#1930s headers

[theladyvanishes]

some b&w film icons & a header !!

★ — rosaura a las diez [1958] / the witch's cradle [1943] / eraserhead [1977] / tango bar [1935] — ★

[nemfrog]

Floral border detail on pictorial map. North Carolina for Nature Lovers. 1937.

Rumsey

[cxpitano]

ㅤㅤㅤ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Sometimes I let matches burn down to my fingertips just to feel something, anything.” ㅤㅤㅤ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ㅤㅤㅤ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ㅤㅤ- Spiderman Noir ㅤㅤㅤ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ㅤㅤㅤ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎TW: Sm0king, g#n, kn1fe.

[notesmuseum]

The iconic LIFE magazine, now mostly an online only entity, was established in 1883. In 1936, publisher Henry Luce, the owner of Time Inc., purchased the company for $92,000, transforming its focus to visual storytelling. Its popularity exceeded all expectations, with circulation peaking at over 13.5 million copies per week during its heyday. The cover of the 26 April 1937 edition, featuring Torkel Korling's photograph of a white leghorn rooster with a beautifully detailed cockscomb, is particularly memorable for its absence of the signature red and white 'LIFE' masthead. Luce had tasked Al Zingaro, a layout artist working the nightshift, to create a cover showcasing Korling's rooster photo. Zingaro quickly obliged but something wasn't right. Luce felt the masthead and cockscomb clashed. As the clock ticked past midnight, and despite Zingaro's redrafts, they couldn't agree on the LIFE logo's placement. Zingaro recalled the pivotal moment: 'I said, “Mr. Luce, we are at an impasse.” He was silent for all of 30 seconds then the thunderclap! “Let us omit the logo entirely. This fine photo must not be tampered with,” he said. “We’ll put LIFE in the red banner below in small type."'

Luce's resolve to temporarily demote his fledgling magazine's branding, driven by his concern for preserving the artistic integrity of a photograph of a rooster, is truly admirable. By removing the masthead, the cover gains a timeless quality and aesthetic durability that allows it to resonate both in the 1930s and nearly a century later in the 2020s.

[haxkattpress]

Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses

"Harry Potter, returning member of the Oxford University Boat Club, has two goals for the spring of 2005: beat Cambridge, and beat Draco Malfoy. Perhaps not in that order."

This has to be one of the most creative and meticulously researched fics I have ever had the pleasure of reading. If you haven't read it yet, don't walk— run! Citrusses is an absolute genius, and kindly gave me permission to bind her masterpiece.

The cover of this bind is made out four different shades of Allure bookcloth cut by my Cameo 4, and the centerpiece is printed and hand foiled. The banners were machine foiled in gold and black with hand foiled rose gold shading. The endbands were hand sewn with Gutermann silk thread.

You can find more pictures and information about my process under the cut.

The amount of inspiration this fic gave me was overwhelming, and Citrusses' writing fully immersed me in the world of competitive rowing. While designing this bind, I was struck by the sheer wealth of Oxford rowing memorabilia available to me. I settled on this 1929 illustration from an official publication on the Oxford and Cambridge Centenary Boat Race for the cover.

"How hard could it possibly be?" I thought, foolishly. The answer was HARD, but I'll get into that later.

Due to the wealth of design options, I believe that this may be the best typeset I have created to date. Thanks to the help of my friend @tsurashi-bindery, I was able to learn the basics of InDesign (kicking and screaming all the way). There will be spoilers in the text of these photos, so try not to read them if you haven't finished the fic!

For the title page, I modified To See the Crews in Training by Charles Pears (1930). I believe that this was part of a series of advertisements for the race in the London Underground.

For the chapter headers, I redrew the crest from an Oxford Oars, Flags, and Arms postcard, presumably pre 1914. I also had some fun creating a mock email using La_Temperanza's How to Mimic Email Windows on Ao3. Cormac's email makes me laugh every time I read it, and Citrusses provided an appropriately pompous subject.

I also had lots of fun editing the oars from the official OUBC logo to serve as dividers and decorations for the page numbers.

Additionally, I got to edit a full newspaper page for the fic! I was very excited find an opportunity to slip Leyendecker's The Finish (1908) in.

The fic ended beautifully, so I wanted to include one last element at the end to capture the atmosphere. I settled on L'aviron (1932) by Milivoj Uzelac. It makes me feel as though Harry and Draco will continue rowing together long after I've closed the book.

I of course had lots of fun sewing the headbands, and got to do it with not one but TWO copies!

Things got tricky when I had to recreate the cover. I had a poor understanding of how vector images worked, and ended up having to redraw it three times. Once I finally cracked and taught myself how to use Illustrator, the program crashed...and I had to redraw it a fourth time!

I set the vector to cut on my Cameo 4, and I assembled the pieces together like a puzzle on my Silhouette mat. I used Allure's indigo, skylight, white, and black bookcloth in the process. I will be making a tutorial video on this method, so I will keep it brief here.

I also cut a piece of bookcloth to 8.5"x 11" and fed it through my inktank printer to print the center design. I then cut it out using the print and cut feature on my Cameo 4. Both of these methods were a first for me, and they were very scary!!

To be perfectly frank, the foiling was a nightmare and I don't want to get into it. I machine foiled the gold, and then foiled black lettering on top of it. I foiled the rose gold shading by hand, and then foiled a thin black outline along the edge of the banners to make them stand out more.

I hand foiled the spines (because I'm scared of measuring), painted the exposed board (to hide any gaps in the inlays), and used transfer tape to lift my design from the Silhouette mat and onto the cover.

One more fun detail— my copy and the author's copy are sisters! The dark blue and the light blue are inverted on the author's copy, making it distinguishable from mine. This is the first time I have made an author's copy for a fic, and I was admittedly incredibly nervous. I always worry about what authors will think of my work, but Citrusses gave me an incredible amount of encouragement and support throughout the process! Thank you for trusting me with your precious fic!

This story is a work of fanfiction and can be read on Ao3 for free. My bind and typeset are for personal use only and not for sale or profit. Keep fandom free!

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1930 Ford Highboy Coupe

There’s always lots of detail work with any build and this ’30 Ford highboy coupe is no exception. Look closely and you will find Craftworks Fabrication handmade steel motor mounts. The license plate and valve covers were painted by Jeremy Seanor of Luckystrike Designs. He also painted all the accompanying engine and tranny parts. The powdercoat was handled by Pittsburgh Powder Coat while the chrome plating was conducted by Jon Wright’s Custom Chrome Plating.

The chassis is comprised of a Roadster Shop custom frame that was stepped, stretched, and features contoured ’32 Ford-style framerails. It was also then boxed, capped, and has hole punch flared front framehorns. From here the frame is outfitted with a Super Bell 4-inch drop, drilled and plated I-beam axle, low-profile monoleaf spring with Ridetech tubular shocks paired to custom-made drilled billet radius rods from Johnson’s Hot Rod Shop. Steering falls to the Flaming River box and a LimeWorks Hot Rod column topped with a four-spoke Billet Specialties Sprint Car–style leather-wrapped wheel. In back there’s a Currie 9-inch rearend outfitted with 3.70 gears, 31-spline axles, QA1 coilovers, a Pete & Jakes Panhard bar, and a parallel four-link setup. Braking is a combination of disc/drum front to rear. The forward braking dark gray–painted Wilwood Dynalite calipers are neatly hidden behind the Pete & Jakes finned backing plates. While in back the 9-inch is outfitted with 11-inch brakes, this time hidden beneath the SO-CAL Speed Shop finned drums all the while the chassis rides on a full set of 16-inch Dayton wire wheels wrapped with Coker/Excelsior rubber measuring 5.50R16 in front and 7.00R18 in the back.

All hot rods have something fun settled between the ’rails and beneath the hood (well if they have a hood). In the case of our ’30 Ford highboy coupe it sure appears to be a vintage Ford Y-block but after more than a cursory look we begin to see the telltale signs that there’s something more. Indeed, while it may look like a Ford it truly is a 376-inch LSX iron block, with aluminum heads and ARP studs, plus adapter-equipped small-block Ford (Windsor) valve covers all from Don Hardy Race Cars and then assembled by Talik and Marc Mullin. The intake is an Edelbrock LS dual quad with a pair of Thunder AVS EnduraShine carbs dressed in OTB air cleaners. Delivering the gas from the Tanks stainless reservoir is an Earl’s Performance billet fuel pump. More engine accessories include an MSD 6AL box to go along with the MSD billet Ford small-block distributor that functions through a timing cover adapter from Chevrolet Performance all the while using an MSD coil and Lokar vintage plug wires. Powermaster also supplied the alternator and starter, the battery is an XS Power AGM, and a Wegner Motorsports water pump is used as well as a Wegner front accessory drive unit. This 500-plus hp V-8 utilizes custom headers made at Craftworks Fabrication based on Ultimate Headers LS header flanges. The pseudo-Ford small-block is backed up to a TCI StreetFighter 700-R4 with a 2,800-stall speed converter operated by a Lokar shifter. The trans cooler comes by way of Derale Performance and moves the power through a 3-inch-diameter custom-made driveshaft.

[radioisntdead]

This is my first time requesting anything from you so I hope this idea is okay but would you be willing to write something where the reader is Alastor's child (I live for Dad Alastor) and they meet Susan? Maybe they get really attached to her so every time they visit Cannibal Town Alastor has to reluctantly take his kid to see 'Grandma Susan' and be civil around her?

Only if you're up for it though! I love your blog so MUCH and I live for both the platonic Alastor and Susan content you do

-TheAmberFist ♡

Good evening my dear! I did headcanons I hope that's alright, I adore your blog's content as well! I reread your "leave it all on the dance floor" series often! I positively adore how you write Alastor's and the readers friendship! Also thank you so much for requesting this because that gives me an excuse to bring back this header!

Papa Alastor doesn't like Grandma Susan.

Alastor & child reader, Susan & adopted against Alastor's will grandchild reader.

Warnings: Cannibalism also reader is a fawn because deers.

HEADCANON TIMEEEEE

Much like my other Papa Alastor fics, he either picked you up off the streets, or you just straight up followed him home like a stray puppy.

He unwillingly became a father.

I imagine he was talking with your Auntie Rosie and You wandered off to explore Cannibal town!

Despite being in hell, it seems safe enough for children considering there were other children around.

Anywho you stumbled upon a cranky Susan and just immediately started going

"I like your dead rodent scarf!"

"It's a fox, what are you blind?"

Long story short she unwillingly became a grandmother that day because you would NOT LEAVE HER ALONE not that she minded

Alastor has to deal with you whining that you want to see Grandma Susan, dude does NOT want to call her your grandmother, in his eyes you only have one grandmother above that you will unfortunately never meet.

"I wanna see Grandma Susan!"

"She's not your grandmother, why in the devil's name would you want to see her?"

"Because she's my grandma,"

"No she's not."

"yes she is!"

"No."

"Yes!"

Que a repeat of no's and yes until he eventually relents because you are NOT TAKING NO FOR AN ANSWER.

I imagine Susan enjoys your company but also uses you to peeve off the embodiment of red-40 that is your parent.

Like Alastor leaves you with her for whatever reason and is just like

"Don't give them any candy, no more then two juice boxes anymore and they get rowdy."

Guess who got a little goodie bag of candies and had a whole box of CapriSuns?

Also I imagine you as a fawn, specifically one of these [no this totally isn't an excuse to show the deer pictures I have saved noooooo]

Susan puts either a bow or bow tie on you, I imagine she breaks into the hotel sometimes when Alastor is out and is just like "I'm taking my grandchild out, fuck off!"

Vaggie tried to stop her once and nearly lost an arm, so far the only ones that are successful in getting Susan to not kidnap you is Angel dust [aka your favorite babysitter] ,Rosie, Alastor himself, for everyone else they have to risk losing limbs, Charlie could probably coax you away from Susan.

They banned her from the hotel, set up security measures.

She keeps getting in they don't know how, they're terrified.

Nothing stops Susan.

Alastor keeps cordial with Susan because he can't do anything to Susan because of Rosie and also because much to his displeasure you are attached to the ornery old bitch.

Alastor wants to take you on a father-child day? Torturing sinners, getting cannibal ice cream, getting souls,

He can't BECAUSE Susan snuck into the hotel and snatched you up!

On the flip side, Susan wants to take you shopping because the modern [1920's-1930's] clothing Alastor dresses you in is horrendous, Her words not mine

But no Alastor literally just picked you up and teleported away, how rude! How dare he keep her from her grandchild?? Ungrateful brat who raised him? [She's lucky Alastor did NOT HEAR THAT, just because he's dead and his ma is in heaven does NOT MEAN HE'S NOT STILL A MAMA'S BOY the good version ]

I imagine as a consequence Susan starts acting like Alastor's parent, like threatening to ground him, telling him to go in the corner and think about what he's done, chastising him for his awful haircut, then grabbing a bowl and scissors.

Alastor hid behind Rosie while Susan and you looked for him because she was definitely planning on giving him a bowl cut.

Good evening folks! Oh how I've missed writing for Susan! I missed our grumpy grandma, I hope you enjoyed this! As per usual thank you for tuning in I hope to see you again soon!

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

the world is dark (and light is precious) : November 2023

Pete Wentz // D.H. Lawrence // Circa Survive, Your Friends Are Gone // Fall Out Boy, Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes // u.k. // Jack Gilbert // @/thegirlhoodtheory // Emily St. John Mandel, Station Eleven // @/9710144 // Emily Wilson // Fall Out Boy, Disloyal Order // Lauren Zuniga // Patrick Stump, Spotlight (Oh Nostalgia) // Ellen Bass // 1930s book headers and illustrations via @/nemfrog

[bloody-peach]

Demonic Possession (BATIM smut: Ink Demon x F!Reader) [NSFW]

(art by Hikase555)

Goodie Bag: Vaginal sex, creampie, monster sex, biting/marking, breeding, fluff and smut, dry humping, grinding [please let me know if i'm missing anything].

Now Playing: The Rigs - Devil's Playground (click here to listen)

Taglist: @omniuravity @eldritch-affair and any other fellow monster/demon fuckers!

~~~♡♡♡~~~

A/N: Oooh man, the monster fucker in me is salivating over Ink Demon rn. I couldn't find a lot of Ink Demon smut (if any) so I made one myself. A few things before we start. 1) The ink demon will not be referred to as Bendy in this, just 'the Ink Demon'. I go against canon and see Bendy and the Ink Demon as separate entities, so it applies here. 2) the look of the Ink Demon in this story is going by hikase555's design. The header image is by them, but here's another one for further reference: [click here]. 3) I had my boyfriend help me with the intro, so if there appears to be a slight disconnect in writing styles at the start, that is why. One last thing: if you ever get confused on how kissing works in this, the kisses work pretty much like how it worked in this image: [click here]. Ok, on with the show!

~~~♡♡♡~~~

Bending through the corridors of the Cycle left closed and locked away, a sound painfully wailed behind the walls. He once found comfort being given form, but now he dreads the very existence left to be his fate; why must ink demons have heat cycles?

The Ink Demon knew that his heat would start today, it started the same time each year (wait, do years even go by in the cycle?). He would usually be able to control it by pleasuring himself in many different ways, and it would usually work, but now he was insatiable. He needed to find a mate or else lose his mind trying to hold off til the end of his cycle, which he knew he couldn't do.

As he ran through the list of potential candidates in his head, a shrill scream rang out through the halls. It wasn't a scream he recognized as anyone from the studio, so he went to investigate. He followed the commotion to find a chase between the Projectionist, and a woman he'd never seen before. A smile grew on the Ink Demon's face. Maybe this was his chance.

-Some time before-

You heard the rumors about the abandoned studio from the 1930s near your apartment from many people, but never really believed them. However, the mystery of what could be inside the surprisingly intact building enticed you to go see for yourself. When you entered the studio, everything around you turned black and sepia. You walked through the halls and explored the many rooms, to the point where it seemed endless.

But you soon found that, unfortunately, you were not alone.

Many humanoid blobs made of ink and morphed versions of the Bendy characters would try to attack you, at an increasingly growing rate. You were able to outrun them, but you started to grow paranoid over whether they'll be back. Nevertheless, you kept exploring, but you carried a makeshift weapon (you found a broken piece of pipe). You walked into a room where there was a projector running, displaying some footage for some TV special with Joey Drew as the host. You took a closer look at the projector, impressed by its ability to still run after all these years. But then, you noticed ink starting to drip down the projector. The ink formed into a puddle and then grew into a body, attaching to the projector. It lifted it off the stand and was now a walking ink being with the projector as its head. The creature turned to you and let out a terrifying shriek, then started to charge at you. You dodged it and ran out of the room, the projector being chasing you.

-Now-

You ran and ran as fast as you could but you could hear that projector being catching up to you. Soon, to your horror, you hit a dead end. You turned to see your demise coming closer and closer. You put your arms up in a defensive position and shut your eyes tight, waiting for a swift death. But then there was a loud sound and then, silence. You slowly opened your eyes and saw the projector on the ground, separated from the demon's body. You put your arms down and almost jumped when you saw who killed it.

It was a 7 foot tall, malformed figure with skin made of black ink that almost looked like tar, appearing to have a fit human torso, legs, and arms, but with a very small waist. His head looked like Bendy's, but it looked like someone dumped ink on his head, making him look melted. It covered his eyes, so you couldn't see them, if he even had any. His horns were curved and almost looked like a crescent moon, almost. His smile matched Bendy's, but it was much wider. His left hand had 4 fingers and was wearing a white, ink-stained glove, while the other hand had 5 fingers and wore nothing. While you couldn't help but blush as you looked at him, you noticed that he wasn't trying to attack you. He was just...standing there, looking at you.

He stood motionless, his gaze fixed on you. His presence felt unnerving and sinister as he slowly approached you, a faint smile curling at the corners of his mouth. You started to relax as your fear started to dissipate. When you saw its smile, you couldn’t help but feel a blush appear on your cheeks. The Ink Demon's smile widened as he continued to approach you, his steps slow and deliberate. His gaze, intense and penetrating, never left your face. He then knelt in front of you, his head in front of your chest, which brought a lump to your throat for some reason. Maybe it was the invasion of personal space.

You felt a bit of unease in your stomach due to his gaze, but you figured he was safe, since he saved you from that projector thing. You cautiously reached your hand out and you gently put your hand on his cheek. As your fingers made contact with the Ink Demon's face, his inky skin felt cool and smooth to the touch. The ink didn’t stick to your fingers, much to your surprise. He remained still for a moment before slowly tilting his head slightly, resting his head in your hand, a low purr in his throat. It seemed that he found comfort in your touch.

You reached your other hand to touch his other cheek and you couldn’t help but smile warmly, realizing he wasn’t like the other monsters in this building, and that your assumption of him being safe was right. The Ink Demon's expression seemed to glimmer with a mix of curiosity and something akin to affection as you held his head in your hands. You felt as he slowly placed his large hands around you, like he was holding a doll. The Ink Demon's grip on you was surprisingly gentle, his ink-covered hands enveloping you with an almost protective hold. He was handling you like you were made of glass and if he moved wrong or squeezed you too tight, you’d shatter to pieces.

His gaze remain fixed on your face, his expression filled with a strange sense of connection. You couldn’t deny that you felt that connection too, along with a warm feeling in your chest. You thought about how sweet this demon was being, that maybe this was its true nature. You then thought about how it must’ve been so long since he’s seen anyone here that wasn’t a monster out for blood, and how lonely he must’ve been. After that thought, you felt a sense of compassion for this creature and you leaned forward and laid a soft kiss on his head.

The Ink Demon seemed surprised by the action, because it backed up a bit. You felt like you did something wrong, so you said, “I-I’m sorry. Was that too much..? I..I...” That’s when the Ink Demon slowly shook his head, his face softening as he continued to hold you. He reached up with one hand and gently touched the spot where you kissed him, a small smile forming on his face. Something told you that he really liked that. After that, he lifted you up and took you to another room.

The next thing you knew, you were in a room with a makeshift bed in the middle of the room. Must’ve been where the Ink Demon slept, you figured. As he placed you on the mattress and stood in front of you, you wondered why he brought you here, until you thought more on it.

Why else would someone bring you to their room? Because they want you to stay.

You look at the Ink Demon and ask, “You..want me to stay with you, don’t you?” The Ink Demon's smile widened slightly, and he nodded in response to your question. He released his grip on you but took your hand and gently held it, as if urging you to stay. Well, it wasn’t like there was anything for you outside of the building. You had no one waiting for you, no one to be worried about you if you disappeared. Plus, it’s not like there was a possible exit to this place anyways. So you looked at the demon and smiled, saying, “Alright. I’ll stay with you.” The Ink Demon's eyes lit up with a mixture of gratitude and excitement, then he nuzzled the top of your head and licked your cheek.

You felt a stinging pain on your cheek, so you touched where he licked and there was blood. Turns out you got hurt as you ran away from that Projector Demon. You noticed you got a few scratches on your cheek and on the side of your neck and on your shoulder, all bleeding. “Shit...” you said to yourself. The Ink Demon tilted his head slightly, observing your injuries with a mix of curiosity and concern. Slowly, he went to your cheek again. The Ink Demon’s long, inky tongue snaked out from his mouth and delicately licked at the blood on your wounds. As you felt the stings, you noticed that even though he was terrifying and intimidating, he was still being so gentle with you. As he continued to clean your wounds, a low growl rumbled in his chest, almost as if he was trying to comfort you. You felt a blush form on your cheeks and when you heard his comforting purr, you felt touched that he cared about you enough to comfort you through the pain.

He then moved from your cheek to your neck and shoulder. You felt his hot breath on your neck, his tongue slowly caressing it as he cleaned up the blood. It sent a heat down to your very core and you could feel yourself getting hot from this. As he slid his tongue down to your shoulder wound, you accidentally let out a soft moan. In response, the Ink Demon’s purr deepened as he continued to lick your wounds. His tongue brushed against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His gaze stayed locked on you as he continued to lick you, seemingly lost in thought.

He went towards the spot between your shoulder and your neck and he growled again, but a bit louder this time. He then bit down gently on your skin, drawing a bit of blood. A small, almost unnoticeable amount of ink dripped from his teeth onto your skin, sinking into the bite as he marked you as his. You gasped softly as he bit you, but not out of pain. The ink seemed to numb any pain the bite would've caused and it actually intensified your heat. You couldn’t help but start to feel aroused from his bite, his tongue, his touch, his everything. The Ink Demon’s growling deepened as he continued to leave more marks on your shoulder, now with more purpose than before. He could sense your arousal, and it only served to fuel his own. He knew that you had to be his mate, there was no denying it. He wanted you oh so badly, his very being was screaming for him to devour you.

You couldn’t help but reach your hands out and touch him. You wanted to feel his skin, to know that what you were experiencing was real. The Ink Demon purred, reveling in the warmth of your touch. You gently touch his arm, trailing your fingers along his slick inky skin. You reached his hand and after feeling his palm and fingers, you gently intertwined your fingers with his, holding his hand. He smiled warmly and leaned down slightly, pressing his forehead against yours and allowing your intertwined fingers to rest between you. You blushed red and you felt a warm and tight feeling in your chest. Were you starting to fall for this gentle beast?

You started to trail your other hand down his chest and along his stomach, feeling how smooth his skin was. The Ink Demon inhaled deeply, his body shuddering slightly at your touch. He gazed at you, his cheeks flushed and his smile so warm and inviting. He reached out with his other hand, placing it on the small of your back and pulling you closer to him. You gasp softly at his touch, sending shivers down your spine. “Y..You can..t..touch me too...i..if you want,” you were able to say softly.

The Ink Demon pressed his lips against yours, the kiss gentle and slow. His hand moved up your back, tracing the curve of your spine and pulling you even closer to him. His other hand trails down your side, resting on your hip as he explored your body. You kissed him back, letting a moan escape into his mouth. The Ink Demon smiled, pulling away from your lips to kiss your cheek and neck. His hand moved down to your thigh, slowly tracing its contours as he pulled you even closer to him. You sighed softly as his fingers traced along your thigh, opening your legs slightly to let him touch even more of you. The Ink Demon's hand moved further up your thigh, slipping beneath the hem of your dress and exploring the smooth skin beneath. He pressed his forehead against yours, letting out a purr and allowing himself to fully experience the sensations that were running through him. You felt your body heat up more as his hand slid up your dress, and you decided to just speed up the process for him. “H..Here...let me help you..”

You undid your dress and let it slide off of you, leaving you nude except for your panties. You heard a deep lust-filled purr in his throat once you were nude. He gently laid you onto the mattress, ready to prepare you for him. The Ink Demon moved his hand up to your breast, squeezing it gently and exploring the contours of your body with his fingertips as he kissed your neck and shoulder, licking the fresh bite mark and your wounds. He pressed his groin against yours, feeling the heat between your legs as he explored your body with his hands, mouth, and tongue. You moaned as you felt the heat from between his legs touch yours. You couldn't help but slowly rub your groin against his, so he felt as good as he was making you feel.

The Ink Demon smiled, admiring your desire for him. His hand moved up to your face, cupping your cheek as he leaned in to kiss your lips again. He pressed his groin against yours, feeling your warm, wet center against him as you both move against each other, your bodies intertwined and your breaths becoming heavier and faster. The Ink Demon moved his hips against yours, feeling your body shudder with pleasure as you came closer and closer to release. He slipped his hand down to your panties, feeling the wetness between your legs as he ripped them off, exposing you to him completely.

Once your panties were gone, you felt something touch your pussy. You look down and you saw something growing from his groin, which formed into a large cock, matching his skin. The Ink Demon smirked as he grabbed your thighs and rubbed his cock on your pussy for a bit, until he slipped his hand between your bodies, guiding his cock inside of you, gripping both your thighs and slowly pushing himself deep inside. You couldn’t help but let out a moan as he stretched your walls so deliciously. He leaned forward, grabbed your jaw, and kissed your lips, his tongue exploring your mouth as he feels your body writhe beneath him. He started doing long and deep thrusts, your bodies entwined and your breath coming in short, gasping breaths as you both feel the pleasure building within you both.

You had never felt this sort of ecstasy before in your life, not even with any other partner. This thing was reaching depths you never knew were possible, sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had. “Ahh..! S..So..good..!!” you couldn’t help but let out of your lips once he broke the kiss. The Ink Demon's hand moved down to your ass, squeezing it gently as he thrusted into you, feeling your body shudder with pleasure. He kissed your neck and shoulder, his tongue exploring the contours of your skin as you both come closer and closer to release. He could feel his cock throb inside of you, the pleasure building within him as he moved faster and faster, feeling her body writhe beneath him.

He changed position slightly as he lost himself in the pleasure, grabbing your wrists and putting them above your head, your legs a bit in the air as he leaned towards you more and thrusted harder into you. You moaned at each thrust, trying not to cry out loud. The Ink Demon let his tongue out and licked up your belly and breasts as he fucked you so well. Ink dripped from his tongue, leaving trails on your body, like you were his canvas for his lust-filled creation.

He kissed your lips once again, feeling your tongue explore his mouth as you both came closer and closer to release. Finally, he felt your body convulse beneath him, your pussy clenching around his cock as you came, your moans filling the air as you cry out in ecstasy. He follows soon after, letting out a primal roar and feeling his cock throb as he filled you full with his hot, sticky seed. You felt like you were in another realm than you were as the pleasure from your release flowed throughout your body and you arched your back. All that existed was your full womb, the cock inside you, your body, and pleasure. You could feel his seed fill your belly so much that the sensation caused a second orgasm to rock your body.

Once you come back to reality, you both stay like that for a moment, your bodies intertwined and covered in each others’ cum as you both caught your breath, before the Ink Demon collapsed onto the bed, laying next to you and pulling you close. The Ink Demon kissed your cheek, feeling your smile as you both lay there, your hearts pounding in your chests. You hugged him close, your head resting on his chest. He then leaned to your ear and whispered in a deep, gravelly voice, “I love you.” While you were a bit surprised he could actually talk, you felt warmth flood your heart and you smile, kissing his cheek before saying, “I love you too.” The Ink Demon smiled, feeling his heart swell with warmth as he hugged you tightly. He rested his chin on top of your head, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of your warm body pressed against his. You both lay there, holding each other close, until eventually, you both fall asleep, your bodies still intertwined.

‘I think I’m going to love this new life,’ you thought to yourself before letting sleep take you.

~~~♡♡♡~~~

[nfumbewalk]

Opening

A candle I had burned for my son. Its his zodiac sign color, red for Aries. The knot in the wick still has me concerned.

Well, I've been recently been thinking of my opening and attunement that's been happening for the last two years. Its apparently all been due to me accepting muertos and embracing them into my life. Mostly Rodolfo. He's been instrumental in many changes that have happened in me and my environment. He took many of my fears away and helped me realize that I need to chill out and let my intuition come to me at full force - stop trying to muffle it or deny it.

I did not know my full power. And, my dad didn't tell me much until near his death about muertos speaking to him. Plus his amazing intuition, which now I remember witnessing often. My dad was very empathic and tuned in. As a kid, I went to him when I was ill in the middle of the night - he knew before it happened because he was awake and waiting for me with medicine. Mom never awoke.

Dad was so special and had the temper of a devil. But most times, he was gentle to me. Such a Scorpio too! He was quite interested in astrology and witches, and the powers of stones and plants. He had a learning disability, so his focus was off, but he remained interested in some stuff that I did. I think his death last year has really blown off the lid. I'm so open now!

Before he died, I couldn't hear my relatives talking to me, and really, not many other muertos - just Rodolfo. Seriously! I hear both of my grandpa's, one grandma, my dad, and now - my mom! I know other muertos will come. Hopefully it won't be too overwhelming. I know I'm not making this up. The things they say are so separate from the things that I think of. Their words are nothing like mine. And I've mentioned that they sound SO weird!!

My mom, who I had not heard from since she died in 2006, sounded low and warbly. The women have. Men sound kind of high pitched and whiny like old time radio from the 1930's. Yes, I've heard very old radio. Lol! Now, Rodolfo sounds normal. I think its because he's been dead longer. He sounds kind of like Cheech from Cheech & Chong. He took no offense when I said that. But his voice register is a bit lower.

So, I don't have any idea if my attunement is still happening or not. Oh, Rodolfo just said its not over yet! Egads. What's next?!? I don't know of many other relatives to die. Phew! But, I mentioned Tom's stepdad Chuck. I do think he would communicate with me if he passed. He's already giving away belongings, like a $300 watch to Tom. And a exquisite leather coat to me. He was very wealthy, but lost money due to his son and his other stepson. I hope he will hang on for a bit, unless he is really ready to go. I swear I'm the Angel of Death. I was there when both my parents died!! Well, my dad was gone a little bit before I arrived, but I was holding my mom's hand when she died. 10 minutes to 10 AM, December 16th 2006. Dad was August 25th 2023.

You all can see Rodolfo's tombstone on the header of this blog. He was only 35 years old when he died. He told me he was shot in the guts. I believe him, but Tom is skeptical. The Free Souls are a super cool MC (motorcycle club) but they were/are still dangerous af!!! He didn't make it very far in the Army - his tombstone reads, "PFC." That's Private First Class, very low on the totem pole. He must have gotten out, but honorably discharged because his rank is allowed on his stone. If dishonorably discharged, the military won't let that tombstone happen.

Rodolfo has also said his hand got mangled - perhaps that was the military discharge?!? I've mostly just seen his face and silhouette, so I haven't seen his mangled hand yet. Interesting to just put that together. Look! Neurons firing!! 😂 I think he's proud of me! Haha! He got his tequila today and its going pretty quick. His ritual this morning should have been longer.

I'll make it up to him when I do the Siphoning of the Earth with my Baston de Muerto! Rodolfo just loves it. Dunno why but I see a big grin. Probably because I developed this ritual move for and with him. Oh, and he loves this tool of mine, he says. "Baston de Muerto," means Dead Man's Staff, or Cane. Mine is the staff that you can see in all of Rodolfo's altar photos, on the right side, next to his vessel (bottle). Its a bit over 5' so its taller than me. I'm 4'9". But I wield it very well!

Trying not to jump topics. Its all muertos, right? Lol. My post about Palo brought me another muerto today. My dead Tata. He told me a lot. He tried to comfort me. He kind of did. He said to remember that he was a Palero on the fringes of the religion and wasn't accepted either. That was there was no doubt that I can do it, but my own way. Also that I would need to search Spanish Palo books. He reiterated that these other Paleros that I knew couldn't initiate me for a reason. I wasn't meant to be a branch on their trees. Ill fitting and possibly cheats, they are. He also said that I'm not meant for all of the Regla, just some. Weird, huh? Another muerto!

My opening is still going strong! Apparently I have more work to do? I truly had a change in fortune start this September. I did some ritual work...must have really turned the wheels. Well, good!

Hope this was interesting!

M.M. 💖💀💖

[evita-shelby]

37

or Jack’s birthday tends to fall on Labor Day, his 37th birthday in 1929 brings back memories of his 9th birthday when he takes his family to the beach.

The only surviving photograph that exists of his father was the one taken on Jack’s ninth birthday.

They’d gone to the beach, just like everyone in the south end did on Labor Day and like most families they’d taken a picture to commemorate it.

It was the last time he’d know happiness like that as a boy.

Jack and Rosie are the same age he and his dad were then. His dad, Edmund, had just turned thirty-seven and Jack nine. They didn’t share a birthday like he and his doe-eyed little girl do, but Edmund Nelson had helped his mother-in-law deliver Jack, who even at birth was too big.

The story has its similarities, but it won’t end the same.

Rosie, nor any of his children, won’t have to sell newspapers in a street corner nor see her mother become a gangster’s whore to have food on the table and a roof over their heads.

His dad had changed his name for Eamon O’Neil to Edmund Nelson to get a job at a factory and a modest apartment for his four children and his widowed sister, Jack had lied and said he was fourteen when he was twelve to become a gangster’s errand boy.

His kids won’t ever have to do any of that. Even when it all goes to shit and the second great war comes, his kids won’t ever know the pain of an empty stomach nor fear if their dad won’t have his head blown off for robbing the wrong man.

It is from the corner of his eye that he sees the man who took their picture then. A grey old man who’d been nearing forty then and charged a quarter just like he did then. The camera was newer, not as new as the one Jack bought his wife for their anniversary but not the old thing he had ten years ago when Jack first brought Eva to Carson Beach.

And just like then, and every time after, Jack takes his growing family decked out in their summer finery and pays the man a ten because that’s the most he’ll accept from him.

When they first came back to the beach after his father’s death, he gave them his condolences, bought the four of them ice cream, and told Jack’s mother of a man who needed a maid to look after his sick wife. If the man knows he is the reason Jack is where he is today, he doesn’t take the credit for it.

“You know that job saved our lives.” Jack speaks quietly so no one else but the old man hears him as he offers him a cigarette from his silver case. “We never came back to thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, just doing what anyone else would’ve done.” the old man says taking the cigarette speaking as if kindness wasn’t as rare as the money he gave him.

A/N: average cost for a photograph in 1920s/30s was 25 cents, 1929 Labor Day had been so successful in stocks etc that it gabe people false hope that the wall street crash wouldn't happen(it did in oct. 29),the pictures in the header are a 1906 photograph(L) and a 1920s/1930s one(R)of Carson Beach, South Boston, and 10 dollars in 1929 were the equivalent of roughly 180 dollars today.

tag list: @zablife @justrainandcoffee @emotionalcadaver

[uwmspeccoll]

Fine Press Friday 

This week we are sharing Notre Dame de Paris, by Victor Hugo, translated by Jessie Haynes, illustrated by Flemish artist Frans Masereel (1889-1972), and printed by French printer and typographer Robert Coulouma for the members of the Limited Editions Club in 1930. Victor Hugo’s novel Notre-Dame de Paris was originally published in Paris in 1831, and first published in English in 1833.

This edition, illustrated in wood-engravings by Masereel, is printed in two volumes which are divided into 11 books, each book begins with one full page illustration and a chapter header. Including the frontispiece there are 23 unique illustrations.

Masereel worked primarily in France. He produced many wordless graphic novels in relief printmaking and has been described as a father of the modern graphic novel. He was also key figure in the revival of the relief print, which has been used to illustrate books since the introduction of moveable type in the 15th century. Masereel’s cleanly cut, easy-to-read relief prints compliment the typography making it well suited to the book format.

The paper is Velin d’Arches and he book was set in Monotype Bodoni and printed by Robert Coulouma, master printer in Argenteuil, under the supervision of artist and designer Henri Barthélemy. Both Volumes are bound in a soft paper cover.

Our copy is a gift of Loryn Ramadka, from the collection of Austin Frederic Lutter.  Printed in an edition of 1500 copies, our copy is number 1113, the number for long-standing LEC member Austin Fredric Lutter of Waukesha, Wisconsin. This set is signed by the illustrator in the colophon. 

View more Limited Edition Club posts. 

View more Fine Press Friday posts.

View another Fran Masereel post. 

Teddy, Special Collections Graduate Intern

[nemfrog]

Birds in a row. Birds the Indians knew. 1932. Endpaper detail.

Internet Archive

[die-freundin]

(ID: logo Die Freundin, subtitle Kleinode und Fundstücke, subtitle 2 i.e. assorted curios)

thanks to the Forum Queeres Archiv München i have recently come across an archive of the 1920s-1930s german magazine “Die Freundin” (i.e. “Girlfriend”), a publication aimed primarily at lesbians, transvestites*, people invested in supporting the human rights of homosexuals, and presumably anyone who was willing to wait 6 full weeks to collect a complete short story with minimal girl-on-girl smut. wikipedia calls it the “first ever lesbian magazine” and i dont have the means to prove them wrong on that.

since i have had the magazine’s beautifully calligraphed logo in my personal blog’s header for quite a while now, i will use this blog to show off snippets of whatever i find worth sharing while perusing this almost 100 year old publication. this is not an attempt at serious academic research. in my infinite mercy i will do my best to provide translations of the texts, purely so the pitiable anglophone might get a glance at what kind of gay shit was happening in Berlin, Germany from 1927-1933 (technically Die Freundin was published from 1924-1933, but the archive i have access to only starts at 1927 so thats what youre getting). this is not a formal read-along and i will adhere to no schedule whatsoever. every post will be tagged with the number of the issue i took it from.

German speakers (or those with access to someone willing to translate) can read along here (link goes to Forum Queeres Archiv München)

IF YOU FIND SOMETHING FUNNY OR NOTABLE ON YOUR OWN DIVE INTO THE MAGAZINE, SUBMIT IT IN A POST TO THIS BLOG

----------

* depending on the context, this was used to refer to recreational cross-dressers, trans women, trans men, or other kinds of gender-divergent people. if that bothers you, youre probably not going to like most of the content of the magazine since it’s almost 100 years old and was not curated to match the taste of internet-using queers in the 2020s.

[dykeyaoi]

finally! 🧷

the name's Cal! welcome to my blog. whatever you're here for, best of luck finding it. I use she/he pronouns and binary terms (girl, boy, dude, lady), preferably in direct opposition to one another when possible

I like Mob Psycho 100, Homestuck, Undertale & Doki Doki Literature Club and have a Genshin Impact sideblog with a somewhat counterintuitive tagging system. I'm an adult scalie (type of furry) who really loves the water and the way light works inside it. I play & sing music on piano, voice and saxophone and love Ancient Roman history/literature! the kind of person who wears freaky black eyeshadow with an outfit that looks like it's from the 1930s

sometimes I make art :D you're welcome to use it as an icon/header/background/whatever with credit to Dykeyaoi on Tumblr!

<3<

👇 more below 👇

☝️ I don't tag slurs and reclaim several, as you could probably tell by the URL. be advised not to follow if it will bother you

✋ please don't tag my art as kin or ID unless we're friends and/or you have reasonable belief that I meant for you to

🤞 I'm mentally ill; some of the content I post & reblog may be disturbing, paranoia-inducing or otherwise uncomfortable. I'll tag anything unreal, exceedingly gorey, et cetera as such and you're welcome to ask for specifics. ex: I tag 'frogs' (with no tw, cw or slashes)

✊ when I say 'delulu' I mean actual delusions. don't use it or other words like it improperly

👉 images in original posts will be described, usually in an alt text ID. I also sometimes describe images in posts I reblog

🤏 tone indicators occasionally pop up in conversation with me. feel free to ask what one means, or not; they're really more for my confidence than your understanding

👌 I have several tag collections that reflect facets of how I experience the world. they're mostly for me, but you're welcome to explore

🤙 I do not ship incest or children with adults, that's gross. trans women are women. I respect and accept mspec gays & lesbians as well as all identities which don't actively cause harm

have a look around:

🪶 original posts

⚖️ art

⏳ Mop Cycle

🪙 pronouns.cc

thanks for reading!

[imagine-silk]

Things sitting in my WIPs

You know when you start something and you have like a few things for it but not all of it. I have a reasonable amount. So look at them and maybe do my job for me or send a little thing for it. I'm spread thin. (Also, yes, I am getting to the asks. Just losing writing juice.) Marvel first. Also header here.

Steve Rogers finding some blood family

Summary: Steve wants a family, that much is clear from the movies, so the idea is he finds someone in Brooklyn that is related to him.

He couldn’t get himself to knock so he stood at the door uncomfortable close. Steve has nothing from his past life, his apartment was rented out to someone, everyone he knew was dead, the air smelled different, so did the growing winter chill. But he was never one to give in so easily. He was bound to have some sort of family. And he did. He was at their doorstep. 

His mom's sister's grandson. Steve got one of the SHIELD people to get the info for him, he loved Natasha but she would have given him everything this man had ever done before and he didn't want that info. Now he was thinking maybe he should have.

Knock knock

It took fourteen heartbeats for the door to open and show a young man in a tank top scratching his head and squinting, skin tanned with freckles from the sun and two moles on his neck that made vampire bites. His squint didn't let up however. "What'cha selling. I don't want it."

"I'm not here to sell anything. I'm looking for [F.Name]."

[F.Name] stopped scratching. "I beg your pardon."

"[F.Name] [L.Name]."

"I can't see, who am I talking to?" He seemed to be one hundred percent serious about the sight thing, his eyes didn't focus on him.

"This is going to sound crazy but I'm your cousin."

"I can see color," He frowned, knitting his eyebrows in the same way his aunt would, genuinely confused but very willing to hear someone out.

"My name is Steve Rogers. My mom was your grandma's sister."

This was the part he expected to fight for, to show proof or explain further. He didn’t need to though. "Oh. Yeah. That. Come in then." [Name] stepped back and held the door from the side. So he took the invite with confusion, sat on the couch while [Name] took the other. "First things first. My mom is dead, but I guess you knew that. She said she didn't want you to see her if she couldn't recognize you. I'm guessing you've been through that too though."

Steve rubbed his hands and thought of his cousin, wondering if he could handle seeing her like that while Peggy was doing the same. "Yeah I have."

"Sorry, man. Can't imagine waking up from a nap to all of this mess. Then having to do what you do. I do not envy you."

"You knew we were related? And you never said anything."

"Why would I?"

"I've had people tell that to me before. Not all of them were kids." He was a big figure and had diplomatic immunity to a certain extent, after he saved the world last time he had it again. In short, a good person to have in your pocket.

"To be honest, I didn't think you'd want to see me."

"Why?"

"I'm 'colored'. You're from the 1930s." It made sense and he never thought about it before. To think that was what got in the way of seeing him was depressing. "I figured you wouldn't but I didn't want to risk it."

Peter B is a fucking HIMBO

Summary: Peter is very smart and not dumb at all. That being said, I just want a himbo so here we are.

It was so fucking hot. Summer was not your favorite time of year and it never will be. The beach was always crowded and so was every building, the good stuff at stores was always sold out unless you got to it early, and vendors had lines that led to the train. And here you were sitting on a bench in the park that had no shade waiting. There was shade a bit away but you told Peter you would be there and you didn’t want to risk it, even if the time was flying and baking you. 

You looked around again not actually expecting to see the man you were waiting for, even less so that he would be running. Sweating to the point his work shirt was starting to show what was underneath and disappoint you it was another shirt. He did a hard stop in front of you and struggled to catch his breath, face flushed, chest heaving. “Hey, I’m sorry I’m,” 

You swept your lust under the rug and let your panic take front. “Peter, why were you running? I thought you were taking the bus.”

“I ran to see you dingus.” He laughed and looked at you with a squinty smile that moved what was under the rug. “You won’t believe everything that’s happened but let’s go over there first.”

He all but collapsed under the tree shade and propped his arm on his knee while his thigh pushed his stomach pudge. “You should take off your shirt.” You said. “To get cooler.” You found out a long time ago he didn’t see your impure ogling. At first you thought it was something he was ignoring or thought it was weird but then you blurted out you wanted to feel his chapstick and he actually gave you his chapstick.

“Yeah.” Like always he listened and agreed before going on. “So the epic tale goes a little like this; I wasn’t supposed to go to work today but I got roped in to do a half shift so when I got out I had to come straight here. Then the buses got out of order so I took the wrong one. I ended up a few blocks down and the next bus was going to make me even more late if it even got me here. So I ran.”

"You didn't have to do all that just to meet me." You knew what he was going to say. He was a creature of habit.

"I wanted to." Kind to a fault.  ->

-> There was one thing in your way of you asking to have him. "Oh, I have new pictures of Mayday." He was married, even had a kid.

And if I die before I wake

Summary: Now, I give my characters fucked up powers to the point I think I might be sadistic. So imagine not being able to die. Also I grew up very religious so I know this prayer very well.

I pray the lord my soul to take.

But you learned God didn't want you by his side. At the age fourteen you were in an accident. In the hospital you and your father were pronounced dead, but you woke up on the operating table. It was a miracle. Then you died in an alley, a mugging gone wrong. You looked out to the bustling street from the shadow and held a bleeding chest. But you did wake.

The great tale of Cain and Abel wasn't something that needed to be recited to you. It seemed to you like your father was Abel, blessed to salvation, and you were Cain, doomed to walk the earth. What was your crime? You couldn't imagine what you did as a child that warranted punishment but you did everything to repent for your sin.

At church there was a man, a broad man with posture somehow tensed and slouched praying in mumbling Spanish. He went when there were no sermons and less people, his time was for him and no one else. Just like you. So you did your best to not bother him. He seemed not to notice and it was nice for you. Together but not. You doubted he felt the same.

Then a fucking Rhino man busted into the hall and destroyed everything. You would say desecrated but you weren’t feeling particularly preachy after. Maybe that was why you were how you were. Spiderman was there to save the day and all was well for everyone else. You left through allies to succumb to your wounds, to bleed out praying it was the last time. As you stumbled you heard a person behind you. You told them you didn’t have any money or anything of value on your person. But they caught you and lowered you to the ground. They seemed to recognize nothing could be done so they just held your hand. You asked them to let you die alone and they shushed you.

You woke up to the sounds of ambulance sirens and you ran before you found out if they were for you or not. It was a traumatic event when you died but you steeled yourself first so you could get safe before you dealt with your mind. Like every time you went back to church. You followed the signs to a temporary place of worship to atone. 

The second day of your repent you saw the man and when he saw you he didn't move so you didn't notice him.

He grabs you because his knee jerk reaction is that you are still dying so he is trying to catch you before you fall

Say in Spanish you are haunting him

He is making a very big scene that he is then going to have to explain especially if he has to take a few steps

He looks you horrified and goes to you later to ask if you were okay alluding to the idea he knows you got hurt he just doesn’t know to what extent

Say in Spanish you are haunting him

He sees you but you don’t so he has time to collect himself before he goes to speak to you and you both have a half honest conversation (WINNER)

You do not admit you are repenting and it may or may not be obvious you are not praying for others

He says he was checking on you because he was there but you didn’t see him there and he may or may not have noticed exactly who you were

It's something you would never know but he did see you before he walked up. You figured as much but you never knew for sure. Unlike him you didn’t mutter your prayers but unlike him you made it very obvious how you were dealing with the prayers. He knew you were losing your mind.

He asked to sit with you before asking if you were okay. A small gesture, one you would have welcomed at any time but now, so soon after death, it was hard. He said he was checking up on you because he thought he saw you get hurt. You told him nothing of the sort happened and mentioned in passing you didn't see him there. You both were hiding, one just had a question that needed answering. ->

->You felt like you were being watched, when you were walking home from work, from church. Nueva York wasn't the safest place in the world but you had never felt like that. And it happened for a very good while before something came of it. A woman attacked you in any alley. You didn't know why but she said it was your fault. 

Spiderman swooped in and did his thing but added to the routine. He asked who you were and you panicked, rightfully so. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Most people don't get up after bleeding out. Answers, talk fast." He said walking forward. Slow, painfully slow. And you backed away even slower because you knew there was no way you would out run him.

"I don't know, it just happens." He kept walking. That wasn't enough. "I get back up and I can't explain it. Every time I think it's the end, it's not." It still wasn't enough. "I don't want to be like this. I just want to stay dead." That was enough.

Two weeks after the initial incident he finally came to you as a civilian again. Introduced himself and asked your name saying he had always seen you but never found a reason to speak. Finally a name to the face, Miguel O'hara. An overall quiet man, calm in nature and polite. He started to speak to you after that.

There was still the feeling of being watched, it must have not been the woman. You stopped and looked around. When you looked up you thought you saw something on the roof but then pigeons flew off so you brushed it off. But when the same thing happened again you thought maybe someone caught onto your living situation. Then again, maybe not.

The church was set up again and you thanked God. You didn't talk on the pews before him and he'd be the only person you would. It was pleasant, chattering whispers to not disturb like it wasn't just five people in the room spread out farther than any hearing range. The topic of jobs came up and you had an underwhelming answer. (He said he did a lot of computer work, whether it was at a computer or on you didn’t know./He said he was an engineer who worked on his time.) Not a lie.

A month went by and you acted on impulse, you asked if you could confess to him. He asked if he should be the one to hear it but you assured it wasn’t something you would be condemned for. You admitted you lied to him when you said you weren’t hurt after the church incident. You said you thought you were visited by an angel who was going to take you away but it wasn’t, it left you there.