#Chuck Harp

[comicbookclub]

'Perfect Crime Party' Creators Reveal Their Perfect Party Ingredients -- And Perfect Crime Ingredients

The creators behind Iron Circus Comics Perfect Crime Party tease their stories, and what perfect crime they'd like to commit.

Are you ready for the Perfect Crime Party? Well, get ready, because Iron Circus Comics has just launched a Backerkit campaign for the wild project, which brings together 40+ creators for an anthology on the perfect crimes of the title. “PERFECT CRIME PARTY is the platonic ideal of the Iron Circus anthology,” said Iron Circus Founder Spike Trotman said via a press release provided to Comic Book…

[comicbookclublive]

'Perfect Crime Party' Creators Reveal Their Perfect Party Ingredients -- And Perfect Crime Ingredients

The creators behind Iron Circus Comics Perfect Crime Party tease their stories, and what perfect crime they'd like to commit.

Are you ready for the Perfect Crime Party? Well, get ready, because Iron Circus Comics has just launched a Backerkit campaign for the wild project, which brings together 40+ creators for an anthology on the perfect crimes of the title. “PERFECT CRIME PARTY is the platonic ideal of the Iron Circus anthology,” said Iron Circus Founder Spike Trotman said via a press release provided to Comic Book…

[graphicpolicy]

Exclusive: What's the perfect crime? And what do you think you could get away with? Find out in Perfect Crime Party

Exclusive: What's the perfect crime? And what do you think you could get away with? Find out in Perfect Crime Party #comics #graphicnovel

Spike Trotman’s Iron Circus Comics is launching a BackerKit campaign to publish Perfect Crime Party, a full color 300+ page anthology containing 25 light-heart tales of criminal activity from over 40 incredible creators as well as a cover by Jeff Smith. From club-style murder mysteries to anxious teens hijinx to acts of protest, Perfect Crime Party asks the immortal questions: What’s the perfect…

[maraczeks]

+

[sethsclearwater]

can i ask for a paul x hothead!reader where she’s just like paul ( getting mad over tiny things ). so when her and a pack member get into a tiny argument he just sits there and is like “am i really like that?”😭

"you're nuts if you think you're right here," embry laughed as he came over to you and paul, taking a seat on the recliner next to the couch you and paul were currently sat at.

you rolled your eyes, "are you fucking insane?" you started, getting awfully annoyed over something as trivial as whether quil's fur was a chocolate brown or a sandy brown closer to seth clearwater's fur, "you're colorblind if you think his fur is that dark," you added, looking over to paul for support only to find him watching you with what could only be described as a thoroughly disturbed look on his face.

"paul tell him-" you encouraged, sucking in a threatening breath when you heard embry's laughter.

paul blinked twice before he opened his mouth to respond, only nothing came out and embry's laughter only got louder.

"i think he's doing some deep self reflection right now," quil's teasing voice came as he stepped into the living room to sit down in the chair next to embry, seeming interested in finding out how this stupid argument turned out.

you looked over your shoulder to roll your eyes at him before turning your attention back to paul who seemed to have found the words to describe whatever the hell was going on in his head, "do i really sound like that?" he asked, gaze drifting over to embry and quil who paused for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"paul!" you exclaimed, smacking his thigh, "just say his fur is lighter than that!" you added, huffing when you watched the corner of paul's lips curl into the faintest ghost of a smile at your words.

"you two are a match made in hell!" jared called from the kitchen and you gasped, glaring at him as quil and embry's laughter continued, "fuckin' twins you two," he added playfully, laughing when he saw how disgruntled you looked over all the boys harping on you over your stupid argument with embry.

before you could go start a new argument with jared, you felt paul slide his arm around your shoulders to tug you close to his side, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, "take a deep breath princess," paul murmured playfully, squeezing at your bicep.

you huffed but obliged nonetheless, sucking in a deep breath while glaring at embry who couldn't seem to contain his laughter over the whole ordeal.

"there you go," paul reassured when he felt your shoulders drop as you exhaled, "now why don't we put a movie on, yea?" he asked, though you knew it was most definitely more of a statement considering the fact that he used his free hand to grab the remote and click the tv on before you could respond.

"princess just needs a time out," embry added, jared and quil immediately bursting into laughter as paul dropped the remote in favor of grabbing his water bottle and chucking it at embry's head, only narrowly missing as the three boys got up and ran out of the room in an attempt to evade your imprinter's wrath.

"just relax princess," paul added, rolling his eyes at the boys' antics as he grabbed the remote and quickly got a movie on for the two of you to watch while you waited for the pizza emily ordered to arrive.

[ananke-xiii]

ah yes, of course I have more to say. This time it's not about a specific comparison/trope, more about how angels are perceived by viewers (but also partly by writers, too, tbh).

anything about angels being ethereal and divine etc: I think sometimes the non-in-universe view warps what's canon when it comes to angels. For instance, the way we the audience commonly perceive angels sort of interferes with the in-universe depiction of said creatures. Like, maybe we see angels as ethereal, celestial, incomprehensible figures but in SPN they're anything but. We can very much understand their motives, their feelings and what their agenda is. It's totally not beyond human comprehension, as amatter of fact, it's very much human but it's also NOT human at the same time because angels don't have the same morality as humans do and their notion of "good" and "evil" is quite peculiar, if they even have one. This is also why the "halo and a harp" joke is thrown around quite a few times as a reminder that SPN angels are not "our" angels.

The same misrepresentation happens when it's about angels and love (and sex). It's pretty clear that in SPN (hashtag not all but many) angels are actually very, very, very much interested in sex and love. I'll concede that they tend to confuse obsession for love and that there's a lot of repression/suppression/sublimation/you name it going on in that department but, frankly, it's not something so inherently alien that humans can't relate to.

Anyhow, I don't think it's only the audience's fault, though, as I see SPN writers implicitly inserting their own personal view into the story as well. For example, the idea that Lucifer is the "primary agent of evil" in s14 after we've spent a whole season dealing with how God has traumatized and abused both his own sister and his own "son" and how said sister has, in return, abused and traumatized Lucifer doesn't exactly hold up. I mean, if there must be one primary agent of evil in SPN everything seemed to point to Chuck well before s14's big "reveal". Moreover, from their first appearance in S4 angels have perhaps wreaked havoc more than demons and other monsters combined. Lucifer is admittedly a big problem (among other things because he is an abuser and a general piece of shit) but he's not the only problem in paradise (lol).

Related to the first point, how Dean's in awe with Cas because he's a celestial being etc: this is something that I read in a lot of fics so it's just both my own personal taste and my fic preferences (I like when fics stick to canon as far as possible because I like to see how different minds might have developed a particular storyline) that differ from others and that's fine, to each their own. The thing is, I don't really see it. Maybe S3-4 Sam was more in awe with the idea of angels but after Lucifer I don't think the guy's particularly moved by them. As far as Dean's concerned, I actually see him hating on angels the most. Vampires can be okay, werewolves maybe, he's surprisingly okay with demons as well, but angels? He doesn't like them at all. And I mean this, this is actually interesting because out of all the creatures in the world he hates (and who have hurt him and his family) he ends up getting a best friend/consort who belongs to that particular flavor he just can't tolerate and who probably hurt him and his family the most ("Angels are just monsters with good PR"). As in: Dean finds Cas amazing because he's Cas, not because he's an angel but he IS an angel nevertheless and that alone causes some problems. It makes for a very interesting moral dilemma and an engaging angle to explore where a good chunk of their issues stems from.

[maggie-margret-blog]

The Affairs of High Society

Royalty AU x Ateez

“What’s the problem with finding her so attractive? It’s unlike you to be so… so frail of mind.” Hongjoong, the second son of his family, sat back leisurely, head rested on a white, satin pillow case. His nose bridge reached high, carrying thought after thought to his pekined lips, red and pinkish in hue. The young lord had been hiding out in the rests of his befriended and dear Jeong Yunho. The first of sons in his family and heir to the clan head. Yunho was a tall, brooding figure, his image completed with a handsome mug and voice toned as a harp.

“It’s not that I’m frail of mind, Hongjoong, I’m simply cautious.” Yunho explains his inner workings as he paces, plank after plank of cherry wood shredding beneath his leather-souled boots.

“That’s rich-“ Hongjoong chortles, “I’ve never known you to be of that mind. Cautious is simply not a word you know. The Jeong Yunho I know, and have known for years, takes what he likes when he likes, no time for thoughts of else.”

“I’m afraid that man you speak of so fondly has abruptly began to mature. I haven’t the slightest notion as to how, but her presence is enough to gear me different.” Yunho’s voice, silken and deep, tickled the man’s ear, a smirk of knowing on his similarly sharp profile.

“You have a crush.”

“Hongjoong- I do not have a “crush” alright? I’m simply…. Inclined towards her, for one reason or the other!” Yunho ‘tsk’s at such a blunt statement, adding childish implication to his feelings towards the woman in question. “Reasons one and two-“ Hongjoong places hands over his chest area, falsely weighting them with perverted intent. The older chuckles as the younger’s expression sours to one of distaste. “How vulgar. I’m a man I know, but still. Have some decency.” Yunho scolded, chucking the nearest thing on his dresser at the reclined male. “If I needed decency I would have learned it years ago. I have no chance at being my clan’s head.” He sighs with burden, the truth of the words stinging his throat slightly. His older brother was well mannered and respectful whilst he withered with ill-attentiveness and spite.

“But you’re still my friend, and I want the best for you. So learn how to control yourself.” Yunho spits, pulling up his sleeves as he continues to pace. “There’s nothing wrong with admiring a woman’s chest. It’s a beautiful thing.” Hongjoong says loosely. He didn’t have much care for who heard him speak of these things. He was amongst his best company.

Yunho sighs heavily and rocks backward on his heels. He wasn’t wrong. Yunho had caught himself admiring her well endowed figure on more than one occasion. She was plump, rosie, sweet. He imagined her lips would taste like a strawberry cordial after a long day in the sun. He could visualize how she’d greet him when he came through the door, or how she’d look next to him in her slip. His cheeks burned red with the thought, but he couldn’t resist. All of the ideas of how she’d be, hands tangled in his set hair, her pink stained nails scratching at his back. Yunho had to calm himself before meeting Hongjoong’s informed gaze.

He knew what the clan head was thinking. “You’re as uncouth as I, Yunho.” The older poked, sitting up from his reclined state, smoothing his hair back with a delicate hand.

“Yes but there’s a difference between inside filth and outside filth. You should study that.” Yunho shot back, encasing his features in his large hand, concealing his blush from the other.

“Filth is the spice of life, my friend.” Hongjoong retorted.

“And what about you? Hm? Is that “spice-of-life filth” the same with the eldest son of the Park clan? Is he someone you can disclose these thoughts to?” Yunho began, salting a wound of Hongjoong’s. The older snaps up immediately, eyes darting from his friend and back down to the bed spread.

“That is completely different. I don’t wish to be teased about such things.” He holds his ground, though he shrinks back a bit. Hongjoong regretted telling Yunho of his debauched sexcapades involving the first Lord of the Park clan. Those were stories he’d take with him to his grave, though shared with his best friend in the midst. He’d never want to taint both his and Seonghwa’s reputation in their localized society.

“Well, don’t tease me then.” Yunho spat, expression changing to one of lorn.

“Forgive me, I’m sorry.” Hongjoong said softly, offering the taller a smile. “I forgive you.” Yunho replied, a sneaky smile creeping onto his stone profile. “Besides, you’ll be seeing him tonight won’t you?” Yunho questions as he takes a step towards the exterior window, eyes sweeping over the extensive lawn, daisied with ornamental shrubbery and fountains. Outside, his mother held tight to a leash, tethered to a large yellow lab. His mother was and always had been a controversial subject amongst hierarchy; she demanded she do her own bidding, take care of her own children and sleep with her own husband. Yunho adored her for that.

“Well everyone will be seeing everyone tonight. But my attendance will be for naught if he doesn’t notice.” Hongjoong confessed, joining his towering friend at the window, eyes gracing the same sights at Yunho’s.

“And you’ll see her. In all her wondrous, womanly beauty.”

Yunho nods gently, the statement ringing true. He would be seeing that woman tonight, gowned and made up for the public. Jealousy concerning every man In her vicinity boiled in Yunho’s system. He was possessive. He was greedy and selfish. Though he had yet to tell her how he was feeling, he felt owed her company. The awareness of the truth of the matter, that she owed him nothing but a fair trial, made it harder for the poor, lovesick man. The taller man was aware of his unjust entitlement to her conversation, yet he couldn’t help himself.

Hongjoong, adjacently, tangled his fingers in knots as his stomach followed suit. The young lord was a standing guest. A guest of honor if he truly thought of it. The party was a celebration of Seonghwa’s ascension to Clan head and his family’s salvation. Lord Seonghwa’s father had been a strict head, leaving much to natural selection, while sparing nothing in his own home. After he had passed in the previous months, the clan rejoiced as they determined Seonghwa as leader. The next generation would be salted and preserved with compassion through the new clan head. Youth could breathe as long as Lord Seonghwa sat at the crown of the table.

As strict as the previous head was, Seonghwa loved dearly to laugh.

“I don’t know if I will approach him on his day. I wouldn’t want him to become anything for ridicule.” Hongjoong said softly, raking his hand through his dark hair.

“Who’s to ridicule a friendly greeting? Certainly no one of importance-“ Yunho jested.

“These people have a nose for scandal, Yunho. You know that as well as I. No one is spared when it’s in the name of gossip. Seonghwa doesn’t deserve to be spoken ill of. I’ve already staked my claim and I stand by it. But, he hasn’t.” Hongjoong crossed his arms over his coated chest, the decorative gold-work on his vest tearing painfully into his wrist, but he made no move to eliminate the pain. He wasn’t one for the end of self discipline, more so in the direction of punishment than to the betterment of himself. A sword thrust into his side would be pulled with great procrastination, the blood being a reminder to his weakness. How dare he let himself bleed.

“You doom yourself. Narratively or not, my friend, you close your being in as small a box as possible. I dread your inner monologue concerning yourself and your misfortune of birth.” The taller of the two men exhaled in exasperation, ripping his gaze from the woman who raised him and facing the door of his bedroom.

“Am I not allowed woes? Am I not deserving?” Hongjoong questioned, eyes lingering over the woman still holding the leash betwixt her dainty fingers. Hongjoong had watched her closely in his years of friendship with her son. She was strong but delicate. Determined but soft spoken and wise. He would almost prefer her direction over that of a man.

He whispers to himself in hush, “if only I had been a daughter.”

Yunho’s ears, sharp as they were, disregarded his grumbles.

Hongjoong didn’t wish himself a woman, but envied the nature in which they grew. He wished that once his parents found out he was another son, that he would be placed in the family as a prize like his sisters had been. He had been bred for conversation and den talk, whilst being prepared in no special manners. His brother had been doted on and his sisters had been groomed into marriage material for future suitors. Hongjoong had been taken along on business, but pushed aside as an after thought because of his birth order. His brother sat at the head of the table with his father and mother, while he sat between his middle and youngest sisters. He hadn’t been raised like the others, but tolerated into adulthood, where he wore the blight of his family on his chest like a brooch.

The black sheep, the drunk, the one who flirts with women and plays in gambling dens with common people. He’d be true to those names in time, but found himself surrounded by people who tried steering him otherwise. Example, Jeong Yunho. Example, Park Seonghwa. Among others who found his misfortune belittled and enjoyed him anyways. San and Jongho of Choi clan; Yeosang of Kang clan; Mingi of Song clan; Wooyoung of Jung clan. His friends outnumbered his troubles in many senses, all fun loving, exuberant fellows. In a way he was similar to Jongho, being in second place and to San. But he was his cousin and would have the chance to head his own syndicate of the Choi clan at anytime. Mingi would succeed his father, and soon. Wooyoung would succeed his mother, flipping their matriarchal family into one of patriarchal society for the first time in three generations.

“You are more than deserving my friend.” Yunho says fondly, taking long strides towards the wooden door, clasping the knob in his large hand and freeing himself from the confines of his room.

“Hongjoong hummed lightly in acknowledgment, yet barring any attempt of following his counterpart. He would stay in Yunho’s room alone, until it was necessary he leave. Then, he’d hightail home to ready himself for the celebration.

————

“Oh brother you missed it!”

“Oh he was so handsome! I could’ve died. I could’ve have died where I stood!”

A rush of giggling, blushing girls met Hongjoong at the door, eyes sparkling with excitement and lips curled in hopeful anticipation.

“My my, what could I have possibly missed that got you this excited?” Hongjoong couldn’t help but laugh as he disregarded his coat and hat to the maid, bowing his head to her out of respect. She had a hand in raising him from infancy and he appreciated her as much. “Welcome home my Lord.” She curtsied smally and took his things.

“Thank you-“ he chimed before turning his attention back to his little sisters. “Now who was so handsome that even I’d pain to miss him?” He teased, running a hand through the youngest’s curls. She was nearing her teenage years and desperately wanted to be included in her older sibling’s conversations.

The oldest began, “Lord Park Seonghwa was here! In the flesh I could barely believe it brother! He was so handsome!”

“The Lord?” Hongjoong answers, this time with more seriousness in his tone. His sisters had been right; he should’ve been there. “What was he doing here?”

“Oh, well he said he was looking for you. He had sent a messenger in his stead a few hours before, but since you weren’t here, he came in person.” The oldest divulged, hands clasped at her front and eyes turned up in an innocent smile.

“Papa asked him if he had come to stake claim in me before he took his position as the head of the Park clan. But, he regretfully declined.” She said with a somber, yet sweet grin.

Hongjoong could barely focus on any of the words spoken to him.

Seonghwa? Came to his estate? On the day of his succession?

“Uh-“ He said sheepishly, eyes finally meeting those to his sisters. “Well good thing! I can’t have just any clan head making off with my sister. Besides he’ll have to fight me first.”

He iterated, though not in jest. He’d have a hard time letting his young sisters go, to any man. He saw them as precious, pure beings. Ones who loved him regardless of others.

The middle girl stayed quiet, but still engaged. “What’s wrong my dear? Was he not handsome enough for you?” He teased, tapping her chin lightly as he walked past, making his way to the sitting room.

“Not like Lord Choi San, am I right Ami?” The oldest of the girls poked fun as she joined her brother on the sofa. Ami was visibly embarrassed by her statement, standing shyly in place after the accusation.

“Oh? Do you fancy San?” Hongjoong sat back into the down-stuffed cushions, finally letting his body rest.

“Yes she does Hongjoong! I’ve seen how they look at each other at parties. She’s absolutely sick over him. She’ll be on one end of the line, while he’s at the other and she’ll still be blushing.”

Ami reels backwards, turning to face the tapestry coated wall. She didn’t want her brother to think ill of her for her obvious feelings towards his friend. In these circumstances, though, she could barely help herself. Her mind played the images of the things they had already undertaken in secrecy.

Ami also didn’t want San to have Hongjoong’s anger against him. If he had known of how “intimate” the pair had already been, she was positive their friendship would spoil.

The dances weren’t the only times Ami had blushed so profusely due to San’s presence. She could recall a time her body was beat red under his tantric gaze, muscled arms holding her frame in place as he drove into her from behind like a wild dog. Her thoughts led her towards dark skies, looming and storming over her shy, quaint exterior. Though her lips may never admit, may never confess to their inside affair, Ami would hold the memories close to her.

She had spent her life in the shadow of her older sister. Lively and inviting as she was.

The eldest daughter was popular with men and ultimately was seen as the catch of the family. Ami, shy and reserved, had only been approached by one man in her span, Choi San.

In her 20 years Ami had come to accept her fate as the second daughter, homely when set next to her sister, and so soft spoken her brother claimed he needed a horn to hear her. She’d known that her sister was the magnet, the driving force. So, when the Lord San had asked for her hand in a dance, she was more than visibly shocked.

“It’s not uncommon. I know most women swoon when he’s there. I’ve heard countless stories about women who have gone after him-“ Hongjoong began as he observed Ami’s questionable behavior. She was shy, he knew that much, but she was also an adult who could handle herself for the most part. He wouldn’t concern himself with her girlish whimsies until they were threatened by an outer source.

“Stop teasing her, she’s only fancying him.” Hongjoong says quietly, only for the eldest sister to hear. As close as he was with the eldest sister, he placed an appending preciousness on the middle sister due to her demure nature.

“Oh come now Hongjoong, she can handle herself.” She retorted as her lips curled into a fleeting grin. She too adored her little sister, timid in image and expression shy to most. Those closest to her knew her of a more giggly adaptation. Her smile was sweet and bright while her dark curls softened her small, rounded face. Any attempt of corruption would certainly be stifled by her pure appearance.

Ami would have agreed with her sister’s thought, had it not been for Lord Choi San.

She took in a soothing breath, excusing herself from the clustered room, and proceeds sheepishly toward her upstairs room. Ami’s chest burns with the looming shame of her actions as her fingers grapple with the chartreuse fabric of her layered skirts.

“Ami- mhm, pardon me- Lady Ami,”

A voice known well by the aforementioned called after her. Lord Song Mingi.

She was sure Mingi had been greeted at the gate, reasons being for Hongjoong, and not just that he had barged in the home.

“Lord Mingi-“ she says softly, bowing her head respectfully towards the man, hands falling to her front in a ladylike lock.

The young Lord smiles, a trait he was recognized for, flashing his asymmetrical teeth.

“Ami- how lovely to see you. It’s been so long.” Mingi’s voice was deep and crawled slowly. Ami wouldn’t deny the gentleman his looks; a masculine brow bone, strong nose, and high cheeks. His eyes sat flatly in his features, though still tempting.

Ami took a step forward, eyes still wandering the lordship’s face.

“2 years, my lord. When I was turning 18 in Goreya.” He hums fondly of girl, mind replaying the happenings. He remembered nothing of the night apart from the sirenic beauty of her and boiling drunk in the corner of Hongjoong’s bed chamber. His smile deepened, nodding smally and sighing awkwardly in the silence. It’s as if he had forgotten to reply.

“Ah yes- I brought San with me!” Mingi said abruptly as his trance is broken, hunting eyes shifting towards the entrance.

Ami’s stomach dropped at the statement as a cold sweat broke on the nape of her neck.

The man’s shapely silhouette hung tightly in the foyer, conversation engaged with her father. She heaved a sigh as she began to turn towards the stairwell in hopes they wouldn’t notice her attempted escape.

“San! Look who it is. Miss Ami.” Mingi exclaimed, calling his accomplice over with the wave of his hand. She watches her father nod his head slightly towards the man and stepping backward as if to give him permission.

“Ami-“ San’s voice floods her senses, rushing in as if a dam had broken and things had returned to their natural state. San. Choi San.

“Lord San-“ she says with a strained voice, eyes unable to focus on any one thing.

“Ami-“ He says again, this time burdened with something comfortable but hidden. San’s walk was airy and light, heel to toe, heel to toe, heel to toe. His shoulders were attentively broad and his waist was tantalizingly thin, all the more compelling to look at for every young woman this side of the country. Sat atop his muscular build was his blemishless neck, carved from marble by an artist of heavenly skill. The taught tendons lined the neck well while his protruding adam’s apple bobbed with each word. He was a masterpiece, really. One that Ami could hardly turn from. If his portrait had been hung in a gallery for all to gander, she’d be the last in the room to leave, looking him over, the brush strokes and textured patches that added depth and warmth to his already ethereal beauty.

San kept his breathing in check as he approached the two, quicker than previously intended. The man’s heart was pacing atrociously. She was in front of him. Her.

“What business do you have here? Of course we’re always happy to have you.” Ami begins, straightening her back and shoulders to appear trained and confident, though her stomach toiled and turned. “Your father-“ Mingi was forever smiling. “To speak with your father-“

San interrupts, eyes falling to Ami’s skirt covered feet. He smirked unconsciously; black and blue slippers, embroidered in some floral pattern. The Kim clan was one to flaunt wealth even in the confines of their own estate.

Ami can feel San’s intense emotions as they exude from his pores, staunch and ripely confident. She’d been close enough to Lord Choi San and his dominant scent to tell when they shared that certain feeling.

“Mingi,” The lord spoke quickly, head swiveling to meet the other man’s eyes. “You go find Hongjoong and have your talk. I want to take a walk on the property. I haven’t been around it in several years.” His expression was one of urgency, filtered only by his calm, soothing tone.

“Are you sure? I thought maybe you’d enjoy sitting in on our-“

“No- I’m really fine. I’ll take a walk.”

The hall seemed to close in on the very two of them, shrinking as Mingi nodded with understanding and waved them ado.

San stepped silently towards Ami as his presence grew thicker, harder to digest.

“Will you accompany me, Lady Ami?”

She inhales slightly, a knot forming in her throat as she nods once, then twice. She would be happy to, in fact she was ecstatic. The thought of any time alone with the lord made her giddy with anticipation. Her spine tingled from the excitement while she tried her best not to let her emotions wear her face.

San grins slyly, holding out an arm as a silent invitation and she takes it with little to no hesitation. The blush was a secondary concern as they began walking and San leans to whisper in the girl’s ear.

“Where will we be free from interruption?”

His voice is low and silken like the comforter on Ami’s bed.

She swallows faintly, her eyes lowering to the man’s arm holding hers.

“If anyone catches us upstairs I fear we’d be berated.” She expressed. He nods and hums softly.

“Any place else you can think of. I miss you Ami-“ San says quietly but in ernest.

His body temperature leveled higher than nature had intended each time he saw the woman. Her soft exterior and doe eyes made him stir in every way possible. Nights were hellish for the man as thoughts of her swayed to and fro in his mind. Memories and reenactments of their time together bullied him so. His cheeks flared red, hand furiously gripping and pulling at his hardened cock, the feeling almost a ghost of the woman he desired. Though San would never admit to those actions, too vile to mention to the lady, he would desire her just the same. Ami restricted around his arm tighter, pulling the appendage closer to her breast. “We have a barn loft,” she whispers. His eyes sweep over her in a stream of lust. “That’s perfect.”

—————

The wind whipped violently outside the slats of barn wood, sending a chill up Ami’s spine as San’s hand gripped her’s gently, all the while the other hand tactfully untied her undergarment. “San-“ she says quietly, voice carried on a single, shaky breath. His fingers pulled the fabric down to the girl’s ankles and tenderly shimmied the cloth around her feet, laying in the pile of straw to their left. Whatever chilly weather was haunting the outdoors barely reached them where they lay. San’s lips impressioned down Ami’s leg, leading to her thigh, littering the milken skin with purple and red blotches to be admired. His hands touched her as if he were breaking the stillness of a calm, slow going lake. San was gentle with his touch while driven mad with just.

Lips followed finger as he made his way upwards still, finally brushing the soft outer gates of her entrance. He sighs hotly against her, leaving a kiss on her shell. San stalled momentarily as his eyes flickered upward to observe Ami’s expression, one of relief and pleasure. She was heavenly to him; her body was a perfect culmination of everything he held dear and precious. Her sweetness only added to how much he reveled in her pleasure. Ami. Ami. Ami. His mind would reel with her name over and over and over and over and over, until he was a shell of a man, leaving the only thing desired to be Kim Ami.

His tongue moved languidly over the plush heat, lapping at the coated, pink walls dripping in something sweet that San couldn’t resist. His primal urges kicked into overdrive each and every time he pressed his face to her steaming mecca. His pointed nose rested on the mound of her folds, nuzzling adoringly at her softness and scent. San had fiend like a madman over her taste in the past, licking his lips to taste her longer as he pleasured himself. But now it was real. Her soft moans and the delicate fingers gripping at his black hair.

The man consumed the flow of whatever came to him as his hands wandered down her body, grabbing at the softness of her figure. The rough pads of his thumbs caressed over her exposed breasts, toying lightly with the pinkish areola causing the skin to prune under his fingerprints. He loved the feeling. Ami couldn’t deny her enjoyment either. Her body writhed with pleasure as San’s mouth teased and prodded at her entrance. The tip of his tongue swiped inside, collecting whatever arousal had pooled. Low grumbles emitted from between her legs as San satisfied himself as well, a veined hand now shoved inside the front of his trousers.

The grips and grabs on her hips and thighs tightened as San became impatient. He wanted to be inside her desperately.

Ami called his name softly as not to alert any outsiders to their activities. She didn’t know what she would do with herself if anyone knew of their illicit relationship, hidden behind a shroud of acquaintance. She would just die if anyone knew of how he pulsed through her like a rush of adrenaline, or how his body ached for nothing more than to collide with her’s in messy meshes and wet, unsavory title waves.

San pulled away from her aching core, eyes half-lidded and heavy with need. “My turn-“ he says lowly. Ami nods anxiously as the man rises to his knees, unbuckling his trousers, face still slick with her excitement. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, savoring her taste made especially for him. The stiffened member peaks out as soon as San drops the clothing and places a hand over the shaft, fisting the length of it a few times over.

Ami’s eyes reluctantly tear from San’s actions, only to be met with the equally sinful sight of him in ecstasy, eyes lazily taking in the image of her body, his free hand unbuttoning his shirt to expose what Ami knew to be the peak male physique.

With a deep breath and a swift movement, San hovered over the woman, lips pressed harshly against her ear.

“Get on top.”

——-

Mingi’s heart dropped the moment his eyes met the man’s. His nerves were those that he wore so evidently on his face, confirmed with how easy we was to cry in hard situations. All knew of Lord Song’s tender heart, but scorned him not, instead joining in his shareable emotion. This was something that held him so highly in his clan. He had evidence of emotional intelligence beyond most of his sex.

So, when he stepped to Clan Leader Kim with a proposition of marriage for his eldest daughter, the suspense of his answer toiled within him. He had known Lady Yeri since childhood and regarded her highly in all areas. Intelligence, looks, grace. All that mattered to him in his search for the woman to lead the Song Clan with him. A woman to be by his side, and a woman to love. Mingi was aware of other former clan leaders sharing in multiple wives, but he rejected the idea. He wanted one wife. He wanted Kim Yeri.

“You want to marry my daughter, Mingi?” The clan leader asked for clarification as he sat back in cushioned study chair. Mingi looked up from his deep bow, knees now burdened with pain from kneeling on the ground for so long. “Yes, clan leader, I do.” He replied, hands folding in his lap while a cloud of unsureness encased the room. “Which one?” The older man questioned with a hearty laugh; one that pushed the man’s eyes upwards just like Hongjoong’s Mingi noticed. Mingi’s face reddens. He hadn’t specified which one, had he?

“I would- Pardon me, Sir. I would like to ask for Lady Yeri’s hand in marriage.” Mingi chokes through his embarrassment, shifting in his position. He was more so uncomfortable to think that the clan leader possibly considered that he would be interested in marrying his youngest daughter, a 12-year-old girl. Mingi would rather die than be viewed as that sort of man.

“My Yeri? She’s an interesting girl.” The leader said bluntly, though through a grin. He looked upon his oldest daughter in a different light, one of adoration and affection. His love for his baby girl was incomparable, so he wasn’t lunging at this proposal. Mingi was of good standing and he was handsome, something to consider for his decision.

“She is.” Mingi agreed with a look of admiration.

The older man tucked back into the chair a little further with a quizzical furrow of his brow. His weathered, weary hands stroked lightly at his chin, as few whiskers as there was. Paints of blue and yellow littered the man’s skin due to his still working body. He jutted his bottom lip slightly, tilting to the right to readjust and crossed one leg over the other.

“Mingi, tell me-“ he began, gripping his smoking pipe from the side table and stuffing the bowl with a sweet tobacco.

“Yes sir,” Mingi replied, eyes large in anticipation. The elder struck a match, puffing at the pipe and setting the contents ablaze. Mingi watched as it embered out, now a steady steam of smoke.

“You like Yeri, truly? Do you think she likes you?”

“Well I- I do like her truly, very very much. I like her a lot. But, I’m not sure how Lady Yeri feels about me, sir. I’ve only tried to court her in the last month.” Mingi admitted. His heart was racing at the question and was beginning to feel the weight of his proposal. Did she like him? At all?

“If you think Lady Yeri will have you, then you have my blessing.” The clan leader took in a long drag of his pipe to hide the growing smile on his face. The idea was exciting to him, finally realizing his little girl was a sought after young woman. It burned him slightly to fight another man for her care, but it did truly make him happy.

“Thank you- thank you so much sir!” Mingi grappled at the leader’s feet, thanking him relentlessly. He was breathless and more than happy to accept the challenge of winning Yeri’s affection if he didn’t already have it. “Thank you-“ he heaved.

“Okay Mingi. Get up, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Mingi said softly as he detached his hands from the man’s foot, sitting up from the ground and smoothed out his clothing.

“If you want her, then go ask her.” The older instructed as he looked away from the younger man.

“Yes sir. Thank you sir.” Mingi couldn’t help his giddiness as he raised from the wooden floor and turned to the door, ready to fly to wherever Yeri might be. He wanted more her more than anything.

The man flew through the door of the study, hand firm on the family ring in his breast pocket. He had brought it for motivation, and more so as a physical beacon of his claim. He wanted to take Yeri as his wife as soon as possible.

The clan leader watches as Mingi scuffles inelegantly from his sight, tripping over Lord knows what and grinning to himself like a self-proud child. He wasn’t sure if Yeri would approve of the lad as eclectic and exuberant as he was. The man had never been the picture of grace and dignity but he was kind, and the Clan leader was sure he would provide for his oldest daughter. His body relaxed into his seat. It was his greatest wish, to have his daughters cared for and valued. One thing the Kim Clan stood for was the ability of woman and the influence they held over society. It may have been a man’s world, but Clan Leader Kim wouldn’t have dreamt of it without his women.

So he prayed Yeri would accept Mingi’s proposal outright. He prayed they would be happy. He prayed for swift reproduction and many grandchildren. He prayed for-

“No.”

The clan leader cringed as he heard a stern disagreement.

“Yeri, wait!” He heard Mingi and then racing foot steps in some odd direction.

“No, Mingi! I will not marry you!”

‘Oh hell,’ the man thought with an exhausted sigh. The halls were filled with the sounds of sobbing and bickering as Mingi did his best to try and convince Yeri that their union would mean great things. She could have whatever she pleased, she could do whatever she desired. He wouldn’t hold her back in the slightest; he just wanted her to be his wife. Yeri couldn’t hold herself back from the inevitable tears after frustration. She didn’t want to marry this man, and was stunned he would ask this of her. Yeri had known Mingi since she was a child, young and impressionable. She hadn’t been aware of his romantic feelings for her and the sudden knowledge felt like a darkening streak on their relationship thus far. Had he always seen her as someone to pursue? Yeri felt preyed upon.

“My dear-my dear Lady Yeri, please. Why not? Bestow me that much.” Mingi begged as he grabbed her hand, stopping the woman from moving any further. He pressed the smaller hand to his lips in a desperate gesture of unrequited affection. His eyes pleaded, wet with confusion and anticipation. He hadn’t suspected she’d act out like so, violently and irrationally. He knew she didn’t have to say yes, but it seemed like such a great deal of a reaction. The yelling, the running, the crying.

“Mingi please, let go!” Yeri cried as she yanked her hand but failed. He held it tightly, mulling over her rejection. “No, not until you tell me why!”

“I don’t owe you anything Song Mingi! Now let go.” Her voice lowers and settles in a deep, calmer tone. She was serious and the man could tell. Mingi slowly unclamped her hand, letting it fall from his grasp and watched it retract to her chest. Yeri heaved in deep breaths of sure panic. “No, no you’re right I’m sorry. You don’t owe me anything. Not your hand, not your love, and not your kindness. Forgive me Lady Yeri.” He bit back the sting in his voice, his tongue cramping under the pressure of bayed tears. Never had he been so brutally cast aside.

——-

Hongjoong added one last piece to his ensemble. A ring detailing the family crest in ornate black and silver. Though he knew his standing in the familial home, he’d never deny his name.

The celebration was set to begin in just two hours, his stomach curled and toiled at the thought. Seeing Lord Seonghwa is his beautiful glory. He could imagine the dark, lengthy curls that bordered his slender, sharp features. The idea of Seonghwa in his natural state sent a shiver up Hongjoong’s spine. Seonghwa was a mystical form, one of great seduction and yet elegance of the highest and most powerful degree. He held himself like a storybook prince and spoke as so. His tongue was sharp but lingering and his tone was pure poison to hear. Hongjoong couldn’t imagine how many people the man had seduced with his voice alone.

He had captured him, that was for certain.

Hongjoong shook the thought from his head as he took one last look in the mirror before exiting the room. His head was still brimming with theories and concepts concerning the leader-to-be, but were abruptly replaced with questions as he spotted Lord Choi San in the corridor.

Not only was San there, but his dear Ami was on his arm.

“Lord San, Ami.” He spoke after a moment of silence, observing their behavior for a minute or two. They were close, smiling and roughed up a bit. “Brother!” Ami responded in surprise as she removed herself from San’s side, much to his dismay. “Hongjoong-“ San followed in their confusion.

“Good lord Ami you look horrible!” The eldest spat as he noticed the smudged lip matte, the straw still lodged in her hair and the loose appearance of her dress. He swallowed heavily, mind running wild with accusation after accusation. “What happened?”

Ami’s brain stilled as soon as she saw her brother as frazzled as he was over her appearance. What would she say? Would she tell him the truth? She’d be forced to wed Lord San to cover up their illicit affair if that be the case. She wouldn’t dare tell her older brother what was happening. She could die! She could just die-

“You see I was taking a walk about the property and I happened to see Lady Ami in the barn. She had been climbing the loft ladder to retrieve a kitten.” San began, silencing the chaos in Ami’s head.

“Right! And- and my foot slipped. I would’ve plummeted quite a distance if Lord San hadn’t been there to break my fall. I must thank him incredulously for his service.” Her voice steadied as the lie progressed, turning to face San with an innocent smile. “Thank you for saving me.”

San’s expression turned to one of delight as he dipped in an acute bow. “You’re welcome my lady.”

Hongjoong eyed the couple unsurely before finally settling. His lips curved upwards into a smile, a fleck of praise on his lips. “Thank you San. I’m grateful you were there for my little sister.”

The man bowed deeply towards the elder, “Of course, Hongjoong.”

————-

Hongjoong sat opposite of Yunho in the bustling, gravel-beaten carriage. The roads were muddy from the earlier weather but it hadn’t deterred any attendees from the what’s was to be the biggest party of the year. The night in which all the clans put aside whatever differences they may have to celebrate the coming forth of a new generation. Park Seonghwa’s accession to the head of Park Clan was something all had been anticipating and now that it was happening, none would miss the opportunity to witness it. The Park Clan was the largest of the 7, bearing most of the land as well as wealth. They shouldered the country’s welfare, but cared for their members as much as they did their own families. The rise of the newest, and youngest, leader was upon them. Contemplations of his strength or ability were kept to a minimum in the circle of elites that truly knew the young lord. He was capable of most anything and with his approaching status, he would quench any criticism that may have befallen him.

Park Seonghwa was a man of effeminate beauty that was known well amongst the clans. It was his first power- his weapon. His looks were striking. If anyone had seen the lord for the first time, they may have mistaken him for one of the Park’s reputable, sought after escorts. His dark, luscious hair brushed closely with his broad shoulders, connecting deliberately to his delicately tapered waistline and long, slender legs. It was easy to understand why Lord Hongjoong had fallen so desperately in love with the man. His affections ran red on the ground from intensity. Thoughts of lord Seonghwa swirled in tantalizing sequences around lord Kim’s guttered mind. The addictive sound of Seonghwa’s pleasure- the lustful gleam in his eyes each time his head was harshly pinned to the bed, sheets held in his teeth as to muffle his noises and moans. Recalling the brunette’s skin sheened over in perspiration was a task handled poorly by lord Kim. His hands fidgeted with the fabric of his overcoat as means of distraction.

The two man hadn’t been entangled for months and yet Hongjoong would fly to where he was in a second’s notice. Given the chance, Hongjoong would be knelt down before the man, fingers encasing his foot as a sign of respect and infatuation. Hongjoong would allow himself the surrender as his mouth left brazen kisses to Seonghwa’s feet, running up his strong legs. He would show him his pale, soft underbelly, expecting nothing in return. He would lay himself down for Seonghwa’s passing gaze.

Yunho observed the telling expression on his older company’s face. He was lost in his thoughts. In his own world of nothing but the lord Seonghwa and their expansive memories.

“Hongjoong,” Yunho began, voice low as not to attract the reign bearer’s attention even though he was far enough out of ear shot.

“Hm?” The older hummed quietly in acknowledgment. His eyes still never met his friend’s.

“All is well my friend. This isn’t unlike any other event.”

“I know that. But my heart still beats as if I’m racing.”Hongjoong settles into the plush of the carriage bench. He crossed one booted foot over the other, finger hooking under his chin as his as turned back to his friend. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss yourself, Hongjoong.” Yunho hummed lowly as they pulled into the lane, so densely polluted with other hierarchies and lords. Each and every one of them stood straight, hair set, eyes forwards, legs marching strongly towards the gates. A few servants stood watching and greeting as people filed into the hall, waiting his arrival. As his feet graced the pea gravel,Hongjoong could see him. He could sense him in a way. He could spot his expression from the upstairs window; the one he was sure was Seonghwa’s bed chamber, his eyes laying over the rush of comrades and well wishers. Through it all, Seonghwa was waiting to spot the certain young lord. He didn’t want to miss him in the slightest. He wanted to be there from the minute Hongjoong set foot in his estate. His mind had been consumed by memories and past statements between the two, eyes welling up each time he remembered their last meeting.

Seonghwa stepped back from the window, clutching his ascot to his chest as his heart slowed to an incomplete still. He missed Hongjoong, but he would have to deal with that later. There were other things that required his attention. “I’m ready.” Seonghwa says as he opens the heavy oaken door to his bed chamber, alerting his former wet nurse of his status. She looked him over with a wash of pride. Her stomach sank as she recounted how the time has flown since her lord Seonghwa was just a babe, suckling from her bossom. Now, he was an upstanding man, tall and handsome; and ready to take his rightful place at the head of his table. “You’re sure?” She takes his arm and follows the man down the hallway towards the grand staircase, both of them halting momentarily before they made their entrance. She would go ahead of him, taking her stand with the rest of the servants.

“I’m sure.” He assures her, trying to calm his own nerves in the process. He searched her eyes for any reasons to cling to his childhood, a sense of connection or at least one last plea from her lips for him to stay little. He wanted someone to miss his boyhood as much as he would; he wanted someone to hold on to it so he wouldn’t suffer in the shadow of it all on his own. The weight of age and the crushing pain of growth has been hanging tightly to him by his throat since his father had died, but he gulped back tears like a man would. He was facing his mother. He was facing his brothers and his clan beyond them. He faced his future.

Park Seonghwa faced Kim Hongjoong most importantly to him. As was proof, he was a leader placed perfectly at the top of his clan. He hoped Hongjoong would take his presence more seriously, and with more acceptance.

“Go and guide us all, dear.” His nurse says hushed as she stands over tiptoes and planted an encouraging kiss to his cheek. She takes his hands in her own and mulls over the size. He has grown well, and that’s all she could ask. He nods earnestly proceeding to let her go, watching her descend the staircase and take her place. Next was his turn, but this one was the descent of change. With a deep breath, Seonghwa stepped solo to his pre-rehearsed marker. “Ready?” A man signaled towards the young lord. He nodded with a deep, calming breath. This was it. This was everything.

“May I have the honor of presenting the forthcoming head of the illustrious Park Clan-“ A man vocalized, pushing Seonghwa’s fear to his feet. He looks to both his sides, taking in hand the symbolic relicts of their clan. A sword, symbol of peace through victory. A ruby ring, a symbol of tranquility through bloodline. His lip quivers slightly as the ring is placed on his finger; the very same one his father, and his father before him wore in their years reigning. He hoped, he prayed to be as good as they were, and that they would be guiding him from the world above.

“Park Seonghwa- Clan Leader.” The same man expressed as applause erupted from the audience all transfixed on Seonghwa as he stepped cautiously down the steps, facing his new family head on, hands gripped tightly, ring pushing into his palm. The swords bore heavy in his grasp, but no matter. He was struck by sudden empowerment seeing the faces of those there for him. They all came to see him succeed. They saw him through to his height. The sentiment truly touched him, tenderly brushing his cheeks with a smile and softly kissing at his heart. “For me?” Seonghwa whispered to himself. For him. Yes. Over the sea of excitement, he spots him. Kim Hongjoong. As beautiful as always.

After several rounds of congratulatory speeches and toasts, most everyone was dancing in drunken laughter. Seonghwa kept busy socializing with his clan, nursing a strong, sweet cocktail he had loved since his teenage years. It had become an iconic drink in the clan, known as Seonghwa’s Sangria and most of the clan had indulged in its flavor since.

“Well well well, if it isn’t,” Yunho begins as he bows clumsily before Seonghwa. “The clan leader.”

“It sure as hell is. Put some respect on my name now, Yunho!” Seonghwa laughs as he sends a teasing kick into Yunho’s backside. The men chuckle, chasing after each other for a moment before Seonghwa clears his throat in embarrassment. “C’mon Yunho. I’m a leader now. I can’t beat your ass like I used to.”

“Oh forgive me your highness.” Yunho sighs accompanied by a small smile.

“Are you switching up on us Seonghwa? Now that you’re the clan leader?”

Seonghwa stills, stomach dropping slightly at the sound of his voice. “No, Hongjoong. I’m simply trying to keep up my arbitrary reputation.” He turned to face the shorter, eyes finally meeting after months. Hongjoong. Oh Hongjoong.

Seonghwa wanted nothing more than to grab the man’s waist and pull him into a heated kiss filled with fervor and passion. The look in his eyes, the ceremonial robes, the set to his hair. Seonghwa was stone in action. Had he been in a private room, he would’ve dropped to his knees for forgiveness, begging and pleading with the younger for his affections. Seonghwa would’ve kissed the ground Hongjoong stood upon. The feelings were mutual between parties. As Seonghwa had spoke, Hongjoong too desired him deeply. He would forgo all of his manly pride and bath in the rich lather that was the clan leader’s presence. The scent of lavender emitting from his body like it usually did, his hands gripping tightly at his robe as he pounded the ground with apologies and desperate acts. Anything to bring Seonghwa back to him.

Hongjoong has been drowning in his own shame for the past weeks, trying to find a way to speak to Seonghwa without dropping to the floor in fits of tears. It had been clawing his pulse for days. He wanted the oldest to notice his plea and take his hands once again.

The music from the orchestra blared over any conversation that may have been had at the time, but it didn’t stop Hongjoong from whispering in the clan leader’s ear. “May I speak to you? Privately?” Seonghwa nods as the shorter grips his wrist, pulling him away from the crowd.

———-

The tip of Hongjoong’s already hard erection pushed past the tight ring of resistance, sending Seonghwa into a pained, but relieved frenzy. It had been too long since they had been like this, tangled up in secrecy as they shared breaths and words of affirmation pertaining to nothing in particular. The older’s back arched off of the wall, pressing his chest further into Hongjoong’s as the top thrusts upward into him fully. He had never felt so strangled but free in his life. His legs tightened around Joong’s waist, securing him to a safe trunk as he passed each inch in and out of the man, leaving them both messy in unison.

They had found a private conference room to which they could talk alone, only for them both to break and start tearing at their clothes. Seonghwa’s hands roamed the brunette’s back, feeling as the muscles rippled under skin, effective with each thrust into him. Seonghwa wouldn’t know what to do if anyone caught them in the act, but he was in too much of a heated, sexual state that he couldn’t bother caring.

“Joong-“ His moans were miss matched in tone, some loud while the others seemed aware of their surroundings. “Fuck, Joong-“ Hwa whimpers, suckling on a patch of skin just below Hongjoong’s ear, in hopes no one would notice it later. “Ah-Hwa! Don’t tease me. If you’re gonna suck anything-“

“Don’t say that- you’re already inside of me… so no.” Seonghwa griped as his nails dug crescents into Hongjoong’s shoulders, an expression of pained bliss coloring his face. “Prude.” Hongjoong whispers in a joking manner, aware that nothing about their relationship was prudish . They were as open minded as they came.

Seonghwa’s body tightened, constricting Hongjoong as he fucked into the older male, each and every curve and divot of the elder’s insides squeezing against his sensitive cock. He bullied harder into the ass, heavy testicles snapping against Seonghwa’s plump ass cheeks every once in a while. It was all in the reminder that he was his. He would be his forever. It worked both ways in this case.

“Please- forgive me my lord.” Hongjoong pressed his lips to Seonghwa’s cheek as he finally began pleading for the older’s forgiveness. This is what he wanted in the first place, to be reinstated on the side of Seonghwa’s good graces. “No please forgive me Hongjoong. It was all my fault.” Seonghwa’s words came out in breathy chunks as each syllable was punctuated with a thrust.

“No-no, was mine. I was a coward.” The younger buried a hand in Seonghwa’s long, onyx locks.

“No, I was irrational.” Seonghwa said quietly next to the man’s ear.

“All you wanted was for me to love you loudly.” Hongjoong spoke.

“But I completely disregarded your reputation.” Seonghwa said.

“What reputation? I am the blight on my family’s collar. No one would’ve batted an eye if I were to be seen with you. They would attribute everything to my status.” His movements were stilled as he cradled Seonghwa’s cheek in his hand. Their eyes fixed on one another, expressions of moroseness. “I love you dearly, Hwa. And I’m sorry I had hurt you so terribly.”

Seonghwa heaved deeply, pulling the shorter into a bone crushing hug, face buried deep in the crook of his neck.

From there, Hongjoong paced himself once again, hips colliding at a simpler, softer speed. Love filled his strokes as they passed on his apology, each and every move meaning something to the older. His intricately detailed body quivered as he was met with waves of sweet, sweet love making. He wasn’t sure if Hongjoong had ever been so gentle with him in all their time together.

Sweat beads from Hongjoong’s forehead, dropping on Seonghwa’s prominent cheekbone and fell like a tear of bliss. He was savoring the feeling for as long as he could because he was never quite sure when he would be able to keep Seonghwa this close again. His arms longed for him when he was away. His lips burned for their suppression kindled only in the clan leader’s. Every letter he wrote and signed off, every seminar he sat in on with his father, each and every step he took in pursuit of Seonghwa’s hand seemed all the more important to him, now that Seonghwa’s writhing body ached between him and the tapestry. Hongjoong noted how the older quivered as he sank a little further down his dick, the puckered muscle losing tension each time, only to gain it back when he slid out again. The sloppy way of devotion was their favorite and the most effective in times like these between them. The giving of each other’s bodies in a messy, wet complexion of limbs and moans. Hongjoong wished they were in a bedroom, railing mercilessly into a feather soft mattress, his hands gripped so tight to the clan leader’s hips that he could claim ownership later.

“Fuck-“ The second eldest grunts lowly into his ear, drawing a moan from the Clan leader’s mouth.

To be Continued….

[doodledoesthing3]

RANDOM SMILING CRITTERS OC ONESHOTS FT. @that1garrulousfan & @daydreamer36 OCS!

Scene 1 (Copper Trade & Hot Topic):

Ash, sitting on top of a cooler: Where is that penguin…

Fungus: He could be running late, Tio.

Ash: Yeah, yeah I know but Issac is normally on time whenever I call him. You don’t think he forgot, do you?

Fungus: No, if anything he’s probably stuck in traffic or something.

Ash: Yeah, you’re right. Y’know the last time I was here, there was this super hyper hyena that kept asking me what I was making-

HyperHumor in the distance: HEY THERE INVENTOR GUY!

Ash: oh my god no.

She runs towards them.

HyperHumor: I didn’t expect to see you again! You even brought a new friend with you this time!

Fungus: Tio, who is this lady-

HyperHumor: YOU’RE AN UNCLE NOW?!

Ash: I’ve always been an- Nevermind, yes I’m an uncle. Now what do you want?

HyperHumor: I just wanna know what you’re building that’s all!

Ash: I’m just fixing a coffee machine for a friend of mine.

Ash turns to Fungus and whispers into his ear.

Ash, whispering: Fungus, I need you to distract her until I’m done getting the materials from Issac.

Fungus nods in agreement.

Ash: Hey, uh…what’s your name again?

HyperHumor: My name is HyperHumor!

Ash: Oh! Well my name is Ash. This is my nephew, Fungus. Can you like take him to the uh…

Fungus: The Hello Kitty Store!

Ash: I thought you couldn’t stand that pla-

The boy winked at his uncle.

Ash: I mean- Yeah, take him to the Hello Kitty store for me!

HyperHumor: Uh, okay? When do you want me to give him back?

Ash: He’ll tell you when it’s time to go.

HyperHumor: Okay.

Hyper and Fungus leave as Issac finally arrives.

Issac Inventor: Sorry I’m late. I was stuck talking to this weird dog.

Ash: Don’t worry about it. You got the goods?

Issac Inventor: Depends, you got the ice?

Ash opens the cooler to reveal a huge chuck of ice.

Issac Inventor: Oh that’s beautiful! you’re gonna be building good for months!

HyperHumor and Fungus walk around the mall until they see a store.

HyperHumor: Hey, this isn’t the Hello Kitty store!

Fungus: No, it’s Hot Topic.

HyperHumor: What’s the topic? Devil worship?

Fungus: Wouldn’t you like to know.

They walk into the store and immediately spot a familiar face.

???: Which shirt did she want again?

Fungus: Miss Barker?

Harper Barker turns around and spots the two.

Harper Barker: Oh sweet critter-Jesus.

HyperHumor: Harper! I didn’t know you shopped here!

Harper Barker: I don’t. The one in the underground is getting remodeled and my girlfriend wanted something from here.

Fungus: As in the girlfriend that you don’t have?

Harper Barker: Shouldn’t you be with one of weird aunts or uncles?

Fungus: Shouldn’t you stop patronizing my uncle?

HyperHumor: Wait you two know each other?

Fungus and Harper both sigh.

Fungus & Harper: Unfortunately.

Harper Barker: One of his uncles is a criminal.

Fungus: She keeps hunting down my uncle CatNap whenever he isn’t doing anything bad.

HyperHumor: Yeesh, bad experiences with each other. We’ll just leave you alone then.

Fungus: Gabby says that you reek of bleach.

HyperHumor: ALRIGHT! Bye Harper!

Harper rolls her eyes and continued shopping as the two left.

They didn’t buy anything…

Scene 2 (Chased by a Guard Dog):

HyperHumor is seen walking through the halls of a facility. SV! CatNap is not too far behind her. Harper is seen talking to another guard.

Harper Barker: Yeah and then he said-

HyperHumor: AAAAAAAAAAAA!

Harper turns around and makes eye contact with Hyper. They stare at each other for a few minutes before Hyper runs away with Harper chasing her from behind.

Harper Barker: OH HYPERHUMOR!

HyperHumor: YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!

Scene 3 (Denial):

Harper Barker is running through the valley in order to get to the entrance of the Underground.

SV! CatNap: Hey Harp-

Harper Barker: YOU’RE GAY.

Harper continues to run.

SV! CatNap: Yeesh! What was that about?

HyperHumor: Yeah like there was no need to repeat something that we already knew.

SV! CatNap slowly turns to stare at her.

HyperHumor: What?

SV! CatNap: I- I’m not gay.

HyperHumor eyes him up and down.

SV! CatNap: Why are you looking at me like that?

HyperHumor: Didn’t you call the sun DogDay-

SV! CatNap: IT WAS ONE TIME!

Diamond: CatNap, darling, we all know that it was more than one time.

SV! CatNap: No it wasn’t! Calico, you believe me right?

Calico: Te he visto llorar al anochecer varias veces. [translated: I've seen you cry at dusk (the sunset) several times.]

SV! CatNap: Damnit.

Scene 4 (Bagels):

Pico: Hey, what do you want to eat?

Pierre, standing behind Lucy: The Souls of the Innocent.

Lucy: A bagel.

Pierre: NO!

Lucy: Two bagels…?

Scene 5 (THE VOICES.):

Dainty Daisy: Hey, what’s wrong with that guy?

She points towards SV! CatNap being crowded by the SV! Smiling Critters.

HyperHumor: I don’t know, I tried asking once but-

SV! CatNap: THE VOICES‼️‼️‼️

SV! Hoppy: WE DEMAND WAFFLE FRIES!!!!

SV! Kickin: THE VOICES IN YOUR HEAD DEMAND IT!!!!

SV! Bubba Bubbaphant: I don’t.

SV! Hoppy slowly turns around to look at him before turning back to SV! CatNap.

SV! Hoppy: BUBBA DEMANDS WAFFLE FRIES!!!

SV! Bubba Bubbaphant: NO I DONT???

Scene 6 (Dehydration or Godhood?):

Harper Barker and Pierre are fighting each other for practice, Pierre hadn’t been drinking water at all that day.

Harper Barker: You’re not ascending to godhood, you’re just dehydrated-

Pierre: OUTTA MY WAY LESBIAN! I’M BOUTTA LIBERATE MY DIVINE SELF FROM THIS MORTAL SHELL!

After Pierre attempted to fight Harper….

Pierre, laying on the ground as he looks extremely exhausted: Hop- Hopital…

Scene 7 (Roof: Chased by a Guard Dog continued):

Harper Barker is looking for HyperHumor and SV! CatNap around the facility.

Harper Barker: Where are they-

Footsteps are heard above her.

Harper Barker: oh my god.

Rat Guard 1: Captain! The intruders ran into the janitor’s closet-

Harper Barker: HOW THE HELL DID THEY GET UP TO THE ROOF?!

Rat Guard 2: Oh so that’s why we couldn’t find them in the janitor’s closet!

Harper Barker: …what.

Rat Guard 2: Yeah, we couldn’t find-

Harper grabs Rat Guard 2 by the neck and pins them to the wall.

Harper Barker: Has no one ever taught you a lesson in shutting up? Because that running mouth of yours is about to get you fired.

Rat Guard 2: No… Sorry, Ca- Captain.

Harper Barker: Good.

She throws them into Rat Guard 1.

Harper Barker: Now go be useful and capture those intruders.

The two guards ran off as Harper quickly made her way towards the roof.

Meanwhile…

SV! CatNap and HyperHumor are on the roof, looking down at the ground below.

HyperHumor: How much do you think grass can soften a fall?

SV! CatNap: Not a lot. Trust me, I’ve seen Topaz try and fail several times.

HyperHumor: Welp, what are we supposed to do now?

SV! CatNap: I can probably call Cat-Bee to teleport us out of here-

Harper Barker from a distance: OH CRIMINAL!

SV! CatNap: ONTO THE GRASS!

HyperHumor: WAIT WHAT-

SV! CatNap pushed HyperHumor off the roof before jumping off as well. Harper Barker and two rat guards walked over to where the two criminals were before they jumped.

Rat Guard 1: Are they…dead?

Harper couldn’t help but smile. Her smile looked manic…

Harper Barker: Only one can hope!

…Harper then saw both of them again when she was getting lunch with her girlfriend.

Scene 8 (Fries):

HyperHumor and Harper Barker are sitting at a park bench.

HyperHumor: Your anger levels have not gone down at all today!

Harper Barker: Okay and?

HyperHumor: We were supposed to figure out how to control your anger so that you’d stop blowing up on people and saying death threats whenever someone you don’t like starts speaking! Aren’t guards supposed to be nice to civilians or something?

Harper Barker: Not me. I’m the captain of the guards, remember?

Hyper let out an annoyed sigh.

HyperHumor: Of course that doesn’t apply to you…

???: Sounds like you’re trying to help Harper with her issues.

Hyper and Harper turned around and saw Dainty Daisy walking towards them. Harper’s eyes widened as she saw fries in Daisy’s hand.

Harper Barker: She has Hop n Stops! Dan, where’d you get Hop n Stops?

Dainty Daisy: Hop n Stop?

Harper held her hand out.

Harper Barker: Bitch, give me fry.

HyperHumor: Harper language-

Dainty Daisy, holding the fries away from her: Is that how you ask?

Harper Barker: Bitch, PLEASE give me a fry.

Daisy gave Harper a fry as she sat down next to Hyper. Putting the fries on the table as she did so.

HyperHumor: That’s somewhat better, but can you please not call her the B word?

Harper Barker: That sounds like you problem.

Dainty Daisy: Hyper, why are you even helping her? She’s walking disaster.

HyperHumor: Be nice! Harper just needs a push in the right direction is all.

Dainty Daisy: She needs a push into therapy.

Harper Barker: And you need a push into the hospital.

Dainty Daisy: See? Just let her imaginary girlfriend help her.

Harper started to growl.

Harper Barker: Continue talking about my girlfriend and the last thing you’re gonna remember is her putting you in the ground.

HyperHumor: Harper, calm down! Daisy didn’t mean it! Right, Daisy?

Dainty Daisy: I mean it. God, I need some fries- WHAT HAPPENED TO MY FRIES?!

Harper showed off the last fry in front of Daisy before eating it in front of her.

Dainty Daisy: B*dolphin noise*H, THAT WAS MY LAST ONE! HOW’D YOU TAKE THAT?!

Harper Barker: Quick hands. Don’t leave your fries out on the table next time. You should check in with like Fungus or an angel about that weird censoring curse you and Hyper both have.

Dainty Daisy: We don’t-

HyperHumor: HAHA! YOU’RE SO RIGHT, HARPER! WE SHOULD DO THAT EVENTUALLY!

Daisy gave Hyper a confused look.

HyperHumor: Wow! Look at the time, we’d better get going now. Bye, Harper! See ya later!

Before Harper could say anything, Hyper quickly dragged Daisy behind a building.

Dainty Daisy: Hyper, what was that all about? Why were you acting so weird?

HyperHumor turned around and gave her a guilty look.

Dainty Daisy: Hyper… What did you do?

HyperHumor: So uh… Funny story, Harper thinks that we’re from her universe-

Dainty Daisy: HYPER!

HyperHumor: I wasn’t even done yet! She thinks we’re from here and that we got cursed to be censored whenever we swear!

Dainty Daisy: You could’ve ask that Bee-Cat lady to turn off the censors! I don’t mind cussing Harper out without censors.

HyperHumor: That’s problem if I do turn off the censors for us! Harper would crush you into tiny little bits! I’ve seen her fight and she gets all the scary.

Dainty Daisy: Okay? I can probably take her in a fight.

HyperHumor: You don’t know that!

Dainty Daisy: Ugh, can we just talk about this back home?

HyperHumor: Fine, but you have to put a dollar in the swear jar for what you said to Harper!

Daisy rolled her eyes as Hyper opened a portal back home.

Dainty Daisy: Fine.

Hyper and Daisy both enter the portal as a shadowy figure watches before flying away. The only thing left behind was a yellowish green feather.

THATS THE END OF THIS BATCH OF ONESHOTS! :D

HYPERHUMOR AND DAINTY DAISY BELONGS TO @that1garrulousfan

PERFECT PIERRE, PICO IMPURE, AND ISSAC INVENTOR BELONGS TO @daydreamer36

[itsmalachitenow]

MORE CHUCK HEADCANONS!

You guys seemed to really like my last post, so I'm sharing the other headcanons I've gathered for my personal take on Chuck since then. Get ready for angst!

Chuck did, in fact, hit Gus with the Ghost Train. It was an accident, and to this day he's incredibly broken up about it. Gus, on the other hand, isn't nearly as upset about being dead. He will, however, use his death to guilt Chuck into doing things for him because he knows just how awful Chuck feels about it. Any time Gus wants a new game system or toy, if Chuck isn't too keen on getting it for him, Gus will just bring up that Chuck ran him over and now he's stuck here, and Chuck will look utterly miserable as he climbs into his wheelchair to leave the Ghost Station.

Chuck is very talented at many different types of instruments, including but not limited to: piano, trumpet, saxophone, violin, harp, french horn, clarinet, cello, and oboe.

He can also sing very well. He is a baritone.

Chuck's true full name is Carlo Toscanini. He prefers the Chuck nickname, though, because it sounds like a train noise. He likes train noises!

Because he's been alone for so long, Chuck is incredibly self conscious about needing any kind of help because he's disabled. Especially when he's in his chair. The idea of being helped and not having to do it all himself is completely foreign to him, and he absolutely abhors the idea of needing to rely on someone else to help him do what he sees as 'basic things'. He would rather struggle by himself than swallow his pride and ask a loved one to get involved.

Related: If you touch this man's wheelchair without asking him first, he is going to run you over with it.

Chuck will never finish his 'magnum opus'. He is a perfectionist, and hasn't had what he considers a 'good' piece in decades because he's constantly going back and changing them, never satisfied with the results. Even if he does finish a musical composition or opera, he will always find some fault with them afterwards and not want to dwell on them. Being alone for so long with no real audience for his works other than Gus (who doesn't really understand or care as much because he's a kid) means he's his only critic, and he will always be his worst critic.

Chuck makes his own coffee and is a total snob about drinking anyone else's. It tastes like diesel, but it'll keep you awake for three days straight.

This man does not have a consistent schedule for anything other than 'work'. Food, sleep, self care, all of it comes second to his job and to his music.

He has chronic insomnia, and horrible nightmares whenever he does drift off to sleep, so Chuck prefers to just keep going for as many days as possible until his body physically cannot stay awake anymore.

Because he's lived so long, Chuck can barely remember any of his early life, and that terrifies him. He remembers the name of his hometown, he remembers he had a father who was a conductor, but everything else is a blur. He can't remember his parents' names, their faces, whether he had siblings or not...those memories are gone forever, and Chuck will never get them back.

His biggest regret is not saying goodbye to his family the night he left to join the Train.

Chuck is also terrified of going back to his hometown, because he knows it will be entirely different from what little he remembers. If he never returns, he can always pretend it's still the way he was when he left it, and ignore the gravity of his choice to join the Ghost Train.

Because he's scared he'll forget other things, Chuck is a compulsive journaler. He writes down the day's events, no matter how trivial, and gives a massive amount of detail about every person he interacts with. He only started doing this about a hundred years ago, once he realized he couldn't remember his family anymore.

Chuck has a small apartment in the Ghost Station. It's small and cramped, but it's a place for him to stay when he's not working, and also for any lovers or loved ones to stay if they're 'living' with him. He has a room entirely dedicated to all of his journals, though the manner of sorting them is known only to Chuck.

[eisforeidolon]

Hey there, I hope you don't mind me dropping in here on a topic from a few days ago and harping on about it (I'm not very well-versed on ask boxes so I'm a bit unsure of the etiquette. If I commit a major faux-pas, forgive me). Apologies if this ends up a little long and a lot sarcastic - I have opinions about this. It's given me a fair bit of grief over the years.

Y'know, I see these 'abusive Dean' takes float across my dash a fair bit (apparently not being into Destiel or Wincest means I must be a Bitter Sam-girl instead and hate Dean, according to Tumblr). The oh-so-delightful 'abusive husband Dean and beaten wife Sam' takes. People calling Sam 'beaten wife coded' in general. One based on a grand total of two instances where he flinched cause Dean made a loud violent noise near him (who the hell wouldn't, you don't need to be 'beaten wife coded' to flinch when someone chucks a chair at a wall, it's almost like Sam has some kind of trauma about various other things and might be generally jumpy...). Or taking the end of S10 out of context and choosing to forget that Dean was nearly fully taken over by a mark of fratricide (which he still managed to overcome, they conveniently fail to mention that). And I just... ugh.

What I never understood about these takes is like... why? There's trying to paint your fave in a good light and a character you hate in a bad one, but then there's making the heart and soul of the show itself into something so ugly it ruins it for other people, like your Anon, and honestly this happened to me too a while ago before I forced myself to stop listening to the greater fandom and find a few I trusted (like you). Even still, it gets all up in my head sometimes. Why are these people finding such glee in making the central relationship so awful? What are you getting out of this show if you think that about it?

Like, imagine looking at the finale through this lens. Congratulations, you turned something sad but ultimately bittersweet into something horrible, the 'beaten wife' dedicating the rest of their life to their 'abuser' then being forced to be with them for eternity, and this is portrayed as a good thing. Why would you ever want to view it that way? Plus, it's rather forced if you take it as a whole - the few times Sam stood there looking contrite while Dean did something stupid pale in comparison to the number of times he calls him out on it, even in the later seasons (14x12 Prophet and Loss, anyone? 15x17 Unity?).

I guess people can take from media what they want, it's obviously not my place to police people's enjoyment, but I just never got the appeal. It seems so counter to what the show was clearly actually trying to do, yet they tout it as fact (now where have I seen that before). Like it's somehow a bad thing to enjoy the show on its own terms. Coming across these takes still kinda bums me out. This goes for people insisting it's the other way around too - I can't stand any brother vs. brother stuff either, it's never anything but bad faith, and honestly kinda misses the point. Some of these people boggle my mind with their lack of empathy.

If there's one thing this fandom is good for, it's honing your ability to roll your eyes and move along. It's full of so much absolute batshit insanity that you'll never survive if you listen to every take. Trust me, I've tried. Do you know which tags to block to avoid this kinda stuff? Cause I never seem to be able to.

Sorry if this was a bit of a rant dump, heh. I'm usually a chronic lurker, but this discourse in particular bothers me immensely.

You're absolutely fine, I mind neither bringing up previous topics nor excessive length (be a bit of a hypocrite if I did, tbh). And yeah, it's one of my least favorite SPN fandom discourses, too.

It does feel like it's pretty hard to find any corner of the fandom where you won't at least occasionally see one side or the other's worst faith not!fave-brother-is-terrible takes. And oh, do I hate the 'beaten wife Sam' half of the 'Dean is an abuser' discourse equation just as much. Like, supposedly they like Sam, so why on earth would they want to pretend this stubborn competent badass of a character is actually a helpless pathetic marshmallow?! Same with Dean on the opposite side of the fandom - it's not just the character they're constantly maligning I can't recognize, the character they "like" similarly bears very little resemblance to the one I'm a fan of!

So far as I can tell, some people just desperately need their favorite character to be the best one who is always in the right. Whether it's over-identification or what, I don't know. They seem to think they achieve it by reframing large portions of the canon as justifying, unfairly attacking, or insulting that character as necessary. Except they don't see how from the outside it very often looks entirely absurd, regardless of if they're doing it in favor of Sam, Dean, or Castiel. Which is not to say there aren't parts of canon which treat all of those characters ridiculously in one way or another? But it's the total fixation on it only being the case with their favorite character in every possible situation where it gets weird.

Every great once in a while, I do manage to come across a take that really annoys me. But for the most part? The extreme ones are just so absurd, so divorced from what anyone even vaguely trying to understand the other characters' motivations and what the show quite obviously intended? I just can't take it at all seriously. Especially when they (as they so often do) get canon details wrong or pointedly "forget" all the canon points that blatantly don't fit their narrative.

Unfortunately, like with a certain ship, when it comes to tagging? You're kind of at the mercy of the self-awareness of the poster about how much other people may not want to see their hot takes.

[luimagines]

Hello! So i have this idea of a Linksona of mine if you don't mind listening to it.

This Linksona title is The Hero of Freedom, he is actually a complete nobody wannabe bard before the whole adventure happen, so the Chain could also call him 'Bard/Musician'. He belongs in the downfall timeline and his Hyrule is kinda of a mess because Ganondorf is the current Ruler of his lifetime, having killed the royal family of Hyrule way before the spirit of the Hero could have reborn.

This Link of mine actually had a mother who was a priestess of Hylia, his mother still has hope in the Goddess even after years of suffering under Ganondorf rule and his severe punishments to those caught still worshiping the Goddess or having any type of rebellious behavior, Link mother managed to savage a Golden Harp thought to be the original Harp that Hylia used from the ashes of the old church where she prayed, she gave her son the name 'Link' because she wanted him to be as brave as the hero of Legend, Link mother would often play her harp to her son and sing to him and tell him stories about the heroes of the past, she always told him the importance of being kind and brave even in the most severe of circumstances, she wanted him to be able to feel hope even when none existed. Link mother ended up dying, killed by Ganondorf followers when Link was 13, she left him her harp and made him promise not to hate the people of Hyrule for their fear of the Demon King and to not let hate weight in his heart.

Link was pretty much alone after his mother death, he ended picking up his mom musical talent and played his harp and sang regularly, although he was sometimes getting thrown at him, he met Zelda at the age of 14 and his adventure started there.

Zelda is 19 in this timeline and is actually the leader of a rebellion against Ganondorf, she was saved still as a baby and was raised by Impa so she doesn't know about much about royalty life, but she knows to kill a man, so there's that, she is actually pretty no nonsense and is focused on battle tactics and fighting rather than magic, although she has the triforce of wisdom, she actually met Link when she was trying to shrug off one of Ganondorf guards, and he appeared out of nowhere and chucked a glass bottle at the guys face, the guard then attempted to kill Link and Zelda put a dagger to the guy's throat.

Zelda was pretty prepared to give Link the scolding of his life, but the racket they caused ended up catching the attention of more guards, and she ended up picking the kid like a sack of potatoes and fleeing the scene. She was not exactly happy that the 'Chucking a bottle at a guy two times my size is a good idea' kid is the fricking Hero reborn, actually the thought of having to train a 14 old to kill a freaking adult demon man makes her nauseous and start to curse the Goddesses to high heaven, she eventually relents and keeps a Hawkeye on Link in his journey to make sure 'everything goes according to plan' (She is actually worried, but doesn't want anyone to know).

I see Link and Zelda having a very much Big sister and Little brother relationship in this timeline, Link does lookup to Zelda and think she is the coolest person ever and Zelda thinks Link will be the reason she goes white early because the kid never stopped picking fights with things that are a hundred times his size.

That my Linksona, hope you found it interesting!

I really like this au! XD

Link is still Link no matter what and Zelda is ready to kick butt as always!

Would that make Impa the grandma or very tired aunt?

Poor Link though, destined to not have family. :(

[celestetcetera]

I’m obsessed w the “could you imagine [dashboard simulator prompt]?” that chuck faux notes on the bottom of their statement and go right into the dash sim. It’s like that cartoon effect where a harp plays and the world gets distorted as I am transported into their imagination

[unicyclehippo]

prompt: patience

‘ashton! good morning!’ laudna trilled, fluttering a wave his way. they grunted. nodded her over.

she settled beside them, skirt of her new dress wafting out over his knee, the layers soft against their skin. it burned. soft things did, which was some cosmic fucking joke probably. it made him entirely too fucking aware of the itch under his skin, the one that felt like his body was trying to turn itself inside out. laudna apologised, which he ignored. she didn’t have to apologise for shit. ever.

‘so?’

‘so what.’

‘how’s it going? your meditation?’

a frown crunched between their brows.

‘honestly?’

‘of course!’ she said, loud and bright and cheery. he’d fucking die for her.

‘seems like a lot of being patient,’ he said. laudna nodded, smiling. ‘no. i’m no fucking good at patience. it’s a fucking scam. people are always harping on about it but it’s always for their own fucking benefit. be patient so we can treat you like shit for longer. be content with fucking scraps, the hunger is good for you, makes you determined. be patient and you’ll learn something. life’s a fucking prison and patience is your time fucking served and you better be on your best behaviour or else. it’s bullshit! meditation is bullshit. it’s all…’ ashton grabbed the nearest rock, one they’d been focusing on for this meditative shit, and chucked it. hard. it sailed a considerable distance before impacting a tree, which shattered.

‘holy shit.’

‘fuck. that’s not. one of their important trees, is it?’

‘i don’t know,’ she said, and climbed swiftly to her feet. ‘but just in case, we should not be here.’ she held a hand down to him, like she could actually lift him. ashton took it, softly.

there had been a time when he’d done stupid shit, got into scrapes, and had no one to run away with. it had taken fucking years before he salvaged FCG, then the rest piled in by accident. had it been patience that got him to all of them? or something else?

when they stopped running, laudna didn’t need to catch her breath because she didn’t ever really do that. ‘are you going to try again? the meditation.’

ashton groaned and dropped to the ground, sprawling beneath the sprawling branches of some nice old tree. the stretching shadows mimicked his outstretched limbs. did that mean something? laudna nudged them.

‘yeah. fuck me,’ he muttered. ‘yeah, i am.’

[gamesception]

Sception Reads Cass Cain #9

Robin #73 story by Chuck Dixon, pencils by Steven Harris

Right up front, I'm not a big fan how Cass is depicted in this one. Like, it's not the complete train wreck that I felt it was on initial read, and I've gone back to tone down some of the excessive negativity in my initial write up. I still don't like how Harris draws Cass/Batgirl here, and I still think this issue is just a completely missed opportunity by Chuck Dixon to start building a relationship - working, family or otherwise - between Tim Drake and this new member of the Bat Clan. But it's not like, uniquely bad. Just frustrating.

The basic set up here is that Tim's dad, who left with his family before No Mans Land, and who I don't think knows that Tim is Robin? Though I'm not sure of that? has realized that Tim has returned to Gotham somehow. Afraid for his son's safety, has made a big stink with the press.

The American news media, who were big supporters of the 'nobody enters nobody leaves' No Mans Land policy when the people trapped in Gotham were poors and minorities and criminals, are suddenly screaming about the inhumanity of the policy now that they have an upper class white father afraid for the safety of his upper class white child. Tim feels guilty about more public concern being expressed by the national media over just him than over literally every other human being trapped in Gotham put together, but Bruce sees an opportunity to leverage the media circus to move political landscape towards ending No Mans Land altogether.

Meanwhile the government wants the story over as quickly as possible, so a one time exception is made to the NML policy for Tim and federal marshals meet with his dad to contact Tim and arrange a rescue by helicopter. I'm left wondering how there's still working cell reception almost a full year into No Man's Land - that's not just a Cinema Sins ding, the difficulty of getting communications and accurate reporting out of Gotham is a fundamental part of the set up, but whatever.

There's not really any safe places to carry out a helicopter rescue, and Tim won't be able to fight off threats as Robin while being rescued as Tim Drake, so he'll need a chaperone. That's where our girl comes in, looking cool and spooky in the window.

Once again we have Cass as the silent shadow / batman's enforcer, creepy and unknowable even to her allies. Cass is supposed to be like 16 in No Mans Land? And in her own stories she's very much a kid - giddy at the high of being a superhero, overconfident in her abilities, insecure in her place in the Bat Clan, desperate to please Batman. I don't object to Tim not knowing what to think of Cass to start, but It should not be difficult for a writer to find some level on which Tim can begin to relate to Cass, some way for them to begin to empathize with each other and move on from that starting point as strangers to start building a rapport between them.

So the next day they head over to the agreed on site, and... what's going on with Cass's proportions here? Ok ok, there's clearly supposed to be some foreshortening going on in this panel, lets cut Harris some slack and move on...

... no, no I'm sorry, there's no foreshortening here. Cass is 16. She's a kid. Who is that giant lady in the background?

Like... this isn't great. Not great art happens, so I'm not going to harp on for an extended paragraph of pure complaints, and definitely didn't write and delete such a paragraph. It's not worth getting hung up over.

A convenient breeze picks up to move Batgirl's cape for one pane. Because you gotta get that butt shot in there somehow, full length cape or no.

So anyway Tim gets changed and the marshals show up in their helicopter, and as expected a nearby gang notices and attacks.

Cass shows up to fight off the gang, and Tim stops the marshals from shooting while they might hit her. I mean, they said they were using rubber bullets, but are you really going to take their word for it.

The helicopter lifts off from the park with Tim and Cass as more reinforcements for the gang arrive, but the Marshals say they're only authorized to take Tim out of Gotham. Not that Batgirl would have left anyway, but she drops back down into the city, and Tim gets to leave - and make rounds on the news talking about how the real heroes are the ones still in Gotham.

A fine enough wrap up to Tim's participation in No Mans Land, and it gets him out of Gotham so his book doesn't have to involve the darker Joker threatening babies / killing Gordon's wife note the crossover ends on.

As a Cass fan though, this is a super frustrating issue, because for all that Batgirl features in the story, it doesn't really feel like Cass is here at all. The giant lady in the Batgirl suit doesn't look like Cass, but it's not just the art, she's not there in the writing or either. This book was an opportunity to start building a connection between Cass, this all new member of the Bat Family, and Tim, one of the key existing members. There were pages enough that we could have had a nice quiet moment between them, maybe with her mask off so we could see her face, where they connect on some level, establish the beginnings of some sort of friendship or at least working relationship. Like, Cass could maybe use drawings or pantomime to ask if Tim were Bruce's son, or he could notice how hard she's working to impress Batman and feel some sympathy for how difficult that is. Something. Anything.

To the extent that what we all like most about the Bat Family is the found family aspect, we want to see these two starting to build some sort of sibling relationship. Instead there's just nothing at all. They don't even feel like acquaintances or co-workers here. And it's hard not to read that as an implicit statement from Dixon that as far as he's concerned Cass isn't a real member of the bat family at all.

[seraphtrevs]

I always thought that it wasn't an accident that, soon after Chuck departs from the story, we get Lalo. Of course it's probably just a natural progression of the story, but it's almost like the exchange of these two major characters is commenting on the dichotomy between the two sides (the legal drama side and the crime drama side) itself.

Oh absolutely- I know I'm always harping on this, but Chuck's last piece of advice to his brother is that he should stop feeling remorse since he is incapable of not hurting people. And as if he were summoned, Lalo comes whirling into town - the embodiment of that advice. And it's very bad! Bad advice!

And it's only after Chuck - the symbol of everything right and wrong with the law - dies that lawless Lalo can take over as Jimmy moves from the straight(ish) and narrow path to the illegal bad choice road. The stakes are much higher in cartel land and in a weird way, chuck was protecting him from it

While Chuck couldn't stop jimmy from smalltime scams, I do think influence would have kept jimmy's worst instincts in check and he would not have become a "criminal" lawyer. Chuck was the last road block on jimmy's journey to saul, and once he passes that, there is no turning back

[jonesbrianshining]

Brian Jones and Keith Richards (photoshoot in Green Park London in 1967)

Excerpt from Keith Richards' interview with Guitarist magazine, 1977. Question: When you first met Brian Jones, was he playing acoustic or electric guitar? Keith: He played acoustic guitar with a pickup. When I first saw Brian, he was playing exclusively Elmore James stuff. Question: How did you two manage to play together? Keith: Great, although it was a somewhat bizarre combination, Brian later switched from guitar to whatever other instrument came to hand he needed two or three tests to get the thing completely ready to record, Brian played vibraphone, marimba and even harp without any prior practice. Question: When you started playing together, who did what? Keith: He and I got along surprisingly easily because we were both into electric blues from Chicago, but the styles of playing were more what I would call commercial - stuff by Chuck Berry, Muddy Waters, Jimmy Reed. Maybe that's part of why Brian hardly listened to Elmore James, BB King and Howlin' Wolf.