#Cobb Angle

[sigs-gurney]

Just got my report from my scoliosis X-ray. I am an adult and only recently found out how bad my scoliosis is after having a ct scan for unrelated reasons. Turns out I am a mere 4 degrees away from the threshold where surgery is recommended.

\_(:/)_/

Luckily my skeleton is fully matured according to the report so it’s not likely to get worse until I eventually get osteoporosis from old age like all birth-control snorting wamen.

Anyways, pictured here is my Cobb angle

[staringinthestars]

Official Diagnosis Of Scoliosis+Cobb Angle

Good morning everyone. It’s been a minute since I have written on here. School started back and it has been both hectic and exciting at the same time. This semester, I am finally going to start being the co-clinician in my school’s speech and hearing clinic. I am elated about that. One day I was thinking about my back and how I forgot to go to the hospital to get the x-ray series with…

[eulaliasims]

Spotted: these dorks.

Pointedly ignoring those dorks (her half-sister & brother-in-law), Isabel struck up a conversation with Ben, but he wasn't interested in getting a coffee and talking more afterward. Probably for the best!

Spotted: Phineas and his old high school boyfriend... catching up? I guess?

[a-concert-just-for-me]

Spine go brrrrr

[egypt-museum]

The mummies of Yuya (left) and Tuyu (right)

Yuya & Thuya’s tomb was the most famous “untouched” tomb until 16 years later with the discovery of Tutankhamun’s a few years later (Thuya & Yuya’s great-grandson). The tomb of Yuya and Thuya was, until the discovery of Tutankhamun’s, one of the most spectacular ever found in the Valley of the Kings despite Yuya not being a king.

Although the burial site was robbed in antiquity, many objects not considered worth plundering by the robbers remained. Both the mummies were largely intact and were in an amazing state of preservation. Their faces in particular were relatively undistorted by the process of mummification, and provide an extraordinary insight into the actual appearance of the deceased while alive.

Yuya was a courtier from Akhmim, Egypt, with titles such as "King’s Lieutenant Master of the Horse Father-of-the-god". His mummy was found in the Valley of the Kings alongside his wife Thuya's in Tomb KV46 in 1905 by British Egyptologist James Edward Quibell.

The mummy of Yuya was found partially wrapped with only his torso being divested of wrappings by ancient robbers. When the body of Yuya was removed from his innermost coffin, a partially strung necklace composed of large gold and lapis lazuli beads was found behind his neck, where it had presumably fallen after being snapped by looters.

Sir Grafton Elliot Smith describes the mummy of Yuya as one of the finest examples of the embalming practices of the 18th Dynasty. The mummy is that of an older man. His thick, wavy hair is a yellowish color, and was probably bleached by the embalming materials rather than being naturally blonde.

Smith says the hair was white when Yuya died. His body cavity was packed with balls of linen soaked in resins, and his perineum is thickly coated with resinous material to such an extent that his genitals are completely covered.

Read more

The well-preserved mummy of Thuya shows a woman of around 50–60 years of age. She measures at 145cm tall (4ft 9.1). Thuya’s body was discovered laying serenely within her coffin, with a large linen shroud knotted at the back and secured by four bandages, leaving her feet and face exposed.

Douglas Derry, accompanying anatomist Grafton Elliot Smith whilst examining the body of Thuya, discovered she was wearing gold foil sandals upon her feet. Thuya’s arms lay alongside her body with her hands flat. Her ears are double pierced. Her mummy has the inventory number CG 51191.

C.T. scanning of Thuya’s mummy show a smooth lateral curve of the spine, with its convexity to the left (thoracolumbar scoliosis), with a Cobb angle of 25 degrees.

Thuya is missing various teeth, with the right premolar and left first molar missing. Thuya also has a damaged, half broken second molar tooth on the left. The damage to Thuya’s teeth was more than likely pre-mortem, meaning it happened during her lifetime. There are multiple Egyptian mummies who tend to have abscesses and dental issues, including Ramesses II, also known as “Ramesses the Great”.

The damage to Thuya’s teeth and scoliosis, would fit with the estimated age range of her body at death. However, the C.T. scans did not reveal a possible cause of death for Thuya.

Read more

[britneyshakespeare]

you versus the guy she tells you not to worry about

this is a very niche issue and it's not like a can prove it either way but i do not like it when editions of shakespeare use the cobbe portrait as an image to represent him. i do not believe it's him; that's sir thomas overbury.

[ultraericthered]

Unpopular Opinion Re: The Penguin

Am I the only one who does not give a single shit about the titular character being called "Oz Cobb?" The way some people act like it's some huge affront to an adapted comic book character done in the name of cynical "grounded realism" and that it singlehandedly ruins Matt Reeves' The Batman canon and ought to put all Batman fans off of it....seriously??? Not only is it a small detail all things considered since the guy still calls himself "Penguin" and has entanglements with a guy dressed in a bat-like costume, but it is ridiculously easy to assume that "Oz Cobb" is a shortened "Oswald Cobblepot". Cause it is. If it is out-of-universe, then who's to say that's not the case in-universe too? That Oz's birth name is Oswald Cobblepot. a name he feels would make him a big joke among the mobsters of Gotham City in an environment he wants to work his way up in, so he changes his name to "Oz Cobb" and goes by that instead? Yeah, it's not an angle that was taken with Penguin in any other iteration, and like many other such instances, that's why it doesn't hurt to do it for the first time in this one (and I'd argue it's still a more inspired alteration than Oswalda in Caped Crusader, whose gimmick didn't really add anything integral). It's an interesting reversal of the usual Penguin lore where "Penguin" was a degrading nickname Oswald was called since childhood that he came around to embracing. Here, it's "Penguin" that he proudly embraces as a name from the start while his birth name is the name he feels ashamed of and wants to hide.

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

You're waiting for a train...(12)

Couldn't Someone Have Dreamed of a Goddamn Beach?

Robert Fischer x reader

description - a snowy landscape provides the stage for their final act but how much will be revealed before it's time for curtains close.

word count - 3.3k

warnings - snowboarding/skiing, guns, major character death

a/n - I know I said I was gonna do shorter fics but there was no realistic place I could have ended this chapter :) Also I had to have my gal snowboarding as boarding is just the best! To the day I die I will say that snowboarding is sooooo much better than skiing!

Previous Part Series Master list Master list

If you want to be added to the taglist - here

Cold. The ice burned my skin even through the thick layers. My eyes shot open, and they landed amongst the icy glades of the third layer. My breath shot out in front like a cold whisper dancing through the air. I rolled my bones out trying to feel out my new attire. The jacket was bulky and frame hugging. A warm hat christened my head, and I was thankful for the barrier. I smoothed out my feet which appeared to be locked in position. They glided along the snow as they were held into a state-of-the-art snowboard. I grasped the goggles from my head and snapped them in place over my eyes. With one little nudge I began to skate down the snow hill. I expertly manoeuvred around the trees but once I spotted projections on heading for me, I was able to jump and glide, saving myself without firing a single shot. My eyes darted in search of any familiar bodies to give me any indication of the others location.

“Y/n. Y/n, do you copy?” a buzzing sprung to life in my ear, and I skidded to a stop. I fiddled with the apparent earpiece which had found its way on to my person.

“I copy, what’s your 20?” But before an answer could be said I had spotted their group and boarded down to join.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I arrived to find Ariadne and my dad. Dad had his gun trained on the building. It’s sharp angles made it look so futuristic, but the façade was villainous. There was nothing about it which invited me in, especially not the copious number of armed projections.

“Cobb, what’s down there?” It seemed he was merely using the gun for the lens.

“Hopefully the truth we want Fischer to learn.” Dad’s voice shook with insincerity but right now his fluctuating confidence was the least of my worries.

Ariadne lowered her voice to avoid the angle of my ears. “I meant what’s down there for you?” Dad shot a look to her which was filled with fear. He was now directed toward me with something more akin to guilt. But his crime I had yet to know.

Over the hill, Eames, Saito, and Robert could be spotted. It seems they had chosen to sport ski’s. Too many pieces for my liking but I had no doubt in Robert’s ability, feeling there were a few skiing holidays under his belt.

 “Eames this is your dream.” My dad began once we had all reconvened. “I need you to draw the security away from the complex. Understand?”

Eames halted and removed his goggles. “Who guides Fischer in?”

I looked over to Robert’s face which flushed with uncertainty. I dropped to the ground in a more comfortable sit and tugged on his jacket. He looked down to me and I gestured for him to join me. He did so but was unsure in his movements. From the moment he had fallen asleep he hadn’t had a moments rest. A sit down would be good… for the both of us. He smiled, thankful for my kindness and in response I patted his shoulder in a silent show of support.

“I designed the place?” Ariadne placed herself forward.

“No, you’re with me.” Cobb rebutted her idea.

“I could do it.” Saito spoke up. My brows furrowed as I looked up at him.

“All right, you brief him on the route to the complex.” Cobb turned to Eames. I rose hurriedly and attempted to balance myself.

“Excuse me, but no.” Everyone turned to look at me, shocked by my firm denial. Dad’s gaze felt like steel on my weathered face. “It should be me.”

Cobb practically laughed in my face before approaching to whisper close to my face. “I don’t want you anywhere near him.” He spat out. “I saw the hug, I saw your face, and more importantly I saw his face. Don’t do this, you’ll get yourself hurt.” I forced back the tears unwilling to give him a sliver of weakness, but I could no longer decipher whether he was concerned of my physical wellbeing or my emotional.

I strengthened my voice and rose the volume of our conversation so the others would be brought in. “I think you’ll find Saito is still injured and in no condition to be the lead. I am happy for him to come with, but Fischer’s safety will be left up to me.” I angled myself back so I could pour this directly into his ear. “I am the one to do this. And you know it.” I saw his face fall at the harshness of my words and my position was confirmed with a slight nod.

Cobb patted Fischer’s chest where a microphone sat. “Keep this live, I’ll be listening the whole time.” As I turned to make sure Fischer was ready, in the corner of my eye I spotted Saito gripped in a painful cough. And I could only imagine the blood that was to follow. “The windows on that upper floor are big enough for me to cover you from the south tower, you see it?”

“Yeah,” Fischer managed to push out through his clenched breath. “You’re not coming in?”

“In order to find out the truth about your father, you’re gonna need to break into Browning’s mind on your own.” Each man’s breath deepened, gorging on the thin air available. He pulled away and patted Fischer’s back to confirm the end of the discussion. He then gestured to where I stood prepping my board. “Anyways, you’ll have her. She’ll get you through it.” A soft smile spread across both of their faces but when my dad noticed his warm grin was matched, he gripped Robert’s shoulder. “But she is still my daughter.” Robert’s gulp was practically audible, and he shook out his body in a show of understanding. But once Cobb had turned back around, his eyes fixed on me and refused to move anywhere else.

I skidded a bit further down the hill, ground to a stop, and once again adjusted my goggles.

“Ready, boys?”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

As we approached the building, a clear commotion was visible. It was directed towards a flare which had been set off by Eames causing the ‘guards’ to hustle to exit the building in search of the threat. A worry alighted in my body seeing the sheer size of the garrison which was coming for Eames, but I had to be determined in his ability and focus on my own.

‘Non je ne regrette rien, non…’

The familiar tune filtered through the atmosphere as if bird song in the morn. As soon as the French words whispered into my ear my heartbeat quickened. It was too soon. We weren’t anywhere close to being ready for the kick, but Yusuf couldn’t know that. And without the kick we were stuck.

“What’s that?” Robert questioned as he slid to my side. I turned around to see Saito trailing behind; the struggle evident in his weakened body.

“Nothing. Just a signal. Nothing to worry about.” I hurried out and once again prepared to glide.

Once I felt a safe distance from the two men, I pressed my ear piece to activate it. “Eames, Cobb.” I could practically hear him sigh at my use of his name. “Was that what I think it was?”

“Affirmative, baby cob.” Eames soft lilt came through the buzzing. I rolled my eyes at the previously rejected nickname.

“Yusuf’s 10 seconds from the kick, that gives Arthur 3 minutes.”

“Which gives us what?” Dad questioned.

“60 minutes.” I answered free of hesitation. “But can we make this route in under an hour? Ariadne?”

“You still have to climb down to the middle terrace.” Her voice came through.

“They need a new route, a more direct route.” Dad pressured Ariadne to think through her design.

Gunfire alighted around us, and the tension rose an exorbitant amount. I dodged as best as I could which was easy on my board, the boys struggled on their skis. I desperately wanted to throw my arms up in a futile attempt at self-preservation, but I remained firm, knowing my vision was more important.

“It’s designed as a labyrinth.” The panic in her voice was clear.

“Even Theseus found a way through.” I joked attempting to lighten the mood.

“There must be access routes that cut through the maze, right?” Dad’s voice began to rise. “Did Eames add any features?”

“I don’t think I should tell you.” I was getting frustrated with this back, and forth which had no appreciation for the lack of time.

“We don’t have time for this! Did he add anything?” Cobb was shouting now.

“He added an airduct system which can cut through the maze.”

“Ariadne, tell me where to go. Now!” My tone was sharp, but my nerves were high.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Yusuf crashed through the bridge’s barrier.

Arthur was thrown forward through the hallway.

I paused my descent up the rock and shivered as I watched the bundle of snow collapse down the mountain.

The kick.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I clipped off our rope and yelled down before throwing the three of us off the rock before the avalanche could reach us.

We tumbled down with the snow blanketing our fall.

Once our fall had ceased, I could only feel ice water fill my lungs as my face was cushioned in a perfect cold. A pair of hands grasped my shoulders to turn me over. I took a gulp of fresh air and my eyes focused on his concerned face.

“Are you okay?” Robert softly asked my numb frame. When the realisation set in, I dragged my body up fuelled by pure frustration. I ripped off my hat and goggles. Throwing them on to the ground. I paced around, tears daring to spill out at everything I had just lost.

“Was that it? Was that the kick? Did we miss it?” My thoughts tumbled out onto our radio lines.

Silence.

“Yeah, we missed it.” My father broke through.

I turned around to see Robert in his own torment. He was flinging about his arms trying to remove some invisible attacker. I could only assume the cold and confusion blended together to destroy his heart.

“Couldn’t someone have dreamed of a goddamn beach!” He whined out. I ignored the radio conversation and ran over to take him into my arms, to soothe his woes.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here.” I stroked down his back in a comforting repetition. “I’m here.”

My earpiece pierced back through. “What do we do now?” Eames defeatedly asked.

“We finish the job.” My dad stated. I halted my movement confused by his assurance. “Before the next kick.”

“What next kick?” I asked.

“When the van hits the water.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I continued, confident in my father.

We made it to the airduct. It was a copper pipe so decrepit it looked as if it had lived under the sea for the past century. Saito had gone ahead to open the gate as I had stayed back to make sure Robert was still following. My hand firmly in his.

The gate blast open from the charges Saito had set. I pushed Robert to go in front of me. His scepticism meant I had to physical direct him into the pipe. I followed closely behind.

Once we entered, I ripped off my hat and goggles, feeling breathless at the constriction. My hair tumbled loose, and I spied Robert glancing at me.

We climbed up before Saito rushed to the side to expel the cough he’d been repressing. I ran to him as his body nearly collapsed. I rubbed his back for the only comfort I could provide. I knelt down to him, so Robert was not privy to my words.

“I’ll take him in. Here,” I placed my pistol in his hand. “Cover us.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

“We’re here.” Robert spoke into his mic from behind me as I continued to walk.

“You’re clear but hurry.” A crackly voice informed our movement. “There’s an entire army headed your way.”

After the mic cut off, I felt a grip on my arm, and I turned around to meet the eyes I was willing myself to forget. I could see his lips were trying to form words, but his brain struggled to keep up.

“Robert, we don’t have time.” I hurried out whilst gripping his hand to drag him along. But he stalled so I would be forced to face him again.

“That’s exactly my point.” He was serious. I could see it and didn’t feel any desire to stop it. “Look I don’t know who you are or what this place is. And your father is a scary dude who seems quite dangerous.” I giggled slightly at this. He took my hands in his. “But there is something special about you and I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t –” He rushed towards me, and our lips met in a passionate kiss. As I sunk in deeper my hands grasped around his waist and his came up to my shoulder blades. The space between us was now imperceivable and the kiss deepened more. I reached up and ripped out our earpieces, refusing to share this moment.

Eventually we pulled away and I bit my lip when I looked up at him. The lines on his face had smoothed and his expression had calmed. We smiled in synchronisation and matched each other’s happiness.

“I don’t even know if any of this is real, but I couldn’t go back without having one last moment with you.” He spoke to me, his words dripping with passion. My eyes fell deeper to swim in his blues. My body slumped into his arms, never wanting to leave. Something snapped me back and I realised that if I wanted this, I needed to get him through that vault.

I grasped his hand and dragged him back through. “We need to go, come on.”

“Wait.” His saddened voice stopped me. I turned back around and cupped his fallen face.

“I feel the same, but if we want forever. I need you to follow me.” He nodded in understanding and followed me.

We stopped in front of an imposing vault. With a gentle nudge, I pushed him to walk forward. As he did the hairs on the back of my neck prickled up.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*3rd pov*

“There’s someone else in there.” Cobb whispered to himself as he spotted a figure drop down into the room. He couldn’t make out the frame, but he could sense the danger.

“Fischer, Y/n! There’s someone else with you! Abort! Turn around.” He shouted and shouted to the broken line.

“Why aren’t they answering?” He questioned Ariadne. “They can’t hear me.” He stated with a morose realisation.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*your pov*

I watched Robert walk forward and felt his tentative steps. I stayed back fearing my presence would disrupt.

I trained my ears backwards as I heard the gentle sound of boots land on the floor. The hairs had not calmed so I slowly turned around and faced...

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Mum raised her gun which was trained on Robert. He turned to face the voice. I reached into my empty holster. A shot rang out and Robert fell dead.

I screamed.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Eames stormed up through the grate and watched my grieving frame which was bent over Fischer’s cold body.

He ran to the side and brought out the defibrillator. I hurriedly wiped away my tears fearing the reaction. Eames’ hand laid over mine and spoke more comfort than any words could have said.

Ariadne and Dad ran up to meet us. Even as they watched on, I couldn’t stop the free flowing tears which came from all I’d shared with this man in the moments before.

“What happened?”

“Mal killed Fischer.”

Cobbs eyes lingered on her lifeless frame. Once I found where his eyes rested, I could barely drag mine away either. It was all too familiar. Why was I cursed to have a recurring nightmare which I had been forced to live twice. My mother’s death causing such conflicting feelings.

“I couldn’t shoot her.” I scoffed at him.

“She’s not real.” I seethed from my place on the floor. “Robert. Robert was real.” The sentence cracked at the end as my voice gave up. Dad came to kneel beside me and offer a consoling hug with my onslaught of emotion.

“Look, there’s no use in reviving him.”

“Shut up.” I spluttered out.

“His mind’s already trapped down there.” He stood firm in everything I didn’t want to hear. This didn’t stop Eames applying the pads as he looked at my broken expression. Dad kissed my head. “It’s over.”

Eames stopped all movement.

“That’s it then? We failed?” Eames stated, throwing down his gloves.

“We’re done.” My dad stood up to shuck off his gloves. “I failed you.” He then saved his final words for me. “I’m sorry.” He whispered out as if speaking it louder could hurt me more.

“Well, it’s not me that doesn’t get back to my family, is it?” I glared at Eames. “Sorry.” He quickly corrected. “It’s a shame, I really wanted to know what was gonna happen in there. I swear we had this one.” Eames seemed unable to accept, despite his apparent contentment, as his hands flitted about his face in different motions.

“Let’s set the charges.” My dad solemnly walked away.

“NO!” I shouted and he stopped at my yelp. “There’s another way.”

“Darling, you’re hurting, I know.” He refused to look at me as he searched for the charges.

“We just follow Fischer down there.” I gestured to his peaceful expression as he lay still.

“Not enough time.”

“There will be enough time down there.” They both finally stopped to consider my words. “And we will find him.”

Now that I had their attention my adrenaline spiked at this possible plan.

“As soon as Arthur’s music kicks in just use the defibrillator to revive him. We can give him his own kick down below. Look, you get him in there.” I gestured to the locked vault. “And as soon as the music ends you blow up the hospital, and we all ride the kick back up the layers.” I was giddy with excitement.

“Well, it’s worth a shot.” Eames agreed. “If Saito can hold the guards off whilst I set the charges.”

“Saito will never make it, will he?”

I interrupted the boys muttering and threw myself against my father. My pleading eyes bore into his. “Daddy. We have to try.” I stuttered out.

He silently contemplated but his mind was made up once our eyes met. We communicated in a way only known to the two of us. And with the slight tilt of his head, I knew it was on. We rose.

“But if you are not back before the kick, I am gone with or without you.” We both solemnly nodded at Eames, understanding the very probable outcome.

Cobb took my hand in his and solidified our agreement. Together, we would go down deeper. The risks were even stronger than up here but we both knew neither of us would be able to return without at least trying. Dad would rather spend eternity in limbo than not know he did everything he could to save our family, and I knew I couldn’t live a second more without Robert.

We prepped the machine.

“If we’re doing this, you have to trust me.” Dad warned. “Whatever you see down there, we must have trust.” I worried for the seriousness of his warning. “Do you trust me?”

“Do you trust me?” I threw back. He smirked at the familiar stubbornness which he had known many years ago.

“Forever.”

“Forever.”

Dark.

LAYER FOUR: LIMBO

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Oooooo we're getting so close to the end!!

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @neotanpopper @deliriouslybi @folklorde24 @thefandomdiaries07 @viarosemcmissile @noirrose21-blog @thepoeticfirefly @xoxo-gothic-girl @skeletonwrite @jellyzelek @kaylamarie306-blog @bloodcanbehot @lazybot @raineeace

[ddagent]

The office was a flurry of activity: phone calls soliciting donations; the constant churn of the printer for more flyers, more posters. From every angle was Oz's smug face staring back at her: "Elect Oswald Cobb: man of the people." Sofia thought she should get a commission as his first campaign manager. The picture his actual manager had chosen had softened his edges - but kept the scar.

He was here, in the office. A plum suit, waistcoat. Sofia wondered whether he still carried a gun, or whether that wouldn't fit with the image he was trying to present to the Gotham voters. Man of the people. Who had murdered his own brothers, and hers. Who had gutted two crime families - well, one, Sofia had done the Falcones. The driver boy was dead; that had been the first thing Sofia had asked when Oz had visited her in Arkham and the boy hadn't been lingering in his shadow. But since her incarceration, his crimes had been limited. A little bribery. A little blackmail. Julian's head.

And a fire, at Arkham, that had burned the Hangman alive.

That was why Sofia was here. To ask why.

[facewithoutheart]

Thanks for the tags, @monbons, @rimeswithpurple, @thewholelemon, @roomwithanopenfire, @artsyunderstudy, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @supercutedinosaurs, @ileadacharmedlife, @fiend-for-culture & @run-for-chamo-miles ❤️ reading through your snippets was the perfect airport activity. I feel full of good writing.

I’m traveling which means I’ve been MIA on social but super active in writing. Not sure who that’s best for lol but I was finally able to finish out my EGF, make some progress on my COBB, and plot out an entire original novel 🤣 send thoughts and prayers to Mr Face who has had to listen to me ramble about it ad nauseam while he just wanted to explore museums.

A brief clip:

His boots are filled with water. He’s under it, the roar muting to a dim rumble. Timber, but not driftwood, stabs him from every angle. He lets out a gurgled cry when his body slams into something hard and pokey. Limestone, his mind supplies. The river carves through it. The river carves through everything.

I swear it’s a romance.

Side note: Mr Face said I write action well which made me nearly cry? Because that’s always been one of my weakest points and I’ve worked hard to fix that. Basically he said lots of nice things and I’m floating bc he does not pull punches so it’s some of the few compliments my sad brain accepts as truth.

No tags because I’m a day late but I’ve missed sharing ❤️

[moocowmoocow]

Femslash February 14 - Crush

Molly x Aleida

Aleida had always had a small crush on Molly Cobb. Anastasia Belikova had shown her that girls could go to space, but Molly had shown her that girls could go to space, make fun of the president and be a total badass. The crush grew during Apollo-Soyuz. Yeah, it was great to be told that Molly liked her after she gave Bill the finger but she and Margo were so grounded and in control when the world was flying out of control. It made her think that maybe she could grow into that role, too.

Now, she had about one and half too many drinks at the Christmas party and she was in a bathroom stall with Molly Cobb and she had her hand in Molly Cobb’s pants and she was fucking her. This was so great. And to her horror, she found that she said the last thing out loud.

“C’mon, kid,” Molly complained. “I’m trying to get off and your hero worship is really killing the mood.”

Aleida swallowed hard and concentrated. It was merely a matter of friction, thrust, angle. To pay attention to the feedback. And soon she heard Molly moan and felt a rush of wetness on her hand. And holy shit, she just made Molly Cobb come.

“Not bad for your first time, kid.”

Aleida couldn’t stop her smile. “Thanks.”

And then Molly Cobb had her hand down Aleida’s pants. Holy shit. And then there was no thinking because Molly was really good at this and Aleida couldn’t concentrate on anything but the pleasure growing steadily in her body until she came hard.

Holy fuck. Molly Cobb gave her an orgasm.

As Molly left the stall, she called back, “Don’t tell the Mistress of Darkness about this.”

“Yeah,” Aleida said, still dazed. There was no fucking way she was telling Margo about any of this.

[heck]

As tagged by @oscarpiastriwdc, here is some essential heck lore:

For reasons that are still unclear to me, I was diagnosed with scoliosis at age 19. This is extra confusing because my spine has a 45 degree Cobb angle which is…not ideal

I played the flute and sang semi-professionally through all of high school and then just stopped, since I wasn’t good enough for conservatory

My dad’s family are all Jehovah’s Witnesses. My dad had his first ever birthday cake the month after I was born. They get together for holidays but if you mention the reason for the get-together you get the gas face

I went karting exactly once in my life, aged about twelve, and my mom yelled at me for hours afterward about going too fast

I never actually graduated from high school. I was short a history and a gym credit and never managed to complete my senior project. My college never checked this and I was admitted in the fall like everything was fine

I then proceeded to get kicked out of said college for being too sick to attend class

I tag @apeacebone, @leclercenjoyer, @alxalb, and @saintdevote!

[inkformyblood]

hey there darling

Obi-Wan x Cobb Vanth, ObiCobb. Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon The Mandalorian and Kenobi Show. Canon Era Star Wars. Post-Order 66

Ben drags his fingers through the warm puddle of his own spilled drink, considers the irony of trying to drown his sorrows on a desert planet, and presses his sleeve into it instead. It won’t make a difference on the slightly sticky residue on the cantina countertop, but it would keep the droid from circling back to hover over Ben’s small kingdom of empty cups for the third time since the stranger took up sentry at his elbow. 

He hasn’t drunk nearly enough to do anything other than bleed limply at the man’s chosen line of questioning. 

“Why?” Ben asks instead of answering. He selects a cup at random, pressing the pitted rim to his mouth, and tips his body backwards with a single fluid motion. There’s nothing but dregs left, the sharp sense memory of whatever moonshine had been poured into it, a whisper of another’s touch hot on its heels. He shoves the cup back amongst its fellows with a sigh, sliding his gaze along the countertop to the man.

He’s a tangle of wire drawn thin and taut, the tendons splayed over his knuckles carved into stark relief as he leans closer to Ben, one arm propped on the counter, the other tipped over the harsh angles of his thigh. His fingers trace over the fraying edge of a patch at his knee, the stitches holding up where the fabric doesn’t. “I need a reason?”

“Most people do.”

“Darlin’, I’m not most people.” 

Ben laughs despite himself, a harsh exhalation as he tears his gaze away to survey the rest of the cantina once more. It’s an obvious habit to anyone who would care to watch for it, the man’s gaze searing a deliberate hole through Ben’s temple, but not out of place in a cantina that’s just enough off the beaten track that the majority of its patrons are labourers or freed slaves. Here, Ben is just another rat in the nest, dismissible, forgettable. 

“Oh?” Ben draws his arm up from the countertop, the line of his forearm damp as he folds his hands into his lap. Again, the actions of another man, the death throes of a corpse that hadn’t been able to rot. “You will want to find someone more interesting than me to talk to.”

The man leans closer, starving for the space Ben has just seceded. His stool scrapes as he drags it closer, his arm braced against the countertop, his knees bumping against Ben’s thigh when he halts the motion firmly intertwined in Ben’s orbit. There’s intended flattery in the action, Ben hasn’t been removed from the world for long enough to forget this particular dance, and Ben considers giving in. It would be easy enough to brush his fingertips against the man’s, to lean a little closer into the scant space between them, to ghost a kiss over his mouth that’s cracking beneath the desert heat and taste the sharp bite of whatever he had been drinking moments before. 

“I think,” the man says, lengthening his words into a smooth drawl, his grin a shade too sharp to hide the way his gaze flickers over Ben’s face, “that you are plenty interesting. So, will you let me get you another drink?”

He’s young, desperately so, or maybe Ben is just far older than he had ever expected to be. 

There’s a faint scar at the nape of the man’s neck, his hair not long enough to cover where it branches around the junction of his shoulders. Ben’s gaze fractures there, studying the man beneath the sweep of his lashes, knowing he’d already made his choice the moment the man slung himself into the seat next to Ben and grinned at him so tentatively sweetly. Metallic dust lines the cracks of the man’s palms, a faint shimmer over the sharp line of his cheekbone where an old bruise heals sour and yellow, and some dust clings to his temples in a mimicry of the silver already bleeding through the red. His eyes are dark, something hopeful clinging to flotsam despite the rising tide. 

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

There’s that grin again, wide enough to fracture at the edges and shake some debris free from the fragile foundation Ben has been trying to maintain. The man stands in a lopsided slide, his leg braced against the crossbar of the stool as he leans his hips into the counter to brace himself as he waves both hands at the Twi'lek further down the cantina. “Two Sunrise mixes, please, Finu?”

The Twi’lek, heavyset and all the more smug because of it, sets her hip against the counter as she surveys him, her lower lip indented between her lower teeth as she assesses them both. The man huffs out a laugh, a flash of gold at his mouth, and he plucks a chip from a pouch at his belt and spins it over the flat of his knuckles before he drops back into his seat, his attention locked onto Ben once more. “Cobb Vanth.” He offers Ben a hand, barely a tremor threading through his outstretched fingers and Ben, helpless to stop the knife from boring deeper into his chest, thinks of Cody. 

“Ben,” he answers, taking Cobb’s hand in his own. It’s an easy pantomime to fall back into, to twist their joined hands so he can press a kiss to the gnarled surface of Cobb’s knuckles, tasting the ever-present salt and grit of the desert there. Looking up from beneath the sweep of his lashes, Cobb’s cheeks burn pink, the colour invading the exposed shells of his ears. There’s a pale scar through one lobe, near invisible against his tan skin but highlighted through his blush. It’s sweet to have him so besotted already when Ben is nothing special, just another body amongst hundreds.

(Cody had been another clone amongst thousands and Obi-Wan would have known him deaf and blind, Force-forsaken and dying.)

The man in front of him is not Cody, Ben knows that. However, Cobb carries with him the strange sense of being lost in time that the clones had, too old for his years and too young in action, and he looks at Ben the same way that Cody had, like Ben had hung the suns in the sky and stirred the stars in to fulfil a request. 

Intoxicating after half a lifetime of denial. 

It wouldn’t go further than a drink. Ben squeezes Cobb’s hand carefully, releasing the other man as he straightens back into his watchful perch, with a snapshot of his attention still locked onto the door behind him. Off the beaten path did not mean invisible, and the Empire had caught better Jedi than him from less information than a passing resemblance. Just a drink and an instance of delirious what-could-be to keep Ben human for the next decade. 

“So, darlin’,” Cobb says, coughing as he rights himself on his seat. “You didn’t answer my question earlier.”

Cobb hands over the chip to Finu before their drinks touch the countertop of the bar, a smart way of working, and Ben grabs at his own. It’s strong, a generous allocation of cactus juice to cover for the bite of spirits, and Ben sips at it as Cobb picks his own up, dragging his finger around the rim before he tips his head back to drink it. It’s half-empty when Cobb emerges, his cheeks flushed by his own actions, a sly twist to his grin. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

“My darling,” Ben answers, echoes of a man he can no longer be in his voice. “You have no idea.”

[aneurinallday]

Green Eyes

Chapter 3: Smoke and Mirrors

Thomas wasn’t quite sure what drew him back to Alec’s side, but he returned to the Arcadia club the following week, and then a week later, and then a few days after that.

On cold nights, when he lay alone in the bed that he and Grace had shared, he knew in his heart that he would never experience true intimacy again. But then he thought of Alec, waiting for him in that warm and rosy-hued room, and felt the barest trace of yearning.

He started looking forward to his business trips to Birmingham - spending less and less time at home with his son, and more and more time at his old flat in Small Heath, from which it was only a short drive to the Arcadia.

Thomas was under no illusions that there was any genuine connection between them - Alec was just a whore, after all - but he enjoyed the young man’s company nevertheless. The conversation wasn’t sparkling, but Alec had a cheerful manner that could put anyone at ease.

He asked for nothing, and let Thomas do whatever he wanted. They had sex when Thomas was in the mood, but sometimes they just sat and talked, and other times they simply lay in silence. In his own effortless way, this beautiful creature had cast a spell that Thomas was all too happy to succumb to.

Alec didn’t seem to mind what they did - it was easy money either way. Each time Thomas visited, he left a bigger gratuity. First ten shillings, then twelve, then fifteen, then a whole shiny pound coin. Alec was free to spend it on whatever he wanted - Thomas didn’t ask - and Cobb never took issue with it. The money he was raking in from the Shelby alliance far outweighed whatever he might be losing out on in tips, no matter how generous the tipper.

One day in March, almost three months into his patronage of the Arcadia, Thomas found himself in particular need of relaxation. He’d been fighting off a headache all day, and the tension in his neck and shoulders had grown unbearable. He needed to unwind. He left the offices of the Shelby Company Limited as soon as he was able, and headed directly to the Arcadia.

It was early in the evening, and the club was still gearing up for peak hours. Thomas entered to find the band tuning their instruments and the dance floor relatively quiet. Cobb was seated at the nearby bar, sharing a drink with a handful of his men.

“You’re early, Mister Shelby,” he said, “Here to blow off some steam?”

“I am.”

“The usual?”

“Yes.”

Cobb and his boys shared a chuckle among themselves.

“You can’t get enough of him, can you? Not that I can blame you. Bragg, go fetch Green Eyes.” Cobb jerked a thumb in the direction of the stage.

Thomas’s gaze followed, and he saw that Alec was sitting alone at the back of the stage, staring at nothing. His shoulders were slumped and his hands were folded in his lap. He looked subdued. Bragg went over to him, leaned down, and spoke in his ear. Alec’s face lit up, and he scurried across the dance floor to meet Thomas.

“Mister Shelby!” he greeted him.

A hint of a smile softened Thomas’s mouth.

“You seem surprised. Is this not a good time?”

“No, no. Every time is a good time. I just wasn’t expecting you ‘til later.”

While they spoke, Cobb rose from the bar and stalked over to them. Up-close, it was apparent from his flushed face and glassy eyes that he was drunk.

“Come here.” He roughly grabbed Alec’s face and angled it towards the light, showing it off. “Look at him. Look at that face. If he had a cunt, I’d fuck him myself.”

The singer extricated himself with a laugh, but distaste curled the corners of his mouth. Cobb’s touch seemed to repulse him. He shifted closer to Thomas - but whether he was subconsciously seeking Thomas’s protection or merely reminding Cobb that he was busy working,  Thomas wasn’t sure.

“You’re welcome to take him off my hands, if you want, Mister Shelby. Think of the petrol money you’ll save - you won’t need to drive down here every time you fancy a fuck. How much do you reckon he’s worth - fifty pounds?”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” said Thomas.

“Oh, come on. It’d be more convenient for you. You could have him whenever you wanted.”

“It’s possible to have too much of a good thing, Mister Cobb. Would you excuse me?”

He pulled Alec away, and they ascended the stairs towards their waiting refuge. Sequins sparkled on Alec’s flapper dress, which Thomas noticed was professionally tailored, flattering his waist and shoulders.

“I haven’t seen that dress before,” Thomas remarked.

“Oh, it’s new. I bought it with the money you gave me. Do you like it?”

“It’s nice.”

“You can tear it, if you like. I’ll just buy another one.”

A half-hour later, they lay in a hazy afterglow atop sweat-dampened sheets, their clothes strewn about the floor.

“Fuck,” Thomas sighed, “I need to stop coming here.”

“Why? Are you afraid you’ll get too attached?”

“I’m afraid you’ll bleed me dry.”

Thomas pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, popped one in his mouth, and lit it. Alec watched him. His green gaze followed the tendril of smoke as it curled in the air.

“I heard some of Cobb’s Boys talking about you,” he said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.”

The room was cooling, and they were calming, their tense muscles relaxing. Thomas offered Alec a puff of his cigarette. The young man accepted, and Thomas watched his lips as they curled attractively around the filter.

“I learned a lot of interesting things,” Alec continued, exhaling, “I learned that you’re a gang-lord, and that you fix horse races, and that you smuggle alcohol to the Americans because it’s illegal over there.”

“Anything else?”

“You like to cut people with a razor.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

“So it’s not true, then?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Alec smiled.

“Should I be afraid of you, Mister Shelby?”

“No.”

“Not of the man who hides a razor blade in his cap?”

“You’re safe with me,” Thomas assured him, “I only cut people who deserve it.”

Alec handed the cigarette back and rose. He walked naked to the vanity table, where he sat on the upholstered stool with his back turned to Thomas. He checked his face in the mirror, then added more red to his lips and more rouge his cheeks.

Thomas sat up in bed and watched him, listening to the gentle clatter and tinkle of his little bottles and compacts.

“You looked sad earlier,” said Thomas.

“Did I?”

“Mhm. Something on your mind?”

“No. Nothing.”

Thomas could tell he was lying. He remembered the way Alec’s face had brightened upon hearing news of his arrival, as if a visit from Thomas were the only bright spot in his day. When considering the sort of men who frequented the Arcadia, a terrible possibility presented itself: that Thomas Shelby was Alec’s only decent regular. The only one who didn’t degrade and abuse him.

“Do you like working here?” Thomas asked.

Alec shrugged.

“It’s a job. It pays a wage.”

“There are other jobs, you know. You can leave if you want.”

“It’s not that simple, Mister Shelby,” said Alec, “When you work for Mister Cobb, you don’t get to just walk away from your obligations. Besides, where else would I work? In a factory? In a steel mill?”

“You could come and work for me.”

“What, smuggling opium? I’d rather stay here - at least I get to sing and dance. That’s all I want.”

“You can be a singer without having to bend over. There’s plenty of clubs that would hire you.”

Alec didn’t reply. He was focused intently on his reflection, carefully applying more dark liner to his eyes.

“All I’m saying is, you don’t have to be here,” Thomas said. “I can help you get a job. You could even leave Birmingham. Go to London where the big clubs are. You could make a name for yourself out there, while you’re still young.”

Alec stood up abruptly.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he blurted out. “Some people don’t have a choice, Mister Shelby.”

“Everyone has a choice. Even if it’s a bad one, it’s still a choice.”

“Mister Shelby, do you think that because you’ve been to war and you run a business, you know everything? Well, you don’t. You don’t know anything about me, or about Mister Cobb, or about what it’s like working here. You don’t know how much worse my other options are.”

“Cobb doesn’t own you. You don’t have to work for him. You deserve better.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Alec snapped, “Do you think this is what I wanted my life to be like? Do you think I enjoy this? Spending every night being drooled on and pawed at by disgusting men? Rich filth who think that because I’m poor, they’re entitled to every bit of me? And you’re one of them, Mister Shelby. You’re no different than they are.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing. Either fuck me again or fuck off. That’s all I’m good for, after all.”

Alec gripped to the edge of the vanity table behind him, as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“You come and fuck me, and then you go back to your nice house and your normal life like nothing happened. You’re just as pathetic as the ones who come creeping in here like scared dogs, so ashamed of themselves that they can barely look at us. Or the ones who come and beat us black-and-blue because they know they can get away with it. Because they think we don’t exist outside of these rooms, outside of their needs. When you go home tonight, you won’t have to think about me any more, but I’ll still have to think about you.”

As Thomas listened, he could feel the warmth fading, and see the young man’s shine dimming. The spell was broken. He’d gotten so caught up in the image of Alec as an ever-happy, ever-willing, never-complaining receptacle, that he’d almost forgotten that Alec was - like him - just a human being. A human being capable of resentment and frustration, trying to make ends meet the only way he knew how, struggling to survive in this miserable hell-hole of a city.

In a way, Thomas was glad of the reminder. It stopped him from getting too attached.

“Alright, then.” Thomas rose and started putting his clothes back on. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

Alec stood there watching him, his hands fidgeting among the expensive perfumes and cosmetics behind him, as if trying to process the situation.

“Are you leaving?” he asked hesitantly.

“What does it look like?”

Realising what he’d done, Alec changed his tone.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I don’t know where that came from. I don’t know why I said all that.”

“I do. You’ve got too comfortable with me, and you forgot that I’m a paying customer. Here,” Thomas pulled out a bank-note and tossed it at Alec, who fumbled to catch it. “That’s ten pounds. That’ll pay your rent for half a year. Go find a job, or stay here until you’re too old to lure customers in the door and Cobb throws you out on the street. I don’t care.”

He left and stalked down the opulent corridor, flicking away his cigarette butt into one of Cobb’s fancy plant-plots.

“Wait!” Alec grabbed his sequinned dress of the floor - torn at the seam - and hurried after him while struggling into it. “Wait. Come back to bed.”

“You’ve made it clear you don’t want me there.”

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean what I said. Of course I enjoy your company - of course I do! You’re the only client I look forward to,” he babbled. He was panicking. He could feel Thomas’s goodwill - and more importantly, Thomas’s patronage - slipping through his fingers.

They reached the stairs and began to descend. The dance floor was filling up, and the band was in full swing. Thomas shouldered his way roughly past dancing couples, while Alec tried to keep up with him.

“Please, Mister Shelby, don’t let me ruin your evening. Let’s have a drink on me, and then go back upstairs. I’ll let you tie me to the bed. I’ll let you hit me. You can do whatever you want. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“I don’t want anything.” Thomas’s head suddenly ached, a deep and throbbing pain behind his eyeballs. The smoke and loud music and crowded bodies were getting to him, and Alec was pestering him like a mosquito. He was gripped by the urge to flee.

“I take back what I said. Sometimes I say stupid things, I can’t help it - I’m not clever. Sometimes I forget my place, and I need someone to put me back in it.”

Alec was barely even looking at Thomas, his green eyes nervously scanning the crowd.

“What’s the matter?” Thomas asked, “Are you worried Cobb will see you not doing your job?”

“Mister Shelby, don’t go.” Alec caught hold of Thomas’s arm and tried to pull him back towards the stairs. Thomas jerked away. “Please don’t go. It’ll look bad on my record.”

They were interrupted by Bragg’s voice behind them.

“Losing your touch, Green Eyes?”

Alec immediately let go of Thomas, his hands fidgeting with the fabric of his dress, doing his best to appear as though everything was normal.

“Hello, Bragg,” he said through a pained smile. “Shouldn’t you be guarding the door? Mister Cobb wouldn’t like it if he found out you’d been slacking again.”

Bragg threw him a contemptuous look and then ignored him.

“Leaving already, Mister Shelby?” he asked. “Should I let Mister Cobb know you’re going?”

“Don’t bother. I’ve got business to attend to,” said Thomas.

“What’s the matter? The boy not good enough? Did he do something wrong?”

For a moment, the devil in Thomas almost said yes. But Alec was looking at him with large, desperate eyes that were starting to moisten, the green filled with wordless pleading. In that moment, he looked very young. Thomas turned away in disgust.

“Nah, I just got tired of him. Nothing to do with the quality of your club. Make sure Mister Cobb understands that.”

Without a backwards glance, Thomas exited the club that no longer held any charm for him - leaving Alec standing alone on the dance floor, clutching the crumpled bank-note with tears in his eyes.

[shipstorms]

webgott high school AU

"Fuck off," David says, and he hates how the venom gets lost somewhere in his voice, even when he's boiling with it. Other people might laugh, but Joe just looks at him. "I mean, Cobb said -- "

"Cobb's a dick," Joe declares, flicking away his cigarette butt. He joins his hands behind his head as a pillow and closes his eyes and that's the end of that, apparently. 

Initially, David is surprised at this assessment because Joe is a dick, too, but then he realizes that they diverge in ways he hasn't really thought about until now. Joe is a dick, sure, but he has no bite to him, not really. Not once you get past the surface layer. 

"The fuck are you lookin' at," Liebgott mumbles without opening his eyes. 

David treats that as a rhetorical question and Liebgott doesn't say anything else. He takes a pull off the cigarette, examining the lit end as he exhales in a long, slow breath. "Lieb."

"What."

"You ever feel like no one really knows you?" 

"I guess. Sure. But do you even really know yourself at this point?" Liebgott scratches his nose as David stares. 

"Wow. So you do introspect somewhat."

"See, this," Liebgott stretches his fingers out and swipes a single circle in the air, "this is why so many people want to punch you. I get where Cobb is coming from, I really do." 

"Glad to know whose side you're on," David says, trying for sarcastic and landing on pathetic instead. 

"Web. Jesus. Have some goddamn self-confidence, would you?"

"How the hell am I supposed to do that when you're razzing me for sixteen hours out of the day?"

Lieb finally opens his eyes. He props himself up on his elbows to get a better angle at which to eviscerate David with his laser stare. "Fucking listen to yourself. We're hanging out sixteen hours a day, period." 

David bristles. Backtracks a bit. "I meant that as an exaggeration. And anyway, that wasn't the point -- "

"You ever see Talbert moping in a corner because of something I said? Or Luz? Or Sisk, or Grant, or -- "

"Alright! Alright, I get it," David interrupts, even though he doesn't, really. He just wants Liebgott to stop talking. There's only so much he can pick apart while trying to fall asleep at night and the mental inbox labeled OVERANALYZE LATER is already overflowing with this newfound realization of exactly how much they've been seeing of each other.

"All I'm saying is that this seems like a 'you' issue," Liebgott finishes. He lies back down, this time with his hands folded over his chest like he's lying in a sarcophagus. 

"Sure, fine, whatever." His cigarette has burnt down almost to the filter; he stares at it as the flame flickers closer and closer to his fingers. 

"Oh my god, Web," Liebgott groans. "Seriously, can you, like, I don't know. Watch a TED Talk about how to not be overdramatic. Focus on some self-improvement." 

"I was just kidding. And you wanna talk about self-improvement? Because we can talk about self-improvement."

"Right. Nope. I changed my mind, let's not go there." Lieb closes his eyes again, since he knows that David knows that there are six meditation apps on his phone and zero data usage on all of them.  

"Alright."

"Sorry."

"It's fine. Besides, I know that being an annoying asshole is one of your expressive love languages."

He waits for Lieb's eyes to pop open and bug out, but all he does is kind of shrug serenely, and then that familiar desperate feeling bounds through him. From the first moment they met, he has been seeking Joe's approval with an embarrassing intensity that he hates himself for. 

There's a shock of pain in his hand and he soundlessly drops the cigarette that he'd forgotten all about at the same time Joe speaks up again. "What are the other four?"

"What?" David asks, distracted, shaking his hand out.

"My other four love languages. Since you know me so well." Joe crooks one arm behind his head as support, making him look indolent and challenging at the same time.  

"Being an asshole is one through five."

"Aw, come on!" 

"You seriously want me to answer? Isn't this something you need to identify on your own?"

"Yeah, but I want to hear what you think."

Another soundbyte for that mental inbox that David carefully files away. "That's even more self-indulgent than usual," he points out.

"I'm okay with that. Indulge me," Joe says with heavy lidded eyes, and David wants to roll over and scream into the dirt. 

"I don't know. I stand by my original answer," he ends up muttering. He rips up a handful of grass and fiddles with it as Lieb snorts and says, "Gee, thanks."

[staranon95]

Google news is shaming me to start working on my DinCobb Camino au so I'm sharing a snippet to encourage myself to write a bit tonight

...

From here, it shouldn’t be construed as something of poor taste, photographing a man while he has a private moment with his Lord. Cobb takes the lens in hand and focuses it, bringing Din into central focus as he kneels within the centre frame of the lens. The shutter clicks once, twice, thrice before Cobb lowers the camera. His heart presses up urgently against his chest. And with his camera clutched in both hands, Din then turns his head and catches sight of Din and he fixes Cobb there to the spot where he stands among the pews, wearing his hiking boots, dressed for a day of hiking, a clear and obvious tourist to a man like Din in his house of worship.

But then Din smiles and angles his head so Cobb crosses the sanctuary. “You should catch me from my good side,” he says before he strikes a pose, still kneeling upon the bench, a rosary wound around his left hand, his head tilted up towards the light that shines upon his face. His side profile certainly leaves nothing to be desired with the strong arch of his nose, the arch of his neck, and the line of his jaw.