her mother---well, her parent. But don't worry now; we'll get you well first.'"Next day they let me see the kid and I saw her daily---trying to get used to her. I had never seen a brand--new baby and had no idea how awful they look---my daughter looked like an orange monkey. My feelings changed to cold determination to do right by her. But four weeks later that didn't mean anything.""Eh?""She was snatched.""'Snatched?'"The Unmarried Mother almost knocked over the bottle we had bet. "Kidnapped---stolen from the hospital nursery!" He breathed hard. "How's that for taking the last a man's got to live for?""A bad deal," I agreed. "Let's pour you another. No clues?""Nothing the police could trace. Somebody came to see her, claimed to be her uncle. While the nurse had her back turned, he walked out with her.""Description?""Just a man, with a face--shaped face, like yours or mine." He frowned. "I think it was the baby's father. The nurse swore it was an older man but he probably used makeup. Who else would swipe my baby? Childless women pull such stunts---but whoever heard of a man doing it?""What happened to you then?""Eleven more months of that grim place and three operations. In four months I started to grow a beard; before I was out I was shaving regularly... and no longer doubted that I was male." He grinned wryly. "I was staring down nurses necklines.""Well," I said, "seems to me you came through okay. Here you are, a normal man, making good money, no real troubles. And the life of a female is not an easy one."He glared at me. "A lot you know about it!""So?""Ever hear the expression 'a ruined woman'?""Mmm, years ago. Doesn't mean much today.""I was as ruined as a woman can be; that bum really ruined me---I was no longer a woman... and I didn't know how to be a man.""Takes getting used to, I suppose.""You have no idea. I don't mean learning how to dress, or not walking into the wrong rest room; I learned those in the hospital. But how could I live? What job could I get? Hell, I couldn't even drive a car. I didn't know a trade; I couldn't do manual labor---too much scar tissue, too tender."I hated him for having ruined me for the W.E.N.C.H.E.S., too, but I didn't know how much until I tried to join the Space Corps instead. One look at my belly and I was marked unfit for military service. The medical officer spent time on me just from curiosity; he had read about my case."So I changed my name and came to New York. I got by as a fry cook, then rented a typewriter and set myself up as a public stenographer---what a laugh! In four months I typed four letters and one manuscript. The manuscript was for Real Life Tales and a waste of paper, but the goof who wrote it sold it."Which gave me an idea; I bought a stack of confession magazines and studied them." He looked cynical. "Now you know how I get the authentic woman's angle on an unmarried--mother story... through the only version I haven't sold---the true one. Do I win the bottle?"I pushed it toward him. I was upset myself, but there was work to do. I said, "Son, you still want to lay hands on that so--and--so?"His eyes lighted up---a feral gleam."Hold it!" I said. "You wouldn't kill him?"He chuckled nastily. "Try me.""Take it easy. I know more about it than you think I do. I can help you. I know where he is."He reached across the bar. "Where is he?"I said softly, "Let go my shirt, sonny---or you'll land in the alley and we'll tell the cops you fainted." I showed him the sap.He let go. "Sorry. But where is he?" He looked at me. "And how do you know so much?""All in good time. There are records---hospital records, orphanage records, medical records. The matron of your orphanage was Mrs. Fetherage---right? She was followed by Mrs. Gruenstein---right? Your name, as a girl, was 'Jane'---right? And you didn't tell me any of this---right?"I had him baffled and a bit scared. "What's this? You trying to make trouble for me?""No indeed. I've your welfare at heart. I can put this character in your lap. You do to him as you see fit---and I guarantee that you'll get away with it. But I don't think you'll kill him. You'd be nuts to---and you aren't nuts. Not quite."He brushed it aside. "Cut the noise. Where is he?" I poured him a short one; he was drunk, but anger was offsetting it. "Not so fast. I do something for you---you do something for me.""Uh... what?""You don't like your work. What would you say to high pay, steady work, unlimited expense account, your own boss on the job, and lots of variety and adventure?"He stared. "I'd say, 'Get those goddam reindeer off my roof!' Shove it, Pop---there's no such job.""Okay, put it this way: I hand him to you, you settle with him, then try my job. If it's not all I claim---well, I can't hold you."He was wavering; the last drink did it. "When d'yuh d'liver 'im?" he said thickly.He shoved out his hand. "It's a deal!""If it's a deal---right now!"I nodded to my assistant to watch both ends, noted the time---2300---started to duck through the gate under the bar---when the juke box blared out: "I'm My Own Grandpaw!" The service man had orders to load it with Americana and classics because I couldn't stomach the 'music' of 1970, but I hadn't known that tape was in it. I called out, "Shut that off! Give the customer his money back." I added, "Storeroom, back in a moment," and headed there with my Unmarried Mother following.It was down the passage across from the johns, a steel door to which no one but my day manager and myself had a key; inside was a door to an inner room to which only I had a key. We went there.He looked blearily around at windowless walls. "Where is he?""Right away." I opened a case, the only thing in the room; it was a U. S. F. F. Coordinates Transformer Field Kit, series 1992, Mod. II---a beauty, no moving parts, weight twenty--three kilos fully charged, and shaped to pass as a suitcase. I had adjusted it precisely earlier that day; all I had to do was to shake out the metal net which limits the transformation field.Which I did. "What's that?" he demanded."Time machine," I said and tossed the net over us."Hey!" he yelled and stepped back. There is a technique to this; the net has to be thrown so that the subject will instinctively step back onto the metal mesh, then you close the net with both of you inside completely---else you might leave shoe soles behind or a piece of foot, or scoop up a slice of floor. But that's all the skill it takes. Some agents con a subject into the net; I tell the truth and use that instant of utter astonishment to flip the switch. Which I did.1030--VI--3 April 1963---Cleveland, Ohio--Apex Bldg.: "Hey!" he repeated. "Take this damn thing off!""Sorry", I apologized and did so, stuffed the net into the case, closed it. "You said you wanted to find him.""But---you said that was a time machine!"I pointed out a window. "Does that look like November? Or New York?" While he was gawking at new buds and spring weather, I reopened the case, took out a packet of hundred--dollar bills, checked that the numbers and signatures were compatible with 1963. The Temporal Bureau doesn't care how much you spend (it costs nothing) but they don't like unnecessary anachronisms. Too many mistakes, and a general court--martial will exile you for a year in a nasty period, say 1974 with its strict rationing and forced labor. I never make such mistakes; the money was okay.He turned around and said, "What happened?""He's here. Go outside and take him. Here's expense money." I shoved it at him and added, "Settle him, then I'll pick you up."Hundred--dollar bills have a hypnotic effect on a person not used to them. He was thumbing them unbelievingly as I eased him into the hall, locked him out. The next jump was easy, a small shift in era.7100--VI--10 March 1964---Cleveland--Apex Bldg.: There was a notice under the door saying that my lease expired next week; otherwise the room looked as it had a moment before. Outside, trees were bare and snow threatened; I hurried, stopping only for contemporary money and a coat, hat, and topcoat I had left there when I leased the room. I hired a car, went to the hospital. It took twenty minutes to bore the nursery attendant to the point where I could swipe the baby without being noticed. We went back to the Apex Building. This dial setting was more involved, as the building did not yet exist in 1945. But I had precalculated it.0100--VI--20 Sept. 1945---Cleveland--Skyview Motel: Field kit, baby, and I arrived in a motel outside town. Earlier I had registered as "Gregory Johnson, Warren, Ohio," so we arrived in a room with curtains closed, windows locked, and doors bolted, and the floor cleared to allow for waver as the machine hunts. You can get a nasty bruise from a chair where it shouldn't be---not the chair, of course, but backlash from the field.No trouble. Jane was sleeping soundly; I carried her out, put her in a grocery box on the seat of a car I had provided earlier, drove to the orphanage, put her on the steps, drove two blocks to a 'service station' (the petroleum--products sort) and phoned the orphanage, drove back in time to see them taking the box inside, kept going and abandoned the car near the motel---walked to it and jumped forward to the Apex Building in 1963.2200--VI--24 April 1963---Cleveland--Apex Bldg.: I had cut the time rather fine---temporal accuracy depends on span, except on return to zero. If I had it right, Jane was discovering, out in the park this balmy spring night, that she wasn't quite as nice a girl as she had thought. I grabbed a taxi to the home of those skinflints, had the hackie wait around a comer while I lurked in shadows.Presently I spotted them down the street, arms around each other. He took her up on the porch and made a long job of kissing her good--night---longer than I thought. Then she went in and he came down the walk, turned away. I slid into step and hooked an arm in his. "That's all, son," I announced quietly. "I'm back to pick you up.""You!" He gasped and caught his breath."Me. Now you know who he is---and after you think it over you'll know who you are... and if you think hard enough, you'll figure out who the baby is... and who I am."He didn't answer, he was badly shaken. It's a shock to have it proved to you that you can't resist seducing yourself. I took him to the Apex Building and we jumped again.2300--VIII, 12 Aug. 1985--Sub Rockies Base: I woke the duty sergeant, showed my I. D., told the sergeant to bed my companion down with a happy pill and recruit him in the morning. The sergeant looked sour, but rank is rank, regardless of era; he did what I said---thinking, no doubt, that the next time we met he might be the colonel and I the sergeant. Which can happen in our corps. "What name?" he asked.I wrote it out. He raised his eyebrows. "Like so, eh? Hmm---""You just do your job, Sergeant." I turned to my companion."Son, your troubles are over. You're about to start the best job a man ever held---and you'll do well. I know.""That you will!" agreed the sergeant. "Look at me---born in 1917---still around, still young, still enjoying life." I went back to the jump room, set everything on preselected zero.2301--V--7 Nov. 1970--NYC---"Pop's Place": I came out of the storeroom carrying a fifth of Drambuie to account for the minute I had been gone. My assistant was arguing with the customer who had been playing "I'm My Own Grand--paw!" I said, "Oh, let him play it, then unplug it." I was very tired.It's rough, but somebody must do it, and it's very hard to recruit anyone in the later years, since the Mistake of 1972. Can you think of a better source than to pick people all fouled up where they are and give them well--paid, interesting (even though dangerous) work in a necessary cause? Everybody knows now why the Fizzle War of 1963 fizzled. The bomb with New York's number on it didn't go off, a hundred other things didn't go as planned---all arranged by the likes of me.But not the Mistake of '72; that one is not our fault---and can't be undone; there's no paradox to resolve. A thing either is, or it isn't, now and forever amen. But there won't be another like it; an order dated '1992' takes precedence any year.I closed five minutes early, leaving a letter in the cash register telling my day manager that I was accepting his offer to buy me out, to see my lawyer as I was leaving on a long vacation. The Bureau might or might not pick up his payments, but they want things left tidy. I went to the room in the back of the storeroom and forward to 1993.2200--VII-- 12 Jan 1993--Sub Rockies Annex--HQ Temporal DOL: I checked in with the duty officer and went to my quarters, intending to sleep for a week. I had fetched the bottle we bet (after all, I won it) and took a drink before I wrote my report. It tasted foul, and I wondered why I had ever liked Old Underwear. But it was better than nothing; I don't like to be cold sober, I think too much. But I don't really hit the bottle either; other people have snakes---I have people.I dictated my report; forty recruitments all okayed by the Psych Bureau---counting my own, which I knew would be okayed. I was here, wasn't I? Then I taped a request for assignment to operations; I was sick of recruiting. I dropped both in the slot and headed for bed. My eye fell on 'The By--Laws of Time,' over my bed:Never Do Yesterday What Should Be Done Tomorrow.If at Last You Do Succeed, Never Try Again.A Stitch in Time Saves Nine Billion.A Paradox May Be Paradoctored.It Is Earlier When You Think.Ancestors Are Just People.Even Jove Nods.They didn't inspire me the way they had when I was a recruit; thirty subjective--years of time--jumping wears you down. I undressed, and when I got down to the hide I looked at my belly. A Cesarean leaves a big scar, but I'm so hairy now that I don't notice it unless I look for it.Then I glanced at the ring on my finger.The Snake That Eats Its Own Tail, Forever and Ever. I know where I came from---but where did all you zombies come from?I felt a headache coming on, but a headache powder is one thing I do not take. I did once---and you all went away.So I crawled into bed and whistled out the light.You aren't really there at all. There isn't anybody but me---Jane---here alone in the dark.I miss you dreadfully!

0 notes

sippin-on-red-wine · 7 years

Text

High Tide | Chapter 4: Crazy Game of Poker

Title: High Tide, Chapter 4: Crazy Game Of Poker Author: @sippin-on-red-wine Rating: 17+, Mature (Sexy times) Word Count: 8,555 Author’s Note: I was hesitant to write this chapter, not sure if I was able to present the scene so that you could all imagine it the way I want you too. I hope that it comes through the way I intended!

Would love to see your feedback/requests/constructive criticism. Hit me up lovely ladies. And without further ado....

**Please like/re-blog!**

Previous Chapter

It was a hazy New England morning, thick mist shrouding the entire shoreline. The ocean, what little you could see of it, was a dark, dull steel color. A perpetual drizzle fell from the gray sky. Ed and I had spent most of the morning making love; slow, unhurried, just savoring every moment. It was quite intense, in the best possible way.

I had finally dragged my sorry butt out of bed, pulling on a pair of yoga pants and a sports bra. Ed was still snuggled up under the covers, naked, watching me put away baskets of laundry.

“When’s your birthday, Kenn?”

“Oh, you just missed it, I'm afraid. August 18th.”

“I see...that explains some things,” he said with a wink.

“Like?” I set a stack of jeans down on top of my dresser, crossing the room over to the bed.

“Well you're a Leo, then, aren't you? Confident, sexy Lioness….”

I smiled, cocking an eyebrow. “That's right Teddy, and don't you forget it.” I pounced on the bed, straddling him, holding myself up on all fours.

“To be fair… I do have this,” he said, pointing to the great lion on his chest. “Oh and this, too,” fluffing his hair up.

“I’d say you're more of a lion cub, my dear,” I teased.

“I resent that, love. Are you staying in bed with me now?”

I kissed him on the forehead. “No, Cubby, it’s time for us BOTH to get up for the day.”

“I’ve already gotten it up today, more than once actually --”

“Cheeky!” I cried, climbing back out of the bed.

He laughed, threw back the covers and tugged on his faded sweats, sans boxers. “I’m going to head home, babe, I’ve got laundry of my own to do.”

“Okay, baby. I’ll be over at the shelter later today, by the way.” I set my little basket of clean socks on top of my dresser and started to pair them together.

Ed came up behind me, resting his head on my shoulder, his strong arms wrapping around me. “You have such a big heart, Kendra. I really love that about you.” He kissed the back of my neck. “I’m going to work on some music later, I think. Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow, though?”

I spun around, turning to face him. “Oh, shit - I totally forgot. I actually will be down in Portland for the night tomorrow, I’m going to see my favorite band, O.A.R.”

“They do ‘Hey Girl’, right?”

“Yes, that was probably their most mainstream single. Do you, like, want to come with me? I’ve only got one ticket but I could see if I could get another. They play a really fun show.”

“I would go anywhere with you, love, that was a silly question. I’m in.”

The sky was still lonely & gray, it didn't make for the most picturesque road trip. But the ruggedly handsome man in the passenger seat more than made up for it.

“I love this weather, it reminds me of home,” he had said, shifting his weight in his seat so that he could rest his left hand on my thigh. He looked hot as hell, dressed in dark denim jeans, gray sneakers and a navy blue long-sleeved cotton thermal shirt, a subtle “V” dipping down in the front to expose a bit of cream colored skin. “Have you been to England?” He asked.

“Actually, no. I'm not super-well traveled. I tend to stick to tropical-beach-paradise destinations when I vacation.”

“Oh, you don't know what you're missing. Endless gray skies in the English countryside! And THE BEST food. I can't wait to take you there.”

Butterflies fluttered around in my stomach, as they often did when Ed casually mentioned plans for our future. It sort of eased that elephant-in-the-room anxiety.

“I'm really stoked for the show, babe,” I said, sneaking another glance over at Ed. “But I'm even more excited for ho-.”

I faltered, regretting the words as soon as they were about to fall out of my mouth: Hotel Sex. It always been a novelty for me -- what was it about hotels that spiced up the intimacy a little bit? Was it just the change of scenery? It probably wasn't that hygienic when you really thought about it. But my stomach had sank as I realized that Ed had probably had far more hotel sex than I would ever care to think about.

I stammered, not wanting to finish my sentence.

“Babe?” He asked inquisitively.

“Um, I was going to say.. hotel sex...” I said, my voice trailing off. I felt super awkward at this point. Get over it, the past is the past.

“Hey, you.” He rubbed my leg. “Come back. You belong here, with me, thinking only about all the hot hotel sex WE are going to have tonight.” He chided, gently.

“Shit, I’m sorry. You’re right.” I took my right hand off the steering wheel to rest it on top of his. He pulled his seat belt loose, leaning over to kiss me on the cheek.

“Could I borrow your phone, love? I forgot to bring my little Nokia and I should probably call Stu and give him a heads up that we are going out.”

“You got it. Tell him I said sorry for the, uh, mooning incident…. Blame it on the wine, yeah?”

He cackled, having apparently already forgotten all about that. I handed my cell over, watching him futz around on the screen. “Android crap,” he muttered, finally finding the keypad and punching in Stuart's mobile number.

I could very faintly hear the phone ringing, then Stu gruffly picking up.

“Oy, mate! It's Ed. What's up? Oh, I've forgotten my little flip phone, I'm calling from Kendra's - oh, yeah, she said she is very sorry for the, ah, incident the other night. Ha, I'll tell her. Yeah, so, we are going to a concert down in Portland, Maine tonight - just wanted to give you a….. Yeah, no, it's smaller, an old historic type theater, Aura something or other? Probably about 1,000 cap, max. It's O.A.R., yeah. Really? Great. Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks, mate. No, she's... yeah, it's good. I'll call you tomorrow. Bye.”

He struggled to hang up, somehow flipping the camera open by mistake. He switched the view around and held his right hand out toward the passenger window to snap a selfie of us. “Smile, love!” And handed the phone back.

“Hey, so, guess what? The band is actually with Atlantic as well, so that works out quite nicely.”

“Was Stu worried about like, security?” I asked, not wanting to sound stupid, but honestly wondering if Ed normally traveled with security people or a bodyguard.

“Well, yeah, I mean it shouldn't be that much of an issue, in this area at least. But the label will have security there so, it's an added bonus. OH - turn this song up!” He cried.

“Body like a back road,

Drivin’ with my eyes closed,

I know every curve like the back of my hand,”

He started singing along, his animated hands coming to life in time with the song. I turned up the volume and sang along.

“Doin’ fifteen in a thirty,

I ain't in no hurry,

I'ma take it slow just as fast as I can.”

We had made it to Portland and checked into the Danforth, having first stopped to get snacks & beer for the room. Ed was sprawled out on the king-sized bed, atop the duvet, while I changed into my concert clothes.

“I’m disappointed, love, I thought you’d be wearing your cute little yoga outfit all evening.”

“Nope, sorry, just wanted to wait until the last possible moment before having to put on a real bra,” I joked. Half-joked. I plopped my overnight bag down on the bed beside him, rummaging through to grab everything I needed. I headed into the bathroom to change. If any open nudity ensues, we probably won’t make it to the concert...

He was flipping through stations and had settled on a rerun of a Simpsons episode. I could hear him from the bathroom, rumpling the chip bag and popping the top on another beer. I got dressed quickly, donning a pair of distressed skinny jeans, an off-white crop top t-shirt and a red plaid shirt over the top of that, unbuttoned. I brushed through my hair, having already straightened it earlier that day, and through on some mascara and eyeliner. All set. I came out of the bathroom, balling up my comfy clothes and tossing them back into my duffel.

“I take it back, I’m no longer disappointed,” Ed said, giving me a once over. “Help me finish this beer and we can get going.”

I happily obliged, taking the bottle from his outstretched hand and finishing the rest in one fell swallow. Ed got up from the bed, clicking the tv off. He pulled on a gray beanie that covered most of his adorable fluffy mop of hair.

I grabbed my over-the-shoulder purse and threw in room key, cash, ID and a credit card along with a hair tie and coconut chapstick. “OH, I nearly forgot!”, I exclaimed, once again digging through my overnight bag. I pulled out four brand new packs of playing cards. “Would you mind tucking these in your pockets, Ed, they don’t fit in my little purse?”

He eyed the decks of cards, “Um… what are these for?”

“You’ll see!” I said with a wink, and tucked them into the back pockets of his jeans, copping a bit of a feel. I tugged on my cream-colored converse lowtops and we were on our way. The hotel door closed behind us and we headed down the hallway to the elevator, hand in hand. He pressed the down arrow button and we waited until the doors popped open with a Ding!

The elevator was empty, save for us. Ed hit the Lobby button and immediately turned around, pushing me up against the wall of the elevator. His mouth was at my neck; his hands stroking the few inches of my stomach that were exposed in my crop top. “I already can’t wait to get back to the room with you, love...” He growled at my throat, the faint scent of ale floating up to my nose.

Another Ding! And we were stopping on another level to pick up more passengers. Ed quickly backed away and stood next to me, holding my hand innocently again. I glanced at him through the corner of my eye and he was smirking, clearly very pleased with himself. You’re going to pay for that, Sheeran.

We crossed the black and white check tile of the lobby floor out to the street. The theater was only a few blocks away, and with Ed in long sleeves and a beanie, we didn’t have to worry much about being recognized. We strolled down the sidewalk, old brick buildings rising up on either side of us. The air was definitely brisk, that lovely scent of fall that could only be described as ‘brisk.’

There was a short line down the sidewalk in front of the entrance to the theater. We stopped to queue up, and Ed drew me into his chest to warm me up a bit, resting his chin on top of my head as he so often did.

Eventually we got to the front of the line, and I pulled open my phone with our GA tickets. We made our way in, walking past the merch stand and getting in line to grab a couple of beers.

The theater was really old but had recently been renovated, so it had that rustic-but-modern feel. Luckily there weren’t many people here yet, at least in the General Admission section, so we walked in and got great spots about 5-6 people back from the stage. GA took up about half of the main floor, with proper seats on an incline behind the section. There was also one balcony level.

We drank our beers (begrudgingly, as all they had was Miller Lite on tap) and chatted while we waited for O.A.R. to come out, talking mostly about music.

“First concert you ever attended?” He fired off.

“2001. N*Sync. No Strings Attached tour. Top 5 best nights of my life, to date.”

He cackled. “I love that. And where did you learn to sing?”

“Erm, I don’t really… I’m not a ‘singer’, Ed, let’s be real. But I did a lot of musical theater in my younger years, and I was a Madrigal Singer in high school.” He had a puzzled look on his face. “Like, we dressed up in renaissance-style outfits and sang Christmas carols at nursing homes and grocery stores…”

“PLEASE tell me there are photos of this,” he cried out. Just then, the lights began to dim in the theater.

The band came out on stage, the crowd coming alive.

Ed…………..

Kendra had absolutely lit up as soon as the band came out and played a riff from their first number. It was a 5 piece band, including a saxophone.

The crowd was totally alive, the band clearly had a pretty dedicated following.

“I put my two hands up, I surrender,

Come and lock me up, here forever,”

Kendra was super into the song, singing the lyrics back at the band, throwing her arms up into the air, spilling a bit of her beer as she waved them around. She whipped her head around, giggling, and mouthed “Sorry!” I watched as she slammed the rest of her beer, right down the hatch. This girl.

The band played on, the crowd getting increasingly more fired up, Kendra included. She was bopping around, wiggling and shaking along with each song. The lights shone down on us from the set behind the band, highlighting the sheen on her skin from dancing so much. At one point she handed me her purse, shrugging off her plaid shirt and tying it around her waist. Fuck, she looks good.

She turned around to face me, grabbing my hands and pulling me into a dance with her. The song was bright, percussion-heavy, and the dude on the sax was really giving it. We jumped and threw our arms up in the air, laughing at each other.

At the close of that song, the lead singer switched out to an acoustic guitar. “Let's slow things down a bit, for all the lovers out in the crowd tonight,” And the crowd hushed.

She had turned back toward the stage to watch. I pulled her in, close to my body, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. She turned, facing me, wrapping her arms up around my neck.

“I just wanna make you laugh,

I just wanna see that smile,

Babe we're only here, oh for a little while,

I just wanna hold you til we fall asleep,

I want love, I want us, I want you, I want me

I want peace,”

She sang the words to me, smiling, our eyes just locked onto one another’s. And I knew. I didn't know if it was this little bubble we were living in, or because I was so miserable before her. Maybe she was another vice for me, her beautiful body & soul intoxicating me every moment we were together. Her beautiful, expressive brown eyes. Maybe it was the way she doubled over in laughter, or cried when those sad animal commercials came on tv.

I didn't know if she felt the same way, but I didn’t care. She had come into my life right when I least expected it. She felt like home.

It was too soon, sure. But in that moment, our sweaty bodies pressed together, a shower of colored lights shining down on us, I knew I loved her.

Kendra…………..

Is he having a good time? I can't tell. Does he think they suck? OH, fuck, I love this song --

'Peace’ had ended and the band was kicking it back into high gear with 'Gotta Be Wrong Sometimes’. Ed was standing beside me, watching me pretty intently. I found it a bit odd, as usually, at a concert, you watch the band… but… whatever.

A couple more songs passed, and then O.A.R. hit us with the golden ticket: the opening riff of That Was A Crazy Game of Poker. The crowd went fucking mental; as did I. I cheered, then quickly turned to Ed. “Baby! It’s time!” and I reached into his back pockets to grab out the decks of playing cards. “Here, help me open these..” I requested.

Marc, the lead singer, was doing the lead-up part. “Here I am, once again, life-life in my hands, I’m playing cards with the devil again…. Oh no, oh my…”

I quickly shucked the cards from their little cardboard box, and Ed followed suit.

“Oh myyyyyyyy….. Twenty thrown down, in my…”

It was a spectacle, in the best way possible: Playing cards were raining down all around us, as the crowd started launching theirs toward the stage. Cards of every suit were floating down from the balcony, too. Ed looked up and around with a sense of childlike wonder. He folded his cards up into a bridge, as if he were going to shuffle them, and sent them launching up, straight above us, into the frenzy of red, black and white.

The song was in full-force by this point. “That was a crazy game of poker.. I lost it all,” I saw Ed mouth “Fucking cool.”, then he grabbed me around my waist and kissed me. It was like the whole scene disappeared; the stage, the lights, the deafening music, the whole crowd that surrounded us. All that was there was him & me, our lips locked, holding each other. I wanted so badly to run my fingers through his hair so I pulled off his gray beanie, fluffing those curly locks up with my fingers, then held his face to mine as we explored each others mouths.

The song ended, audience roaring with cheers and applause. Ed was grinning down at me, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. The lights began to come back on. There weren't many exits, so we stayed put while most of the crowd began to slowly filter out.

“Did you have fun, Teddy?” I asked.

“Yes, absolutely. The card thing was so cool. They played a great show. You've seen them live before, yeah?”

“Oh, gosh, yes - quite a few times. I still need to make it out to Red Rocks one of these times. Their concert album from there is my favorite.”

“In Colorado? I've played there. It's quite cool, being in the side of a mountain and all.”

“What? No way! Are you stopping there again on your tour that's coming up?”

“Um, no, the upcoming tour has venues a bit... bigger than that.”

“Looks like we can clear out now,” I said, nodding to the main exit.

“Are you ready to go home, so soon?” He flashed that devilish grin at me.

“Well after your little declaration in the elevator…” I said, tucking my thumbs in the waistband of his jeans.

“Mmm, that's right,” he said, playfully biting on his bottom lip. “Afraid you’ll have to wait a bit longer, love. That is, unless you don't care to meet the band?”

My eyes widened. “WHAT?!”

He smiled, pulling me in close and kissing the tip of my nose. “Yeah, well like I said, we’re label-mates and it would be rude of me not to introduce myself…unless you’d rather just head back now,” he said with a wink.

“Um, HELL. No.” He laughed. “I wasn't expecting this, Ed, it's really sweet. Thank you.”

He rubbed his thumbs over the tops of my hands, which he was holding between us. “Well in reality, you should be thanking Stuart, he made the call. But, please don't thank him with a kiss. I'll take the kiss.” He said, pointing to his scruffy cheek.

“Smart ass,” I retorted, giving him a peck, and pinching his ass at the same time.

“She's feisty!” He laughed, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me toward the stage. There was a door to the right with an out-of-shape dude dressed in all black standing outside of it. Oh, security, I mused.

Ed approached, dropping my hand and gave the guy a handshake and pat on the shoulder. He tilted his head up and must have said the right thing, because the guard stepped aside, opening the black door.

“Thanks, mate,” Ed said as we passed by. The door led to the wings of the stage, past all the drops. It seemed like Ed knew exactly where he was going, a skill which I attributed to him having spent a lot of time in venues just like this one. We heard some loud conversations coming from down a hallway, at the end of which was a partially open door labeled “GREEN ROOM” when Ed looked back at me over his shoulder. “Excited, love?” I nodded, indicating No Shit, trying to keep my cool.

Marc, the lead singer, was perched on the arm of a sofa and saw us walking up to the door. “Hey!” he shouted with a smile, striding across the room, hand outstretched. He pulled Ed in with a slap on the back. “Nice to finally meet you, brother! Come on in!”

“Yeah, you as well! Sorry it hasn’t been sooner,” Ed replied. Holy shit. They were all there. Marc, Jerry, Benj, and Chris - plus a few people I didn’t recognize. Ed tucked his arm around my waist, bringing me forward. “Hey, this is Kendra.”

“Lovely to meet you!” Marc said as he pulled me in for a quick hug. The room erupted in sounds, everyone standing up to shake hands and introduce themselves to Ed. “What’d you think of the show?” Marc asked.

“It was great - as ALWAYS! Huge fan of your music.” I saw Ed taking selfies with some women on the other side of the room.

“Yeah, you’ve been to many shows?” He asked.

“Sure, a handful. Think I saw you for the first time back in like, 2003 at Summerfest in Milwaukee?”

“Shit - we love playing there! Are you from Milwaukee? My wife, Tess, is -- Tess, come here!” He reached his arm out, beckoning the tall, beautiful blonde that was taking selfies with Ed.

The room was a flurry of conversations, Tess coming over to meet me, introducing her friend Jenna (who was married to Benj). Ed was making his rounds, talking animatedly with his hands, even more so than usual.

Eventually Ed wound up back by me. “So, the guys have an after-party set up downtown to celebrate the first night of their tour, do you want to go check it out?” He had a big grin on his face.

“Yes, let's go,” I replied, taking his hand.

“We’ll meet you guys down there, yeah?” Ed called out, waving, and we walked out of the room.

We climbed an old, dimly lit staircase to the second story. A bouncer sat outside the door. He gave us a quick once-over and motioned us inside. It was a pretty cool loft bar, all full of exposed brick and metal accents. Typical ‘industrial chic’ style interior. What looked like old railroad ties were mounted to the ceilings as beams. The floor was hardwood, shiny, so it must have been resurfaced.

The bar was to the left, spanning along the entire south wall. Glass shelves lined the wall, littered with liquor bottles of all shapes, sizes and colors. There was a DJ booth, a small stage area and a dance floor. On the other side of the room were high-backed booths lining the walls, with cocktail tables in front of them, and ottomans on the other side of the tables. Seemed like a cool place.

I followed Ed to the bar, sidling up next to him. The bartender looked young, he was dressed in all black and had a buzzcut. He spotted us at the end of the bar, and if he recognized Ed, didn’t show it. “What can I get for you?”

“Yeah - your best white tequila - anything but Patròn. Five shots of that, shaken with a shot of passionfruit juice - do you have that?” He nodded. “Great, yeah, five shots of tequila, one shot passionfruit, shake it over ice and poured. We’ll take two of those to start, thanks mate.”

I cocked an eyebrow. Tequila, for me? Wouldn’t have been my first choice, but there was something sexy about Ed ordering for me.

Ed…………..

I laughed, watching Kendra from across the room. She was teaching a couple of gals next to her how to shake bar dice and they had probably done, oh, maybe four shots in the last half hour? She had already been quite buzzed and as it was pretty late in the night, I figured this would really put her over the edge.

I had been tempted to really throw it in, too, but wanted to kind of take things slow as it was the first time we were out at a party together. Admittedly, it was really easy for me to fall down the party “rabbit hole” and end up sleeping in the grass somewhere on the way to where I needed to be.

I walked toward the bar, Kendra catching my eye. Her face lit up and she came to meet me halfway, throwing her arms around me like she hadn't seen me in a few days.

“Teddy!” She cried, throwing her arms out. She cupped my face, giving me a big smack on the lips.

“Hi, love, having fun?” I asked.

“Yes! So much. Gosh, I haven't been out in soooo long.”

“Do you want to head back to the hotel soon?”

She glanced at the clock behind the bar. “Oh, holy shit. It *is* late! Yeah, we can get going, let's just say goodbye?”

We were sat in the backseat of the taxi. Kendra let out a big *huff*

“Ed. I haven’t had tequila since college, and I forgot there was a reason for that, but guess what……..there’s a reason for that.”

I chuckled. “And why exactly is that?”

“This!” She cried, pointing at herself.

“You’re thoroughly pissed, aren’t you?”

“No! Am I? YOU should be pissed at ME. Sorry about… this.” Again, she just gestured up and down her body.

“No, love, ‘pissed’... like, drunk?”

“OH God. No. Well, true, I can’t feel my knees right now.” She giggled. Then gasped. “Ed, did I embarrass you at the bar? Is that why you wanted to go?”

I kissed her on the tip of her little button nose. “No, baby, you didn’t.” I said, rubbing the top of her thigh.

“I am starving. Can we get pizza, Teddy?” She rose up on her knees, swinging a leg over my lap, now straddling me in the backseat of the taxi. “I need pizza. And sex. Pizza and sex, please,” Her mouth was on my neck.

The cab driver looked back at me in the rearview mirror, clearly not amused. I grabbed onto her hips, gently lowering her back down onto the cool leather seat. “Come on, you, the driver can't see out the window. Keep it in your pants for a minute, yeah?” I chuckled.

“I can't keep it in my pants for pizza, Teddy.”

“Here, give me your phone, I'll find something to order.”

She dug in her little purse, extracting her cell and handing it over. “You're my hero.” She looked like a cartoon character with throbbing red hearts in place of her eyes.

I ran a quick Google search for pizza delivery, as we pulled up in front of the hotel. I handed the driver a $50 note for his trouble. I climbed out of the taxi, dialing the pizza place, and walked around to the other side of the car to get the door for Kendra. She quite resembled a fawn learning to walk, as she uncrossed her legs and stepped up and out of the cab.

“Hi, I'd like delivery please? To the Danforth, downtown? Room 112.” Kenda threaded her arm through my elbow, and I closed the car door behind her. “Yeah can I get an extra large pepperoni, please?” We headed into the hotel lobby.

“EXTRA CHEESE PLEASE!” She chimed in, leaning over to shout into the phone.

“Did you get that? Okay, great, thanks mate.” I hung up the phone and slipped it into my pocket for safekeeping.

“Ah, pizzaaaaaa.” She sighed, clinging onto my arm, flashing those big almond-shaped eyes up at me.

“You are so silly, d’you know that?”

“You are so SEXY, did YOU know THAT??” She exclaimed. We were stopped in front of the elevator, her not-so-quiet tone echoing up to the tall ceilings in the lobby. I glanced over at the older gentleman who was behind the reception desk. He gave me a head nod and a wink.

Ding! The doors opened, and I gave her a little push on her bottom into the elevator. “Get in there, love,” I said with a sly smile.

She was on me instantly, wrapping her arms up around my neck. I lifted her up, holding her up against the elevator wall again, like before.

I kissed her neck, she giggled. I nipped her earlobe, more giggles. “Tell me more about 'tequila in college’...” I breathed into her ear. Giggles.

Ding! We were at our floor. I set her down, gently, making sure she was going to remain upright.

”“2-4-1 Margarita night. BIG margaritas, Teddy. Like fishbowl-big.”

“Say no more. Come on,” I tugged her by the hand, leading her down the carpeted hallway to our room. “You’ve got the room key, yeah?” She rummaged around in her little purse, finding the key card and pulling it out. She scanned it in front of the door and pushed it open. We walked in, she instantly flung off her purse and kicked off her chucks.

She untied the plaid shirt that was still wrapped up around her waist, throwing it down on the bed. “Ed, I’m going to rinse off in the shower! I got so sweaty tonight,” She was unbuttoning her distressed jeans, shimmying them down over her hips. She was wearing a plain black thong underneath…. Yum. Her crop top came off next, her clothes now abandoned in the middle of the room. She was wearing an elaborate lace bra, a pale creamy color against her olive-y complexion.

I was leaned up against the door, still, admiring the view. “Want me to join you, love?” I asked.

“I’m going to be quick! You stay here in case the pizza guy comes!”

She picked up her overnight bag and carried it toward the bathroom, stopping in front of me, standing up on her tiptoes to give me a kiss.

I kicked off my trainers, locating the T.V. remote and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to find a movie or something to put on. Kendra was singing in the shower, loudly. A country song, by the sounds of it. At least she’s a happy drunk, I mused. I hadn’t realized how sloshed she was until we left the bar.

There was a knock at the door, Kendra must have heard it too, because the shower promptly shut off. I swung open the door and paid the delivery driver. Our room didn’t have a proper table so I sat the pizza down on the bed, then went over to the little mini fridge, hoping it would be stocked. Ginger ale, perfect.

She emerged from the bathroom, still wet from the shower. She was all wrapped up in a big fluffy towel, her dark hair piled on top of her head.

“Oh, fuck yes.” She said (to herself? I think?), plopping down on the bed in her towel. She unhinged the cardboard box, snatching a slice up in one hand, and the tv remote in the other. She took a big bite, literally moaning, “This is sooo good.” God, was she cute.

I brought her over some napkins and a can of ginger ale. “I’m going to take a quick shower too, babe.”

“Here, have a bite of this first, it’s sooooo good.”

I obliged, taking a bite of her gooey, cheesey pizza. “Oh, shit, this IS good,” I said, taking the slice out of her hand. I walked away with a wink. She just shrugged and dug into the box for another slice, flipping through channels on the T.V.

I scarfed down the rest of my slice, grabbed my duffel and headed into the shower. I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the walk-in shower, adjusting the knobs until I got the right temperature.

“Babe! Jurassic World is on!” She hollered from the other room. Her voice was muffled, her mouth likely full of pizza.

I stood under the hot spray, ruminating over the day, the moments flashing by my eyes like Polaroid snapshots. Kendra, cruising down the highway, laughing as I told her stories about stupid shit I'd done. Kendra, jumping and throwing her hands up at the show. The way her hair fell over her shoulders when she wrapped her arms around my neck. The flurry of playing cards, falling down all around us. Watching her strike up a conversation with any random nearby person at the bar. Surprising me by pulling the cigarette from my hand on the bar's balcony and taking a deep drag of it. Kendra, “I can't keep it in my pants for pizza, Teddy.”

I realized I was just standing there, daydreaming, and I made quick work of shampooing my hair and soaping up the body. I rinsed off and popped out of the shower, grabbing a towel to dry off.

I slipped on a pair of boxers from my duffel, then towel-dried my hair as best I could.

Shutting the light off in the bathroom, I came out to find Chris Pratt riding a motorbike alongside four Raptors on the television..and, Kendra, passed the fuck out. She was propped up against the headboard, a mountain of pillows behind her. She was clutching the TV remote with one hand, and her other hand was in the pizza box beside her. I retrieved her cell off the dresser and snapped a picture, the scene was too good not to.

Oh, I should have known. Get a little grub in the girl and she'd go right to sleep. I've been cockblocked by pizza.

I walked around to her side of the bed, slithering the remote out of her hand, and tossed it over to my side. I gathered up the pizza box, setting it on the dresser. I didn't want to move her too much, so I found an extra blanket in the front closet and covered her up.

She didn't so much as stir through all that commotion. I hit the lights and slid under the sheets, watching the raptor squad try to take down the Indominous. Sweet dreams, sweet girl.

Kendra…………..

My brain registered that I was awake, taking a full minute to send the signals to my heavy eyelids to open.

Where -- Oh, hotel.

I gave myself a mental body scan. OK - slight headache, nothing near what you deserve for how many drinks you had last night. Stomach is good. Shit, I'm naked? No. Got a towel on. Lovely. Throat feels funny - OH MY GOD did I smoke last night? I totally did. Need water.

I was almost in a sitting position, propped up on a number of pillows. The TV was still on, casting a hazy glow over the room. The curtains weren't shut, but it was still pitch dark outside. The clock on my nightstand read 4:37a.

I looked down to my left, Ed was asleep, under the proper comforter, his head laying on a throw pillow from chair in our room. Memories from the night before (or, same day?) rushed back. You boozy idiot. Molesting Ed in a taxi, shouting in the hotel lobby and stuffing your face with pizza before passing out in a towel. Get your shit together.

Poor guy. He really had the patience of a saint, didn't he? Perhaps he deserves a reward….

I slipped out of bed, tripping over my tired feet to the bathroom. I slammed a glass of water straight from the faucet, and brushed my teeth.

Ed was still asleep, his mouth partially open, snoring quietly. Was he naked? All that peeked out from the comforter was his left arm, in all it's tattooed vibrancy. He definitely doesn't have a shirt on..

I crept over to the bed, slowly peeling back the covers to expose this sexy man. Shoulders, chest, belly… a thick, gray waistband of his favorite boxer briefs. Fuzzy, muscled thighs... yummy.

He groaned, rolling over on his side, apparently unhappy with his warm covers being taken. I dropped the towel, discarding it in a pile around my feet, and sidled in next to him in the bed, pressing every inch of flesh against his exposed skin.

I dragged my fingertips down his bicep, scratching likely. He began to stir, waking slowly, his feet stretched out at the end of the bed. I kissed the back of his neck, a wet kiss, sucking on his pale skin, nibbling at the close of the kiss.

He rolled over, stretching his limbs in the process

“Hi, baby..” I spoke softly, wanting to wake him up gently.

“Mmmm. Hi.” He rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Shhhh,” I pressed my fingers to his lips, quickly following up with my mouth. I rocked him backwards, til he was lying flat on his back. I pulled myself on top of him so that our bodies were chest-to-chest, loving the feeling of his hot skin on mine.

I reached back to find his cock, already firming. I traipsed my fingers over the thin fabric, stroking him slowly, feeling him come to life under my touch.

I kissed Ed’s collarbones, letting my wet lips drag over his skin as I made my descent. I let the tip of my tongue dance over his nipple, flicking softly. He groaned, the vibrations rippling down his torso. Ed brought his hands up to my shoulders, applying a bit of pressure, essentially guiding me downwards, showing me what he wanted. Sexy.

I increased the pressure on his cock, pressing into it, now fully erect. I kissed down the soft curve of his belly, leaving a little nip on his hip bone.

I sat back on my heels, tugging the elastic band on his boxers down, his rigid cock springing free. I dragged the boxers down and over his ankles, discarding them on the floor.

I settled in, laying on my belly between his legs, my knees bent up behind me, ankles crossed. I gripped the base of his cock properly, and ran my flattened tongue up the underside of his shaft, wetting it with my saliva.

I repeated this, tantalizing him with my tongue,until I heard his heavy breathing. I propped myself up on my elbows, one on either side of his hips, my full breasts resting just below his pelvis.

I flicked my hair over my shoulder, the long tresses falling back into place almost immediately. He must have noticed my struggle, because he threaded his fingers through my hair, pulling it away from my face, wrapping his knuckles up in it. I glanced up at him, locking my eyes on his.

I moved my hand up to the plump, pink head, rubbing the underside with my thumb - then enveloped the whole tip on my mouth, swirling my tongue all around him. He groaned, again, “Fuck,” tumbling out of his mouth.

I took him into my mouth, slowly, flattening my tongue as it glided over his shaft, feeling the thick vein that protruded slightly.

He pushed his hips up toward me, in a soft thrusting motion. I took the hint and started sucking him harder, meeting each thrust with my mouth; hot and wet over his shaft. I took him deeper into my throat, relaxing my gag reflexes, letting his tip brush up on the roof of my mouth, way in the back.

“Fucking love your mouth, baby,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “Just like that, yeah,”

I cupped his balls with my free hand, massaging lightly. He was responding, thrusting up into my mouth a little faster. I hummed, taking him deep into my mouth, faster and faster, the vibrations certainly reaching him. He gripped my makeshift ponytail a little tighter, his breathing ragged.

“Kenn, I'm going to come, yes, fuck - unghh!” I took his full length into my mouth, his warm fluids running down my throat.

I eased up on his shaft, licking up the sticky fluids.

Ed let go of my hair, smoothing it off and away from my face. “It's so hot when you swallow for me, love…” Ugh. His dirty mouth will be the end of me.

“I like making you feel good, Teddy,” I said, simply. Raising up on all fours and climbing back up to rest my head next to his.

“You're not sleepy again, are you?” He asked, flipping his body on top of mine, pinning me down. “Because I am not nearly done with you, yet...” He growled at my throat. Fuck.

His hand reached down to my core, dipping just a fingertip into my folds. “Mmmm,” he moaned.

I was dying for more of his touch, wriggling under his hold, desperately seeking more friction on my pelvis. “Teddy,” I whined.

“Turn over for me, baby?” He used his fingertips to gently guide my body, flipping me over so that I was flat on my tummy. I turned my cheek to the side, laying it against the cool, smooth sheets, my arms laid flat above my head. Ed was sitting back on his heels, anchored between my legs, one of my knees on either side of him. I was super exposed in this position. Ed's hands were tracing my outline, stopping to stroke the pale expanse of skin that was my under-breast, using feather-light strokes.

His talented hands wandered down to my ass next, rubbing and kneading my cheeks and low back. He pushed his thumbs into the small of my back in tight circles, melting away any stress that had been living there.

The hands moved back down to my ass, his flat palms warming the skin there, running over every piece of exposed flesh.

The small length of one fingertip just barely touched my slit. “Is this okay, Kendra?” He asked quietly, stroking me up and down.

“Yes, fuck yes, Teddy,”

His rough finger traced the outline of my opening, then dipped in, just knuckle-deep. I groaned, pushing my butt out towards him, exposing myself even more.

He was rubbing circles into the small of my back with one hand, as he sank a second finger into my slick hole, twisting as he pulled in and out. “You’re practically dripping, darling girl, do you like taking me in your mouth that much?” Why yes, I do.

He pulled out, leaving a noticeable void where I was just starting to get warmed up. “Nooo,” I sputtered.

“Relax, kitten, I've got you,” his voice was low and husky now. He gripped his rock hard cock, smacking it lightly on my ass.

He leaned forward over my body, grabbing two of the fluffy pillows at the top of the bed. “Lift up?” He said, gripping my hip bones and helping raise up my pelvis, sliding the pillows under me. My whole core was elevated now, ass up in the air, my upper body slanted downward. I stretched my arms out ahead of me, bracing myself on my forearms.

He lined up his tip with my opening, wetting the head in my folds, practically dripping at this point. I shook my hips back and forth, softly, teasing him. “Mmmm, feisty…” he muttered.

His cock entering me was pure fucking bliss, his rigid shaft sinking into me, my pink flesh giving way to accommodate his girth & length. “Fuck,” tumbled out of his mouth, a hard emphasis on the 'k’ sound. It was our first time in this position, the sensation of him entering me from behind totally new. His hands were flattened on my back, fingers splayed out, running them slowly up my spine as he took his time entering me.

The angle was different than what I was used to with him, and when he finally sank into me fully, there was a tiny twinge of pain on my back wall. I drew in a sharp breath, relishing in the feeling.

He anchored his hands on my hips and started to work in and out of me, sooo slowly, pulling all the way out of me with each thrust. I pictured him; his silky ginger hair ruffled down over his forehead, his head hung low and he was undoubtedly paying very close attention to the connect and disconnect of our bodies. Ed was a watcher, that much was for sure.

The ridge on the head of his cock dragged at my wet opening with every pass, the sensation was fucking delectable. I loved when he fucked me this way, slow and purposeful. The moments between each thrust were practically suspended in time, my breath gated, waiting for the next wave to crest.

Our physical chemistry was off the charts; I had never experienced anything like it. In past relationships, I was always a little insecure or nervous during sex, but Ed could put me in the most vulnerable position and it only served to turn me on more.

I was whimpering, torn between wanting this achingly slow lovemaking, and wanting to be well & truly fucked. Ed had way more patience than me.

I pushed my hips back against him, meeting each thrust. He released his hands from my hips, dragging his fingertips over my ass, rubbing and kneading the soft flesh. I intensified my pace, pushing myself over him again and again, a little faster each time. He eased off on his own thrusting, letting me take the reins, his hands falling to his sides.

“Yes, baby, fuck my cock, yes,” he sputtered.

I found my rhythm, taking him into me as deeply as I could, his cock hitting that front wall with a thud and a dull ache. The groans spilling out of Ed’s mouth were like nothing I had heard from him before; they were wild, primal. It drove me crazy.

His hands were on me again; his left grabbing hold of my hip, taking back some of the control. His right hand snaked down, around my front, finding my clit and applying just steady, unrelenting pressure. No circles, no grinding, he just held his thumb and middle fingertips to my sensitive little bundle, his thrusts into me pushed my pelvis up against his fingers and the pillows, giving me the pulsation I needed.

It was so unbelievably sexy, Ed fucking me from behind, burying his cock in me, his breathing heavy and ragged. His calloused fingertips steady on my clit, God, his brain must be torn… instinctively probably wanting to just fuck me like his life depended on it, but needing me to get off, too, before he could let himself go.

I swear my nerves were singing, the constant pace on my clit matching the thrusts as I took Ed in, over and over, his pelvis colliding into me. I was climbing, climbing -- swiftly sailing up towards that white-hot heat. I hung on to it as long as I could, trying to delay the inevitable, the struggle making it that much sweeter.

“Ohmygod - Teddy - Fuck,” I shouted, and it all came crashing down. I clenched my thighs together, riding out the aftershocks, my vaginal muscles contracting around him. He leaned over me, planting a sloppy, wet kiss on each of my vertebrae.

The scruff of his ginger beard scratched up against the skin between my shoulder blades, his fingers reaching up to comb through my hair. “I want to see you, Kendra.” He eased off of my back, pulling the pillows out from under me, and quickly slipped out of me. I shifted my weight, turning onto my back. Ed nudged himself between my thighs again, and propped one of the discarded pillows behind my head. This sweet, tender man who brushed the stray hairs off my face and ensured I was comfortably propped up was the same man who had been fucking me wildly, guttural sounds spilling from his mouth just minutes ago. I scored, big-time.

“Teddy, I --” What. Shit. No. “T-think you are so amazing,” Did I falter? “That felt so amazing.” Okay, you got it.

He grinned, gripping his cock and sinking into me once again. “I think you are so amazing, too, Kendra..” and his mouth came crashing down on mine, his desperate need transferring to me. “I love the way you come undone for me..”

Our bodies crashed together, rocking totally in sync. I let my hands wander his his back; touching, teasing, scratching. He was gliding into me in long, steady strokes, like he was just trying to get as close to me as he possibly could. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath moist and hot on my skin. I brought a hand up to his hair, twisting his curly locks into my fingers.

“Harder, Teddy,” I moaned into his ear, his body responding immediately.

He propped himself on his hands, kissing my forehead, pounding into me again, frenzied. I brought my hands up to my breasts, rolling my nipples between my fingers. I squeezed my eyes closed, straining my head back, moaning -- I knew full well this would be quite the sight for him.

“Yes, baby, yes,” I cried out, eyes still clamped closed. I let go of my breasts, letting them sway up and down as he fucked into me.

“Do you want me to come for you, Kenn?” He could barely get the words out.

I opened my eyes, then, meeting his gaze directly. “No, Teddy, don’t come yet --”

I watched him fall over the edge as soon as the words were out of my mouth, a series of breathy Ah, ah, ahs tumbling out of his mouth as his hips stuttered into mine. He collapsed onto my chest.

“I’m sorry - I couldn’t hold on,” he rasped.

I ran my fingers through the damp curls at the back of his neck. “It’s okay, Teddy, I figured telling you not to come would only make you want to come more…”

“You’re fucking right it did,” He kissed me; open-mouthed but no tongue. “I’m going to get up now...any second.”

I pulled him in, closer to me, wrapping my arms around his sexy shoulder blades. “Shh, just stay here with me,” I whispered. I bent my right knee, bringing it up towards my waist, cradling Ed between my legs, his cock still solid inside me, and we both closed our eyes and drifted off.

#ed sheeran smut #ed sheeran #ed sheeran fanfic #ed sheeran mature fan fic #Ed&Kendra #Pizza #Masterlist #Smut

40 notes · View notes

crazydiscostu · 4 years

Text

It’s been a while since we set foot on such hallowed soil and I for one am elated to be back in Dragonborn country.

Elder Scrolls Online (ESO) has become something of a faithful old companion at this stage – in the sense that the 2 of us have lost days and nights adventuring the stunning vistas of Tamriel together, looting bodies, running away from battles and desperately trying to efficiently maximize bag space.

Disclaimer : Game and expansions provided by Bethesda Europe / Zenimax for review purposes.

“Supernatural Harrowstorms plague Western Skyrim, and dark beasts, led by a powerful Vampire Lord, devour souls to further their mysterious plans. In The Elder Scrolls Online: Greymoor, The Elder Scrolls Online’s newest Chapter, you must defend the besieged Nords and uncover the evil behind this monstrous resurgence.”

As with previous ESO releases I had some preparations to make before play could begin :

I began by notifying my employer that once again I would not make it to the office for the foreseeable future. As there was a global pandemic in effect at the time they whole-heartedly agreed but reiterated that i would still need to complete the functions of my job. My long-suffering fiance rolled her eyes. Finally I notified my friends and family that I would not require interaction for the next few weeks. They too, rolled their eyes…..

As with previous ESO reviews (You can find them at the bottom of the page), the game world is so vast and expansive it’s hard to know where to begin. This chapter leans into Vampires and Werewolves as part of the year-long theme ‘Dark heart of Skyrim‘ storyline and is bathed in nostalgia for the most successful of the Elder Scrolls releases to date. Even from the explosive opening the game embraces this thinking and runs triumphantly with it.

Lyris Titanborn : Tamriel PD

Fan-favourite Lyris Titanborn (and the talented Jennifer Hale) returns as a main character in this mystery adventure. She looks like Taylor Swift if she was built like a brick shit house. The beautiful hard-as-nails adventurer has returned to assist you in getting to the bottom of some strange killings, weird ceremonies and dodgy-looking characters, aligning herself with your character to form an unlikely buddy-cop duo.

It’s safe to say Lyris and I are close at this point. We took down a few Bone Colusses back in the day defeating Mannimarco, if you know what I mean* NUDGE NUDGE, WINK WINK. (*We fought some Bone Collusses together)

This buddy-cop dynamic early in the game works well and eases the player into the story. For instance – we happened upon a crime scene and began our investigation. Lyris secured the area and interviewed the associated parties while I searched the nearby bookcases for lore and sweet rolls. It’s a strong partnership that largely involves me standing behind her while she interrogates suspects. The old “good cop / small cop routine”. No sweet rolls were discovered. The investigation continues….

“We’d like to ask you a few questions”

*peers from behind Lyris shaking fist. “YEH!”

What’s New?

Well for starters we’re furnished with a new zone to explore in the form of Western Skyrim (comprising iconic locations Solitude and Blackreach) which has been lovingly recreated.

The Antiquities system – a kind of treasure-hunt activity. Think of the process as Battleships meets Mine-hunter but comparable to World Of Warcraft‘s Archaeology system that has the feel of a mobile game. 2 new skill lines in the form of Scrying and Excavation accompany this. These take a while to level up but offer a relaxing mini-game style process that offers respite from questing and delving. The process also provides a fresh angle to the game and a chance to grab some mythic gear. This feature is intriguing and looks like something that will be further developed with future releases.

Theres a new 12-player Trial event called Kyne’s Aegis where you repel a horde of monsters and collosal sea giants.

The addition of a new world event: Harrowstorms. These are much like the dark anchors or dragons and provide a good place to meet other players and party up.

6 new delves, public dungeons, and stand-alone quests with about 30-40 hours of new content (possibly even more)

Investigating a mystery

Harrowstorms

Vamps Revamped

I haven’t spent much time exploring the Werewolf or Vampire abilities within this release. It’s been a long-term staple of the franchise to have blood-lusting toothy Goths knocking about and Greymoor is sporting that trend as a main plot point, riffing heavily on Skyrim’s Dawngaurd expansion.

The Vampire skill line has got a bit of an overhaul with this release, which some longer toothed counts may find disconcerting. This overhaul is game-wide and also integrates with the base game : Moving forward it has become harder to sustain Vampirism at higher levels. Gaining higher levels obviously comes with penalties but these take the form of reduced health recovery, increased damage from flame attacks and an increased cost for non-Vampiric abilities

VAMPIRE SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT : Much like with the addition of the Necromancer line it is important to remember that using your powers in a settlement is a crime so plan your next NPC buffet carefully.

The voice talent in ESO is superb

Crazydiscostu1

Conclusions And Commentary

For me a huge selling point of ESO, and a factor that keeps me coming back, is the impressive voice-acting talent that continues to add depth to the game narrative. In past releases we’ve heard the likes of big names such as Michael Gambon, Kate Beckinsale, Bill Nighy, Malcolm Mcdowell and John Cleese to name but a few. The big names fall in line with the rest of the voice-talent as the building blocks of ESO‘s stories and ever-expanding lore.

From what i gather Zenimax Online are rolling out patches consistently to provide gamers with the best experience possible and so far I haven’t experienced any instances of glitching or texture loss as yet – something that fans of the series have been critical of in the past.

In my opinion Greymoor brings a fresh feel to ESO despite being routed in nostalgia. The environments are alive and the mystery is involving. The Music as ever helps to set the scene moving effortlessly from themes dwelling in the wistful and atmospheric, to involving dramatic tension during action sequences and battles.

A positive for this one (as with other chapters) is that you can drop straight into the Greymoor story from any level and any updates to skill lines etc are ESO-wide.

A critical piece of commentary would be the lack of SLAP option when engaging with Shield Corporal Thjol in the early chapters, but i can live without this for now.

There is no new PVP content this release and to be honest i’m happy with that. I don’t know many people who were crying out for it. Such is the environment and continues to be the winning recipe for ESO.

It’s easy to forget that ESO has a Main Quest Storyline with each of these releases. Not that it isn’t engrossing, more that the side quests are also quite involving and in most cases require as much attention for the player. That being said, the releases blend in with the existing world so effortlessly there is no apparent overlap of content – just an expansion to the adventure. (I’ve spent the last few months completing jobs for every wafe and stray that crosses my path and I’ve decided it’s time to get back to the Main Quest)

Greymoor isn’t just the awkward younger Goth cousin of Skyrim, but it is definitely a blood relation. It is not just younger in the sense that ESO is set nearly 1000 years before Elder Scrolls V, it’s younger in the sense that there is a glimpse of youthful hope and exuberance about it. Despite the black clothing, eyeliner, painted nails and bleak world view – you just know this kid is gonna be alright. Greymoor has it’s whole life ahead of it….

About to drop the hottest doom metal album of 2020…

You can check out our previous coverage of ESO here :

Elder Scrolls Online : Summerset

Elder Scrolls Online : Elseweyr

Nerd Food : Sweet Rolls Recipe

Music To Quest To : Epic As Feck Playlist

CrazyDiscoStu.Wordpress.com

Elder Scrolls : Greymoor It's been a while since we set foot on such hallowed soil and I for one am elated to be back in Dragonborn country.

0 notes

originaldetectivesheep · 7 years

Text

A Life of Riley Part 1 - The Problem With Grinckles ch 6

Chapter 5

I leaned back and hit Send; the formatting on my Differential Equations homework had finally turned out all correct the third time I'd printed it, so I could send the PDF over to my professor and be done for the day. Two hours of math and then another two and a half hours beating LaTeX with a rock to do up all the formulas so they looked like something, but I was done all my math for the weekend before five on Saturday. I was golden; plenty of time to eat dinner, see what was good on my groups, then hit up someone's party or go down to the bars on Sperry Street and try to hook up. I still had a couple microwaves problems that needed tightening up, but I could handle those tomorrow; tonight was tonight, and tonight was all mine.

As I logged out of the lab terminal and stood up, I saw Sajitha waving at me through the glass out in the corridor. I waved back, unconcerned, but she was still there in the same place after I made my way out, dropping the test prints into the recycling bucket. "Hey, Saj," I said by way of trying to figure out what was going on, "what's up? Are you looking for me for something?"

She shook her head, still falling in next to me as I walked down the hall. "Kind of," she said, "but not really. Are you going over to the lab?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't have anything to do over there tonight. I was just going to go grab dinner, probably at the Zussman caf, and see where it was going off tonight. You?"

"The caf? Under Zussman? Are you into the shredded green-bean sludge they put on everything or something? Don't you live like just the other side of the parking lot behind the ChemE lab barn? Why the caf when it's that close to go home? Did you just forget to buy food or something?"

"No, I am kinda running low," I said, "but you don't have to eat the green-bean casserole slurry they give you if you don't want to, and actually mostly I'm trying to avoid this chick Laura from the complex; if I go home and do some ramen she'll be sniffing around to 'pregame' with her friends, and then we'll end up getting blasted and hook up while they go out. Normally I wouldn't mind, but I'm feeling good and I actually want to do something tonight, not just get drunk watching TV and have bad vodka sex. I mean, it's been a good day, and I got a feeling it's going to be a good night – how about I bag the caf, and we go down and tear it up at the Scottsdale till we score or get kicked out?"

"I want to go out," she said, stepping up right in next to me, "but I have something that I have to finish drawing out for Riley – some kind of stupid STOVL wing part – and I was hoping that you were going that way so I could ask you to walk me across the quad; there's some weird protest there tonight and I've been hearing bad things about it."

"Some kind of wack protest?" I said, turning to look her over critically. "Bad shit? What the hell is it? The Black Bloc? Frog nazis? And you want me to walk you over? Saj, you'd be beating them up for me. Why not text Remy?"

Sajitha rolled her eyes and sighed a mighty sigh. "First, Remy has a meet against Tech this weekend, so he's in Grabau Green getting kicked in the face. And second, even if he was around, I wouldn't want to encourage him." I wisely refrained from commenting about how she knew a hell of a lot about his schedule, for a dude that she didn't want to encourage interest in. "And I know I can take care of myself; it's just for insurance. I don't think it's frog nazis, but if it is, I want to just go to the lab, and not to jail because I shoved some CompEng incel weeaboo's tiki torch so far up his ass it knocked his teeth out. They won't start if I'm not alone."

I nodded. "Okay, okay. I get you, and it's not that far out of the way. No problem." I stuck my hands in my pockets, maybe unconsciously imitating Remy's fighter's strut. "And if there's really a protest that's going to turn bad, I'm kind of curious about it – I don't think I've ever seen a riot in real life."

Sajitha shuddered. "Yeah, that's a good thing. You really don't want to, trust me. But this one, it's probably not going to be a real riot, people throwing bricks at the cops shooting rubber bullets and stuff. It's not that kind of protest – not political, no counterprotest at least that I've heard about, just talk that it would get taken over for a prank." I could tell she was shaken up about the possibility of a riot, because she didn't even glare at me as I held the door open ahead of her.

"A prank?" I asked. "Who the hell takes over a protest as a prank? What the heck kind of protest even lets itself in for something like that? Are you sure you're getting accurate information?"

Sajitha took a deep breath as we left the library path onto the main road over towards the engineering quad. "A protest put up by amateurs who don't know how to read people who pretend to offer help. Listen, I haven't told a lot of people about this, but back freshman year I rushed one of the desi sororities for like thirty seconds, just so that I could show my parents that it wasn't ever going to happen, and I still talk to a couple of the girls who did make it in. Someone working in the admin office like Tuesday saw an application for a protest from some Anti-Grinckle Askari thing that didn't exist two weeks ago, Comic Sans and formal, non-native English, and they approved it as a joke – and told their frat buddies, who told all their other frat buddies, and now it's like all around the frats that they're going to show up and take over this protest, and with everyone drunk off their ass after that football game, if it even happens it's not going to go well. It's probably not going to go Nazi, but how do you even tell these days – and I spend too much time around the AP lab to not just keep thinking about how much worse things could get than my worst-case scenario."

I was thinking. "Grinckles again – and askari, that's Swahili, for like 'soldier' or 'army'. He might have gotten other people to help him, but this smells like Wilson; he told us he was going to get rid of the grinckles his way, and that we should stay out of the way, but if he's getting taken for a ride by a bunch of frat bros, I'd want to get him out of there, get him back to his senses before he gets blamed for their shit and expelled or something. Those white-cap wastoids can just have Daddy write another full-freight check to Tech or some other school if they get kicked out, but if Wilson loses his scholarship here, that's the end: no degree, no medical boards, and he has to go back to his village and, no lie no racism, live in a house made out of mud and sticks. Seriously; I've seen his pictures from home. We haven't spoken since that thing two weeks ago, but no way I'm going to let that happen to him."

Sajitha nodded, sticking close as we came up on the quad. "I know. I hope it's not – but if it is, then I guess we've got to; do you think I should maybe ping Riley and see if we can't get the rest of the lab to help?"

I turned in place; there was the start of a crowd ahead – thank god no tiki torches, and the haircuts weren't quite shitty enough for a high Nazi turnout – and I had to get this straightened out before we got any closer, up where more people might hear us. "Not now – not right now and not except as a last resort, if everything goes completely to shit and we can't do anything. You call for help from the lab, and Riley's going to roll up here with that cannon again, and half the dislocator rigged up as an area-denial energy weapon, and things are just going to get worse. If we can just put a bag over Wilson's head and kick a couple bros in the stomach and get away like that, we'll do it that way, the easy and sane way, and not make this dumb rally a case for the FBI." Sajitha nodded her agreement, and I turned back, to start leading us through the crowd of white dudes in khakis and polo shirts towards where we'd be able to do something for Wilson if he was mixed up in this.

There sure did seem to be a lot of white people here, a lot more than you got around the engineering quad generally, or at any protest that wasn't going to start heiling at you. And while they still didn't look like Nazis, they didn't smell like the safe kind of white protestors; alcohol and meathead body spray, not patchouli oil and weed. This was a "protest" of mostly frat bros, drunk up to their eyeballs, in it for the lulz – and you had to be real dumb to give Wilson more than a snowball's chance in this kind of crowd, especially if the cops flipped out and shit got real. There was some kind of stage set up on the steps of Dittmarsch Hall, some kind of PA set up there, and I sidled through towards it, trying to make out what was going on and also not knock over anyone's beer and start a riot before we could figure out what the hell was supposed to be happening.

There was a scree and a hiss and a squelch from the speakers up front; some idiot not knowing how to microphone, and then the confirmation for everyone who hadn't done A/V crap in high school: "Yo dudes, y'all ready to get LIT? Are you ready to fight tha power? Ready or not, comin' straight atcha – himself, the generalissimo, El commandante, HNIC of the AGA – come on and give it up! Stand up, set up, get up for the Fearless – uuuurp – Leader, Eddy Wannafunzi!" I could see the speaker gesturing now, gesturing at someone over at the side of the steps who probably was justifiably nervous about following that brain-dead, peripherally racist attempt at a hype intro. "Get up! Get up! Make some noise! Fuck the cops!" The bros around us burst out cheering and wooting, and whoever it was hanging about getting introduced up front decided that was good enough and started to come out, the streetlights glinting off a galaxy of medals on a crazy costume-shop uniform with the brushes on the shoulders, a peaked cap so high it looked like it had been cut right out of a political cartoon.

"Good," Sajitha murmured, pressed into my back. "It's not Wilson up there – it's not him; it's another name and there's no way he'd lose all his self-respect and go outside in a uniform like that. Can we go now? This rally's going to get real stupid if that's how it starts, and someone's going to get hurt."

"No," I said, craning around to see past some idiot in a white baseball hat from a pro lacrosse team, "no, that's definitely Wilson. The name is super fake and I don't know where he got the uniform from, but that's definitely his glasses. Go ahead and text Riley – this is about to officially get so bad that the Applied Physics lab can't make it worse." As if on cue, a megaphone crackled to life, and Wilson's voice gruddered out over the assembled throng – crumpled up and distorted and maybe he was trying to put on a different accent, but Wilson always and all the same.

"Comrades!" he shouted, "Comrades – comrades one and all! We are the same – we want the same thing! We will stop the invasion – we will stop the violation against nature! We will act – we will act united – we will act united right now! We will kill them – we will kill all of them – we will kill all the red fish! We can't stop – we can't even leave one alive. Now! Up! Commit yourselves! Swear it! Hate! Hate! Kill!"

"Man, it's a good thing he's got his fist closed, holding it up like that, or I'd think we were really in bizarro world," I said, shoving some drunk bro out of the way so Sajitha could nudge past. "I give it about fifteen seconds until someone yells a racial slur and the police come in with clubs – no idea how he's still talking up there." The crowd was roiling around us, yelling incoherently at the challenge lines, occasionally making sense, but a bad kind of sense: "Yeah! Kill! Fuck! Get'em! Fuck the cops! Revenge!" Wilson was talking about grinckles up on the stage, in a way that would whip up his audience before they realized that he was talking about fish, but down here, nobody was hearing anything about fish at all.

"Yeah! Hell yeah! That's it! Fight the power!" The hype man, whoever he was, was back, and Wilson was looking confused that he was getting upstaged, that his anti-grinckle rally was getting co-opted into an anti-something else rally. "You heard the man – you heard the man – we got to get'em – we got to get the reds! The fish are the end of the wedge – the fish are the tip of the iceberg; you know what we need to do. We got to get all the ching chong fish, get all the ching chong cops, get all of them, we show them who's boss! Fight the power! Fuck the cops! Get the chingchongs!" I almost stopped for a moment as the crowd exploded – the cops must be charging from some side or another, the explicit race riot incitement the last straw – trying to figure out just how and why in the hell this had suddenly turned into a riot against Asians, and then Sajitha shoved me forward.

"RIOT!!!" someone bellowed too close, and the crowd turned into a moshpit, and I was getting rammed forward like the prow of an icebreaker, Sajitha's shoulder in my back. Dudes were punching other dudes, going flying past and above and around us, randoms screaming, and it was all I could do to defend myself. "I hope you like your riot now," she said, still shoving, "because this is going to feel like makeouts from a starstuck freshman next to what's going to happen in a moment. Please, help shove, so we can get to your stupid, stupid friend before they open up with tear gas." "GAS GAS GAS!" someone screamed, either because they heard her wrong or because someone had actually gotten a whiff of pepper spray, and the riot turned into a stampede.

With more of the bros running and fewer of them fighting us, it got easier to push forward, enough to get close enough to see Wilson arguing with his hype man – close enough to see him catch a slap on the ear that unbalanced him and pitched him a nasty fall down the stairs. I forgot Sajitha, forgot the butthole who'd just punched him in the head, and dove over to make sure he was all right – still breathing, no blood like a fracture, but his eyes were rolled back like he was concussed. "Wilson! Wilson! Say something!"

"Mic DROOOOOP!" yelled the hype man from a few steps up, following it up by dropping the hot mic into a scrultching cacophony of electronic noise as it bashed itself off the steps towards me. "You got tha powaaa! You got to get up! You got to kill all tha dam ching-chong!" The shithead was wearing Wilson's idiot cap and doing an accent that was probably trying to be Nigerian based on a racist comedian who'd only ever heard it second-hand, and was the shit goddamn last absolute thing we needed. He lowered the megaphone, wavering as he looked us over, staring up and down Sajitha's figure; "Hey, baby," he said, super-obviously drunk, "what up? You wanna slammalama-ding-dong?" He swung his hips and leered, oblivious to the full-scale riot raging around us.

"Oh yeah," Sajitha said, slipping her right hand into her handbag, "I definitely wanna smash." She took a step forward, wiggling her shoulders to distract him, and then punched him so hard with the brass knuckles around her right fist that I saw a shower of teeth and maybe jawbone chips go flying the other way. The hype man went down in a heap, and there was no sign of anyone stupid or brave or interested enough to avenge him anywhere close.

"How is he?" Sajitha dropped down beside me as I tried to cradle Wilson's head, keep his feet elevated, so that at least he wouldn't get any worse and it would be obvious, if the cops broke through here, that he was a victim and not a perp.

"He's hurt bad," I said, "he went down the stairs bad and I guess he hit his head – I dunno if he's conscious yet. Where's the help? Where's the lab? Shit, I'd be glad to see them roll up with that goddamned cannon again, things are so bad."

"Riley's sending Carolína to get us with the truck," Sajitha answered, ripping the more obvious medals off Wilson's uniform in case someone had made him as an Idi Amin cosplayer. "I didn't hear anything about a cannon, but you never know." Behind us, there was a squeal of tires, the roar of an engine, and then the shouts and screams of a bunch of panicked frat bros as Carolína's beat-up black Bronco skidded sideways through them to come to a stop at the foot of the stairs. I didn't think you even could drift a Ford Bronco – that must have been something that they worked on when they put the engine back on its mounts after the cannon thing.

The passenger door popped open as if from a kick, but it wasn't Carolína hunched up so she could barely see over the wheel in the driver's seat – that was Yuping's black brush, tall and rigid way up near the roof. The plan had changed since Sajitha got her text, obviously, but he was still a friend and we had to get while the getting was good. I threw Wilson's arm over my shoulders to carry him over to the truck, and Sajitha rushed ahead to open the rear door and get us all bundled in.

The crowd was starting to close up around us by the time she closed the passenger door behind her and Yuping put the Bronco in gear again – a few of them maybe noticing that he was one of the ones they were supposed to hate. "So what happened? Is Carolína okay?" Sajitha didn't look that concerned, but if the plan was changed now, there might be other changes later.

"She okay," Yuping said, "Riley just change driver last minute. 'Colombian learn drive too nice,' Riley say, 'because consequences. But Chinese don't take prisoner.'" Yuping set the shifter, left hand holding the wheel in hard, then stomped on the gas, scattering frat bros like leaves before the whirlwind. It wasn't strictly accurate – Yuping hadn't been one of those princelings immune to the laws back in China, but then again I was pretty sure that Colombians didn't actually settle every traffic argument with gunplay either – but if it got him to move like this it was good enough. Protestors and cops alike jumped out of our way as he gunned the engine, accelerating over the footpaths to go and find a road; if he was going to drive like this, we didn't need the autocannon to get away.

Yuping parked by the loading dock behind the building that housed the AP lab after a bunch of twists and turns and ducks to make sure we'd shed all the cops, and I handed off Wilson's incriminating uniform jacket to Sajitha to throw in a dumpster while Yuping and I carried him up the stairs. Up in the lab, Carolína had hugs and ajiaco and aguardiente for everyone and enough cardboard and spare cushions on the floor to let Wilson rest easy; Riley, by contrast, was completely occupied torch-cutting something and barely looked up as we came in.

"I don't get it, though," I said, after we'd gotten him comfortable; Wilson was stirring a little, but it was better to let him come back to himself on his own terms, with as much chicken-potato stew and sugarcane whiskey as that would involve. "I mean, what the shit? Who the hell is mad about Asians in this day and age? I mean, shit, 'ching-chong', who even says that?"

"It was kind of a bad day for them, you know," Carolína said, like she was taking part in a different conversation. "If they didn't have Roosevelt Kang in their fantasy, it was very bad – he went off, he threw four touchdowns and ran in a fifth on a naked bootleg very late, like he was rubbing it in."

I blinked, because I wasn't sure what Wisconsin's half-Korean quarterback had to do with anything. "Okay, yeah, that's a good day for Kang, and if the dude you were playing started him, then yeah, you got killed, but there was a lot of bros there – they couldn't all have been playing against him this week." Sajitha and Carolína and Yuping all stared at me after that, and even Riley turned around, torch laid aside.

"Leo, we played Wisconsin today," Sajitha said at last, slowly like she couldn't believe someone was this dumb. "At home. We lost 45-nothing. Roosevelt Kang squatted down and teabagged the entire campus, or at least all the people who care too much about football. Do you get it now?" I started to get it – angry drunks who'd just gotten humiliated in their own stadium; white people, mostly, who'd seen some Asian-looking dude go yard on them at football. It was easier to understand, but that didn't make the riot any less stupid.

"All right," I said, "I kind of get it – I can understand it, but I can't excuse it. And shit, Wilson, what were you thinking? I can't excuse that, getting up in front of a bunch of drunk, short-fuse white people and talking like that. You hang around with me too much, man – you forget how like nearly all the other white people around here are." I felt kind bad about rolling it downhill onto Wilson, blinking on the cushion pile with Carolína holding a bag of peas to the lump on his head, but he was conscious again and it really did go down to him: he didn't have to have this rally, but he did it, and one way or another everything went from there.

"I had to," he said, his voice soft and rounded at the edges, like he was half-dreaming, half-there. "I had to – if you don't get them screaming, they just sit and scratch. And I have to get them screaming – you didn't see, I didn't send you profile after it finished. This 'grinckle', this thing – didn't it come from here? This lab? The genetics is all wrong – it's all wrong backwards, it's so wrong that if I took a different course last semester, more genetic cladistics, I maybe might say it's not a fish. What the hell? Who makes a fish that's not a fish, then puts it on campus to walk by crutches pond to pond? Nobody – but when it happens – only Applied Physics."

"Wilson, I – yeah, I kind of get where you're coming from. But – why? What the hell's that supposed to get anybody?"

He shook his head, wincing from the bruise. "I don't know. I don't think, maybe, I can ever find out. But there's no why – nobody else can, so when it happens, it's Applied Physics must have."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," Riley said from the corner, "but just so you know, the grinckles aren't our fish. I've got my hands full with enough crap as it is – we're not gene-printing random new fish to get Yuping more likes. Speaking of," – and Riley changed the subject, exactly like Riley always changed the subject, and like always this was a change for the worse that we'd all have been better off if it didn't have to happen – "Leo, don't you live in Muttonbird Terraces?"

I blinked again, afraid of what was about to come next. "Yes. Yeah, I do. Why?"

"You're trending local." I immediately grabbed up my phone and punched in on the tag; everyone around me was doing the same. Lol fire at Muttonbird – lol fratboys burning down Muttonbird – i'm live right now yall gotta see this cops shooting at houses on fire at Muttonbird – lol Muttonbird such poors many molotov. I slumped forward. Perfect. The idiot frats had gotten run off the eng quad and now they were burning down my home development and fighting the cops in the ruins. The phone buzzed, and someone was livestreaming: a cop car was rolled over, on fire against a backdrop of low-rises on fire, white-hatted assholes jumping around, shaking up and throwing beer cans like grenades, as my entire neighborhood went up in smoke. I looked up, and I had become the lab's pity sink; even Wilson, a glass of aguardiente under his nose to sniff himself awake, was looking at me like I was a street dog begging for pats.

"Well, yeah, you're not going to be able to go home for a while after that – if there's even anywhere to go back to." Riley cut to the chase like usual, standing up, hands on hips. "But you're a friend of the lab, and there's always a place here for you, same as for your friend if he wants to hide out here till the heat goes down. Sit tight for a second; I'll send Yuping out to go grab some extra cardboard, and I'll kick clear a place under the lathe in a minute or two." Riley nodded approvingly at me, and nobody else in the lab thought there was anything wrong with it. Excellent. What an awesome Saturday night. I'd made some mistakes today, but this was the dead-ass all end: a nice promising weekend with the homework all done turning into one of my best friends mauled in a riot, my place burned down, and me ending up living sleeping on the floor in the friggin Applied Physics lab was all anyone ought to need to convince themselves that no matter how bad they thought their worst-case scenario was, it could always get worse. A lot worse. A whole lot worse, if Riley and this crazy lab somehow happened to get involved.

back to the top, to continue to part 2

#nanowrimo #alifeofriley #fiction

1 note · View note

blschaos3000-blog · 5 years

Text

Its 3:31 pm

Welcome to a another edition of “8 Questions with…..” I’m pretty jazzed up for today’s interview with George Rother. I’m finally getting to talk with a fellow film buff and critic who is very much like myself. And just like most SERIOUS film buffs,George just doesn’t stick with the latest blockbusters or trendy releases,he isn’t afraid to explore quality foreign offerings or B-movie fun. If it can be seen on a screen,George is there to offer fair and quality insight and honestly,one can spend hours on his website Movie Guy 24/7. I know because the cheetah and I have spent a few visits checking out some classics from days gone by. George also has a crazy interactive Facebook page with over 10,000 followers who enjoy talking films in a respectful way which is rather refreshing to see. I’ll post a link down below after the interview. But for now,let’s go ask George his 8 Questions…….

Please introduce yourself and tell us a little about Movie Guy 24/7

My name is George Rother. I am a lifelong movie lover. I started Movie Guy 24/7 in 2010 after health reasons forced me to retire early. I’m primarily a film critic but I do more than review movies. If you go on the Movie Guy 24/7 FaceBook page, I post things daily. I offer up trivia, I ask questions, I give challenges, I put up songs, clips and trailers from movies. I do all sorts of things to interact with my fans/friends.

What makes film so important to you?

Film has been a constant in my life. I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up so I often went to the movies by myself. I got used to it actually. Film has always been a subject of interest to me. Even as a kid, I wanted to see adult-oriented films like All That Jazz, The Rose, Apocalypse Now and Kramer vs. Kramer. Of course, that pesky parental R-rated movie block kept getting in the way. LOL! Anyway, I just felt at home getting caught up in a filmed story. I became a regular filmgoer at 13 and always seemed to know more about movies than other people my age.

Are movies better today then when you started watching them? What are the three biggest changes besides budgetsand special effects that you like/dislike from films of yesterday and today?

LOL! I hate to resort to cliches but they sure don’t make them like they used to. Most of today’s movies are so impersonal. They’re not art, they’re made by committee. A lot of them are derivative. Comedies aren’t funny anymore; they’re just foul, gross and vulgar. PG-13 horror movies are the cinematic equivalent of watered-down alcoholic drinks. Blockbusters are little more than convoluted, CGI-heavy noisefests. I don’t really care for CGI; it looks too fake. Give me old school practical effects any day.

What makes a movie a “classic” in your eyes?

That’s a subjective thing. Everybody has their own ideas as to what makes a movie classic. If pressed, I suppose I’d have to say longevity. Will it hold up 5, 10, 20 years from now? Sadly, not many of today’s movies are future classics.

Did you feel Hollywood has played a huge part in the rise of gun violence with so many violent shoot-’em ups?

There has always been shooting in movies. Look at the old westerns from the 20s and 30s. Look at the gangster movies from that era. They seemed very violent at the time. Nowadays, filmmakers can get away with showing a lot more. However, I think the depiction of gun violence in film (and TV) has little to do with the rise in real life gun violence. I think it has to do with a person’s nature and/or their surroundings.

What is a difference between a movie critic and a movie buff?

LOL! Why can’t somebody be both? OK, here’s my answer. A movie critic watches a film analytically whereas a movie buff is passionate about film in general. In other words, business vs. pleasure.

What five films/five stars/five directors are you favorites and why?

WOW! That’s a tall question. Let’s start with favorite movies. If you mean all-around cinematic perfection, perfect in every way, I’d have to say Casablanca. If you mean what movie gives me the most pleasure, I’d say the 1982 version of Conan the Barbarian. I can’t really give you a top 5 here so I’ll just give you my favorites in a few genres. Sci-fi: (tie) Blade Runner and 2001: A Space Odyssey, Horror: The Shining, Comedy: A Fish Called Wanda, Cop: Sharky’s Machine, Action: First Blood, Action-Adventure: Raiders of the Lost Ark, Drama: Gandhi and Western: Once Upon a Time in the West. Okay, top 5 (no particular order) lists coming up. My five favorite actors are Jack Nicholson, Clint Eastwood, Steve McQueen, Harvey Keitel and Samuel L. Jackson. My five favorite actresses are Bette Midler, Goldie Hawn, Scarlett Johansson, Audrey Hepburn and Ingrid Bergman. My five favorite directors are David Lynch, David Fincher, Quentin Tarantino, Alejandro Jodorowsky and Martin Scorsese. I don’t really have a reason why other than I like what/who I like.

Is streaming going to kill both the theater experience and pyschical media in your opinion?

I hope that there will always be movie theaters. Nothing matches the experience of seeing a film on the big screen. However, I think more and more small-to-medium budgeted films will premiere on streaming services. It will definitely cut into box office revenue. As for me, I will always see films at a theater.

What five films/fiver stars/fivedirectors do you dislike the most and why?

Ah, my dislikes. Okay, here’s my Top 10 Worst Movies starting with 1979’s Caligula, In my not-so-humble opinion, that is the absolute worst film EVER! It is a vile, disgusting, degrading, depressing and artless piece of crap. The rest of the list is as follows: (2) Basic Instinct 2, (3) Windows, (4) It’s Pat: The Movie, (5) Gummo, (6) Wild Wild West, (7) Baby Geniuses, (8) Knock Off, (9) Dangerous Game and (10) Born American. My five worst actors/actresses: Tom Cruise, Roseanne Barr, Rosie Perez, Ben Affleck and Steven Seagal. Five worst directors: (1) and (2) are Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer, the guys behind lousy spoofs like Disaster Movie, Vampires Suck and Meet the Spartans. The others are Michael Bay, William “One Shot” Beaudine (Billy the Kid vs. Dracula, Jesse James Meets Frankenstein’s Daughter) and William Shatner (ever see Star Trek V?).

Your Facebook page is rising fast in popularity,what makes it such a hot spot for fans?

I guess I’m just lucky. I try to make the page fun for everybody. It’s geared towards movie geeks like myself but I also try to make it accessible for casual movie fans.

What is your impression of TV in general?

For years, I regarded TV as a cultural wasteland. I had no interest in it. As of late, it’s changed a lot. Episodic TV is rapidly becoming popular. Some stories just can’t be told in two hours. Look at Killing Eve and Big Little Lies. My wife and I do a lot of binge watching in the summer. Right now, we’re doing Stranger Things. It’s great. In May/June, we did all eight seasons of Game of Thrones. It was great too. The other great thing is when a network cancels a good show like Designated Survivor, it might get picked up by a streaming outlet like Netflix. I’d say TV has come a very long way.

The cheetah and I are flying in to catch you hosting a film festival but we’re a day early and now you are playing tour guide,what are we doing?

If I was to show you guys around Philadelphia, I’d probably take you to some places where movies were shot. Of course, we’d have to go to Philly’s best cheese steak joint, Jim’s on South Street. After that, who knows? Maybe we’ll catch a movie at one of the Ritz Theaters here in town.

I like to thank George for graciously taking the time to talk film and TV with us today. The cheetah and I seriously recommend following George’s Facebook page for Movie Guy 24/7. Tell’em that we sent you…..you won’t be sorry and you’ll be very entertained! I should have asked George if Jim’s Steaks delivers……..

While the cheetah and I don’t have 10k fans as of yet,we too have a Facebook page called Have Cheetah,Will View which we hope you’ll drop by and join up…

Thank you all for your support,we have a whole new crop of interviews coming including two of my biggest names yet. Stay tuned…….

8 Questions with…………. film buff George Rother of Movie Guy 24/7 Its 3:31 pm Welcome to a another edition of "8 Questions with....." I'm pretty jazzed up for today's interview with George Rother.

#8 Questions With #film buff #film critic #film reviews #Film theater #George Rother #Movie Guy 24/7 #movies #Netflix #passionate #Philadelphia #streaming services #TV shows #writer

0 notes

googlenewson · 5 years

Link

Barathunde Rafiq Thurston is an Emmy-nominated writer, author, activist, comedian, former White House adviser, and a "semi-famous" product of the modern age. I'm a huge fan.

Thurston has countless superpowers but here's my favorite: He can help you consider uncomfortable truths, all while making sure you're laughing for all the right reasons. It's the kind of communication mastery that unites people and inspires them to do better.

His power was on full display during his spectacular TED Talk, which posted yesterday.

In it, he puts the terrifying phenomenon of white people calling the police on black people for just living their lives, into a broader historical context of white supremacy and capitalism. (Which doesn't sound very funny, I know, but trust me.)

He begins by diagramming the headlines of the news stories reporting the incidents. They run on a simple formula:

A subject takes an action against a target engaged in some activity. “White Woman Calls Police On Black Real Estate Investor Inspecting His Own Property.” “California Safeway Calls Cops On Black Woman Donating Food To The Homeless.” “Golf Club Twice Calls Cops On Black Women For Playing Too Slow.” In all these cases, the subject is usually white, the target is usually black, and the activities are anything, from sitting in a Starbucks to using the wrong type of barbecue to napping to walking “agitated” on the way to work, which I just call “walking to work.” And, my personal favorite, not stopping his dog from humping her dog, which is clearly a case for dog police, not people police. All of these activities add up to living. Our existence is being interpreted as crime.

He then asks us, as part of a game, to flip the headlines and turn the absurdity of white supremacy on its head. "Let's face it, 'A Black Woman Calls Police On A White Man Using Neighborhood Pool,' isn't absurd enough," he says. Let's level up! What if his crime was trying to touch her hair without asking? Or just talking over people in a meeting?

And the game is on. "But it comes with a warning: simply reversing the flow of injustice is not justice. That is vengeance, that is not our mission, that’s a different game," he says.

It's signature Barathunde. Click through for his poignant advice for changing the game we're all unconsciously playing. We've got the power, after all.

"I walk around in fear, because I know that someone seeing me as a threat can become a threat to my life, and I am tired," he says. "I am tired of carrying this invisible burden of other people’s fears, and many of us are, and we shouldn’t have to, because we can change this, because we can change the action, which changes the story, which changes the system that allows those stories to happen."

On Point

[bs-title]A private school must diversify after holding a mock slave auction[/bs-title][bs-content]Last March, the Chapel School, a private high school in Bronxville, New York, was widely criticized for holding a mock slave auction in which two fifth grade social studies classes encouraged white students to bid on "shackled" black students. The New York State Attorney General's Office launched a probe into the incident and announced its findings yesterday. For one thing, they found the exercise had a "profoundly negative effect" on the kids - 43 percent of whom identify as something other than white. In addition to diversifying staff, the school must hire a chief diversity officer personally approved by state Attorney General Letitia James. "Lessons designed to separate children on the basis of race have no place in New York classrooms, or in classrooms throughout this country," she said in a statement. Send over your LinkedIns, brave educators.[/bs-content][bs-link link="https://nbcnews.to/2JKiVyb" source="NBC News"]

[bs-title]Maine becomes the 17th state to outlaw gay conversion therapy[/bs-title][bs-content]Maine's Governor Janet Mills signed the bill into law yesterday, banning the discredited and harmful practice that aims to change someone's sexual orientation. "Conversion therapy is a harmful, widely-discredited practice that has no place in Maine," Mills said at the signing ceremony. "By signing this bill into law today, we send an unequivocal message to young LGBTQ people in Maine and across the country: we stand with you, we support you and we will always defend your right to be who you are." While this is good news, advocates worry that there may be a legal loophole if parents send a child to a religious practitioner, instead. A recent study estimates that 20,000 American youth will undergo conversion therapy from a "licensed practitioner" before they turn 18.[/bs-content][bs-link link="http://bit.ly/2W2gqZz" source="Newsweek"]

[bs-title]Lil Nas X took the kids to Old Town Road[/bs-title][bs-content]Pop culture media joint Complex sent a film crew to tag along with Atlanta rapper Lil Nas X as he visited a group of engaged, screaming fans - most of whom were about six years old. This short video of him visiting Lander Elementary School in Mayfield Heights, Ohio is all the proof you need that he will rule the world one day. "I'm finna do the biggest show of my life, and it's going to be great," he says before he walks into the gymnasium. The film shows the kids losing their little damn minds, drowning him out while singing along. People who know children will love the 3:22 mark where he asks the kids to be silent for a second so they can cue the music...and the screaming instantly stops. Ain't nobody tell them nothing...[/bs-content][bs-link link="https://twitter.com/Complex/status/1133796630942113793" source="Complex"]

[bs-title]Randall Park is living his life[/bs-title][bs-content]And, according to this charming profile by E. Alex Jung, he's now doing it on the big screen. The "Fresh Off The Boat" star is about to lay it all bare in Always Be My Maybe, a new feature rom-come he co-wrote and stars in with comedian Ali Wong. The piece is filled with astonishing personal details - Park's nickname as a teenaged camp counselor was "Care Moose," because he was "warm and nurturing but also strong." But its real strength lies in his reflections on what it's been like to be an Asian creative - with a Masters in Asian studies - growing up in Los Angeles. He's still surprised that there are now some real opportunities to become fully realized artists, and not the Asian sidekick. "When I first started acting, I really was genuinely okay with the idea of struggling for the rest of my life," he says. [/bs-content][bs-link link="http://bit.ly/2WvA3xC" source="Vulture"]

On Background

[bs-title]Turn up for health[/bs-title][bs-content]Andr? Blackman is an entrepreneurial public health expert, near the top of my mental list of People Who Will Change The World One Day. His current quest is to diversify the health care workforce; as the founder of OnBoard Health, he's building a now massive community of underrepresented public health care innovators and company founders into an ecosystem he hopes will help them find funding, jobs, and each other to scale their work and influence the wider world. I encouraged him to write his origin story, and explain how he came to be driven by the idea that data science, technology, empathy, diversity and design are the keys to creating healthier societies. It starts, as so many of these stories do, with a great injustice. (I wept.) His story below; follow him on Twitter and LinkedIn. [/bs-content] [bs-link link="http://bit.ly/2Xc03v3" source="Medium"]

[bs-title]Digital media and people of color[/bs-title][bs-content]Lori Kido Lopez, a media activist and associate professor at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, and Jackie Land, a PhD student in media studies who identifies as a "white settler living and working on Ho-Chunk land," have put together a syllabus that aims to recenter the voices of people of color in the broader conversations about technology, democracy, bias and inclusion. The readings give broad context to a relatively new discipline (the field of digital studies dates back to the 1990s) and focuses on the "myriad ways that race has shaped aspects of our digital world--from the infrastructures and policies that support technological development to algorithms and the collection of data, to the interfaces that shape engagement." If you're also looking for deeper background on how communities of color use new media to resist, inform and express themselves, this is a good place to start.[/bs-content][bs-link link="http://bit.ly/2QtXMJ0" source="Center for Critical Race and Digital Studies"]

[bs-title]Barbecue is a beloved American tradition, just not in the way you think[/bs-title][bs-content]Food historian and chef Michael Twitty explains in delightful detail how despite the strict rules of local barbecue customs, the origins of the technique are richly nuanced and an amalgam of traditions from many lands. "If anything, both in etymology and culinary technique, barbecue is as African as it is Native American and European, though enslaved Africans have largely been erased from the modern story of American barbecue," he says. Enslaved people shaped the barbeque tradition in the New World by bringing specific flavors and techniques from their homelands. "And the word barbecue also has roots in West Africa among the Hausa, who used the term 'babbake' to describe a complex of words referring to grilling, toasting, building a large fire, singeing hair or feathers and cooking food over a long period of time over an extravagant fire." You'll be hungry after you read this.[/bs-content][bs-link link="http://bit.ly/2cgeUAc" source="The Guardian"]

Quote

[bs-quote link="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Flzdbzwf5XY" author ="--Barbecue Becky"]I'd like to report that someone is illegally using a charcoal grill in a non-designated area...I'd like it dealt with immediately.[/bs-quote]

from Fortune http://bit.ly/2MeHLIu

#World News

0 notes