just in case since i know some of you are squeamish

It was in the News

He parks his car in front of the factory gate and lifts his heavy body outside. Standing beside the open door he pulls the slightly slipped waistband over his wide butt again. As usual, he therefore hooks his thumbs in the waistband at the back and lets them slide forward without really expecting to pull it over his mighty, overhanging paunch.

“I really should lose weight,” he thinks.

He still feels the celebration of his fifty-ninth birthday in his bones. Nevertheless, he is more than punctual. He did not want to come too late on this date, to which the chairman of the board of directors had appointed him. He has no idea what exactly the occasion is. Just that it is about financial matters. But if a meeting is scheduled for a Saturday morning, it is certain that not everyone should know immediately what’s going on. As usual, he wears a suit and a tie, and quickly walks the few steps to the porter’s lodge. He bends forward until he is able to speak through the small window.

“Good Morning. My name is Krause. Otto Krause. I have a meeting with the board. ”

The doorkeeper puzzles in his book, then points on a spot with his finger.

“There you are. Otto Krause. One moment please.”

The doorkeeper closes the small window and comes out of his box.

“Well, would you please follow me, Mister Krause.”

The doorkeeper turns around and starts to walk so fast that the fat man has to strain himself to follow. Again and again he has to make one, two jump steps that let his belly bounce.

“Please slow down a little. No one is following us. ”

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I am not allowed to stay away from the gate too long.”

Breathing heavily, the fat man follows the doorkeeper across the factory until they finally enter an almost empty hall. The doorman walks on until he stands in front of one of the last heavy workbenches and turns around.

“Please wait here, I’ll be right back.”

While the doorkeeper leaves the hall, he sits with his hands on the workbench and breathes deeply through. As he breathes quietly again, he looks around. He has not been here since his apprenticeship. It’s been ages since then. After the apprenticeship he studied, then he became a department manager and now he is in the upper management. Since he carried out the restructuring, the company is doing well again; financially anyway. The fact that he had billed his expenses somewhat generously was actually his right. Only the board looked at this a little different.

“No tools, no machines. Almost empty. Maybe it’s about further use of this area. ”

He lifts his heavy onto the workbench.

“Wait and see what happens” he thinks.

A few minutes have passed when he hears footsteps and voices outside the hall. The gate opens and two people are coming towards him. He recognizes the doorman and the head of the personnel department. He immediately stands up and stands in front of the workbench. The two men quickly approach him.

“Good morning!” he calls out to them.

“Morning Mister Krause” the head of HR answers.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Not really. Why do we meet here? A strange place for a board meeting”

The head of HR becomes serious.

“It’s not a meeting.”

Krause looks questioning.

“You may know that some inconsistencies have occurred in your expense statements during the last revision.”

“Yes. But the restructuring was a success. You’ll probably be allowed to celebrate it.”

“Celebrate, yes. But not with money that does not belong to you.”

“Oh, come on. A few hundred Euro. I finally saved millions. ”

“It’s not about the amount, it’s about your behaviour. The chairman will dismiss you without notice for fraud and embezzlement. ”

Krause beckons.

“Slow down. We can talk about everything. ”

“The CEO may report you to the police. I checked the relevant laws. Fraud, embezzlement of company funds and the total amount; the courts are not squeamish in these cases. Three years imprisonment is the normal sentence. Then you are sixty-two and convicted. You will not get a job any more. And retirement? You will definitely not get any payments from the company. And you may also pay damages. ”

The fat man looks down on the ground.

“Is it true that you first denied everything?”


The head of HR shakes his head.

“Mister Krause, I’m sorry to say so, but you’re an idiot.”

“Yes, yes, I know. That is why I am obviously here today. We could balance the sum with my salary. In that case I would work for almost nothing for a month. That should repair the damage.”

“If you are allowed to work here at all, then certainly not to your current references.”

Krause looks down on the floor and breathes a few times. Then he looks up again.

“Where should I work next?”

“That depends on how you behave today.”

Krause’s round face looks questioning.

“I told the chairman that he should think about the case again. After all, you’ve been working here for over 40 years, without any complaints. That’s why I’m authorized to make you an offer. ”


“He renounces the termination of your contract and the report to the ploice if you agree to a physical punishment.”

Krause did obviously not understand.

“Okay. You keep your job and do not have to go to jail if you … ”

“If I what.”

“If you accept a corporal punishment.”

“Corporal punishment?”

“With a cane. You accept a couple of strokes with a cane. This is quite common in other countries as you probably know.”

The fat man gulps and looks at his opponent with a slightly open mouth.

“Come on. A few hits have never harmed anybody and are quickly done. We do not want to hang you at once.”

“Hang me?”

The fat man presses the lips together and twists his head slightly, as if he already feels the noose around his neck. Then he glances at the head of HR.

“No. Never. It’s out of the question.”

“So you’d rather go to prison?”

Krause turns around and starts to walk up and down, calculating the opportunities silently.

“You will not get a single room in prison. I could imagine that thieves, murderers and rapists would love to take care about a huge manager like you.”

The fat man comes back and stands in front of the head of HR.

“How many?”

“I do not know. The CEO just said that you should get yourself hooked up on the workbench and wait for what happens. He would think about time and quantity. Maybe nothing happens, and he just wants to show you that he got you at the balls.”

Krause goes back and forth, shakes his head and chews on the fingernails.

“Think about it. For the first time in prison at your age. They will break you in there. ”

Krause turns around abruptly.

“All right, I agree.”

The head of HR smiles at him.

“Very good.”

Then he steps aside and the porter comes up with a piece of paper, which he places on the workbench.

“Mister Krause, please sign.”

Krause takes the pen in his chubby hand and puts his name on it. The doorkeeper flies over it briefly and faces the fat man.

“Please stand in attention.”

The fat man gazes back and forth between the two men.

“Mister Krause, please,” says the head of HR,

“Remember your army time: heels together, head up, chest out.”

“All right. If that pleases you. ”

He takes a small step away from the workbench. Then he lets his hands sink down at the side of his trousers, straightens himself and stands firm in front of the doorman and the head of HR. The doorman is right in front of him.

“Mister Krause, you have agreed to be physically punished to avoid a denunciation. Please undress now for the execution.”

Krause does not react at first.

“Undress!” The doorman repeats a little more definite.


“You have to undress, Mister Krause,” the doorman says quietly but very clearly.

The fat man looks a bit questioning to the head of HR.

“Please do what you are told to do. Or did you think you will be beaten, dressed in your suit?”

The fat man curses a few times quietly. The corners of his mouth tremble with rage, as he first strips off his shoes and takes off the jacket. His huge round paunch stretches the shirt and hangs over the belt. He looks around briefly. The doorman pushes an old chair toward him and the fat man puts the jacket over the backrest. Furiously, he opens his tie and the top buttons of the shirt. Then he opens the cuffs of his shirt and pulls it without opening it completely and together with the tie over his head. He puts his shirt over the back of the chair and pulls the waistband over his wide butt again. His white undershirt stretched tightly over the belly and his breasts. He looks at the porter, then the head of HR, but none of them shows any reaction.

“Assholes,” he mutters angrily.

He bends his massive upper body backwards and pulls in the belly vigorously to reach the belt, which he then opens with the right hand. He resolutely opens his waistband and fly, drops his trousers and steps out. He does not realize, that the two men look at the garters that prevent the black socks from slipping down the thick lower legs. Like his undershirt, his short, white briefs fit tightly around the massive body, so that his genitals are clearly visible on the front. He has drawn the briefs over his broad butt, but his paunch laps over it. The undershirt has slipped out at the front, so that naked belly fat appears between the shirt and the waistband of the underpants. When he starts to lift his undershirt, the porter stops him.

“That’s enough,” he says, signing the fat man to step closer to him.

“Hands forward.”

Krause reaches out his hands and holds them crosswise. The porter gets them at the wrist and turns them so that the underarms of the fat man are almost in parallel. Well skilled, the porter ties the forearms together with a rope slightly above the wrists.


Krause pulls his hands back, but can not take them down and has to rest his hands on the belly.

“Please sit down on the bench.”

Hesitantly the fat man approaches the workbench and lifts his body on it. It is not easy with his hands tied together and his feet loosing contact to the floor. So he has to move on his wide but from side to side until he sits on the bench, feeling the cold wood through the briefs. He slowly bends backwards until he can not hold himself anymore and tilts on his back. At the same time he angles his legs and stretches his tied hands forward as if he is looking for a stop. Then he begins to jerk his fat body on the bench back and forth, until he is finally outstretched on the bench.

“Do you always wear garters, Mister Krause?”

Krause blushes. Just recently, he had bought a pair but only worn them when the press or television was around. Naked legs were supposed to be not telegenic. He doesn’t know why he put them on this morning. But how should he imagine that he had to expose himself in underwear, socks and garters.

“Also at the weekend?”

Krause lifts his head a little.

“Anything against it?” he barks at the head of HR who lifts his hands excusing.

“No, no. It was just a question. Would you please turn around lie on your belly?”

Cumbersome the fat man turns himself around, groaning quietly. He studs on his elbows and looks at his tormentors. The doorman steps behind him, ties his legs at the ankles and stretches them backwards. Then he walks around and stands in front of his victim.

“Your hands, please.”

The fat man stretches his arms, slipping with his elbows over the plate until he is only lying on his paunch. The doorman pulls his hands to the front, ties them to a rope, so that the fat body lies stretched on the bench. Krause is softly groaning while the porter has once again checks the shackles. He turns to the head of HR.

“I have to go back to the gate. And you?”

“Me too. We are finished here. ”

Krause turns its head.

“And what about me?”

“You have to wait here, Mister Krause.”

He gives the fat man another slap on the back, turns around and follows the porter. Alone in the hall, clothed only in underwear and socks, the fat man rapidly begins to freeze. Cold sweat forms on his fat body, he begins to tremble. Toughly the minutes pass, in which he can do nothing but wait and freeze with fear and cold. With every minute he realizes how his fat body squeezes the air out of him, he begins to groan and gasp for air. Finally, he hears footsteps behind him, coming through the hall toward him and stopping close to him. He tries to turn around, bends the fat body on the workbench to see who is behind him. But he immediately realizes that he will not succeed and so he stretches straight out again.

“There he is, my fat friend. How long is he lying here?”

He recognizes the voice of the chairman.

“Since half past ten, as you requested,”

The second voice is that of the doorman, who stands beside the CEO.

The chairman puts a hand on Krause’s butt, and then slowly walks along, carrying his hand across the back of the fat man. Finally he stands at the front of the bench. Krause tries to lift his head, but can not see the face of his boss. When he wants to let his head sink down again, he feels a hand under his chin. The chairman bends back the head of the fat man until he can look at it.

“And you obviously show remorse when you present yourself that way.”

“Yes,” Krause groans, “I regret all I have done. Really!”

“Oh that’s nice. But you know, fraud is the one thing; but this stubbornness, this criminal energy, right? ”

“Yes” the fat man groans.

“I’m sure you understand if I leave you here to think about your behaviour.”

“Yes, I understand,” he squeezes out hoarsely.

“And let the punishment be done a little later?”

Krause nods frantically, blasting the air. The chairman turns to the porter.

“Let him lie here for one more hour, and then he gets three times five strokes. I think that will be enough. ”

The chairman takes his hand away, and the fat man lets his head sink into his arms. Tears come into his eyes and he hears the two of them leave the hall.

The fat man remains alone in the hall tied on the workbench. Time stretches endlessly as he fights constantly against the increasing shortage of breath and convulsions.

suddenly he again hears someone entering the hall. He finally recognizes a big, powerful man in a gray tunic.

“Hannes? Is that you?”

“Yes, Otto, it is me.”

“Please untie me. Please, please,” the fat man stammers.

The man goes down to his knees and looks directly into Krause’s face.

“Do you remember how we started here?”

“Of course I know that,” the fat man replies angrily.

“I was the last production manager and you were a board member. Then you reorganized the company and now you’re still in the board and I’m a caretaker.”

“I got you a new job.”

“I’m grateful for that.”

“Then please untie me.”

“No way, Otto. We are not that far yet. First I have to give you the strokes that the boss has requested.”

The fat man lifts his head.

“Do you really want to hit me?”

“I have to. The boss ordered that you get three times five strokes before you are allowed get up. ”

“But you can not do that. Please. I will not betray you either. ”

“Oh no. I’m glad I got this job and I do not want to lose it. I only do what I am told. I have nothing against you personally. Really. But job is job, I’m sorry. ”

He walks around the workbench, hooks a pulley into the rope at the ankles, and starts quietly to tension him. The fat man hears the squeaking of the reels.

“What are you doing?” Krause asks in horror.

“I’m really sorry for you, but I have to stretch you before I start. So that you don’t move and stay firmly in that position,” says the caretaker, while slowly stretching the pulley block.

“You got fat within the last years, Otto. Surely 120kg, right?”

Krause does not answer. He groans only softly as the cords continue to tighten. The caretaker stops briefly with his work.

“Come on. How much do you put on the scales. ”

Krause remains silent, only breathes audible.

“I may have a look on your last health check. But this takes of course some time and you will have to lie here. So what is your weight now? 120? 130? ”

“125” squeezes the fat man.

The caretaker turns back to the pulley and stretches his victim. Krause notes how the shackles begin to dig into his ankles. Then he slips a few inches with the belly over the bench and his handcuffs begin to cut into the wrists. The fat  man throws his head back and blows the air out of thick cheeks.

“Please stop! I admit everything! ” he cries with fear in his voice.

“You do not have to admit anything,” he hears the caretaker from behind, “but you should relax. Then stretching is not too painful. ”

Krause breathes a few times frantically, then lets the head sink forward, exhaling deeply. The caretaker pulls the pulley evenly tighter and tighter. The cords are carving into the wrists and ankles of the fat man and stretch his body, until he can’t move any more. A deep moaning comes out of his wide opened mouth before his head sinks down to the workbench and he breathes frantically. The caretaker once again checks the pulley, walks around the workbench, takes an old blackboard from the background and places it in front. From the back of the board he takes out a long cane, which he places lengthwise between his victims arms, so that he has to look at it. He opens his smock and places it at the blackboard. He takes the cane into his right hand and strikes it through the air a few times, creating a whistling sound. Then he turns to the fat man, who is facing him with a painful look.

“Fifteen strikes for a deceiver are actually very little. So let’s start, I want to be ready by noon.”

The caretaker walks slowly to the legs of the fat man who groans on the workbench. He already noticed the garters at the very beginning, but now he can not stand any more. He pushes his index finger under the rubber band and lifts it a few inches.

“How long have you been wearing garters, Otto?”

Krause tries to ignore his tormentor and looks sniffing straight.

“Wasn’t it incredibly embarrassing when you had to drop your pants and stand there in garters?”

“Yes,” Krause grunts.

“That’s good to know. So I leave everything as it is, although I should actually push your socks down. It is already enough naked skin to see for a couple of hits.”

So the caretaker lets the rubber snap and steps back slightly. He places the stick on the naked part between the socks and the rubber band of the garters, and stops when the tip of the cane just reaches out over the tightly lying calves. Slowly he lifts the stick over his head, hesitates a second, and then slams hard. The fat man twitches and holds his breath. The caretaker walks slowly to the blackboard, notes the strike and goes back to the end of the workbench. The fat man tries to look over his shoulder. He sees the caretaker stand beside him and lift his hand with his cane over his head. He hesitates again, giving the next blow to the thighs of the fat man, who groans and throws his head back. Again, the caretaker goes forward and notes the blow, then slowly returns, raises the cane, hesitates and then again hits hard and precisely on the calves of the fat man, who throws his head to the neck and squeezes his mouth not to scream. Slowly, the caretaker goes to the blackboard, notes the blow, and goes back to his last position. He raises the cane, hesitates briefly and then hits the thighs of the fat victim again, who groans briefly and tightens his fat body. While he is still struggling for air, the caretaker goes back to the blackboard to make a note. When he returns he speaks to the fat man.

“I will give you the fifth blow on the calves again; agreed?”

“Please …” Krause groans.

“Fine, your calves are thick enough for three strikes,” the caretaker laughes.

Then he raises his cane again, hesitates and hits hard for the third time on the fat calves, which makes Krause cramp in pain. When the caretaker returned from the blackboard, the fat man still struggles for air. He pets him on the back.

“You have to relax. Everything is easier to bear then. Believe me. I’m not doing this for the first time. ”

Krause breathes deeply in and out, dropping the head to the forward stretched arms. In doing so, he notes how the caretaker grasps his undershirt and rips it with a hard tug. Krause feels the cold air on his wet, sweaty back.

“Well, let’s go on.”

Again, the caretaker takes his cane, stands beside his fat victim, and looks at Krause huge belly swelling out on both sides.

“You became that fat on my expences, you pig,” he thinks.

He raises the cane over his head, hesitates and then hits hard on the wide back lying in front of him. Krause groans and bends his fat body.

“Five strokes on such a broad hump. That is ridiculous.”,

the caretaker mutters to himself, as he goes to the blackboard to record the blow. When he is standing next to the fat man again, he speaks to him.

“Can you tell me how I should smash your back with just five blows?”

Krause does not answer, groans only softly. Then he hears the whistle of the cane again, and feels the piercing pain as the stick hits his back in the middle. His fat body cramps and he hears a deep scream coming out of his mouth. When he recovers his breath, the caretaker is already standing next to him, pushing his pants back slightly, so that the hips are no longer covered. The fat man is waiting for the next blow. His lips tremble, tears rise into his eyes. The caretaker reaches out and strikes the cane with all his power across Krause’s fat hips. Krause throws his head back, opens his mouth, but only a hoarse rattle comes out of his throat, then his head sags forward. After the caretaker has recorded the blow, he pets the fat man on the tied hands.

“Now it’s time for lunch.”

He puts the cane away, loosens the pulley block, unpacks thermos, bread and newspaper, and sits down next to the fat man, whimpering on the workbench.

After his break, the caretaker stows away his stuff.

“Well, let’s start again.”

He goes back and starts to tension the pulley again. Krause wakes up. He recognizes that he is stretched again, stretched hard at arms and legs until he can’t move anymore.

"Your weight is 125 kilos?”

The fat nods.

“Or perhaps 140?”

He stretches the thickness even more.

“130” Krause groans.


The porter stretches the fat man. The cords creak and dig into the thick arms and leg.

“134!” he presses out.

The doorkeeper fixes the rope and stands next to his victim.

“You were lying, Otto. I have to report this. You know the company standards. But for now I will only finish the actual punishment. So please stay calm. We’ll be ready soon. ”

He fetches his cane, then stands next to his victim and strikes hard on his hump. The fat man groans only briefly without lifting the head. The caretaker notes the blow on the blackboard. When he comes back he speaks to the fat man.

“The last one was a little weak. But I’ll do it now. ”

He stands beside his victim and puts the cane on the fat hips. The fear of the next blow lets Krause tremble uncontrolled and suddenly he senses a warmth between his thighs. He can‘t prevent his bladder from failing and his warm urine to spread beneath him. He feels the wetness between the thighs as it spreads under his belly and let howl with shame. The caretaker looks grinning, as a puddle forms under his victim, which quickly seeps through the wood of the bench and drips to the ground.

“Fear?” He asks, and the fat man nods.

“You have every reason for that.”

Then he reaches out and strikes his cane once more across the fat hips. The fat man cramps and cries out loud. After the caretaker has recorded the blow, he slowly passes his victim until he stands beside his butt. As the caretaker pulls the waist of his underpants, he throws his head.

“No! Please, no,” he calls desperately.

But the caretaker rips the fabric with a hard jerk, so the whole ass is lying naked in front of him.

“It’s only five on the bare ass. You will stand that with such a gorgeous butt. And besides, your briefs are completely wet because you’ve pissed yourself, Otto. ”

The caretaker gently caresses the bulging butt in front of him. Then he lifts the cane over his head, hesitates and hits with all his power. A red line immediately forms on the white skin. The fat cramps together, screaming loudly before his head falls on the arms. Tears run down his cheeks.

The caretaker performs the rest of the sentence without a word. Krause obviously surrenders, and only mutes his massive body when a blow hits him. After every hit, the caretaker goes to the blackboard, notes it, and returns to his whimpering victim. For the last time, he stands beside him, lifts the cane over his head and then pulls him hard over the naked, wide butt. The fat man only twitches briefly, as if he had grown accustomed to the burning pain. The caretaker lets his eyes spread over the fat body and nods contentedly. Fifteen dark red lines stand out on the white skin, distributed between the shoulders and the feet. He goes to the board, notes the blow, and turns to his victim.

“Well, that’s it.”

Krause breathes heavily, struggles for air, while his tormentor walks along him, touching the strokes easily with his hand.

“Please. I can’t stand this any longer,” Krause groans.

“Well, you’ll have to wait a little longer, dear.”

The caretaker slowly goes to the pulley block. As he loosens it, the fat man blows out the air audibly, and his still tied legs. The fat man expects his bonds to be taken off. But the caretaker bends over him, picks up a tensioning chain from the other side of the workbench and places it over his back. Krause notes the cold steel on the skin and tries to turn the head.

“What are you doing there?”

He asks anxiously, noting the chain is tightened over his back, digging itself in his back and pressing his body on the bench. The caretaker removes the rope from the fat man’s wrists, and immediately Krause tries to reach the chain over his back.

“Stop doing that. You can’t do anything.”

The caretaker looks calmly as the fat man in front of him desperately tries to reach the lock of the chain. After only one or two attempts, the Krause surrenders and lets the head sink to the bench.

“Well, then,” says the caretaker.

“Now take your hands on your back.”

“What for?”

The caretaker grasps the cane.

“Just do it.”

The fat man slowly pushes his hands back and tries to cross them on his back. But because of his massive body he can only lay his hands on his hips. He notes how the caretaker pulls a cord under his arms and pushes it up to the elbows. Then the caretaker pulls the rope with all his power. Krause’s upper arms are thrown on the back of the fat man, he groans loudly, distorts his face, bends the upper body backwards. The caretaker knots rope quickly at the elbows, so that the upper body is always slightly bent back even when the fat victim relaxes. In the meantime, the caretaker removes the bonding at Krause’s ankles. As he begins to pull the right foot to the side and ties it to the bench, the fat man begins to stomp and twist his fat body. He knows what is ahead of him and starts to roar.

“No!! Don’t do that! NO!! NO!!”

But the caretaker catches his free leg, with which he kicks in the air and tiesit to the other side of the bank. With his legs slightly apart, the caretaker is now standing next to his victim, and he can see the large, hairy testicles hanging low between the thighs. He reaches into a bucket of grease, which stands under the bench and rubs his hands in a position next to Krause’s face, so that he must see it.

“Your first time, Otto?”

Krause stares at the greasy hands and gulps.

“Then you should relax. Actually, I wanted to fuck you. But I don’t want to make myself unnecessarily dirty. ”

The caretaker walks quietly past his victim until he stands beside his butt. He puts the greasy hand on the cheeks and pushes them slowly into the rear sight, until he can feel the anus of his victim with his finger. Slowly he orbits the sphincter, and strengthens slightly the pressure on the anus of the fat man, who strains, groans and tries to press his anus. The caretaker enjoys, as his victim winds, knowing that there is no chance for him. He turns around a little and puts his forearm between the fat thighs, without reducing the pressure on the sphincter. His finger now points straight at the anus, and with a twisting motion he finally lets it slide inside until his knuckles reach the sphincter. Krause breathes loudly and groaning as he notices how something penetrates his anus and is slowly moved in it. He can’t stop his bent legs from twitching involuntarily as he feels the hand of the housekeeper at his glans.

“Is a small cock required to become a board member?”

Krause does not answer but moans softly. He had never had this feeling of fear and excitement that begins to spread in his guts. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply and evenly. He is confused because he is no longer resisting, but enjoys the pleasant feeling that flows through him when his tormentor’s finger presses against his prostate.

A mixture of shame and pride fills him up when he realizes how his penis becomes hard in the hand of the caretaker. Nevertheless, he is relieved when he feels the grip on his glans vanishes and the finger is pulled out of his anus. He breathes deeply, hoping that this has been the end of his humiliation. The caretaker slowly walks along his fat victim until he stands in front of the blackboard, wiping his hands with a rag.

“You’re already dripping, like a young bride.”

The fat man tries to see what the caretaker does. There is horror in his face as he turns around and slowly greases a wooden pole with a knob on one end.

“No,” he whispers in fear of what is ahead of him.

He senses the fear in the stomach and his cock, which pushes hard against his body.

“Please no”

The caretaker slowly returns. As he pushes his buttocks wide with one hand, Krause begins to groan. The caretaker leads the cane between the butt buttocks, touches the anus of the fat man, who compresses the buttocks again and rears the upper body

“Please, please no,” howls the fat man.

He feels the fear in the stomach down to the testicles.

“You should not fight back, Otto, or it will hurt,” says the caretaker,

Strengthens easily the pressure on the anus of the fat man

“I can not do that,” Krause whispers,

bending the upper body and compressing the buttocks. The caretaker simply waits, holding the stick with light pressure on the anus. Finally, the fat man surrenders powerless. He sinks down slowly, breathing deeply, and relaxing his buttocks.

“Well, that’s how it goes”

“Oh God, oh God” Krause groans as he feels the cane beginning to spread the sphincter and slowly penetrates into it. The caretaker observes how the sphincter slowly widens. How often had he visualized this picture in the last few years and often enough he was masturbating at night. He enjoys the way the fat man winds in front of him and winches again and again. From time to time he reduces the pressure and allows the fat man to push the stick out again. He pauses for a moment and then increases the pressure again. Slowly the caretaker leads the pole deeper and deeper into the anus of the fat man groaning on the workbench. Krause feels his anus being stretched further and further, has the feeling as if it would be torn appart. He always tries to beg for mercy, but he only produces gurgling and moaning sounds. He twists his eyes, but no scream leaves his mouth, opened wide in pain and fear. Little by little his anus expands when his tormentor increases the pressure. Then suddenly he realizes how his sphincter relaxes and he breathes more easily. The thickest part of the pole has passed his anus and now slides deeper into it, slowly and without any pressure. Krause one feels the pole in his cock, feels as it pushes against his gut and slides along it. Deeper and deeper, the caretaker pushes the cane. When the fat man feels that the cane comes out of his belly button, he rears the upper body and pokes out a short scream. The caretaker stops briefly, then begins to slowly move the stick back and forth, up and down, watching the reactions of the fat man. His free hand slips into his pocket and starts to masturbate his own cock.

“That’s right, fatso. Fight and struggle,” he thinks.

The fat man in front of him winds, groaning loudly as the cane drifts deep into his bowel. He watches thick drops of sweat appear on the broad back, and in thin streaks run down the bulging belly, on which he rolls back and forwards in pain. Actually, the caretaker wanted to intrude the pole into the fat man in its entire length. Deeper and deeper. Until it gets out of the mouth of this fat asshole. He wanted to impale him. Slowly, very slowly. He should know what happens to him. But he notices that at a certain position of the stick his fat victim groans deeply and moves the wide butt in circles. Without knowing it, he presses the tip of the stick against the prostate of the fat man and forces him to uncontrolled movements.

“That’s even better,” he thinks, as he reaches this point again.

The fat man shrugs his legs and pelvis, grunts deeply and persistently. Then he realizes how the caretaker grasps between his legs and holds his testicles firmly.

“You pig, you miserable pig.”

Krause groans, as the caretaker pulls his testicles back. For a long time the caretaker had imagined this moment. He quickly puts a thin wire loop around the ball sac and tightens it. Actually, he wanted to castrate the fat man during the impalement, like a piglet. Now he pulls the testicles backwards, until the skin of the sack lies tightly around them and fixes them with the wire to the stick. Krause suffers of a piercing pain. He bends his upper body back and screams. The caretaker releases the stick and watches it slowly sliding back into the gut by the contraction of the ball sac of his fat victim. When the end of the cane touches the prostate of the fat man again, he trembles with excitement. The caretaker looks at the shaking fat of his victim, and the long thread of secretion, which hangs down from the uncovered, dark red tip of the now highly sensitive penis. As he slowly pulls out the stick again and he rubs his own hard cock with his other hand. Further and further he stretches the testicles of the fat man, until the piercing pain makes him squeek.

“Another short jerk, and your eggs would be gone, fatso,” he thinks.

He had imagined this moment so often. Only a short jerk and a small turn and the balls would fall down and lie between the legs of this fat pig. But instead, he releases the stick again. Krause feels the stick slide slowly back into his bowel, finally touching his prostate gently and creating this strange feeling of excitement and nervousness that lets his hard penis bounce.

The caretaker opens his pants, pulls out his big, hard cock, and slowly lets his hand slide over its entire length. He pulls the pole back and pulls the ball sac of his victim longer and longer.

“Did you ever imagine to be castrated, Otto?”

The fat man only groans, squeezes the air with a dark red head, grips in the air with hands helplessly. The piercing pain hits him in the belly again. He rears up and shouts with a tilting voice. The caretaker enjoys the sight of the fat man. Sweating and whimpering in fear. He easily touches the now deep red, dripping glans.

“But I do not want to be that cruel. I’ll let you have one shot before your balls fall down.”

He again increases the stress to the testicle.

“And the sooner you come, the sooner you balls are off,” he says just before he releases the pole, which immediately slides back into the gut of the fat man. Krause presses and blows the air with thick cheeks. He gasps for air, sweat runs down his face. When his prostate is touched again, he has to bend his legs as if compelled, and rebounds the upper body. Krause gasps for air, is close to ejaculate. He moans loudly, throws his head back and his hands move helplessly in the air. At the same time, he winds the upper body and struggles with his fixed legs, wiggling back and forth on his belly. His testicles ache, he shrugs, moans and snaps, rolls back and forth on his paunch. Then he tightens the upper body, his whole fat body begins to tremble as he realizes he can’t hold back any longer.

“It’s coming,” he moans softly.

He twists his eyes, saliva runs out of his mouth. He blows, feels how the sperm oozes out, without having an orgasm. Then his head falls forward and he exhausted struggles for air. The caretaker looks closely at how the sperm drips from the bouncing cock of the fat man, gets the still erected penis of the fat man and slowly starts stroking the dark red, moisty glans while he masturbates at the same time. Immediately Krause begins to frantically rumble and prick. He lifts his head, stretches the body once again. He turns his eyes up, groans deeply from the torn mouth. His testicles ache, his hands grip helplessly in the air, his whole body trembles and makes his fat wobble. Suddenly his body tenses. He groans loudly in this forced orgasm, feels how once again sperm is driven out of his penis and at the same time feels something warm on his butt. He can’t see that the caretaker has shot a huge amount of sperm on his butt, which is now slowly running down. His head sinks exhausted, he groans contentedly and pulls the air deep into his massive body.

The caretaker releases his penis and wipes his hands on the thighs of his victim. He closes his pants and after a minute or two he takes the pole again and pulls it back slowly, stretching once again the balls until the fat man’s face twitches with pain.

“Well, Otto. Say "goodbye” to your balls.“

The fat man wants to beg for mercy, but the pain which rushes through his body makes him faint.

The caretaker loosens the wire, the bonding at the elbows and the feet of the fat man, who’s arms and legs drop powerless. He gives him a few minutes before he wakes him up with a few pats on the cheeks. The fat man groans softly in pain and is unable to move. Now the caretaker starts to remove the pole from the anus of his victim and enjoys once again his grunting. Finally, he loosens the chain above the upper body, grabs him by the shoulders and straightens him until he sits on the bench, moaning broadly and painfully. The caretaker pushes a rag on his stomach.

"Clean up that mess, fatso.”

Krause wants to push his right hand under his stomach and between his legs. He has infernal pain. But the caretaker slaps him.

“Hands off.”

Tears stream into Krause’s eyes.

“You really castrated me?”

The caretaker grins at him, whereupon the fat begins to cry unrestrainedly.

“It would have been easy. But I have not done it. ”

The fat man lolls himself from the bench, and naked as he is begins to wipe his sperm and urine, with the caretaker facing and watching him. Finally, he throws Krause’s clothes on the bench.

“Get dressed.”

Slowly the fat man puts his clothes on, and he groans again and again when he touches his wounds or his maltreated testicles. Finally, he buttons the jacket in front of his belly and stands with trembling corners of his mouth in front of the caretaker.

“Come along.”

The fat man follows the caretaker waddling through the plant until they are standing in front of the office of the chairman. The caretaker knocks, opens the door, and knows the thickness to enter. The chairman sits behind his desk and looks up briefly.

“Mister Krause, as you requested, Sir,” says the caretaker

The chairman reaches for a thin booklet, which is lying on his desk, gets up, and stretches out his hand. Krause hesitates.

“Mister Krause, every thing okay? I hope you do not need a doctor now. ”

Krause shakes his head silently.

“Very good. As you accepted, that I had to punish you anyway, that was the better solution, wasn’t it?”

The fat man nods silently.

“And after you’ve supported your punishment so well, I will let the whole matter rest.”

“Thank you,” Krause says voicelessly.

The director offers the file and the fat man takes it slowly.

“This is your new contract. You will be the head of our local office in Tehran. But I want to advise you to follow the local laws. Penalties are publicly executed there. Do you understand me?”

Krause nods.

“All right, then we’ll meet on Monday.”

Krause turns around and leaves the factory slowly, with shuffling steps. His testicles bounce loose in his pants and without underwear he feels strangely naked.

When he falls into the seat of his car, he moans. Trembling he opens the fly and lets his hand hesitantly slip inside. He lets his hand run down his naked belly and finally touches his aching testicles with his fingertips and smiles weakly, tears in his eyes. He had never thought about the pleasure to touch his own balls and find them at the place, where they used to be.

He starts the car.

The music from the radio becomes quieter and the anchorman starts.

“You’ve heard it in the news, but we have to come back to this topic again. Despite of international protests, the regime in Tehran has executed the castration of two men in public. The 49 and 56-year-old managers of an international company had previously been convicted by a jury of embezzlement and bribery … ”

A Hunter’s Halloween

A/N: I got Day 4 of @winchesters-favorite-girl ‘s Halloween Writing Challenge - Halloween Costumes. So glad I joined this challenge, it was a lot of fun! 

Pairing: Winchesters x Friend!Reader (she’s like a lil sis) 

Summary: A fellow hunter, (Y/n), tags along with the Winchester Brothers to hunt down a ghost haunting the house where the town’s Halloween party is held. Ready for a quick ganking of a ghost, the three set off but run into a minor problem: No costume, no entry. 

Warnings: Few swears and a very brief description of Dean getting stitches (I thought it was gross so I thought I’d warn other squeamish people)  

Word Count: 2500+

A/N Part 2: (Started off short and cute and then my brain was like: Hey what if you added character arcs and personalities and a real plot so I tried meeting myself halfway and not get too into the story but kinda I couldn’t help it.)

The Impala raced down the empty road. Dean sat in backseat beside (Y/n), a young hunter that the Winchesters met a few years back who joined the boys on their latest hunt as Sam drove them back to the motel. They were heading back now from a vampire case that they just barely managed to survive. (Y/n) was currently stitching together a deep gash on Dean’s upper arm.

The boys met (Y/n) on a hunt a few years prior, when she was only nineteen. (Y/n) and the Winchester’s were trailing the same Vampire case separately and wound up running into each other and decided to work together. They were an amazing team and now three years later, they called upon (Y/n) again for assistance. She was more than happy to oblige, meeting the boys and taking out another nest. However, this time things didn’t go as smoothly.

Dean downed some more whiskey to numb the pain of (Y/n) driving the needle in and out of his skin. Sucking in a quick breath, Dean closed his eyes and downed more whiskey.

“Oh, stop being such a baby.” (Y/n) teased.

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REC LIST: FT-related Blogs 2.0!

The new year has just arrived…and, along with it, this new and updated list of recommended FT-related blogs for anyone here who’s new to the Fairy Tail fandom!

A few notes:

  • As with the previous rec list, this list was composed by myself. It consists of the many blogs that I have looked through around here, using the “Fairy Tail” tag (and other tags related to it), for the past couple of years.    
  • Also, this rec list consists of blogs that have previously posted FT-related content, and blogs that are still posting FT-related content up to the date this was posted.    
    • As a result, certain blogs may not be confined to the FT fandom, anymore (or, they have become multi-fandom, in some cases)—but, they are still listed below, since these blogs have posted FT-related content before.
  • Some of the blogs in this list may contain spoilers, and/or content that is NSFW. To those who are squeamish of either one (or both)—be advised! 
  • Finally, to make it more organized, and easier to update, this list is sorted in the alphabetical order. 

So, without further ado, here’s the list of recommended FT-related blogs to follow!

A to C

@acnologias-ass - @aeselyn - @al-lium - @aloosh-s - @amaranth121 - @amehanaaa - @angrycucco - @ann-kouhai - @animoozies - @approvesport - @arikafd - @arisa-o1 - @artsy-alice - @arya-aiedail - @asketchbookthing - @aya-eisen - @ayumichi-me - @beaglecakes - @becausewhenyoupracticeyouimprove - @bianww - @blamedorange - @blanania - @blazexkeys - @bloodredruby - @bludy-chu - @blueironlily - @bonneyq - @brolinfinity - @buberryz - @capaleran2 - @carishinlove - @ccrispy - @cdart-carmendaniele - @chalcedonydraws - @charswarrenxo - @charuzu2712 - @chello8893 - @chengggg - @chesxca-c - @chiire - @chikach00 - @chikaede - @chootim - @chsabina - @cocassion - @cocobite - @constellunaa

D to F

@d-eliade - @damasath-art - @dariuna - @darth–brick - @deeteagirl - @devilishmirajane - @doginshoe - @dooshiedoosh - @doublepasse - @dragneelmedown - @dragnoots - @dudakka - @elviradreaminess - @emmys-sketchbook - @en-cher-blue - @epeolatryx - @eqqlo - @erzawesome - @eriboook - @eruzayne - @esthellar - @faeriesylph - @fainttwinkling - @fairytailsanddragonscales - @fairytailwitch - @fatedsong - @ferbooche - @ff-darkshininglight - @flamedork - @frannie2199 - @frogbearboo - @frosthsea

G to I

@gajeelsenpai - @gajeely - @geghanush - @ghostdesires - @giupear - @giushia - @grayinblack-art - @gundammeisterlyra - @hannah-nobody - @hikaritsu - @himurarei - @hirata-s - @honeyteacake - @hymad - @ieyasus - @illustraice - @iluvfairytail - @inksterlol - @inspired-destiny - @iwishiwasinfairytail - @itschildofthefairies - @itshiblog

J to L

@jadeoccelot - @jayniebear321 - @jirochan - @js-doodles - @juvialicious - @jxlight - @kagomenesan - @kanaehitomi - @kanarenee - @karokitten-chan - @keiid - @kenjocatze - @khaoticvex - @ki-nyong - @kipio - @kiss-me-khaos - @kissedbyiron - @kittyarts - @kkumri - @kristallin-f - @ladygt - @laharts - @lapoin - @laurentarzan - @leons-7 - @levycchi - @lezith - @lightalchemistfp-art - @liku-bears - @lissomeaid - @littlefairylevy - @locksters - @lolohime - @lonestorm - @love-n-lucky - @loveandlucky - @luciasatalina - @luckybachi - @lucy-ft - @lulu2222 - @lushinaa

M to O

@m-d-tr1 - @magerain - @mags-duranb - @maneaoana - @mangaguitar96 - @margherine - @meeredy - @melllllly - @micchiyume - @mirajanestrauss - @mirajens - @miss-fairy-tale - @miss-zei - @missnoirr - @missyplatinum - @momo-tari - @monoghost - @mrseucliffex - @mslead - @msktk - @mushi0131 - @n-a-d-h-i-e - @nalu-natic - @nalufever - @naluista - @nalutbh - @nanakoblaze - @nanashiart - @natsu-dorkneel - @natsv - @neato-ft - @neen-writes - @nicole4211 - @nie-ct - @nishi06 - @niue7 - @nsh92 - @ohmynatsu - @ooiikawas - @ootsukis - @ottotatertots - @oraclesoul

P to R

@papalogia - @pbbmk - @peoniespoppiesandowlsohmy - @phantombones - @phoenixx305 - @pinkhinori - @piranha-pk - @pocketwoman7 - @ponchizs - @poopblossom - @proudtobeaginger - @rainladyjuvia - @raezora - @rboz - @rchella - @rieriebee - @rivendell101

S to U

@s-a-r-a-r-a - @s-h-i-i-n-a - @sabizac - @samiichan - @sarapyon - @sarikos - @sassylin - @sayenisaperv - @secondorigin - @seiikas - @seiilah - @selenba - @semi-o - @seulil - @shadoouge - @shandisworld - @shiiemis - @shirookita - @siil-mallit - @silenced-desires - @sinnerela - @sirdragneel - @skullnar - @smaliorsha - @snogfairy - @snowmadien - @soprana-snap - @sorcerer-weekly - @spikerr - @spriggan-tail - @squisherific - @stephicool - @swordbreaker - @taleen777 - @tappity-tap - @tartatail - @thatartcorner - @the-archangel-of-zeref - @thecyberzombieart - @thefairywrites - @todorokii - @toxineena - @tsunderegirl13 - @tweekay - @umjustkatie - @unashamed-shipper - @unisonraidd

V to X

@vhazzrhossze - @viki-j-chan - @wendychuu - @whitedovehemlock - @whitefoxie - @whitemoonx9x - @wildrhov - @wombywoo - @writingissues - @x-benihime - @xdrawings-x - @xmelonhippo - @xternel

Y to Z

@yaushie - @yoriru - @youaintgotthefunk - @yukipandalove - @yuuba - @zakfair - @zerooff - @zippi44

If you have any comments, suggestions, or concerns…let me know—and I’ll make the changes to this list!

House of Cards (Pt.2)

Summary: Being a new transfer cop from a small town to a crime ridden city, you never expected your job to be easy. You are assigned as the partner of a man named Kim Taehyung, who is young, handsome, and a little bit too curious for his own good. Before you know it, what started out as a simple homicide investigation turns into a full blown war against the local syndicates. You learn the hard way that life isn’t always in black and white, and soon find your morals and beliefs tumbling like a house of cards. All because of one man with a simple name: Jeon Jungkook.


Angst/Drama/Some Fluff

Word Count: 1.8k

Part [1] [2] [3]

A/N: This series is a prequel to my other mafia!au series, Cosa Nostra. You do not need to read one before you read another, both are their separate cohesive stories, taking place roughly two to three years apart.

There are descriptions of a murder scene in this chapter, so if bothered by descriptions of mild gore, please do not read

The red and blue flashes of police lights and the large stretches of police tape were a little foreboding to you, to say the least. Nonetheless, you found yourself getting out of Taehyung’s patrol car and walking with him through the gathering crowd, making your way to the crime scene.

‘On the other side of this tape, there’s a dead body…’ You thought to yourself as you approached the tape border, nerves collecting in the pit of your stomach, ‘I can’t be squeamish now. I got to get used to this at some point, since it is my job now.’ You and Taehyung flashed your badges to the officer standing guard of the scene. He lifted the tape wordlessly, the blank look on his face was very telling on how much experience he had with this sort of thing.

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anonymous asked:

Hi! Can i please request hcs on a food fight between the port mafia and the ada? Like maybe how it started, who would be down for it, or who are the poor guys who have to try and stop it, and whatever else you want to write. Thank you!😊

i wrote this without remembering the last part of your req, but hope this is alright. i had way too much fun with this.

  • okay but
  • it starts out like any normal day
  • Atsushi’s taken Kyouka out to the nearby ramen house for an early Friday dinner
  • off topic but the two of them make a really good pair, i wish i had an older sibling who would buy me food like Atsushi does
  • anyway
  • so they’re just waiting for their bowls to come - who knows what they ordered, it’s ramen in hot soup and that’s the only thing that matters because lbr it’s hard to eat food around the Agency when Kunikida’s going crazy with the sheer amount of work everyone needs to get around to and Ranpo’s addiction to sweets that leaves everyone out of things from mint bubble gum to Yosano’s secret stash of wine-flavored chocolates
  • and then the door opens and someone suspiciously familiar comes in
  • it’s Akutagawa and Higuchi, probably on their way to get some take-out after a mission. they look pretty exhausted.
  • but honestly nothing will stop Akutagawa from attacking Atsushi on sight, because let’s just say this is before the whole six month thing (spoilers?)
  • and Akutagawa, king of bad decisions with no exceptions, lunges
  • he knocks over the tables, plows over the customers -
  • like a lawnmower, that’s what he is, thanks for the new insult, Atsushi
  • and he swipes his arm and has Rashomon do the rest and suddenly hot soup is flying and Atsushi and Kyouka are scrambling away, realizing that this person wants a food fight, of all things
  • fun fact Rashomon is more like a cat than Atsushi will ever be, knocking things off the table while Akutagawa stares you down
  • long story short Akutagawa is chucking bowl after bowl of hot ramen noodles and soup at Atsushi and Kyouka, who have no idea why he’s attacking them like this and are also trying to avoid getting third degree burns. Higuchi is struggling in the background - she both wants to attack these enemies but she also wants to remind Akutagawa that they’re supposed to be on a break
  • before Atsushi can retaliate with the millions of chopsticks that Kyouka has shoved his way, the door flies open. customers flee. suddenly the whole building is empty. where the hell have the employees gone? no one knows.
  • anyway the door flies open
  • the lights dim
  • Dazai Extra Osamu enters the room, summoned by Akutagawa’s aggressiveness and Atsushi’s panicked tears
  • he comes in swinging with a giant baguette and don’t ask anyone where he got it because you’re not going to like the answer. he’s also carrying packs of curry in his coat pockets because he’s been trying to understand Odasaku ever since he died. maybe it’s the curry that made him that way? maybe the spiciness was infecting his mind?
  • Dazai nails Akutagawa over the head, trips over Higuchi, and goes flying into the wall
  • he planned it that way
  • obviously
  • Akutagawa is furious that Dazai is interfering again and he’s attacking again but for some reason Atsushi’s frantically hurling chopsticks at him from every single direction and Kyouka is overturning tables in her panic
  • when the Agency is creating more chaos than Akutagawa alone can
  • and then the door opens again
  • no, not just opens
  • it flies off of its hinges
  • a new fighter has joined the ring!! Nakahara Chuuya, summoned by Dazai’s presence and hellbent on getting revenge for his car exploding. he’s equipped with an endless arsenal of wine bottles, probably worth a fortune, but everything goes out the window when he sees Dazai sitting up from where he fell against the wall.
  • the wine isn’t for drinking
  • it’s for attacking
  • heavy wine bottles cause a lot of damage.
  • also, in case you were wondering, Chuuya is a bit drunk. that’s why he’s cussing Dazai out as he swings the bottle, his attack indiscriminate and creating trouble for everyone to deal with, even the people on his side
  • side?
  • are there sides?
  • i guess
  • Dazai dodges easily with that shit-eating grin on his face, because Chuuya is drunk and nobody knows if he can even see properly, nobody knows how much he was even drinking -
  • but then
  • but then
  • a silhouette appears in the door and it’s Kunikida and he’s furious at Dazai for straight up ditching work to trail after Atsushi and Kyouka because he felt like it. for some reason Kunikida decides, upon seeing the chaos unfolding in front of him, to break the fight up
  • he tries
  • he really does, poor man
  • but when that doesn’t work, he scoops up the saltshaker, unscrews the lid, pours it all into his hands, and starts hurling it. he’s trying to ward of the demons that are Dazai and Chuuya and everyone else, but it’s not working
  • until the salt somehow manages to land in Chuuya’s eyes
  • salt in eyes? bad.
  • suddenly Chuuya’s bawling his eyes out because he’s trying to get the irritant out but it’s not working very well and a shadow falls over them all
  • it’s Kouyou
  • she’s here to destroy everyone for making Chuuya suffer. also to destroy Kyouka and everyone else who tried to help Kyouka see the light
  • Kyouka is triggered
  • she’s pulling the sweets that she’s hidden in her clothes - because Atsushi has the entire restaurant’s supply of chopsticks and Akutagawa’s doing a really good job slicing them in half, she thinks the last one Atsushi threw was cut perfectly through the middle, and she really doesn’t feel like fencing with chopsticks - and she’s hurling them with deadly accuracy
  • Kouyou’s trying to advance, but a figure darts in front of her, mouth open and eyes closed -
  • it’s Ranpo
  • he’s just here for the sweets
  • he’s on a swivel chair, pushing himself around because he just doesn’t want to get up, and Yosano’s the one who’s pushed him over. now that her job is done, she’s standing on the table with a chainsaw, a wicked grin on her face and ready to destroy everyone -
  • Tanizaki and Naomi’s entrance almost knocks her off the table.
  • Yosano, don’t wear heels and stand on the table. it’s awesome, but it’s also unstable
  • the Tanizaki twins come armed with cakes from next door, and they probably got the funds from the Agency itself. news travels fast
  • Akutagawa gets a faceful of the strawberry shortcake
  • shortcake,” Dazai howls with glee. he’s cackling like a maniac because Chuuya’s tripped and his face is in the wood floor. “just like you, Chuuya!”
  • he’s not helping himself
  • and then
  • with the arrival of the Armed Detective Agency comes the Black Lizard
  • Gin and Tachihara make short work with the remaining knives, ready to slice and dice because who the fuck decides to launch vegetables?
  • Kenji
  • the answer is Kenji
  • needless to say, Tachihara was that one little kid who refused to (a) go outside, which is why he’s such a pale idiot who burns every time he steps outside like a vampire, except he’s squeamish with the idea of drinking blood and (b) eat his vegetables, so his bones are probably weak and calcium-deprived and that’s why he always has a bandage on his nose because he just never heals properly
  • Tachihara just eat your vegetables
  • maybe that’s why he’s always being bested by Gin
  • she eats her vegetables
  • Tachihara gets knocked out cold because Kenji accidentally throws a radish too hard
  • what’s new?
  • Hirotsu is just chilling in the corner, watching the chaos happening and smokes his cigarette in peace
  • for some reason, the bosses aren’t there
  • which is a bad thing, because they could have stopped it in a less destructive way than what happens, because Kaiji arrives
  • Kaiji, as in lemon lord Kaiji
  • Kaiji, who sees Akutagawa and Atsushi going at it using chopsticks and Rashomon and have become probably the most efficient chopstick slicer in the world, Gin and Kenji cutting enough vegetables to feed an entire town, Dazai waving a giant baguette over his head and throwing curry packets like it’s money in a strip club and Chuuya cussing with a broken wine bottle in his hand, Kouyou chasing after Kyouka and barely dodging the sweets the girl is dropping, Ranpo flying around the place in a swivel chair and becoming arguably the most dangerous person there because he’s tripped everyone at least once, Yosano kicking every single ramen bowl that comes her way so even more hot soup spills all over the place, Kunikida and the salt he’s summoned from his notebook -
  • well, you get the point
  • Kaiji looks at them, pulls out his lemons, and boom
  • all in all both the Agency and Port Mafia have to rebuild the place
  • the owner of the ramen house is scary
  • and Atsushi and Kyouka just wanted to have a normal dinner for once
Shifting Narratives- Part Six

“I’m sorry”

Spencer stood in front of Emily in the station the next morning. He felt like a child who’d calmed down after a tantrum, ashamed and embarrassed. 

“I’m sorry too” said Emily to his surprise. When he looked at her she also looked embarrassed. “I never meant to make you feel like I had no confidence in you or your abilities. I never wanted our concern for you to feel like a burden.”

“I know you’re all worried about me” said Spencer “It can’t have been easy on you guys when I was locked up. You felt out of control like I did and like me you’re just trying to regain some of that”. Now it was Emily’s turn to look surprised.

“I don’t know where you went yesterday but I’m kind of glad you did”

“Me too”

“And I wanted to ask you something”


“Actually two things. Firstly I’d like you to brief the rest of the team on your discussion with Gillian Georgette and compare it to what we found when talking to Harrison yesterday and secondly I was hoping you could ask y/n to come back in. I think maybe we could have handled yesterday a little better and Connie refuses to talk to us still”

“She was pretty mad at first” Spencer admitted “Though I think that was largely due to Captain Nelson. Honestly she just wants to find out the truth.”

“You got to know her pretty well yesterday huh?”

When Spencer had woken up that morning you were still on the bed next to him, his hand gripped in yours but you both must have shifted during the night. You were leaning back against the head board but had slid down enough so that Spencer could rest his head on your chest. He had been absolute mortified when he had woken up and was just thankful he hadn’t drooled in his sleep. Your free hand had found it’s way to his head, combing through his hair. It had felt nice, soothing. Honestly, embarrassment aside, it was one of the best night’s sleep he’d had since leaving prison. When you’d woken a short while later he had thanked you again and treated you to breakfast at the diner round the corner before heading back to the station.

“Yeah I guess so” Spencer answered Emily, trying and failing to sound casual “i’ll just go and ring her now”

“Yeah, do that” said Emily with a smirk.

“Monte Cristo! I figured you weren’t the sort to leave a girl hanging” you said answering the phone. 

“I think I may have a way to make up for you missing the prison visit yesterday. My boss was wondering if you would come in and maybe help us with Connie. I know it’s kind of-”

“I’ll do it. Anything to help Connie” And I’d like to see you again, you thought but there was no way you were going to say that out loud.

“Great!” said Spencer, more enthusiastically than he meant to “I’m going to brief the team on our meeting with Gillian yesterday and then could you maybe bring some of the tapes of your conversations with Connie”

“Connie never let me record during our interviews” you said “But I did make notes after each time I spoke to her that I could bring”

“That would be great. See you in an hour or so?”

“I’ll be there”

It didn’t take long for Spencer to relay the previous days events to the team. In turn they told him what they had found out from Harrison Michael Taylor.

“He was very upfront about killing these eight girls” explained JJ “He was very graphic when he was reminiscing”

“Y/n said he was a showman, she found the same in her interviews with him” said Spencer “So his guilt isn’t in question. What reason did he give?”

“He’s holding to the story that he was on a mission to rid the world of evil, that God told him who to kill” said Luke.

“Is the delusion genuine?” asked Spencer.

“At it’s core we think so” said Tara “He kept mentioning God’s messenger. That phrase popped up over and over again. ‘God’s messenger told me who was unworthy.’ Going back over trial transcripts police interviews and the footage than y/n shot, he always talks about that”.

“Gillian said that her husband’s death was God’s will” said Spencer suddenly.

“Could she be involved?” asked JJ. 

Spencer hesitated.

“She was definitely evasive and she’s a very devout woman. I wouldn’t say she was capable now but she’s a submissive personality and if Harrison killed her husband she may feel she owes him a debt.”

“The same could be true with Connie” said Luke “In that case it’s definitely coercion”

“Without talking to Connie we can’t be sure” said Emily

“And Connie has said she’ll only talk to us if y/n is there” finished JJ.

“I’ll go”

Everyone turned to look at Spencer.

“It makes the most sense. I’ve already spoken to her mother, with y/n she can vouch for me and I have a pretty good idea about y/n’s interviewing technique and how she got through to Connie plus…I can relate can’t I?” 

Emily opened her mouth to answer but was stopped as a local cop showed you in. 

“Umm hi” you said awkwardly, acutely aware that they had been in the middle of something when you arrived. You held up your written notes. “This is everything I wrote down about my conversations with Connie. I made copies for everyone”

“Great” Emily seemed relieved by the distraction and didn’t look at Spencer as she gestured for you to sit down and you began to hand out the papers to everyone “Overall what’s your impression of her?”

“I think she’s resigned herself to spending the rest of her life in prison.” you said “There’s a kind of, I don’t know… I don’t want to say a kind of hopelessness. It’s more a kind of quiet acceptance. She isn’t fighting.”

“It doesn’t say much about the actual murders here” said Tara as she skimmed the notes “You didn’t speak about them at all?”

“I didn’t bring it up at all the first time we met and then when I tried to bring it up after that she was evasive. I get the impression she’s squeamish about the details. Connie never gave any names, just referred to them as ‘those girls’ of Harrison’s’”

“That’s odd” said Rossi “So she clearly knew something was going on but that makes it sound like she wasn’t directly involved. Did you think she seemed scared of him when they together?”

“Honestly? No. If anything I think she misses him.”

“She keeps saying that Harrison is the only man who ever loved her, that he was the only one she could really trust and be herself with” said Spencer, scanning through the notes “It seems to fit with how Gillian described their relationship. He protected them both.”

“It also fits with what we found when we interviewed him” said JJ “When we mentioned Connie all he could say is how much he loved her, how she was his angel and how she was the single most important thing in his life”

“And he vehemently denied that Connie had anything to do with the murders” said Luke “I think that was genuine. He really loves her.”

“Maybe that’s why it was so easy for Harrison to rope her into his crimes” you said, sadly “She spent her whole life desperate to be loved, to be safe and when someone came along who offered that she would do anything to keep that”

“Including murder” added Spencer “Emily we need to talk to her!”

Emily paused, her gaze switching between the two of you.

“Okay” she said finally “Set up an interview for this afternoon. You can take the lead and the rest of us will observe.”

Spencer let out the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. He gave Emily a small nod and then turned to you.

“We need to come up with a battle plan”

Tagging: @teatimewithtiya @cherry-loves-fanfic @rachficrecs @frickin-bats@milkandcookies528 @criminal-navy-writings @reiding-and-writing@remember-me-forever-silent-angel @brooke0297 @http-natiii  @shelvesforbooksandmugsfortea@alexander-jayk@brywrites​ @rda1989@dontshootmespence

Oscar Isaac, Christian Bale, Charlotte LeBon, Angela Sarafyan, James Cromwell and Terry George

Keeping the Promise

by Jay S. Jacobs

The Armenian Genocide in what is now Turkey happened over 100 years ago, but it is still a political hot potato all these years later. In the days during and after World War I, the Ottoman government rounded up and slaughtered 1.5 million Armenian residents. To this day, the government (which was overturned to Turkey in the years following the genocide) not only refuses to apologize for the atrocities, but actively deny that they even happened.

Amazingly, for such a massive occurrence in modern history, there has not even been a feature film on the subject made in Hollywood. There have been several documentaries and some foreign features – the best known probably being Atom Egoyan’s Ararat, but nothing in the US. Not that there were never any attempts, but most were scuttled due to political pressure.

Until now. With The Promise, writer-director Terry George – who also made a film about a similar genocide with Hotel Rwanda – has finally gotten a film about the subject made with The Promise. A tragic romance based on the backdrop, the film tells the story of a love triangle between an Armenian med student (Oscar Isaac), a Parisian dance instructor with Armenian family (Charlotte LeBon) and an American journalist (Christian Bale) who try to save as many innocent Armenians as possible and get the word of the atrocities to the world at large.

Of course, the film has not been without backlash. The film was the victim of an internet smear campaign, with their Rotten Tomatoes and IMDB ratings being attacked before the film was ever seen. There is also The Ottoman Lieutenant, another film on the subject – but told from the opposite perspective – set for release soon after The Promise.

A few days before the release of The Promise, cast members Oscar Isaac, Christian Bale, Charlotte LeBon, Angela Sarafyan and James Cromwell and writer/director Terry George met with the press at the Whitby Hotel in New York to discuss the film and the still controversial historical event.

Why did you decide to make this movie? What approach did you take to it?

Oscar Isaac: To my shame, I didn’t know about the Armenian Genocide before I got the script and spoke with Terry [George]. It was new to me. To read about that, to read that 1.5 million perished at the hand of their own government, it was horrifying. Not only that, but to this day, it is so little known. [There is] active denial of it. That really was the big interesting part of it. Also [I wanted to work with], the cast they put together. And the fact that 100% of the proceeds will go to charity. That’s an extraordinary thing to be a part of.

My approach was to read as much as I could. To try to immerse myself in the history of the time. Also, in LA, there’s a small museum that we were sent to. For me, the biggest help was I had these videos and recordings of survivors, who would recount what they witnessed as little children. Seeing their grandmother bayoneted by the gendarmes, or their mothers and sisters crucified. Horrible atrocities. To hear them recounted almost felt like they were little kids again. It was heartbreaking. I did feel some responsibility to try to tell their story.

Christian Bale: Continuing off what Oscar was saying, the documentaries where you would see survivors talking about horrific experiences. Loved ones, families, were very barbarically killed. [I tried to] get into that mindset. To try even in a very small way to understand the pain they must have gone through. The fact that people were telling them that they were lying about what had happened. They had witnessed it with their own eyes, had all of that emotion, but there were people who refused to call it what it is – genocide. Still, people today refuse to call it that. We have yet to have a sitting US President call it a genocide. Obama did before, but not during [his time as President]. The Pope did recently, but it is this great unknown genocide. The lack of consequence may well have provoked other genocides that have happened since.

For me, it became startlingly relevant, because as I was reading the script – and in the same way as Oscar, was learning about the Armenian Genocide as I was reading, embarrassingly – I’m reading about Musa Dagh [an area in Turkey], Armenians who were being slaughtered, under siege, on a mountain. [At the same time] I’m watching on the news, it’s the Yazidis, under siege, being slaughtered by ISIS. It’s so relevant. Tragically sad it’s still relevant.

Charlotte Le Bon: I learned a lot as well by watching documentaries. I talked a lot with Armenian friends in France just to get their take on the story and their families’ stories. Also – just like Christian was saying – a couple of months before the shooting I was in Greece, just on a holiday. I was on Lesbos Island, which is close to Turkey. It was the beginning of the massive arrival of refugees. They were coming like 1,000 per day. I didn’t know about it then. I just remember being in the car and watching hundreds and hundreds of people walking by the street trying to reach the capitol of the island. It was really, really moving to see that. The only thing I could do was give them a bottle of water. You don’t know what to do. A couple of months later, I was on set and we were recreating the exact same scene that I saw, just a couple of months before.

Angela Sarafyan: I had known about the Armenian Genocide, because grew up hearing stories from my grandparents, the stories they had heard from their parents about their grandparents. So, doing this film was very, very close to my heart, because it was a chance for me to give some light to that world in a very different way. It’s never existed on film. It’s a very controversial issue. What I got to do was really look at the time. Look at what it must have been like to live in that time. The simplicity of what that village was. The survival and romanticism of living in a small place. Learning how people survive within the atrocity. I didn’t really have to go through some of the horrendous things that you see, but I loved being able to investigate that simple life. I read more, because Terry had introduced so many books and scripts, a lot of material.

Did the Turkish government give you any problems? Somebody hijacked Rotten Tomatoes for a while, who couldn’t have possibly seen the movie. The Turkish government has done all they can to not let a movie like this get made. Did you get any pushback?

Terry George: I had a very healthy exchange with a Turkish representative in LA who represented the Hollywood Foreign Press. He presented the Turkish perspective that a genocide couldn’t have happened. There was a war and bad things happen. Lots of people die on both sides. I said that was exactly true, but in the case of the Armenians, it was their own government that was killing them. So, we talked that out.

We had that thing where IMDB was hijacked. We had the sudden appearance of The Ottoman Lieutenant movie four weeks ago, where it was like the reverse mirror image of this film, right down to the storyline. There is a particular nervousness in Europe, I think, about the film and about the situation, particularly the way President Erdoğan has campaigned across Europe for a for lifetime referendum. So, yeah, it’s an extremely amorphous subject.

Our idea, as always, is get it out there. Let’s discuss the thing. I’d be more than willing to sit down with any representative of any Turkish organization and talk this out, in terms of different perspectives, and present our perspective of it. We’d rather air the subject, rather than hide away and deny that any of it happened, or that one side is right and the other side is wrong. Let’s have this discussion.

Christian Bale: I don’t know if I should say this, but don’t you think also that there’s a false debate created – a bit like climate change – as though there’s as strong evidence on one side as on the other? But there isn’t. There isn’t as strong of an argument. Where the evidence really just points to the fact that it was genocide.

Terry George: Well, the Turkish journalist’s perspective was, “Let’s have a convention about this, and everyone sit down.” Yeah, 100 years later, the evidence has been shredded. Pretty much every respected historian in the world recognizes it was a genocide. Almost every government that isn’t swayed by Turkish strategic position recognizes that it’s a genocide. So, let’s sit down and figure out what went wrong? It’s a bit late, guys. 

The whole world acknowledged what took place. [Let’s] find a way toward reconciliation and some sort of rapprochement in the region itself. Until this issue is… not resolved, but at least some sort of reconciliation comes about… there can’t be a real peace in that area. You have a country where three of the borders have been closed since its existence.

What was your favorite scene in The Promise?

Christian Bale: Favorite is the wrong word. Terry and Survival Pictures made a decision not to show the full extent of the barbarity and violence enacted during the genocide. There were multiple reasons for that that I’ll let Terry explain. There was one scene where Mikael, Oscar’s character, he sees many of his family members and also members of his home town who have been slaughtered. That was very emotional for many people that day. Also, seeing Armenians whose family members had gone through that, it was a very affecting day for every single one of us on the film.

Terry George: Just as I did on Hotel Rwanda, I was determined that this be a PG-13 film. That teenagers, schools, people who might be squeamish about the notion of seeing an R-rated genocide movie, that the horror be psychological. That put the burden – and carried magnificently by both Oscar and Christian on that scene – the horror of the genocide. It is told through how Oscar conveyed those moments of what he found, in his face.

Oscar Isaac: Yes, that scene was really why I wanted to do the film. Every time I would read the script, it would impact me deeply. Throughout shooting, knowing that moment was going to come, it was going to fall on us to convey the reaction, there was a challenge. For me, it wasn’t the most challenging scene physically. It was a wild shoot. But emotionally, at that point, the culmination of all the reading and watching the videos of people recounting the tragedy, to do that justice. Of course we’re just actors, but you can’t separate yourself from politics totally. There was something liberating about that moment, being able to share it with everyone. We can all mourn together through the act of imitation.

There’s also a scene in a tank. We had to do all of this underwater stuff. That was difficult, especially with a fake beard. (Laughs) Beard number two, beard number three, there were some challenging evenings. But again, we were watching on the news, a man jumped in the water to save his wife and kids… they all drowned. Here we are doing that. Seeing the same thing happening over and over again, it took its toll.

Christian, your character is a journalist questioning everything that you’re reporting. Did the relevance of that today go through your mind?

Christian Bale: Of course. That was developing during filming and then obviously has become much more present in the news. What’re we calling it now? The Post-truth era? [This shows] just how important it is to have a free press for any democracy. That’s another aspect of the film that’s become much more relevant.

There is a scene where Oscar’s character chastises you, as the journalist, for being able to leave and go back home.

Christian Bale: That line is countered by Chris, my character. That line is, of course, absolutely valid and truthful. But equally truthful is when Chris says, “Without the press, nobody would know what happened.” That’s why it’s so important to have the press, so we can really know what’s happening. Especially now, in this era, where we have to filter through what’s real and not. People are claiming fake news, when it’s clearly not. It’s getting chaotic.

One other thing that was very surprising and inspiring, the film is just the beginning of a big social campaign. The Promise Institute for Human Rights just opened at UCLA. A hundred percent of this movie is going to charity. Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International, we’re getting out there with people on the front lines so to speak. We’re trying to hold people responsible for genocide. Obviously, the press is needed to get evidence, data trails, it’s essential. Hopefully people will see the film and have compassion for refugees, the crisis they are going through.

Terry George: We’re partnered with one organization that I got involved with during Hotel Rwanda called Global Nomads. We’ve made this video that we hope to distribute and show in schools around the world.

Can you talk about any of the unsung heroes that you found out about making the movie?

Christian Bale: There’s Aurora Mardiganian. She’s a real Armenian national hero. The award is named after [her] as well. [She’s] a phenomenal woman who went through real tragic circumstances but came through and told her story with film as early as 1919. She was phenomenal. I mean talk about a fierce, strong woman who overcame phenomenal tragedy. She was very inspiring.

James Cromwell: I think [Henry] Morgenthau [U.S. Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire from 1913-1916 during the Armenian Genocide] was pretty impressive. I didn’t know anything about him when I started [playing him in the film]. Also, you can’t leave out the fact that there were consular officers all over Anatolia who were also sending briefs back to Washington. That’s one of the reasons that we have the record that we have. Morgenthau’s biography, his memoirs, and these eyewitness reports.

It strikes me as amazing that today there are no people with that sort of moral outrage as part of our State Department. There are ambassadors to Yemen. There are ambassadors to Sudan, Somalia, and Libya. You hear nothing. No one stands up for the people who are being oppressed all over the world now in the way Morgenthau took responsibility. [President Woodrow] Wilson was supportive, but not the legislature, not congress. Congress was against him. After Wilson, [President Herbert] Hoover was very much against him, against supporting his work and against establishing the Armenian state.

So as far as a cause is concerned, it just shows us that at the top, down to the average citizen, we have been so desensitized to the suffering of people that we cannot recognize ourselves in the other. [This] is one of the reasons you do a film like this. It has a narrative at the core, so that the audience can come in and feel what other people feel. By doing that you do what Shakespeare said [in Hamlet]: “Hold a mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure.” That’s what we do.

Terry George: There was an ambassador quite recently, Ambassador [John Marshall] Evans, who was the ambassador to Armenia. He refused to not say the word “genocide,” and was forced to resign. In the [President Bill] Clinton Administration?

James Cromwell: [President George W.] Bush.

Terry George: He’s a latter day hero in the mode of Morgenthau. [He] rightly stood up and recognized [the genocide] for what it was, and paid for it with his job.

Angela Sarafyan: For me personally, it would be in my family. The orphans really. All of my great-great-great grandparents were orphaned. They didn’t have parents left. They were all taken away. The mere fact that they were able to survive and then to form families. One of them fled to Aleppo to start a family in Syria. It seems like it’s coming full circle with people today fleeing from Syria to find refuge in other countries. So, I find them personally heroes in my own life. The mere fact that they were able to survive, form families, have a sane mind. I think that kind of trauma changes you genetically. Doing the film was continuing that legacy and making it live forever. Instead of it just being a story that was told, it lives in cinema. It will be an experience for people to watch and have as their own.

I’d love to know more of your thoughts of the web hijacking of IMDB and Rotten Tomatoes against this film. Who do you think organized this or do you think these are individuals?

Terry George: It can’t have been 50,000 individuals decided, after we had two screenings in Toronto, to [rate] us 1 out of 10. Seems like a miraculously spontaneous thing to happen. I definitely think that was a bot, or a series of bots that were switched on. Then we had the contrary reaction, what I genuinely think was 25,000 votes from the Armenian community – because we didn’t have a bot going – voting 10 out 10. It brought a highlight to the not only IMDB, Rotten Tomatoes, just the whole question of manipulating the internet. Manipulating reviews and people being swayed by that. It’s a whole new world.

Copyright ©2017 PopEntertainment.com. All rights reserved. Posted: April 20, 2017.

Photos © 2017 Jay S. Jacobs. All rights reserved.

okay I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted any Ghostbusters stuff but I started thinking about Tolzmann + kids and now I can’t STOP thinking about it

they don’t want any kids of their own; it’s not really their thing. Patty’s known since she was about 8 that babies are gross, spit-up and poopy diapers are not for her, and she wants nothing to do with that, thank you. her family told her she’d change her mind, of course, but she never did, and the older she got the more she was sure that she wanted to be able to focus her life, time and money around doing what she wanted. 

(honesty, she wasn’t even sure she ever wanted a long-term partner. but then again, she didn’t think she wanted to quit her nice safe normal person job to hunt ghosts, either. life takes you in some unexpected directions sometimes.)

and for Holtzmann it was never even a question; caring for chinchillas is about as far as her maternal instincts go. human pregnancy and birth may be the one thing in the world she’s actually squeamish about.

don’t show them pictures of your baby unless you’re certain you’ve got the cutest goddamn baby on the face of the planet. Patty will nod and smile and say something that’s not quite a compliment (“Look at that, she sure is drooling all over herself”) and then not quite be able to hide her laughter when Holtzmann butts in to tell you about how your kid reminds her own a shaved lemur.

but even if babies are’t their thing, both of them are great with kids. Patty’s very no-nonsense in a way that kids really like; she doesn’t talk down to them, and as long as they’re old enough to talk and communicate she can get along with them pretty well. I can definitely see her being the fun aunt who takes the nieces/nephews/niblings (it’s a real word, look it up) out for a fun day and buys them stuff their parents wouldn’t normally let them have.

and Holtzmann, dear lord. Holtzmann doesn’t want to be responsible for them but loves hanging out with kids, because for the most part kids are curious and don’t care about social norms. kids don’t give a shit about Holtzmann stimming, and they sure as hell aren’t going to get on her case about things being ~dangerous~ when they want to see shit blow up as much as she does.

they are dangerously cool aunts.

and now I really have to talk about what a shitshow Abby and Erin are with kids. Abby is just absolutely not doing it, the second that baby starts crying or that child’s nose starts running she’s passing them off to someone else and running for the door. Erin thinks she’s really good with children, but mostly just talks to them in an uncomfortably high voice and holds your baby in an awkward position that she swears she read is good for them. she is very rarely asked to hold that baby again. Patty and Holtzmann look on in amused bewilderment.

When Granny Is A Bitch

I decided, upon waking up in the early morning, that I would just work whatever the next square was, as found in the list at YARNutopia. Rather than sift through the multitude of squares that need to still be worked–a process that I normally do, and one that takes at least fifteen minutes, at best–I decided to keep it simple, by telling myself that I would work the first unworked square on the list.

Square 6 it is, then.

What started out, by the picture, to seem as though it was a sweet and unassuming granny, turned out, in actuality, to be a granny that was a complete and total bitch…something that was made even more obvious by the fact that she appeared to be sweet and innocent. “Look at me,” I picture this granny saying, in a sweet (and slightly quivering) voice, luring in poor, innocent crocheters. “Aren’t I a pretty little thing?”

Then, once she has you fooled, the reality comes out. Behind those kind, innocent stitches, that appear simple and modest (at first glance) there is a MONSTER, ready to make your life complete hell!!!

Two words for you, dear readers. Two words, that should (in my opinion) strike a chord of fear in any crocheter. Two words that welcome one to the gateway of total insanity: Puff stitch!

(I can almost hear the horrified scream, as even the most avid of crocheters brings a hand to their mouths, to conceal the gasp.)

Oh, the puff stitch! There is absolutely NOTHING that can be worse.

Round two of the square worked is nothing but puff stitches. SIXTEEN of the little bastards, to be exact. Each puff stitch, in case (for whatever reason) you do not know, is made by yarning over and repeating the process of inserting your hook into the stitch of the round below, until you have a total of seven loops on your hook. Then, you are supposed to yarn over, and pull through all seven, in one smooth, graceful tug. Yeah…because that is going to happen! All I have to say is this: There are certain stitches, I am sure, that are created by those who have the knowledge of crocheting, yet absolutely DESPISE the process, and wish nothing more than to bring total chaos to those who find comfort in crocheting. The puff stitch is one of these. Each of the sixteen puff stitches that I was forced to work, drove me even closer to the brink of insanity. Each time I tried to yarn over and pull through seven loops, I was made even more aware of just how difficult (read impossible) this task is. I would make it through the first three or four, fine enough. Then, I would either lose the yarn I was working with, or would get it caught on a loop. It was a nightmare. It was complete and total YARN HELL! There is, in my opinion, not enough alcohol in the world to make the puff stitch a fun experience. I whined and suffered many little meltdowns, with this square. And, honestly, I do not feel as though I am quite as mentally sound now, as I was before I began work on it.

I fear this stitch now. I genuinely do. It is like some sort of boogeyman, that looms out there. The worst part is that I know I am not done with it. I know that it will be there, somewhere in the squares yet to be worked, ready to deliver a fresh new round of hell to me.

I shudder to think that I have to fall prey to this horrible stitch again, sometime in my future…

So, as ridiculous as it feels to write this, it took me well over forty-five minutes, to work sixteen puff stitches. The amount of time it normally takes me to finish a square (and that is being rather generous), was what it took yesterday, to merely complete one singular, EVIL round!

Needless to say, after the hell this square put me through, I was already BEYOND irritable when I went to my 8 am optometry appointment. And then, like clockwork, out comes the tiny little bottle of eyedrops. And, just like that…squirt, squirt, squirt.

I should say here that I have always been the type who has been squeamish about eyedrops. It just does not seem natural to me, to go putting foreign crap into one’s eyes. Then, there is the whole thing of it stinging like hell. Before last week, I avoided any sort of eyedrops  for any reason at all. If I had dry eyes (thank you, springtime allergies), I would rather deal with the excruciating burn and itchiness, then add drops. Yet, just as cosmic humor would have it, I–a man who seems to have some very dark-seeded phobia about eyedrops, and has tried in vain to avoid them at all costs–have, in the past week, had my eyes attacked with various drops of different types, on three separate occasions.

Needless to say–mostly because I have said it before–my vision was blurry, blurry, blurry!

After the appointment, I went (with my prescription in hand) to Eyeglass World, where I ordered up my glasses. Since each lens has a prism, they are special orders. So, no same day glasses for Michael. I was told that, at the very latest, they should be available for me by next Monday. However, the lady thought they would come back sooner than that. We shall see.

Moving right along…

Let’s talk about another type of completely bitchy granny. And, unlike the square, this granny is actually freaking hilarious. Yesterday morning, sometime after making my square, and before getting ready to head out to my appointment, my husband sent a link to my phone. The link showed this little old ninety-something lady, being asked a variety of different questions…most of them completely ridiculous. And, her responses….well…

I won’t spoil it. Rather, I urge my readers to Google The Fruitcake Lady. She has passed away, but her videos still keep her (and her dirty comedic value) alive. If anyone needs a good laugh, she is where I recommend you start. God knows that she put me in a happy mood. I still am laughing, even by recounting the video, to write this out.

Well…that is about it for this post. One more square down…a square that I am happy that I will not EVER have to work again. I hated working it, through and through. Yet, now that it is finished, worked in pretty shades of pink, blue, and butter yellow, I must say that it was worth all of the hell it gave me. Because, it is rather pretty.


I find it particularly interesting how, before the start of this challenge that I am now working, I had all but lost my desire to crochet. It had been quite some time since I had picked up a hook. (This is another reason for this challenge…to reconnect with crocheting, as it used to be something I found such joy in.) Before this project, my desire to crochet was, by and large, gone. Patterns I saw held no interest. It was all just blah.

Now, having started this challenge, I am finding that there are so many different patterns out there, that I would LOVE to be able to work. There are a boat load of patterns posted by my readers…and suddenly, I have an overwhelming desire to work every single one of them. From not caring about working any patterns I was seeing, to now wanting to work so many of them, and not having the time to do so, because of this challenge. (Needless to say, I am saving so many patterns on my computer, and promising myself that I will work them all, when this challenge is over.)

For now, all that I am crocheting are my grannies.

And, speaking of the granny squares…

33 Squares down. 432 to go. And, I am off to get cracking on the next granny square adventure.

Live Through The Rain

On a bit of a WtNV kick lately, despite not being completely caught up yet. Add in dubious amounts of sleep and caffeine, a bout of Maria Stark feels, plus my knee-jerk reaction to stress, and I think you guys can tell where I’m going with this. 

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe [films], Welcome To Night Vale [podcast]

Warnings: for everything Night Vale related [Librarian-caliber gore, cosmic horror, dystopian themes, etc.] plus unreliable narrator [because of different priorities, skewed ideas as to what’s normal, etc] and large amounts of crack because reasons. Under the cut, also because reasons.

Here’s a fic idea/minific-I-might-expand-later-on from some premises I kinda want to play with, with bonus Maria Stark backstory because turns out she’s a pretty major influence and butterfly effect ftw:

In which Maria Stark’s hometown was Night Vale.

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Don’t Need You For Sh*t

Sequel to Sitting Next To You, which was done for the first round of the Break the Zone Challenge.

Summary: When a demon possesses your boyfriend, you don’t hesitate to get revenge.  
Pairing: None
Word Count: 1045
Warnings: Demon possession, demon torture, description of severe injuries resulting from torture. The details could be worse, but heed the warning and don’t read if you’re squeamish. 
Challenge: Break the Zone Challenge #2! Prompt this round was “Mama’s Broken Heart” by Miranda Lambert. Clearly, I went more with the spirit of the song. Title and extra inspiration from Clipping’s “Body & Blood”. 

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Ouija boards are generally a fairly infamous and taboo topic among people of all backgrounds. From popular culture, to stories we’ve all somehow heard, everyone has their fair share of misinformation and truths that compile into our subsequent agreeing or disagreeing with the use of this tool. This is my fairly well-informed two cents on the topic. It’s not the absolute truth, and I’d love to hear your thoughts/opinions/questions on the matter,

  • Should I use one?: That is a question that you will have to answer for yourself. Generally, it is best to stay away from ouija boards if you are afraid of them, or afraid of the dead. There’s a good change that fearful energy will draw beings to you that are amused by this, and possibly even beings that will feed off of your nervousness. The more scared you get, the more scary things they can do (going from moving the planchette to tapping or banging on things). It can be a vicious cycle, because if you are too scared, you might not close the connection properly. Similar logic applies to if you have a debilitating mental illness; certain beings will be attracted to this, and they may worsen your condition.

    You may also wish to weigh how much you know about defending yourself from spirits and various other entities that may cause you harm. There’s not a guarantee that you’ll encounter one, but I feel as though it’s better to be safe than sorry.
  • But is it dangerous?: The answer to this question is sort of a “ehhhhhh” sound and a noncommittal hand gesture. A lot of negative things can contact you via the board. Not everything you contact will be negative, but there’s some risk involved. Think of it like driving: you have no real way of knowing if you are going to be okay after getting in the car, but you’re pretty sure it’s fine. No one should be doing it without having learned how to do it properly. If you have learned, and you’re not doing it under the influence, terrified, or in a bad state of mind, then you probably have a better chance of doing it safely. If you take proper precautions like wearing a safety belt (or, in this case, whatever your general protections against negative energies happen to be), then you’re in even better shape. Still, sometimes you’re going to be one of the unlucky few who gets into a crash for no good reason. Even more commonly, you may experience a “driver” with a seriously awful case of road rage. The best way to avoid this? Don’t be a moron, and make sure that you are polite!
  • Polite?: You’ve got to know by now that the dead command respect. Generally, treat them like you would a living being. No screaming at them to leave, no sudden and invasive questions (how did you die?), no asking them random and petty questions about yourself, no condescending attitude, no forcing them away because you’d rather talk to someone else. Use some common sense.
  • I heard that something can come out of the board!: Well, erm, yes and no. It’s not unheard of for this to happen if something was bound to the board, but that is so severely unlikely that it’s ridiculous. Of course, things that you contact can surely follow you! In the case of a ‘negative’ or ‘neutral’ being, maybe they got a rise off of you, or maybe you were rude. These things won’t always hurt you, but if you’re unsure of squeamish, they can scare you. There’s that aforementioned vicious cycle again. There’s also more positive beings. They were probably already with you, got in touch with you through the board, and may protect you or make themselves known in times of hardship and need. Remember, not everything is always as it seems. You wouldn’t fully trust a living stranger to be in your home or in your space, would you? Then why would you trust a dead one?
  • Can I play alone?: Technically, you could. You might not drum up enough energy for a stable connection, though. Also, there is some safety in numbers, since others can help you to clean negative energies and take leadership if you do wind up getting scared.
  • I don’t want my board anymore: Then don’t feel obligated to keep it. You could give your board to someone else (perhaps it requires a more experienced handler?), you could cut it up into pieces, or you could bury it. I, personally, recommend against burning it, since if something were to be bound to it, and things were worded just right… Well, you’ve now released it. It might do some good to purify your area/board with sage or citrine.
  • Personal opinions: I generally don’t like it when I hear about the use of them. Most people aren’t educated in being polite to spirits, and most people lack the resources and knowledge to properly protect themselves if they need to. Some others who think that they know can be too cocky, read as condescending, and make the entity communicating with them think that they are rude. If someone is knowledgeable and following all of the above, I don’t see an issue. The problem is that often times people are not. As in, often enough to make me wary. People playing with the board as a game are fine!… as long as they’re not scared or intoxicated or likely to disrespect spirits, which is so often not the case that I hate that, too. As for myself? I don’t really feel the need to use a board, and likely never will. I communicate with, summon, and get followed by or found by so many spirits already that I think it would become exhausting to me. That, and while I’m sure I wouldn’t be scared of the dead, there’s always a risk that some tricky little creature might set off my anxiety, and while I know how to handle creatures feeding off of me, it’s something I try to avoid when it’s unnecessary. 
In which horror movies contribute positively

A/N I love Ron and Pansy but I thought it’d be best to show that allies fuck up too and while have good intentions can be misguided at times. Also this is my first fic on this tumblr so whoo

Word count: 2,212

TW: horror films mentioned, outing and biphobic comment none of these are graphic at all. Super vague for the most part but I felt it’d be best to mention it just in case.

Rating: It’s pretty pg


“Really Harry? Another horror movie? Ron, why did we let him pick the movie?” Groaned, a slightly agitated Hermione.

Friday’s were movie night, it was a system that they set up when they were all twelve and has been especially reenforced since Ron and Hermione started dating.

“Because the last time Ron picked the movie he picked a sappy movie and the last time you picked one it was a boring documentary– that may I remind you, you two were too busy snogging to watch either film. And let me tell you do NOT want to know that much about the honey badger.”

“He’s got a point, Hermione. Even if we don’t particularly like the film, he’s most likely the only one who’s going to make it through the film, he may as well enjoy it.” Remarked a ever–so–blunt Ron.

“But these movies are always so predictable and unrealistic! You know the horror movie industry has really gone down hill. They rely purely on gore and jump scares which honestly is just tasteless and only affect jumpy or squeamish people. I swear, I don’t know why I put up with you and your horrid movie taste.”

“Because you love me!” Exclaimed a theatrical Harry who dramatically collapses to the floor. His graceless antics earning him stares from anyone passing, a giggle from Hermione, and a eye roll from Ron.

Ron snorts, “More like she needs a gay best friend”

“You twit, you know I’m bisexual not gay there’s a bloody difference” Harry mutters. Only feeling a small pang of annoyance but it’s still there nonetheless. It had never been a secret that he was bisexual, it was a common known fact among them. And yet Ron can’t be bothered to remember this trait.

“Honestly Ronald, you know how your stereotyping is problematic. It’s rude and immoral, being straight doesn’t give you the right to be an ignorant twit and you know this. One of of these days you’re going to say the wrong thing at the wrong time and get yourself into serious problems—”

“Hermione is that you?” A soft voice foreign to Harry asked behind him.

“Oh my goodness Pansy It’s been too long! I haven’t seen you since you moved! What’re you doing here?” Hermione asked, ignoring the questioning looks Ron and Harry were sending her. It’s not that they weren’t aware she had friends outside of them, she was a intelligent and busy individual they’d be stupid to assume she didn’t, but usually they’d at least have some recollection of who the people are. The name sounded familiar but that was about it.

“I actually got to move back, my father’s decided to focus of his businesses he has around here! And I got to bring back my bestie Draco here! I’ve mentioned him loads of times before.” The girl, Pansy, said pointing at possibly the nicest looking bloke Harry had ever seen.

“That’s lovely news Pansy, will you be rejoining me as head of the book club? Also I do remember, it’s nice to finally meet you, Draco! This is my boyfriend Ron, and our best mate Harry”

Pansy squealed that the mention of them, “Ohh boyfriend is it now? About damn time! Also these are the two you always talk about! S'nice to finally meet you both, I’m Pansy and this lovely piece of ass I have here is Draco, who is very much single if you guys know any blokes trying to hit it,” she said adding a sultry wink.

“PANSY!! YOU CANT GO SAYING THINGS LIKE THAT. I DONT EVEN KNOW THESE PEOPLE! COULD YOU BE ACTING ANY MORE LIKE A PLEBEIAN FOOL?!” The boy, Draco, screeched. His face turning a unhealthy shade of red that only was amplified by his pale skin. He appeared to be seething with anger by his facial expression, but his body language not to mention the fact that he was standing behind of Pansy were signs he was terrified.

“I can and I did. Plus I’m just being a good friend, trying to help you scope out the gays around here.” Pansy said smugly.

Everyone was quiet for a second, partially because everyone else was stunned at bullshit spewing from Pansy’s mouth, and partially because they were debating whether or not to mention the elephant in the room. Finally Harry decides he’s never been shy when sharing his opinion, why start now?

“First off, I don’t think it was okay for you to out Draco like that. If he wanted us to know he would’ve said so. Second off, don’t worry about us being homophobic. I’m very much so bisexual, Hermione is a out and proud Demisexual, and Ron here is dating Hermione so obviously he has no issues with LGBT+ people”

“Thank you, Harry is it? That means a lot.” Draco said graciously and Harry had to admit his posh accent was the sexiest thing he’s ever heard.

Pansy paled, seeming to realize what she did wrong, “I’m sorry Draco, I was thinking with my head in my ass! I should’ve been more considerate of you. I’m just too used to you being out and confident about it.”

“Pansy I don’t mind, I just only want to talk about it if it’s brought up, I don’t want to walk up to people being all ‘I’m here and I’m queer’ it’s unbecoming” he explained.

Pansy groaned and wrinkled her nose, “you’re starting to sound like your dad, stop that!”

“Yeah no worries about us, Harry’s actually the leader of both the LGBT+ club at our school and our community one that’s held at the library so if you really are interested in meeting someone whether Platonically or romantically, Harry can probably set you up.” Hermione explained.

To which Ron retorts, “Harry’s also single himself, in case you’re interested”

Harry can feel his tan cheeks turning into a very fluorescent pink, but refuses to acknowledge what has been stated about his current relationship status of lack of therefore. Mostly because he was glad the blonde knew. He definitely wouldn’t mind getting to know him a bit more.

Seeming to be very interested on his shoes, Draco, mumbles a polite thank you.

“What movie are you two here to see?” Hermione said, hoping to end this before it got any worse.

“The Conjuring 2, I’ve been wanting to watch it but haven’t gotten around to it until now.”

“Oh that’s great! We were actually going to see that one too, Harry choice”

“Awesome, how about we all sit together?”

“Sounds like a plan!”


While Ron, Hermione, and Pansy sought out good seats, Draco and Harry were sent on a snack bar.

Draco went first, getting his and Pansy’s stuff. Which only entailed of red licorice, peanut butter cups, one medium popcorn, and two red slushies.

Then it was Harry’s turn, which consisted of one large popcorn, a package of red vines, one medium kettle corn, 2 blue slushies and 1 red slushy, and Hershey kisses.

Draco sneered, “why not just get a whole chocolate bar?”

“You’ll see,” Harry said, smirking. If there was one thing he knew, it was that his food choices were on point.

They had all ironically chosen to go during the morning, which practically guaranteed them good seats considering most people went in the afternoons.

“You guys over here!” Ron yelled, much to the annoyance of anyone within a five feet radius of them.

Harry sighed, “Sorry about him, he usually forgets common curtesy.”

Draco cringes, “So he’s always like this?”

“Pretty much, but it’s endearing. He’s a good guy, just a bit rowdy. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Except in public settings”

“Nah, that just adds for funny stories.”

“True,” he said, and they quieted as they both settled at their seats. Since they were both last to arrive they sat next to each other, with Pansy sitting on the farthest end from them, Ron next to her, and Hermione next to Harry.

“Here’s your things,” they both said at the same time. Draco handed Pansy her popcorn and drink. Then after handing Ron his popcorn, red vines, and their red slushies, Hermione handed Harry her bag. To which Harry brought out a plate filled with decently warm cookies, Carmel bites, crasins, and the best part: gummy bears.

“Isn’t that not allowed?” Draco whispered,

“It’s not, but they never check women’s purses. Plus I’m putting all of this in my kettle corn alongside the Hershey kisses. Making for the best trail mix ever”

“Sheesh don’t you mean unhealthiest, you go all out, don’t you?”

“I don’t get to eat junk food much at home, my cousin usually eats all the good food.”

“Fair enough, add my stuff. It’ll be more sugary goodness.”

“More like you want my freshly baked cookies.” Harry teased.

“A little bit of both” Draco teased back, adding his peanut butter cups and licorice into the already unhealthy mix.

The movie started and all conversations lulled.


“Don’t go in there, don’t in there. FUCKING SHIT THEY WENT IN THERE” Draco whisper/screamed. Whimpering loudly as his hands tried to cover his eyes, to no avail considering the fact that he was peaking through the spaces between his fingers.

He had subtly been inching closer to Harry after every jump scare. He didn’t this other boy noticed, but he swore he was moving closer as well. Though not out of fear, he evidently looked bemused by the whole ordeal that was unraveling on the screen. How someone could find these treacherous films amusing he’ll never know.

Draco can feel his pounding heart, as it exhilarated to a rate he didn’t think possible. He could just feel the next scare ready to happen, but somehow not knowing when just makes it all that much worse. When it finally comes, he actually jumps out of his seat. He cowers to the corner next to Harry in fear.

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s just a movie. Come sit here,” Harry said, moving his drink to the cup holder next to Hermione.

“JUST A MOVIE? IT IS BASED OFF A REAL EVENT” Draco whispered harshly. Moving quickly into Harry’s arms before his remaining dignity decided to make an appearance.

“They say that to amp up the views it’s not actually true. It’s the Hollywood version of YouTube’s click baiting”

“Still doesn’t make the jump scares any less frightening” Draco mumbled into Harry’s shoulder.

“It does when you understand the basics of what it takes to make these movies. Through a logical point of view.” To which this lead Harry to a mini rant on horror movies and the effects used now a days.

“Okay, but I’m still staying here just to be safe” Draco said.

“Fine by me” Harry said smiling.

And this was how the two spent the remainder of the movie, cuddling and eating the snacks.

As the credits commenced to roll, they exited the theater. And Draco’s dignity finally met up with the rest of him.

He blushes furiously, eyes adverted from the other boy’s as he spoke, “ I.. Uhh.. Sorry for, you know bothering you and all”

“What are you talking about? You weren’t a bother at all, and I was kind of hoping to, I mean if you wanted to go—”

“Whatever it is, yes. If you can actually still put up with me then I’m down for whatever you have in mind”

“First off I thought you were rather endearing and it made look more human. Also are you sure whatever I had in mind? What if I was planning to invite you to a round in a sex dungeon with me?”

“Well I’d say I’m the Dom and there is no room for discussion on that. Also I’m not into anything furry related.”

Harry blanched, “Oh my god, where have you been all my life?”

“Well the question now is where am I going to be in your life now that you know me?”

“Coffee with me at Maurader’s Café tomorrow? I’ll pick you up.”

“Sounds great, I can’t wait.” Draco responds. They then quickly exchange numbers.

“Draco we have to go, mom needs us home so we can get ready for the dinner thing with dad’s boring business people” Pansy said.

“I’ll text you later, okay?” Draco said.

“Can’t wait, I’ll be counting the seconds” Harry yelled at them as they reseeded to the parking lot.

“Well that was actually a decent film, it wasn’t totally unbearable. Don’t you think, Harry?” Hermione asks, midway through a discussion on the movie with Ron.

“Huh? Oh yeah, it was great.” Harry said and his grinned turned impossibly wider as he realized. For once it was him who didn’t finish the film.

One Exception

Summary: Phil usually can’t stand the sight of blood, but it’s different whenever Dan gets hurt. Fluffy phan one-shot!

Ever since he could remember, Phil had always felt squeamish around blood. That was why he’d never became a veterinarian after all, because the sight of blood made him feel faint and sick. It was like that all throughout his childhood actually. The very smell and sight of the red substance would just cause his tummy erupt with nausea and more often than not, he would pass out.

It wasn’t that big of a deal really. It wasn’t like people just went around bleeding everywhere, and horror movies were different because he knew for a fact that it was just fake blood, and he didn’t actually have to smell it.

There was, however, one exception to his fear of blood.


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Major Crimes Monday-Hiatis

Just to stay with Major Crimes on Monday there is one thing about this past year that is still sticking at me and I guess it’s time to let it out. There seems to be an assumption out there, touched on by James Duff, that Shandy fans want/expect Andy to walk into Sharon’s office, fling everything off her desk, toss up her skirt and take her right there–probably with the blinds open for everyone to see.

OK, so no. While I’m not going lie and say many of us wouldn’t want to see that (thankfully we have fanfic for that) I find it rather insulting that he thinks we expect to see that on a Major Crimes episode and are disgruntled because that isn’t what he is giving us. He seems to be unable to understand that Shandy fans simply want him to show that these two people actually have a relationship. We certainly saw enough of it with Brenda and Fritz, and let’s face it Brenda and Fritz brought their relationship into the workplace far more than Sharon and Andy.

It is totally understandable that Sharon and Andy would be very careful at work. Their relationship is important and they don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize it. But we could certainly have had more outside the workplace scenes that showed their growing relationship. Those scenes would serve two purposes, to show us these two characters outside of work and what kinds of things they enjoy doing as well as the audience getting to actually SEE their relationship.

We all know the cardinal rule of writing “Show don’t tell.” You’d think the writers would actually have this concept down and I find it rather shocking that they don‘t.  I also get that you can’t show everything. I had a professor once say that he believed good writing was a combination of 70% show 30% tell. What we have gotten from Shandy is 1% show and 99% tell.

Now I’m not talking about devoting an entire episode focused on the out of work goings on between Sharon and Andy–though how GREAT would that be—there are a lot of ways Duff could have shown us the growth of this relationship rather than simply having them tell us they had a conversation about something or through Rusty relating something to us.

Here are just a few of the many things I think  could have subtly worked into the episodes.

How to show a date-

Andy and Sharon are dressed up and dining at a fancy restaurant,candlelight, soft music etc. when a call comes that they’ve caught a case.

Andy and Sharon are all dressed up in evening wear at a charity event. They are slow dancing when they get a call that they’ve caught a case. Would love to see Andy in a tux and Sharon in a long gown. And how much fun would Greg LaVoi shopping for those outfits!

Andy and Sharon are dressed casually and are cooking a meal together in Sharon’s kitchen.  Andy leans into her from behind to reach for something, pushes aside her hair and kisses the back of her neck. She shivers but tells him not to get started or she’s going to burn whatever it is she has cooking. He tells her she’s more tempting than any food they are cooking. She smiles at him and they share the Shandy heart eyes. We cut to Provenza arriving at a crime scene asking “Where’s Flynn?” Tao says “He was at the Captain’s. He’s on his way.” Provenza rolls his eyes “Ye Gods.” Tao grins. “You better get used to it.” Provenza glares, huffs and walks away. With those two scenes we could have seen the burgeoning Shandy relationship and that the entire team has now been told they are a couple.

Andy and Sharon are at a football game-maybe with Andy’s grandkid’s– when one of the players ends up dead and they have to call in a homicide. Another chance to revisit Sharon’s choice not to take the NFL job. 

An actual KISS-

Andy and Sharon are standing outside Sharon’s door. Sharon seems a little nervous about inviting Andy in. He gives her a break and says “Look Sharon I know you want to take things slow. I’m not going to push you into anything you’re not ready for. But I would like to kiss you goodnight. She smiles and he gives her a sweet tender kiss ON THE LIPS. They share the Shandy heart eyes, Sharon enters her apartment in a rather dreamy state. Rusty is on his computer, looks up, sees the look on Sharon’s face and says “I don’t want to hear about it.” She giggles that little Sharon giggle says good night and heads down toward her bedroom her fingers reaching up to touch her lips. (Sort of reminiscent of her “romantic” moment when she walked away after Andy first asked her out)

How we could have been shown they’d begun sleeping together-

Andy and Sharon are supposed to be on a weekend getaway at a beach bungalow. They are  having a romantic walk hand in hand on the beach at sunset when someone starts screaming about a dead body. The episode begins. Sharon is all professional and Andy is grumbling about their ruined weekend. Sharon reminds him it wasn’t all a bust and kind of purrs “We did have one night, Andy” He grins, but then sulks. One night wasn’t enough.

Easy way out-Andy and Sharon are asleep in bed at his or her place when a call comes in saying they caught a case. They could be in nightwear but I don’t think it would be that big a deal to have a Roslin/Adama bed scene where we can see that Andy and Sharon have made love because they are naked under the covers, but it doesn’t have to be in your face.

And since Duff loves Rusty so much how about Rusty wakes up, heads to the bathroom sleepy in his pj’s and just about to knock on the door hears Andy and Sharon inside laughing softly. He grimaces and walks away embarrassed.

Or if that’s too risque for him, how about just having Andy and Sharon coming out of her bedroom in their bathrobes and heading to the breakfast table where Rusty is sitting. Rusty is awkwardly silent  and Andy and Sharon are sharing humorous looks.

Now these are all ways Duff could get around his weird kind of squeamishness when it comes to Sharon and Andy but I also think the audience would not find it off putting at all to see some of the playful kissing we got with Brenda and Fritz. I’m not sure if it’s an “age” thing or what his problem is, but hell, Carson and Mrs. Hughes got more kissing than Andy and Sharon have had so far!

I really hope Duff loosens up on the back 8 episodes and stops writing Andy and Sharon like they are platonic roommates rather than lovers in a loving, sexual, committed relationship. Sharon is the lead in the show so it is certainly not strange to think we would see more of her outside of work than the other characters. We need more Mary!



First, let me say, if seeing fat on a person bothers you, makes you squeamish or fills you with the need to send anon hate, you need to keep scrolling now.

If you’re still with me:

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A/N: Autumn Fic Meme - #6: Ghost stories (I didn’t really stick to the ‘ghost’ part of it, but oh well, haha). You can find the autumn fic meme post here! Feel free to continue to send anymore prompts in! But I know this ask shows two fic prompts, so I’ll have to come back to this and write for the other one later. :)

Word count: ~830

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