#but like E is very strong willed and she's still maturing and struggles to see past her own ego

[the0ther-side0f-dawn]

just a little personal anecdote/ thought dump in the tags..

[amillionpagesfromhome]

The Ten Thousand Doors of January

The Ten Thousand Doors of January – Alix  E. Harrow

If you’re a fan of books about other worlds, this is probably one for you. This book felt like a new take on the theory of multiple worlds existing.

Admittedly, this one took me some time to get into. First of all, a good portion of the book is written in first-person. This isn’t my favorite in most cases, and this time was no different. In addition, the writing style was a little different than what I normally read. It was very formal, and there were times when the language felt a bit stiff in the story. Despite feeling a bit slow to connect with the story, I definitely did.

Personal opinions aside, this book is essentially about January finding out who she is. The world crafted leaves the door open for infinite other worlds and we get to see and hear at least a little bit about a few. As the story progresses we get to see both our main character, and flashbacks of her mother in separate chapters building towards the ending conclusion of what happened to Adelaide (the mother) and what will happen January, and ultimately, the world we know. The author crafts a world where magic still exists all over for those willing to seek it out. Built on a strong cast of characters where even the side characters are interesting and engaging (okay, there’s a little opinion there) this story mainly focuses on January’s quest to find her family, but woven in comes the main characters knowledge that magic can be found anywhere, if she can figure out how to stop it from being stamped out.

Adelaide was probably my favorite character, and I think her portions of the story were what spoke to me the most. I probably could have read an entire book about her alone. That’s not to say that January was a poor protagonist – far from it. January is very young though, and that’s perhaps why I didn’t feel as strongly connected with her. Ade’s parts of the story were by far the most engaging for me and I couldn’t wait to see where she would go next.

The book discussed some period-typical racism and the influence of money in light of the fact that our main character is non-white and being raised by an affluent – presumably white, although I don’t remember it being mentioned (it’s been a bit between reading and the review)- man. These don’t appear to be the main theme to me, but they are certainly present.

The way that January is written is one of the most impressive things. While I find I struggle to connect to younger characters, I still find it jarring when someone who is supposed to be young makes unnaturally mature decisions without seemingly any basis, or appears to have experience far beyond their years. January has moments of maturity and moments of immaturity, but she never seems out of character or like her actions are illogical in the context of who she is and what she’s seen. We also get to see some really dynamic character growth as she goes through the story.

Samuel and Jane are both fantastic side characters, and honestly, I’m a little disappointed that we don’t get more of them. This is something I’ll touch more on a little later, with a spoiler warning. Sinbad, it goes without saying, is a very good boy.

Overall, I think it’s a kind of fresh take on the parallel universes idea, and if you’re someone who feels passionate about books and words taking you to other places I think this will really hit home with you.

Now for some spoilers/complaints

Have you stopped reading if you don’t want spoilers? Good.

Samuel and Jane both felt like they could have been more, especially in the end. I realize that perhaps the author didn’t feel there was enough storyline to make this a duology, but in a lot of ways I think it might have been better served to split it and make two books.

Samuel’s ending feels too open – does he remember or doesn’t he? We know both Jane and January see him, but he doesn’t reveal Jane’s visit to January even after January asks about her. I know, I know, the point might have been to leave this open, but I really feel like after everything Samuel did we should find out how things go. I’m choosing to believe he spends his life opening doors with January.

Jane is probably the most engaging background character in the book, and despite January looking for her, we don’t even get to know if January gets the message she left. There seemed to be so much room to expand on Jane’s story and her journey home, but by the time we really see that it’s going to be possible we don’t see much of Jane anymore.

I also wasn’t a huge fan of the antagonist. The ‘villain arc’ in the story felt to me like it should have either been explored more or left out entirely. Locke could have just been a self-absorbed rich collector who didn’t truly understand the cultures he was pillaging from or who January was with being the bad guy. There could have been a more natural reason for the doors closing (destruction of old buildings, deforestation, modernization, etc.) and Julian to be finding a way home before they all closed, and that would still leave reason in the end for someone like January to need to exist to open new ones.

However, if Locke and his group are going to be villains, and you introduce the idea of vampires and immortals, I this is where I think a second book might have really helped tell this part of the narrative. The ending for Locke felt a bit rushed and his overall reasoning was somewhat understandable, but not completely for me. I feel a bit like someone who wanted to close all the doors to prevent change and things getting through would probably not want to bring back artifacts from all these worlds, in case those were what brought about change. Part of me wants to argue that that part is a commentary on how people with wealth and power see a different set of rules for themselves than what they believe should be imposed on others, but it feels like a bit of a reach. I just think that a second book would have allowed you to push off the ultimate confrontation and to create more of an identity for the society that would have made them into a really interesting and dynamic group of villains.

Locke’s behavior is also odd. From when she’s young at the beginning of the story, Locke, who is aware of other worlds, is essentially told by her that she wrote a new doorway into being, and instead of using this information, he just burns her notebook and tells her she’s crazy and then never brings it up, as if he hopes she’ll just never discover how to do it again. That seems like something he would want to exploit, or at the very least, destroy. Why just let this go? I know it seems he did have some kind of twisted affection for January, but this still seems like a huge plot hole for me.

Again, I want to stress that I did enjoy the book. Overanalyzing characters and motives aside, any book that leaves me loving characters and wanting to see more of them is a win for me.

[sugarqvills]

links: pinterest, bio

BASICS

FULL NAME: Emmeline Asteria Vance PRONUNCIATION: Emmeline  Asteria  Vance MEANING: Emmeline ( Germanic - Work; French - Industrious, Hardworking; Latin - Little Rival ), Asteria ( Latin - Star ), Vance ( English - Fen, Marsh ) REASONING: Emmeline’s given name comes from her her paternal grandmother. Her middle name sprung from her mother’s once-great love for Greek mythology. NICKNAME(S): Emme, Vance. BIRTH DATE: 24 December - 12:32 PM AGE: Nineteen ZODIAC: Capricorn Sun, Libra Moon, Aries Rising

Capricorn is the tenth sign of the zodiac and governs the bones, joints, and knees. Positive traits include pragmatism, maturity, patience, determination, awareness, a strong work ethic, realism, discipline, money management, the willingness to overcome hard luck, leadership, initiative, opportunism, prudence, and cunning. Negative traits include pessimism, melancholy, emotional coldness, manipulation, obsession with work and ambitions to the detriment of personal development, remoteness, and materialistic snobbery.

The traits emphasized here will be ambition, determination, discipline, and pragmatism. You can’t make that castle in the sky if you don’t build a solid foundation under it, and Capricorns excel at building foundations. (Actually, they excel at planning the foundations and directing others to do the grunt labour. It’s not that they’re afraid to get their hands dirty, but large work usually requires delegation and a staff, and Capricorns are managers more often than not.) While not flamboyant or showy about it, Capricorns still tend to be obsessive overachievers, a common trait in House Slytherin. Too, wizards born under the sign of Capricorn are good at being discreet, secretive, and diplomatic; whereas the Libra’s diplomacy is based on charm and a desire for harmony, the Capricorn’s diplomacy is based on the knowledge that being on good terms with people is extremely useful in getting one’s way or finding out sensitive information. These also are traits commonly associated with House Slytherin. They might not be sexy traits, but they’re very handy.

GENDER: Cisgender Female PRONOUNS: She/Her ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Panromantic. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual. NATIONALITY: Irish ETHNICITY: White

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: Athenry, Ireland HOMETOWN: Athenry, Ireland SOCIAL CLASS: Upper Class EDUCATION LEVEL: Hogwarts, sixth year HOUSE: Slytherin FATHER: Oliver Vance, 56, Former Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office ( DECEASED ) MOTHER: Rosalyn Vance neé Rowle, 54, Former Member of the Wizengamot ( DECEASED ) SIBLING(S): None. EXTENDED FAMILY: Constance Vance, 86 ( paternal grandmother ) BIRTH ORDER: Only child. PET(S): Pawcrates - six year old black cat.

SKILLS & ABILITIES

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: 6/10 OFFENSE: 8.5/10 DEFENSE: 9/10 SPEED: 8/10 INTELLIGENCE: 9/10 ACCURACY: 9/10 AGILITY: 8/10 STAMINA: 8/10 TEAMWORK: While Emmeline is capable of doing well with a group, she prefers to work on her own. She’ll help where she can, but would far prefer if she were left to her own devices. TALENTS: Dueling. Critical thinking. Planning. Drinking at least one entire bottle of wine by herself in a single sitting. SHORTCOMINGS: Unhealthy coping mechanisms. Emotionally repressive. Doesn’t let others in easily. Negative thinking. LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: English, Irish Gaelic, Latin. DRIVE?: No. JUMP-STAR A CAR?: No. CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: No. RIDE A BICYCLE?: Yes. SWIM?: Yes. PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: The piano, thanks to Gran. PLAY CHESS?: Yes, though she would prefer to spend her free time doing other things. TIE A TIE?: Yes. PICK A LOCK?: No.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Alycia Debnam-Carey. EYE COLOR: Green. HAIR COLOR: Brown. HAIR TYPE/STYLE: Normally, Emmeline leaves her hair down, allowing it to fall however it likes. Frequently, she’s been known to throw her hair into a ponytail or loose, messy bun while working, cleaning, or even knitting. GLASSES/CONTACTS?: No. DOMINANT HAND: Right. Emmeline is ambidextrous, but tends to favour her right hand more often than her left. HEIGHT: 165 cm ( 5′5″ ) WEIGHT: 55 kg ( 121 pounds ) BUILD: Slender. EXERCISE HABITS: Despite knowing that she should do more, Emmeline more often than not spends time at home knitting and drinking, rather than running or doing other exercises. SKIN TONE: Fair. TATTOOS: At present, Emmeline has none. PIERCINGS: Just a single hole in each ear. MARKS/SCARS: Emmeline has a few small scars from her childhood, most notable is the one on her right hand, near the thumb. Most don’t even notice it, unless they know precisely what they’re looking for. USUAL EXPRESSION: Emmeline’s typical expression is one without a smile. To many, she could come across as cold or uncaring; it’s not that she actively tries to dissuade people talking to her, it’s just what happens, especially when she’s focused. Once put around friends, however, the demeanour changes and there are more smile than one might otherwise find. CLOTHING STYLE: Emmeline is a big fan of loose, simple tops or button-ups with more fitted trousers. On very rare or special occasions, she may wear a dress, though it is never anything more than a sold colour with simple accents. In addition to her comfortable tops, Emmeline is also a fan of flannel shirts and heavier, knitted jumpers when it starts to get cold. JEWELRY: Simple silver studs for earrings in her daily life, a small silver music note pendant on a thin silver chain that she got from Gran for her thirteenth birthday. Otherwise, Emmeline isn’t one for jewelry. ALLERGIES: None, as far as she knows.

QUESTIONS

How does your character behave around people they like? Emmeline is more relaxed around those she likes. Though she isn’t the most easy-going person in the world, she is more inclined to make jokes, laugh, and not stress as much as she normally does. How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person? As a rule, Emmeline is very hesitant to trust others. However, once you have her trust, there are very few things you could do to lose it and have her suspect you of something terrible. How quick or slow is your character to resort to physical violence in a confrontation? Words are typically Emmeline’s go-to in a confrontational situation. There have been many instances where she’s eventually just walked away from someone rather than allow things to progress. In extreme instances, hexes and jinxes have been thrown, but as far as she can remember, there has never been anything more than a slap. What is/was your character’s relationship with their father like? It was a very strained relationship, if it could be called a relationship at all. She knew very little about the man he was in his later years, and what she knew of his formative years had only been the result of stories her Gran told her over the years. Is your character more likely to admire wisdom, or ambition in others? Though it generally tends to vary from person to person, she would probably tell you that she admires ambition more often than not. What does your character like in other people? There are a host of things she likes in others, but the first few that come to mind are: the ability to learn from their mistakes, forgiveness, a desire to learn in general, whether or not they are capable of growing as a person, honesty. Compassion for other people. Is your character more likely to keep trying a solution/method that didn’t work the first time, or immediately move on to a different solution/method? A bit of both. Just because her first attempt didn’t work the way she wanted it to, doesn’t mean she’ll abandon it in its entirety. With each failed attempt, an adjustment is made. It’s only once she has exhausted every possible method that she can think of that she will move on to a different one. How easy or difficult is it for your character to say “I love you?” Can they say it without meaning it? Saying “I love you” is one of, if not the most, difficult things for Emmeline to do. She has a problem letting herself love other people; there is a constant fear of abandonment, of not being enough, of disappointing them. She struggles to let those she truly cares for know just how much they mean to her. If she can say it to you, then there’s no chance it’s meaningless. She doesn’t have it in her to force something of that magnitude and not mean it. The only person Emmeline has never struggled with those words over is her Gran. The woman who spent so much of her life trying to instill certain values into her granddaughter. The person who raised Emmeline, who wanted nothing but the best for her. The one person Emmeline always thought would be her only constant, the only person she would be willing to die to protect. When she wasn’t in school or working, Emmeline tried to make it a priority to tell the older woman how much she loved her and appreciated all that she had done over the years

INSPIRATIONS & TRAITS

CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS: prudence halliwell ( charmed ), sally owens ( practical magic ), jessica jones ( jessica jones ), amy santiago ( brooklyn nine nine ), laurel castillo ( how to get away with murder ), wynona earp ( wynona earp ), cristina yang ( grey’s anatomy ), rosa diaz ( brooklyn nine nine ), caitlin snow ( the flash ), rosita espinosa ( the walking dead ), laurel lance ( arrow ), raymond holt ( brooklyn nine nine ), rory gilmore ( gilmore girls ), lucy preston ( timeless ), peyton sawyer ( one tree hill )

AESTHETIC: piano notes softly filling an empty room, storms raging outside while you sit in the comfort of your home, books towering so high you can’t see over them, hot tea in a chipped mug, freshly baked red velvet cake cooling on the counter, four cups of coffee in the morning just to feel like you’re somewhat there, the faintest whiff of whisky lingering in the air after an especially trying night, the deafening silence that slowly envelops you when the numbness sets in, unfinished knitting projects lying lazily over chair arms by the fireplace

SONGS: made of stone - daughter / cherry wine - hozier / that i would be good - alanis morissette / please don't say you love me - gabrielle aplin / breathe me - sia / you say - lauren daigle / hard times ( ballad ) - halocene / dear happy - gabrielle aplin / lovely - lauren babic and seraphim POSITIVE TRAITS: assiduous, strong-willed, intelligent, dedicated, tidy NEGATIVE TRAITS: melancholic, self-blaming, stubborn, inflexible NEUTRAL TRAITS: ambitious, sarcastic, quiet, restrained

[mrscrowley8]

Soft Smut Sunday Anderlock Fic

Title: Be gentle

Rating: Mature

Fandom: BBC Sherlock

Characters: Sherlock, Anderson

Pairing : Anderlock

Notes: My first Anderlock and attempt to the soft smut sunday challenge. Word: "gentle"

--------------------

Summary:

After days without news of Sherlock, Anderson ends up receiving a text from him, urging him to come to his flat. Anderson rushes to Sherlock's place, hoping for a very pleasant reunion under the covers. Unfortunately for him, Sherlock has something else in mind.

---------------------

When the first blow landed on his lower back, he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. The pain was so intense that it burned him from the inside. Fortunately for the neighbours, he managed to remain silent. For once, Philip Anderson felt extraordinarily brave.

The second smack hit him hard between his shoulder blades. The impact was even more acute than the first one. Breathless and hopeless, he clung to the chair, wrapping it in his arms, as if the piece of furniture was a heartwarming Teddy Bear.

He had to remain strong in the face of adversity.

Teeth clenched, eyes burning with pain, he put his cheek on the chair, waiting for the next strike. The wood was so cold against his skin. It felt good. Behind him, his torturer clicked his tongue, thwarted. The strap of leather fell gently over the back of his head.

“Sit up straighter,” the voice ordered firmly.

Philip let out a grunt of discontent. He was feeling so much better in this position. Wasn’t that obvious? The end of the riding whip then pressed his cheek. Philip's sensitive nose absent-mindedly picked up the typical smell of blood.

His blood.

His entire body began to shake with a tremor.

Despite the situation, Philip Anderson wasn't frightened.

Valiantly, he sat ''properly'' down on the chair, his back straight, his hands squeezing the chair bars. He didn't want to disappoint his tormentor. He breathed deeply to relax, wondering where he was going to be hit. Maybe in the back?

He didn’t have to wait a very long time. The characteristic whistle of the riding crop broke the silence and Philip felt his skin split under the force of the blow. This time, he uttered a cry of pure agony, and he leapt out of the chair.

“Damn it! Can’t you take it easy?! Be gentle?” He asked, a hand pressed against his bruised flank. He whistled, writhing in pain. “Ow!” Touching the wound was a very bad idea, but he couldn’t help it. The carmine liquid stained his fingers.

“No,” came the laconic answer. “I have to respect all the parameters of the experiment perfectly.”

“You know, when you asked me to come here for a little experiment, I didn’t have that in mind.” Philip wanted to turn around, but the whip prevented him from doing so, by teasing the lower part of his back. Then, the leather hit his shoulder, and it wasn’t gentle. “Sherlock!”

“We're not done yet,” the consulting detective said. “I'm willing to give you a break, but only because I have to take pictures of your injuries.”

“You're too kind, Sir.” Philip complained, turning his head slightly to see the other man in action. Sherlock placed the leather whip on the living room table to grab a photomacrographic scale in his left hand and his phone in the other. He approached him, his blue eyes professionally watching him. He beckoned him to sit down. Philip sighed and dropped himself on the chair. Despite all these years, Philip was still struggling to decipher the emotions on his face. “Are you gonna ask me what I had in mind?”

“No.” Another very succinct answer.

Philip groaned and he turned his head to stare at the wall in front of him. He was really upset by Sherlock’s attitude. He hadn’t seen him all week and he would have expected a little more enthusiasm from the detective. Sherlock was still working on another of his complex cases, but he had refrained from telling him until today.

Not like John Watson, who had to know every detail of the case.

It was hurtful. Very hurtful.

Philip would like them to communicate more.

Sometimes he had the awful feeling that Sherlock didn't trust him.

“I know exactly what you had in mind,” the detective forced himself to say, after a couple of minutes. Philip hadn't expressed interest in a more elaborate answer and Sherlock didn’t like to be ignored.

“I don’t think so,” Philip retorted, colder than he would have liked. However, the throbbing pain in his upper body, combined with Sherlock’s distant attitude, had overcome his usual gentleness.

“You thought I invited you to share a pleasant moment in my company,” the sleuth whispered in his ear. Philip immediately tensed. He hadn't realised that Sherlock was so close to him. “Sex,” Sherlock purred in his ear, proud of himself.

Needless to say, Sherlock was right.

“Whose fault is that?” Philip asked, moving away from his very warm lips. He was still terribly angry with him. “You sent me a text to order me to come immediately to your flat. Naively, I thought you wanted to ... you know...”

“I know,” Sherlock assured him. “You were wrong.”

“I had noticed, Mister genius,” mumbled Philip between his clamped jaws.

Philip Anderson was... frustrated.

Upon arriving at Sherlock's place, he had been over the moon. He thought he was finally going to spend some time alone with the consulting detective.

It all started so wonderfully.

Sherlock had urged him to take his clothes off. Philip hadn't hesitated for a second. He had stripped naked with a certain eagerness, before approaching the detective to rip off his so indecently tight purple shirt (of sex).

Unfortunately, Sherlock had stopped him firmly, by grabbing his wrists.

His disappointment had only been short-lived.

Sherlock had instructed him to sit astride a chair so he could whip him.

Whip him ?

Philip knew Sherlock was special in every way, but ... BDSM? Seriously?

Of course, Philip wasn't against testing new things. New practices. Especially with Sherlock.

However, the surprise had quickly been replaced by bitterness.

Sherlock just needed a human guinea pig to verify a point from his current case. He wanted to study the healing processes of a leather whip on the skin. Similar to the marks found on a dead man, who had been discovered in the Thames. The body had had multiple lacerations on the back.

Sherlock and his eternal sidekick, John-Always-Bonded-with-Sherlock-Watson, had managed to follow the man's trail back to a very private club in the heart of London. Posing as rich customers, in search of thrilling sensations, they had entered the place and they had questioned the 'Favourite' of the man in question.

She had assured them he hadn't died at the club.

However, the man was an addict to such practices. He needed his weekly 'dose' of pain to withstand the pressure of his work. Sherlock was certain the woman was the culprit, but Lestrade wanted solid proof.

While Lestrade was checking her alibi, Sherlock had opted for a more 'scientific' approach.

Philip Anderson was a very lucky person.

“Why didn't you ask John?” Philip asked, grumpy. The doctor was spending more time with Sherlock than him. When did John Watson work? Besides, was the man really a doctor?!

“You don't like John.” Sherlock remarked, with a strange tone in his voice. Could that be surprise? Disappointment? Sadness? “Yet John is a remarkable person.” Remarkable?

R-e-m-a-r-k-a-b-l-e?!

“He certainly has better things to do than to accompany you everywhere, like a little dog.” Philip did his best to remain calm. Oh, he didn’t hate John. Not really. He was just...

“John and I have a unique alchemy that optimises my thinking process. This has always been the case. This will always be the case. There's no way this would change over time.” Sherlock’s honest answer didn't help him relax.

An ... an alchemy?!

Better and better!

Philip tensed up on his chair, more and more upset.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sherlock naively asked, when he noticed that something was bothering Philip.

“Nothing. Everything is fine. We're doing great.” Philip muttered and he clenched his fists. He absolutely didn't want to talk about it. He wasn't sure that Sherlock would understand it. Emotions weren't his area of expertise. Far from it.

Yes, Philip Anderson was jealous of John Watson.

Sherlock was still spending far too much time in the company of the doctor. The two men shared so many things. They investigated together. They had fun together. They ate together. They talked about everything and nothing. John even had an assigned seat in Sherlock’s lounge! And Sherlock was also taking care of little Rosie, John Watson’s daughter.

What about Philip?

The poor man was entitled to the last remaining crumbs.

The two lovers rarely saw each other. Only when Sherlock had time.

If Philip wanted information about Sherlock, he had to read the posts that John was writing on his blog or to check Sherlock's tweets.

Unlike John, Philip couldn't leave his office in a heartbeat. He couldn't come running at him when Sherlock asked him, and leave everything behind.

Was that why Sherlock never sent him a text? So as not to bother him?

No, it was ridiculous. Nothing could ever stop Sherlock. He didn't care about embarrassing people in the middle of their work. Sherlock didn't think of him. The truth was... even more painful than the lacerations on his skin.

Philip would love to investigate with Sherlock.

To accompany him.

To be with him.

To do ‘normal’ things.

To have dinner in a restaurant.

To go to the movies.

But no!

Instead, Philip was his giant guinea pig.

Was Sherlock ashamed of him?

“You’re jealous,” Sherlock finally understood. Philip shook his head. He didn’t want to admit it. “If Mycroft says it, it’s the truth. Pure and simple.”

Philip almost choked when he heard the Holmes brothers' eldest name in Sherlock’s mouth. He turned around just in time to see Sherlock put his phone in the pocket of his trousers.

OH MY GOD!

HE HAD SOUGHT THE ADVICE OF HIS BIG BROTHER!

WONDERFUL!

“This obvious jealousy for John is stupid,” Sherlock assured him and he reached out to him. Very gently, he ran his fingers through Philip’s hair, in the vain hope of reassuring him. Philip scoffed, his shoulders hunched, and he turned his head to the other side.

Did he honestly think he could coax him like this?

“Our alchemy is different from the one I'm sharing with John. Is he jealous of you? No. He isn't. He knows what his function is, by my side. He is my blogger. My conscience. My...”

“Sherlock.” Philip didn’t want to hear Sherlock anymore. He felt awfully... weary.

“I will clean your wounds,” Sherlock warned and he removed his hand. “The experiment is over.” The sleuth seemed to be even more disappointed for his experiment than for the unfortunate Philip.

Or was all of this in his head?

Philip’s new job was exhausting and far from London.

The former member of the Metropolitan Police's forensics team had ceased to be considered an expert by numerous institutes. His resignation, following his severe depression, caused by Sherlock's (fake) suicide, had seriously tarnished his image.

Oh, of course, he had received a very tempting offer from a private forensic medicine institute. The offer was TOO PERFECT for him. Philip had declined this strange opportunity. He was certain that the job offer had come from Mycroft Holmes, who had wanted to please his beloved little brother.

Philip just wanted to be accepted for his competencies and not because he was Sherlock Holmes's lover. He had his pride.

His professional situation hadn't facilitated their relationship.

Perhaps it would have been better to accept his kind offer... ?

Philip heard Sherlock walk away and quickly return to his side. He put a first aid kit on the pedestal table, next to the chair, and he opened it.

Long pale fingers grabbed a compress to wipe the blood.

Philip decided to remain silent and distant.

“Does it hurt?” Sherlock asked, concerned. Philip knew he was concerned because his voice was softer and warmer than usual.

“Hmm...”

This was Philip's only answer.

Sherlock sighed.

“I am...” Sherlock began, but he stopped before saying the word 'sorry'. Apologising wasn't in his DNA. Instead, he gently blew on the gash that was streaking his shoulder.

“Hmm...”

This time, Philip shivered and closed his eyes.

Sherlock couldn't say he was sorry.

However, he knew perfectly how to demonstrate he was sorry with his actions.

For a cerebral, Sherlock was very... manual.

Two large hands landed delicately on his deltoid, carefully avoiding the cut on his right shoulder. Philip breathed deeply, relaxing almost instantaneously, under the sudden contact.

He felt... appeased.

His anger disappeared strangely, as if by magic, followed closely by his sickly jealousy. The rational part in him knew Sherlock was right. The alchemy they both shared was very different from the one he shared with his blogger.

It was excessively...

Physical.

Carnal.

Although he was certain that he was Sherlock’s exclusive sexual partner, Philip was suffering from a serious lack of self-esteem. For him, it was impossible to dispose of his constant anxiety. Sometimes he thought he was dreaming. This couldn't be the reality. He couldn't be Sherlock Holmes's lover.

And yet, as soon as Sherlock laid his hands on him, Philip felt reassured. Safe. He felt... considered. Loved. It was strange because Sherlock had never pronounced a single “I love you.” Or even a simple “I like you.”

Neither had Philip.

He feared the detective’s reaction.

Oh yeah, he felt really stupid.

The hands slowly slipped along his bare arms and teeth began to bite the sensitive skin of his neck. Philip felt his body flared up with this simple contact. He let out a moan of appreciation. It had now been over a week since he and Sherlock had been intimate.

Just like the dead man from the Thames, Philip was addicted to something.

Addicted to someone.

He was addicted to Sherlock Holmes.

He had been obsessed with him for years.

And even now, he was still an obsession.

If Sherlock were a God, Philip would be his first disciple.

“Hmm...”

Philip tilted his head to the right, offering his neck as a sacrifice, to his deity. Teeth scraped his jaw before closing around a specific point. Voracious lips replaced them to make the skin blush. Philip uttered another moan, without concern for the neighbours.

Soon his body was pressed against the chair, forcing him to spread his thighs further. Sherlock sat behind him, his torso painfully snuggled against his back. Unlike Philip, who was completely naked, Sherlock was still wearing all his clothes. The sensation was unpleasant.

For a couple of seconds.

The former Scotland Yard employee could now feel something particularly awake against his buttocks. Sherlock’s arms wrapped around him, like an anaconda on the verge of suffocating his prey.

Philip hoped he would be soon swallowed by him.

“Do you still want me to take it easy?! Do you want me to be gentle?” The detective asked, and he licked the bruise he had just made on his neck. Philip shook his head vigorously, his eyes closed. "Are you sure?" Sherlock insisted with his deep baritone voice.

“Sherlock, take me hard,” Philip implored in a weak voice. He already felt he was losing his mind. Sherlock’s hands started to wander on his chest. “Sher-...” Philip began to gasp, waiting for the final blow, which would finish him off. A fingernail scratched an eager nipple and Philip completely snapped. “Oh yes! Here and now! On this chair! This is what I want! Hard! Not gentle!”

“As you wish,” Sherlock whispered in his ear and he obeyed scrupulously the least of his lover’s requests.

If there was one man in the world who could submit Sherlock Holmes to his will, it was Philip Anderson.

Not Mycroft Holmes.

Not John Watson.

Shame he didn't realise that.

Philip Anderson could ask him so many things.

Philip Anderson could ask for everything.

Everything.

And have everything.

But for now, Philip Anderson was just asking Sherlock Holmes to be...

Here for him.

And Sherlock was here for him.

Only for him.

A very gentle thought.

[tarisilmarwen]

Tari’s Top Twenty OTPs - #2

OTP: Aang/Katara

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Aang: The titular Avatar and last airbender, who can bend all four of the natural elements. Despite having an overwhelming amount of tragedy and loss in his past—in the form of losing his people to genocide, and running away from home only to go missing for one hundred years and wake to a world at war—Aang is a very happy and loving kid.  He’s sweet, and gentle, and able to have fun even in the face of danger. Sometimes the pressures of his life and station as the Avatar catch up to him and he longs to be normal and free of the burden of facing the Fire Lord and saving the world.  But he is also extremely self-sacrificing.  He feels responsible for abandoning the world for a hundred years and will do his darndest to make things right again, and restore balance and peace to the world.

Katara: Forced to grow up quickly after losing her mother in a Fire Nation raid, Katara matures into a very responsible, protective young lady.  She is a study of oxymorons: kind and passionate, selfless and brash, brave and yet desperately afraid of losing the people she cares about.  She has a hot temper and is impulsive and irrational at times, but she is always ready with a comforting hug or gentle words of encouragement.  Katara has a strong sense of justice and generally tries to do what’s right.  She has tremendous faith and hope in the Avatar and was one of the only ones who still believed he would return.

Together: Aang and Katara become fast friends quickly, and grow very fond of and attached to each other in a very short amount of time, willing to risk and sacrifice for each other right off the bat.  They relate to each other very well, always bolstering and encouraging each other and demonstrating mutual care and concern for each other.  Katara is very defensive of his safety and his honor, and one of Aang’s major Avatar State triggers is putting her in danger.  Aang is the first to start crushing on her, unconsciously at first but it grows stronger with each episode, but Katara is not far behind.  The two are very comfortable with and affectionate towards each other.

How I Got Into The Fandom: Back when Fandom Wank was still active, I came across a few Avatar-related posts.  Avatar had been crossing my path in other ways as well, via crossover fanfics and my sister watching the show and telling me a little about it.  So I checked it out, watching scattered Season Two episodes first and then going back to the very beginning to start from there.  This was in the hiatus between Season Two and Season Three.  I fell into the fandom soon after that.

When I Started Shipping Them: “Cave of Two Lovers” was actually one of the first episodes I watched.  I thought they were very adorable in it.  This feeling grew stronger with the rewatch from the beginning, wherein they were already so adoring and affectionate of each other right after meeting.  By the middle of Season Two I knew they were Epic Destined OTP and I was all over their relationship.

Why I Love Them: They are Epic with a capital E.  They start off with normal adorable crushing and blushing and cute fluffy moments and then they kill you with the sweepingly large epic scope of their relationship.  They were destined to meet, and destined to fall in love, and destined to save the world together.  Once again, they were pretty formative of a lot of things that I really like in ships.  And it was awesome.

Three Favorite Moments:

1. The finale kiss.

Hands down, Aang and Katara’s kiss in the series finale of the show.  I am not exaggerating when I say that it is animated perfection in every way.

Aang quietly excuses himself from the room with all their friends, to stand on the balcony and look out over the city of Ba Sing Se under a gorgeous sunset.  A slow camera pan reveals Katara coming to join him.  There are no words, just music and beautiful animation as they look at each other with SO MUCH LOVE in their eyes.

They embrace tenderly, both looking utterly content.  They turn for a moment to gaze out at the world at peace, the world they saved together, and then they turn to each other and their romance theme pipes in and then swells to epic volume as their lips meet.

The kiss deepens, we pan up to a beautiful sky, and the words “The End” appear to close us out.

2. The Cooldown Hug in “The Desert”.

Aang has been teetering on the edge of control the whole episode, devastated by the loss of his beloved pet Appa.  Upon confronting the Sandbenders that stole him, he loses his cool completely and is triggered into the Avatar State, a self-protective sort of God Mode wherein all the power and energies of the Avatar’s past lives are channeled through him.  Sand blows in all directions and everyone else hotfoots it out of there.

But Katara just stands there looking at him sadly a moment.  She hates seeing Aang in the throes of rage and pain.  She runs up to him, completely unafraid, and grabs hold of his arm.  And then she pulls him down into a hug.

While he’s still in the Avatar State.

And she holds him and cries with him and the storm rages around them until he finally calms down.

3. Katara brings Aang back to life.

The two-part season two finale of Avatar was full of epic shippy material for Aang and Katara.  We learned his love for her was reborn of his love for the entire lost Air Nomad nation.  We saw him struggle between giving up his earthly attachment to her and gaining the cosmic power of a controlled Avatar State.  We saw her devastated when he was struck down and killed by Azula’s lightning.  It all culminated at the end with Katara using her bit of spirit water in a desperate attempt to heal him.  At first nothing seems to happen. But then he stirs.  The glow returns to him.  He opens his eyes, reawakened, brought back from the dead, and he loves her all over again.  And overjoyed, she embraces him.  It doesn’t get much more epic than that.

[iimuchakk]

Seven seas babies AU

This AU is because I wanted all the generals to still be alive and love each other! I cant draw so writing will hopefully be good enough~ there are also references in three of the children’s names, one a fandom two historical. One you’ll get easily the other two I doubt, so if you do round of applause for you

Hinahoho’s babies xxx

Kikiriku is around 28 now, but of course he’ll always be his dad’s bouncy baby boy~

He’s tall, like d a m n he takes after his mother in stature 

A tad reckless, but very nurturing 

Absolutely no common sense, if you tell him the cookies are in the top shelf he’ll still look in the bottom and complain he cant find them

Tries so hard to become the man his dad’ wants him to be, even though Hinahoho has made it clear he’ll support him no matter what

Clumsy

Still manages to accidentally crush Ja’far in hugs

Spend’s a lot of his time in Sindria with aunt Pipirika away from his dad and siblings, but visits as many times as possible

Catori and Aponi are Hinahoho’s twin daughters, both 26.

Defiantly not identical 

Catori is a tall powerful women, favored to become the next tribe leader

Aponi still struggles tying her shoe laces and is the imuchakk version of a mouse, though is very smart

both really spoilt

dads away on a business trip? remember to bring something back for us!

uncle sin is selling some new merchandise? does that come in a yellow?

Bidzill and Bodaway are another pair of twins Rurumu blessed Hinahoho with, 25 years old, and too identical for anyone’s liking.

“Hey Boda- oh sorry Bidzill-”

Impossible to tell apart 

They even act the same, both really mischevious

Only Hinahoho really knows the difference

He says its his parental instincts

He gave them both “matching” broaches but in reality they have slightly different cuts so he knows whose who

Last but no means least Ahanu

Black sheep of the family

Literally never smiles

Equivalent of a 23 year old eskimo emo

Constantly calls his dad old just because he’s over 50 and sometimes hurts his back

Likes swimming, swimming calms him

Ja’far’s babies xxx

Sometime’s Ja’far wishes he never had a child

loves Rabi to bits but he acts like he’s 4 but in reality he’s 16

It’s like having another Sinbad, except this time he actually HAS to love him

Rabi likes magic, wants to be a magician, cant be a magician, settles for magic tricks

magic tricks he uses on his dad

magic tricks that get him in trouble

Sinbad and his mom are so supportive

He has about five different top hats and the palace garden is now filled with rabbits

secretly now hates being a magician

but cant back out now since uncle sin has spent to much money on him

o o p s

looks nothing like his father apart from being covered in freckles

his skin’s tan, his hairs ginger, his eyes actually have life

craves his fathers attention but he’s always busy working

secretly wants to become an advisor like his dad so he can spend more time with him

smokes but no one needs to k n o w t h a t

Sinbads babies xxx

Sadiq is very much a troubled child

illegitimate son of his idiot father

had a hard life

mother abandoned him when he was young

found Sinbad and the others when he was 13

has been living in the castle for 3 years now

Rabi is constantly following him

“No I dont want to see you pull a rabbit from a hat-”

takes a deep interest in Ja’far who unlike Sinbad has no qualms with disciplining him

skilled sword fighter, but foot work needs work

Sinbad always offers to help him but Sadiq never let’s him

Sinbad tries so hard

but it never seems to work

far from being a ladies man

thinks when you find a women you should commit yourself

tries to hard trying to find that woman

commits himself to quickly

boi gets heart break a lot

Kikiriku gives him ice cream

Masrur’s babies xxx

Two wives come in handy

especially when you love family as much as Masrur does

especially when they kick ass better then Masrur does

Sadi’s 18, likes naps like her father, hard working liker her mother Razol

strong

excellent warrior

very smiley

jokes a lot

literally falls asleep standing

has a major sweet tooth

terrible babysitter

once she was playfully throwing Domonic up, and he never came back down

Angelou is 18 to, but born to Masrur’s second wife Rehema

he’s a lot like his father, apart from the fact he never sleeps

lost two fingers off of his left hand from when he was 10 and decided to go looking for a fight

found a fight

lost his fingers

it was a traumatizing time for him but his family helped him through it

has grown up a lot since then

very protective older brother, dosent want what happened to him to happen to the others

Ruby is 17, was Razol’s second born

very jealous of her older sister, acts as if she dosent like her family

they all see through it

grumpy guts, will make anything tiny into a big deal

always tries to start a fight

is always carried off by Angelou, who see’s himself in her

Domonic is Rzaol’s third child, 14 years old, Rehema stopped having children after complications in Angelou’s birth

just wants to explore

is conflicted between becoming part of the fanalis corps or a dancer

keeps his passion for dancing secret, since he thinks his family will want to abandon him

Lo’lo is the only one who knows he likes to dance

covers for him so he can sneak out to go meet his dancing group

Sharrkans babies xxx

Only has the one baby who he’s constantly cradling!

wanted more but his wife died in childbirth

despite the two not being in love, just best friends, he was still devastated

called his son Ozymandias like his wife wanted

he hates the name though and shortens it to Oz whenever he talks to him

Yamariha agrees it’s a terrible name when she visited, but admits the babies cute, acted like a second mom

When Sharrkan questions something Ozymandias does he only ever gets gargles in reply

Ozymandias loves snakes, a bit to much

they’re all scared of him since he constantly tries to hold them, but ends up strangling them

no baby has ever drooled more, Sharrkan has to constantly change his bib

he cries if Sharrkan leaves the room to

being an evil dad, Sharrkan sometimes pretends to disappear and has a little giggle

spoils Ozymandias as an apology

Oz has a wooden toy snake he teethes on,

the toy snake had half a head in the first day of having it

Pisti’s babies xxx

Pisti has no babies

Pisti looks after Tir, her nephew, like he’s her son

Her 42 year old sister Pheme who was Tir’s mother died in a flight accident defending the kingdom, Pisti made a vow to protect him

Pisti wants her own baby as well

she’s trying to find the right man

cannot for the life of her find the right man

has lived in Sindria so long she wants a man who can sweep her off of her feet

not under them

is determined for Tir to grow up brave and fair

Tir is already obsessed with animals

thinks he can fly like a bird

dont tell him he cant

you’ll only make him cry

Pisti dresses Tir in feathers to add to his illusion

plus she knows when he’s older she wont be able to make him look this stupid ever again

Tir is 100% a pervert

Spartos’ babies xxx

Both very religious

Elizabeth is 16 and boi oh boi did puberty hit her well

very curvy, very beautiful

very big problem for the men of her family

spartos cries daily

many suitors try to win her affection

however she is very determined to stay chaste and pure until she marries

very much a relief for the men of her family

Elizabeth is smart and strong willed like her mother

has her father’s hair and eyes

believes world peace can only be followed by world war

strives to bring people together through music

very talented and very promising singer

Mystras jr is named of course after Mystras

people like to call him junior

wants to become a sasan knight

knows how important it is to become a sasan knight

will not stop until he becomes a sasan knight

very skilled fighter for his age

very protective over his sister

loves his sister more then anything and enjoys listening to her sing

he’s adamant that when he’s knight king he will create her the most extravagant theater where she can sing all the songs she wants

really not bothered about women himself

to busy bothering trying to take care of himself

wants to be independant

he cant cook or clean his own clothes

water and soap? on clothes? that’s what the maids do? well that must be easy!

Que explosion

Drakon’s babies xxx

Only had one after what happened to Spyro

boys only 12 and he considers himself a monster

one side of him looks like his mother

brown hair

big beautiful eyes

and the other half looks like his father

covered in scales with claws and sharp pointy teeth

he’s sometimes to scared to look at himself in the mirror

wears shawl and masks a lot

saher tells him he’s beautiful but he dosent listen

blames his father and is ashamed of himself for doing so

plus side he has fire abilities

incredibly skilled fighter since he spends a lot of his time in isolation trying to hide from the world

shy as anything, very mature for his age

Rabi is constantly dragging him to parties along with Sadiq

himself and Sadiq run off whenever they can

gets along surprisingly well with Sadiq

his hair is so long

likes his man buns

dont make fun of his man buns

he’ll get angry if you make fun of his man buns

you won’t like it when he’s angry cause he gets an ugly vein in his forehead 

e w w w w w

Yamraiha’s babies xxx

also has no babies

but shes expecting!

has been for 3 months exactly!

has a cute lil baby bump

already getting very canky

she wants pickles! get her pickles!

if she’s ever practicing magic the baby will kick like mad

Yamraiha thinks it’s because they really like it

or at least she hopes that’s the reason

that is the reason right?

PLEASE SOLOMON LET THAT BE THE REASON

cries a lot and just wants snuggles’

is always contacting the other generals because she complains she misses Sindria and that she wants the baby to meet them all

is the whole reason Sinbad comes up with the idea for them to have a family reunion in Sindria!

yay! family meet baby bump!

refuses to say who the father is

her kingdom is a very accepting place after she took over, so she wants to keep the magnostadt father a secret for now

feels bad if she gives him to much responsibility all at once

plus she enjoys having complete control over the kingdom

Hinahoho is 52, had Kikiriku (28) when he was 24, twin girls (26) when he was 26, twin boys (25) when he was 27 and Ahanu (23) when he was 29

Ja’far is 46, and had Rabi (16) when he was 30

Sinbad is 50, had Sadiq (16) when he was 29

Masrur is 41, had Sadi (18) at 23 and had Angelou (18) at 23 also, Ruby (17) at 24 and Domonic (14) at 27

Sharrkan is 42, had Ozymandias (4 months old) at 42

Pisti is 39, Tir’s ( 4 years old ) mother Pheme was 38 when she had him

Spartos 43, had Elizabeth (16) at 27 and Mystras (14) at 29

Drakon is 50, had Spyro (12) at 38

Yamraiha is 44, currently expecting

[patgomz13]

8/1/2021

Hi Tumblr. its been 2 months since we broke up and until now, I'm still hoping for her to come back. grabe akong undergo na depression lately and I bottled up all my emotion to myself. [Well technically nganung I share nako sa uban? who cares man sad :( ]. gi try nako to keep busy kay nagtraining ko sa salesforce - same sa iyang field but sometime sa akong kabusy, mahunahunaan gihapun nako sya.

gitry nasad nakog express akong feelings sa amoang very close friend hazel - I love her so much but I think I need to eventually stop expressing kay its not helping the situation anymore.

as my current mindset, compared to past breakups that I encounter from her. naay sudden shift and I feel tired about tolerating the toxicity. yes! I am officially calling it as toxic. but how to counter this one? I love Apple so much :'(

Toxic why? because everytime she initiate break up, she always rebut all the past issues. bisag wala koy gibuhat sa iyaha currently. I keep hearing peoples opinion about myself, I dont know unsa iyang gibuhat why people always have opinion about me but maybe this time I need to compose myself and dili na dapat nako e mind ang opinion sa uban. I dont know nganung cge syag pavictim around sa iyang friend, I just leave it to her.

in the past days na alone time nako. I keep validating myself that wala koy gibuhat na dautan sa iyaha. I have genuine intention and I love her unconditionally. I also eventually seeing red flags about her. things like.

1. 🚩 She keep on entertaining people bisag kabalo sya na nakagusto ang tao. - dili namn ni karun lng nahitabo. bisag kang raney day. same situation.

STORY : Last week, my HS friends invite me to a game called CODM. and when I add them one by one, I saw her on my online friend list and suddenly In game sila ni guy with the username - Bonamine which is si Jonas. yes! nahurt ko. kay nganu sad ko nagscroll ko sa history sa game niya. permi nlng sila in game until kadlawun. syempre pair jd nang discord ana. soo they are talking always. and workmate sila so always pd na sila in chat and huddle sa calls. pero anyways na hurt ko.

2. 🚩 pulling me sa akong past mistake. - Nganu man jd ni? dili naman unta ni ako. its been 7 years ago and the Patrick now is not the Patrick na from the past. Ive grown up. I eventually grow as a man, why bother pulling me from that. :( I leave it here nalng. its self explainatory.

3. 🚩 Taking for granted sa akong mga minimal acts for her - Yes, I am not romantic jd but if I love the person, gusto nako sila mahappy even for my simple act. I always remember unsa iyang likes and gusto niya ma achieve. I do a lot of effort para akong mahatud sa iyaha iyang gusto. matabangan gani nako ang uban tao sa ilang struggles, unsa nalng kaha sa iyaha. everytime makita nako sya na stress sa work, lutuan nko sya para maka chill sa sya kadyut. hug her on the back, trying to give her simple I love you and words of encouragement just give her the feeling that makaya rana niya. at night. bisag busy syag kuri2x sa iyang phone ug ako pd. marealize nako na I need to express it to her unsa nako sya ka love. I hug her every night, kissed her forehead and prayed for her success in life. pero I dont know aha ko nagkulang :(

4. 🚩 For the span of our relationship I am the most patient person. but nganung na feel nko na gakahurut nako? You know na permi jud mig bulag every year. healthy paba ni? with the same issue? naduggog na nako tanan Y*WA, pist*, manipulative, sadboii ka, wa kay pulos, wa kay future na tao buanga ka, mamatay na unta ka, insecure ka na tao, maypa si __ , f*ck you, bw*sit ka, abusive ka na tao ug unsa pana. [kana ra akong ma enumerate kay mao nang nitatak sa akoa], yes I forgive her everytime na iya na isulti nako pero It keeps dwelling to myself and eventually affected my faith, and belief to my self worth. cguro self explainatory nani sya.

5. 🚩 Always make me the bad person around sa iyang friends - di man nako sya masisi ani. pero feel nko dili healthy na cge nalng nimo ipagsigawan na unsa daw ko kadautan na tao. bisag wala nako nabuhat ug if nabuhat man gani nako. past na kaayu. and matalk nana namo way back before pa. pero I cant control unsa iyang gusto buhatun. naay certain guy na cgeg wisdom2x bisag wala sya kaila nako. yes! ok raman na kay lagi friend lagi. pero dili naman sad cguro na mag wisdom2x ka diha pero wa ka kaila sa giistoryahan. nakaremember ko sa giignun ni Apolinario and Igi sa akoa katung naka balo sya nagbulag mi [wa ko kahibalo nganung nakaabut sa ilaha ang news pero feel nko tunggod sa post2x sa fb na sad qoutes or unsa ba] pero ignun nya.

"kung unsa man gani inyung situation run. be strong and di man pwede na kung unsa akong naexperience pd di man applicable sa tanan basta just go with the flow, if nakasala ka, pag ask ug forgiveness and if ikaw nagpatigbulag, try to access first unsa imong nafeel and unsa ang situation, just be who u are and people opinion will not matter anymore. lahi2x ta"

and I feel blessed for the people around me. very mature and sincere advice jd. I also leave it here nlng pd.

6. 🚩 Ang kwarta grabe jud ka demonyo, nganung mag away mn sa kwarta. well akong principle, what mine is yours and whats yours is mine - just respect kung unsay willing ihatag based sa kakayanan rasad. gakahiubos jd ko permi everytime na maghisgut na sa kwarta kay lagi mas dako pamn sad syag income compare nako. laki bya ko. dapat ako magcarry sa amoa. ipamukha jd niya sa akoa unsa ko ka way pulos without knowing it. I just leave it here nlng pd.

uggg... sa akong past years na nilabay

1. Katung Raney days. soo devastating jud to sa akoa. grabi jud akong hilak atu na time. kanang feel nimo na nafeel betrayed kaayu ka. yes naa koy naingun na di mao just because I feel betrayed and cheated.

2. Nadungan pa nako sa usa ka friend niya na nanumbag ko bisag wala nako to nabuhat ever.

3. Gi pakaulawan ko sa Curb side sa Pabayo Hayes. ni pleasee ko sa iyaha na mag storya mi [nag away mi atu na time]. iya kong giwakli ug gishagit shagitan tapos pagka hulog sa akong chem book iya ra dayun ko gibyaan tapos sakay sa jeep pa uptown.

4. Sa tanan nako milestone sa life, permi sya absent :(, kana bitawng feeling na nagsabut mo and happy kaayu ko. tas gi indian ka or dili daw sya available kay gikapoy sya. grabi jud ko kamabaw ug kalipay. katung nihanggat akong fam na mag dine out with her para mag meet the parent na, pero di sya ganahan,katung first purchase nako sa akong new phone - Sony to sya. [Gihaguan bya nako so grabe jud ka sentimental] nag ask ko sa iyha to dine out para magcelebrate or unsa pero di daw sya kay kapoyan sya, sa akong pagka deanlist. nag ask ko na mag celebrate sa ta panalagsa, pero wala ghapun sya., sa akong graduation pictorial, wala pd sya kay kapuyan sya. balak unta nako eapil sya sa akong wacky post pic :(, tapos sa akong first employer - Logicbase, nag ask pd ko sa iyaha na magcelebrate pero di sya ganahan muadtu. ug dghan pa higayun, mao lng na ang nitatak sa akoa.

5. Ang mga pamalikas bai. grabi maka downgrade ug tao. grabi ka maldita jd. ok raman unta mag minaldita pero halos kaonon naka sa yuta sa iyang curse sa akoa. masabut namn guru na.

6. Mga labay2x ug gamit. she didnt even respect sa imong mga gamit. grabi jud ko ka frustrated atu na time kay kana bitawng feeling na tanan nimo gamit na ginaused currently is gikan sa imong hagu, dili na gikan sa parents? tapos in anaon lng. sakitan jd ko kaayu atu na time. kay gitagaan nkog value tanan nako gamit atu na time.

to be continued. I have to work on something

[tiny-smallest]

something jolly this way comes

Rating: G Characters: (Inkborne) Bendy, Boris, Alice, Henry Warnings: none Description: Bendy’s just discovered Christmas is a thing, and he wants to celebrate. 

Problem: He was told about Santa Claus, and believes the man exists.  Worse problem: The present he wants from Santa is something Henry can’t fabricate for him.

How to make the little devil feel that Christmas magic, now…?

Also on AO3!

FINISHED JUST IN TIME BEFORE I LEAVE. I uh. Wrote post-story Inkborne fluff. Sue me.

Inkborne is brought to you courtesy of @the-vampire-inside-me. This fic is brought to you courtesy of sudden internal rambling about Bendy’s weird mannerisms and then some realizations about stuff based on that. It follows the other thing I wrote for Inkborne in terms of continuity.

Henry was discovering things about his accidental new children in leaps and bounds now that they weren’t constantly wary of their lives being taken from them.

Boris was a calm, gentle giant; with a tendency to refer to things with canine terminology (children were ‘pups,’ towns and all families but his own were ‘packs’– 'family’ was a term for his and his alone) and a penchant for just taking life one day at a time, growing and discovering at his own pace. He was one to appreciate life in all its forms, complex and simple, and had a fair amount of maturity to him… but not so much that he failed to be any fun. His favorite sport was sassing his best friend.

Alice’s maturity was sharper, wearier; she lacked patience for things she could not understand and, though as responsible and forgiving as Boris, she was far more cynical in general about the intentions of others. It wasn’t as if she were no fun at all, but she carried a quiet edge from her own tragedies.

Maybe Henry was just so good at seeing it because he recognized the harrowed look of a young person who grew into a leader far too soon, knew what it felt like to have too much weight on small shoulders. Seeing her crack a smile was rewarding enough to sustain good feelings for a while day; getting her to leave her shell to laugh and shoot the breeze or maybe even engage in some playful behavior could sustain the family for a week.

Henry was quite sure: however silly both Alice and Boris could sometimes be, they seemed very firmly rooted in young adulthood, late teens, maybe.

The nature of Bendy’s age, however, was… strange.

It seemed like, very often, the demon had been brought to life with the mental and emotional maturity of someone in his later teens, like the other two; besides being jaded to hell and back and demonstrating the reasoning capabilities and understanding of a teenager, Bendy consumed and processed information about the world he’d been denied at a pace far too rapid for any child to manage.

But there were plenty of other times that contradicted that. There was his incessant need to touch what confused or fascinated him, regardless however bad an idea that was for him to actually do, his tendency to taste things that he figured ought to be edible (and weren’t always), to say nothing of how petulant Bendy could be when provoked or when just in a bad mood. That could have been written off as the simple quirks of a demon struggling to learn about the new world around him.

But then there were times he was given to examining, understanding, and believing things about the world in such a way that was positively child-like in its wide-eyed innocence, like how he felt the need to show Henry every frog he managed to catch along the banks of the lake of their farm, or how he collected pretty rocks from each new place they visited, or how he was taken to automatically believing anything about the world told to him by random shmoes in the street, provided that the people providing the information didn’t seem malicious.

Case in point… Santa Claus.

Henry couldn’t remember the last time he celebrated Christmas. With no family and fewer friends, the man didn’t exactly spend much time on his farm. Really, the place was only there as a sort of home base between jobs; someplace to store his stuff and occasionally sleep. He used it so infrequently that bringing his new kids home had required a solid week of work around the place to make it habitable around the clock.

Henry was fine living in a mess and occasionally slapping hasty repair jobs that were little more than bandaids over problems that needed much more proactive solutions. But he wasn’t about to make three young people who had spent their entire lives trapped in one kind of hellhole after another live in this kind of environment.

So new and strange was everything that Henry had completely forgotten about holidays. The mundane was enough work to muddle through, and having not paid attention to Christmas in many years, he failed to notice its approach.

The best thing about the nearby town was, by far, its utter lack of caring about their new supernatural neighbors. Sure, some were less than thrilled, but on the whole the town figured that if they were living with a demon hunter, then all of them, demon included, must be safe.

It was one of these townspeople Henry had to thank for Bendy bursting into the house at supper time with all the force of a hurricane, so excited that he didn’t even bother shedding his winter coat as he bounced around Henry’s ankles, insisting they needed to get a move on.

Because Christmas was in ten days, and the house had to be acceptable for Santa.

What followed was probably the most hectic week of Henry’s life, discounting his time spent chasing down some eldritch abomination, and frankly, that was still saying a lot, considering that even when he didn’t have a dangerous thing he had to kill, his life could still get pretty crazy. But he couldn’t pretend it also wasn’t enjoyable. The evergreen he and Boris chopped down and hauled into their living room added a lot of charm to their home, not to mention it smelled nice. Decorating it turned out to be much more fun than he’d anticipated; sitting by the fire with the other three and stringing popcorn to decorate the tree with was a soothing, relaxing venture broken only by the occasional fights to get Bendy to stop eating the damn stuff, which usually turned into throwing popcorn at each other.

They probably all ate more popcorn then they actually put on string, but thankfully, Henry had made a lot of popcorn.

Stringing the popcorn and the Christmas lights on the tree was an entirely separate adventure. After a lot of troubleshooting to make sure the electrical lights even still worked, Henry had to untangle Alice twice, Boris five or six times, Bendy no less than ten, and while he’d only needed to be untangled once, it took the three supernaturals twenty minutes to get that nightmare sorted out.

It was worth it for the finale. Holding Bendy up to put the tree topper on probably ranked within Henry’s top ten favorite moments in his life; the little demon lit up brighter than all the lights in the entire nearby town when he was chosen to have that honor this year, and that look remained as he placed the little star on the tree with probably more hesitant care then he’d ever employed in his entire life.

With the decorations done, they moved on to planning the food next. That mostly fell on Henry, but Alice was able to lend a hand, too. As it turned out, for those many years she stood as a leader in the citadel, tending to the survivors and protecting him, they had actually managed to celebrate Christmas. Very scant Christmases, with barely enough food, but the holiday had been acknowledged and those who had celebrated it before had educated her on what it was supposed to be like.

Gathering the ingredients they’d need for their special day was easy. Roast turkey, roast duck, mashed potatoes. Green beans.  The look on Bendy and Alice’s face at all the food was painful; Alice stared with a quiet shock and Bendy wouldn’t stop babbling in sheer excitement.

The fact that Boris had nothing to say because he hadn’t been dealing with food shortages for fifteen years due to being dead was not much better.

He’d already been sure he was going to make this holiday the most amazing thing they’d ever seen in their lives, but now he was doubly sure. This would be the best day of their lives, bar none. God knew they deserved it.

Part of that would be the presents.

This brought them back to Santa.

Bendy chattered on and on about how he couldn’t wait for the magic human to come with gifts for them. It was kind of amazing; Henry would have guessed that Bendy would find the concept more creepy then delightful. The myth was about a stranger breaking into homes, after all, and it wasn’t like Bendy was very receptive to the idea of people invading his privacy.

But then again, it wasn’t like Bendy had gotten much time to just… be innocent. To believe in childish fairy tales. Any magic life might have held for him was sucked out pretty quickly. He wasn’t sure if he should let Bendy believe this next year but… what was the harm in letting the demon have a single Christmas where he genuinely believed a magic man in a red suit was going to leave him presents?

Henry panicked a little when Boris asked Bendy why Santa had never visited them before, but the little demon just looked at Boris with a raised eyebrow. “Because his magic wasn’t strong enough to get ‘im through that shithole, duh.”

Well… he couldn’t fault him for that logic. It kind of made sense, in a weird way.

And so everyone wrote letters to Santa, which Henry ‘delivered’ to town for them. Boris’s was a long letter about being grateful for his family and that being enough but if it wasn’t too much trouble, if Santa could bring him a trumpet. Alice’s was a very formal read, and it was obvious she didn’t believe she was actually writing to Santa, but she was willing to give it a try. The books she wanted wouldn’t be so hard to get, either.

Then it was time to read Bendy’s letter. Chuckling to himself as he opened the envelope, Henry tried to guess at what he might’ve asked for. A net, he decided; Bendy probably asked for a net. He’d been trying and failing for weeks to catch the flying insects around the farm.

At first I was going to ask for a bike.

Ah shoot; wrong guess- wow, his manner of writing was much more refined then how he talked. Did Joey teach him how to read and write?

Hell, even his handwriting was actually kind of… pretty? Delicate? Did Bendy even write this? Maybe he dictated to one of the others?

No, he’d seen Boris’s writing. Downright chicken scratch. And this wasn’t Alice’s handwriting, either. Huh.

But then I realized something I want more. I don’t need to ask for safety, or anything like that. Henry’s got it covered. I don’t need to ask for a lot of things, because Henry’s got it covered.

Fucking hell. This kid seriously trusted him. Swallowing was just a bit more difficult.

So it makes sense to ask for something he can’t give me, right? You’re magic, so what I want for Christmas is this.

Get rid of the branding.

His stomach fell.

My creator branded me at one point, to hammer it in that I was his property. He left a lot of scars and it was hard to choose between the branding and the scars on my wrists, but the branding has his actual name on it and I want it off. I don’t want to ever worry about someone seeing it again. He doesn’t own me. He doesn’t own me. His name doesn’t belong on my body.

I don’t care if I get nothing else this year. Just get this thing off me.

He just had to ask for the one thing Henry couldn’t do for him.

Property of Joey Drew. He remembered that brand; it was burned into his memory forever. And into Bendy’s back, near his left shoulderblade. It was one of the many reasons he wished Joey was still alive; every time he was reminded it was there it made him want to throttle the man all over again. “So I’d never forget who I belonged ta,” Bendy mumbled as an explanation once. He didn’t speak on it again, and neither did Henry. That topic was too painful to touch. For Bendy to acknowledge it at all, especially to someone he fully believed existed…

He really, really wanted this.

What was he going to do about it?

The days passed far too quickly. Boris and Alice’s gifts were, at least, easy to acquire. Just as well because the amount of stress he felt over Bendy’s was unbearable. He got the bike—he may as well, since it was mentioned—but what could he do about the rest?

He couldn’t let him down. He couldn’t.

Christmas Eve came. It was a pleasant dinner, a little pre-celebration before the day tomorrow. When the others went to bed, Henry took out paper and pen. Clearly, he was going to have to write something. But what? Some kind of apology? What the hell could he even say that wouldn’t be horribly half-baked?

Ugh. He needed to clear his head. With a grumble, he set down the pen and left his room.

The Christmas lights cast the living room in a soft red glow. Combined with the ornaments and the soft peacefulness of night, Henry had to admit- it was very charming. He didn’t bother to ask himself why he’d ever stopped doing this; he knew the answer to that already.

It was lucky, though, that he had a reason to take up this tradition again.

A snore interrupted his thoughts and he blinked, looking down. What in the world?

Crouching a bit, he squinted under the tree and then grinned. Curled up on his side like a little kid was Bendy, wrapped up in a blanket. No pillow. He must have counted on getting chilly, but not on falling asleep. The scamp probably wanted to catch Santa in the act.

Unfortunately for Bendy, the demon could and would pass out anywhere if he was tired enough.

“Hnnn… whu?” Whoops. It looked like Henry’s soft chuckle had woken him. Before he could move back and slip out unnoticed, large, dark eyes opened and fixed on him, sleepy and confused. “Henry?”

“Just me, bud. What’s up?”

Bendy yawned. “Waitin’ for Santa. Wanted ta see him. Thought-d” he paused, rubbing an eye and looking much more awake now, suddenly. “Thought his present might be easier delivered if I was up.”

Ah.

“Why’s that?”

Bendy frowned. “I can’t tell ya. Cause- then it won’t come true?”

“That’s birthday wishes, Ben.”

“… Well still.”

“Maybe you should go to bed? Sleeping on the floor can’t be comfortable.”

Now he looked even more awake. That was… the exact opposite of what he’d wanted, fantastic. “Nah. I gotta be here. It’s- important.”

“If I can’t ask what it is, can I ask why?”

Another frown, this one more contemplative. “… It means a lot ta me. Feel like it’ll help me feel better about- things.”

“Things like…?”

“… Well…” He glanced away. “Stuff Joey did. Things he said.”

“So I’d never forget who I belonged ta.” Piss off, Joey.

“You need to talk about it…?”

He shook his head and forced a bit of a wobbly smile. “Nah. It’s fine. ‘Sides, Christmas is supposed to be about happy, right? I’ll just- lay down here and wait.”

“Okay. I’ll… go back to my room then. See you in the morning?”

“See ya in the mornin’.” He laid back down and stretched with a yawn, staring up into the tree from underneath it.

Henry returned to his room. He knew what to write.

—

The branding was still there.

Christmas morning, the branding was still there. Even after trying to go back to sleep for a couple of minutes and checking upon waking again. It was still there.

There were a few packages in the room. He’d been here. But the brand was still there. Lead settled into his gut.

He smiled his way through the morning, opening the bike, pretending to be excited. He could feel the worried eyes of the other two on him; they knew him well enough. They knew he was pretending. He was about to turn around to attempt to turn up the act to eleven in order to convince them when he spotted the white envelope among the wrapping paper. The hell was this?

Pulling it free, he slit it open with a claw and extracted the letter from inside.

Bendy,

I’m sorry. Truly, truly sorry. I know how deeply you wanted this; I felt its ache all the way from the North Pole. But I regret to say my magic can’t do that. It’s not anything my magic was designed to do.

That doesn’t mean I don’t have anything to say, though.

You’ve suffered a lot. The world hasn’t been kind to you. You’ve got a lot of scars, both the kind that are visible on skin, and the kind visible in the way you live your life, how you react to certain things, how your

It’s a gross cruelty that he branded you like that, but here’s something he failed to consider. You are, in fact, a person. Not a tool, nor a toy. A person. You cannot be owned, cannot be defined by him. You will grow and change and become more than he ever was, far out of his reach. You are and will be more than he imagined for you. You will spit in his eye and move on with your life instead of succumbing to it. I have felt your strength, your sense of justice. It is a fire he could never extinguish. You love deeply and fiercely, and you will live on long after he has gone. The legacies you leave will outlive his.

You belong only to yourself. And you have proved this.

PS: I do hope you enjoy the bike. I had to finagle it a bit to be your size.

-Santa Claus

“Bendy you’re-!”

He looked up from the letter, aware suddenly that his cheeks were wet. Boris and Alice watched him, eyes wide with worry. One set of eyes, however, were not worried.

A lightbulb went off.

Setting the letter down, Henry let out an oof of surprise as he suddenly ended up with a lapful of demon and arms thrown around his neck.

“Bendy what-” Alice started

“Santa was nice this year,” he mumbled into Henry’s shoulder. His grip tightened. “R-real nice.”

The hunter returned the hug as Boris and Alice shared a look of dawning understanding. “… I’m glad to hear that, bud.”

It was going to be just as he promised. The best day of their lives.

And every day after that, too. As best as he could. Somehow… he was sure that would be enough.

I’m assuming that like, the Inkborne au story derives more from Bendy and the Ink Machine (or specifically, what we’re all hoping from that game’s ending) rather than Bloodborne because I looked it up and Bloodborne’s endings are… weird. And involve deities and stuff.

To avoid any further spoilers about Bloodborne, I’ll just say that I really wanted to enjoy a story about a demon hunter who Didn’t Sign Up For This Shit, Exactly and his unconventional son, and their misadventures in trying to escape an inky death hellscape, in which said demon hunter ends up with two more kids and eventually manages to fix the problem, escape with his new kids, and figure out life from there. And so that’s what I wrote about here. Let the family live pls.

I tried to be period-accurate most of the time in this. Was shocked to find that electric lighting and Christmas tree lights were in fact used in the Victorian era (1837-1901). In fact, everything in this is accurate to the era in which Inkborne is set, I think. Kinda pleased with myself.

[aiigonorus]

forgiveness.

pairing: eisuke ichinomiya x mc.

rating: mature.

word count: ~2800.

requested by: anon.

content notice: oral (why does that always appear in my stories??), unprotected sex.

a/n: you asked for comforting yet hot smut with eisuke, & him comforting her after she saw him “killed” in his living together story is the first thing that came to mind. like i would’ve been shook af if that had happened to me you know?? hope this does it for you anon! as always, enjoy~

                              your eyes fly open, eyes alighting on an unfamiliar ceiling. where....? you’re confused as to your location until memories of the nightmare you’d just awoken from comes rushing through our mind. even knowing that the whole thing had just been another one of eisuke’s convoluted plans, it’s still something you can’t forget. you sit up, rubbing at your eyes. it’d looked so....real. like he’d actually been killed right before your eyes. & with all of the enemies he’s surely wracked up over the years, it’s not hard to imagine that becoming reality. you look down at him sleeping next to you, the sight helping to qualm your panic a bit. still, even with him resting next to you, you know you won’t be able to get back to sleep. so you      very cautiously     slip out of bed, making your way to the bathroom on silent feet. although you don’t have access to the huge tub in his penthouse, a bath in any tub sounds like the relaxation you really need at the moment. you pull some soap out of your toiletry bag, turning the tub on & pouring some in. the soft rose sent wafts towards your nose, the familiar scent comforting already. normally it’d be difficult for you to relax in an unknown place, but the homey feel of this place is actually more calming than the fancy places you’ve found yourself in ever since you met eisuke. so you strip down & neatly fold your pajamas, setting them on the counter before carefully climbing into the tub. you sink into the warm water with a relieved sigh, the knots in your shoulders relaxing. tension starts to melt out of you as you lean against the back of the tub, your eyes sliding closed. a few moments pass before you, not to your surprise, hear the door open. your eyelids lift enough to see your boyfriend crossing the room to your side, black silk boxers dropping to the floor. his large hands slide under your shoulders, lifting you up enough for him to slip into the water behind you. he pulls you back into his embrace, arms wrapped tightly around your ribs. you rest your head in the crook of his neck, his lips pressed against your temple. “what have i said about you leaving bed without permission?” you fight the urge to glower at him. “what can i say, seriously thinking the man i love was killed right in front of me doesn’t make me all that willing to follow any rules.”

                      if your companion wasn’t eisuke ichinomiya, you’d be tempted to believe the following pause is tinged with guilt. you refuse to be the one to break the silence, closing your eyes again & wrapping your hands around his forearms, almost feeling the need to ground yourself with his presence. “you’re upset with me.” it’s not a question, more a statement of fact. you snort, answering the question without saying a word. there’s another heavy pause before he sighs, lips brushing against your neck. “i’m sorry.” your eyes snap open at the barely audible words, not believing your ears. you turn your head to demand he repeat himself, only to have his lips pressed against yours before you can say anything. unlike his usual kisses, this one is gentle, almost as if he’s seeking your forgiveness. his tongue runs along your bottom lip, & your mouth parts under his gentle attention. the kiss only gets deeper, your heart starting to pound against your ribs. your hand moves to wrap around the back of his neck pulling yourself closer to him. one of his hands moves down your body, cupping your sex possessively. you moan softly against his lips when his fingers part your petals, your thighs automatically parting farther. his legs slip between yours, pressing your knees firmly against the sides of the tub & keeping you wide open for his touch. his thumb rubs circles around your clit, encouraging the excited nub to come out from under its hood. a long finger slides into you, your hips starting to move against his hand. his kiss is deep now, hungry as he feels your eager responses to his touch. a second finger pushes into you, a whine passing your lips as you feel them curl to rub against your g-spot. your fingers dig into his hair, pressing your ass down against the hardness poking at you. “you gonna come for me, baby?” he murmurs against your lips, a third finger sliding against your clenching walls, the bathwater around you splashing onto the floor. with a hard pinch to your clit you’re coming, your hips jerking against his touch as your moans fill the room. his digits slide free from your clenching muscles, soft kisses being pressed all over your face as you come down from your high.

                         by the time you return to reality, you realize he’s gently washing you with a soft washcloth, hands landscaping your body. you can’t remember the last time he’s been so sweet, & you’re as confused as you are enjoying this. you tilt your head back to watch him, his face lacking some of its usual coolness as his touch soothes the tension in your body. his hands move to your shoulders, strong fingers working the knots out of your muscles. you moan softly & wilt against him, eyes closing again. part of you is suspicious as to why he’s acting so differently, but you decide to take it at face value, & let him spoil you. the whole scene is still on replay in your mind after all, & you just want reassurance that he’s really here & okay. you haven’t forgiven him yet, but as you spend more time with him in the quiet serenity of the bathroom, his touch is easily washing away your anger. by the time he lifts you out of the tub, you’ve almost forgotten why you’d been so angry with him rather than the people who’d been trying to kill him in the first place, & you cling to his neck. he doesn’t comment on that, simply grabs one of the oversized fluffy towels (that really don’t belong in such a modest place? did he bring them?) & wraps you up in one. he makes quick work of drying himself off before carrying you to the bed, laying you down on it & stretching out next to you. your mouth waters at the sight of his bare chest, his hair still damp from the bath. you can’t help but reach out, running your hand down the firm muscles. his lips twitch in response, but you don’t mind the arrogance in his expression this time. after the event you’d witnessed, even something that was normally so infuriating felt precious to you. you press your hands to his pecs, pushing him so he rolls over onto his back. he doesn’t struggle, looking up at you with watchful eyes. maybe it’s a genuine desire to comfort you, or maybe it’s simple curiosity, but he seems to be willing to go with whatever you want. you straddle his waist, stroking your small hands down his unmarred torso. he really is beautiful, both in his looks & on the inside - though most people never get past his icy exterior. while you can understand in a detached manner why business rivals would want him dead, someone wanting to end his life...was something you can’t wrap your head around.

                        you slide your hands up his chest, moving them to cup his beloved face. his expression is uncharacteristically serious as your thumbs stroke his cheeks. unable to resist any longer, you lean down, pressing your lips gently to his. he returns the kiss, sliding his hands up your thighs. the towel wrapped around you gives up its pretenses, falling to rest around your hips. one of his large hands tugs it to the side, tossing it somewhere off to the side. normally you’d be embarrassed, but you’re feeling unusually bold, & so you nestle your bare chest against his. soft pillows brush against each other for a few more moments before he pulls away, moving to nibble at your neck. “i want this to be about you,” he murmurs, his grip tightening on your legs. you blink with surprise, your lips parting to respond. before you can do that however he suddenly lifts you up, moving you up to rest on his face. you let out a less than attractive squeal, your hands scrambling to find balance. his breath fans across your damp petals, causing a soft whimper to pass your lips. one of your hands find his as the other one rests against the headboard, shivers racing up & down your spine. his mouth attaches to you, tongue swiping the length of your slit. you’re already moaning, hips starting to move against his face as he suckles on your clit. your force your eyes to open, staring down at the part of his chiseled face that isn’t covered by your body with something akin to amazement. how many countless women would do literally anything to be with him, & here you are, riding his face. that thought alone causes your hips to start moving faster, your knuckles turning white from their death grip on the headboard. {click for gif}. “that’s right, ride my face, baby.” his voice is muffled against you, & the vibrations causing tingles to prick at your scalp. you no longer give a damn about his motivation as your free hand slides into his hair, holding him tightly against you. your head falls back on a wanton moan, eyes fluttering shut as your mouth hangs open. oral certainly isn’t unusual when in bed with eisuke, but this is...totally different.

                       you expect to feel one of his fingers on or in you, but one never comes; he seems to be determined to make you come with just his tongue, & he’s doing a pretty good job of it. his hand that isn’t being held captive by yours grips your hip tightly, controlling your movements as he brings you to ecstasy. “e-eisuke!” a growl rumbles in his chest in response to the desperation in your voice, & he seems to redouble his efforts. your nails scrape lightly at his scalp, forcing yourself to look down at him again. his eyes are, to your surprise, open; he’s watching you closely, gaze dark with lust as he gets a rather....exposed view of your body. this man who has no real interest in anything is obsessed with you, that much is obvious by expression. the slight flush in his cheeks sends a shiver up your spine, though he doesn’t seem to enjoy you watching him, even though he has no problem being the one to stare. the large hand on your hip suddenly stills your gyrating, holding you tightly to his face. he suddenly nips at your clit & the tension in your stomach explodes as a loud moan fills the room. he watches you come undone above him as he licks his lips clean of your pleasure, hands catching you as you melt backwards. you fall back onto the comforter, your lover following you as his arms wind around your waist & hold you close. he waits patiently for you to catch your breath, nuzzling against your neck & softly kissing your ear. your own arms wrap around his shoulders, smooth legs winding around him like vines. the orgasm he’s just given you has left you shivering slightly with aftershocks, but you don’t feel completely satisfied, your walls clenching with need. him pleasuring you like that is certainly intimate, but to you, sex needs to include feeling connected to your lover, not just being intimate. not to mention, being the only one getting pleasure almost makes you feel guilty. so you slide a small hand down his front to wrap around his cock, the way he freezes not escaping your notice. his skin is hot, the flesh throbbing against your touch. you brush your nose against his jawline, tone sultry. “are you going to get around to making love to me now?”

                       his chest vibrates slightly, large hand wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from him. “since you asked so nicely,” he murmurs, sarcasm clear in his voice. he easily swallows your retort by capturing your lips, tongue sliding in to dance with yours. you moan softly, his kiss seeming to melt your brain, along with any desire to give him sass. you grip his wide shoulders tightly, nails digging into his flawless skin. his arms return to their place around your waist, hands snugly holding your hips. in the next moment you feel him parting your petals, whimpering as his thick length tunnels into you without hesitation. his lips attach to your neck as his hips begin moving, holding you in place as his thrusts start shaking the bed. you feel a sharp sting as eisuke renews the previous mark on your soft skin, his tongue sweeping out to soothe the slight pain. you dig your heels into the small of his back, urging him on. “eisuke, h-harder...” he grunts & complies, sliding his hands up your back to grip your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your collarbones. he pulls you hard into his thrusts, your body bowing off the bed as your scream fills the room. a fine sheen of sweat covers both of your bodies, the headboard knocking rhythmically against the wall. your breasts bounce in time with his movements, your knees pressed hard against his hips. his lips wrap around one of your nipples, sucking it deeply into his mouth. your hands thread into his hair again, holding him to you as you struggle for air. your body is all revved up to come undone again, even after having come twice already, squeezing his member tightly. the tension in your stomach coils tighter & tighter until he orders you to come, his voice nothing but a strained rasp. you do as you’re told, the way his cock is nudging your cervix sending you to the moon. you tug on his hair as a keening wail passes your lips, an answering groan breathed out against your neck. the telltale warm gush presses against your womb a moment later, your walls still fluttering around him as the two of you come in unison.

                       eisuke’s body relaxes to rest on top of yours, his heart seeming to be beating just as quickly as your own. a peaceful moment passes before he stirs, sitting up slightly to study your face. “are you still mad?” you blink lazily, stretching your arms over your head & yawning. “don’t think you can just fuck me & things will be all good,” you retort sleepily, the way your arms wind around his neck to pull him close belying your words. he raises a bemused brow, pulling you up the bed so your head now rests on a pillow. “how vulgar.” you shrug, nestling against his chest. “hmph. guess i have no choice but to entertain you.” you look up in surprise, but his expression is as cool as ever. “huh...?” his fingers trail lightly up & down your spine, though you read more lazy fulfillment in the action, rather than amorous intent. “it’ll be boring if you’re mad at me for too long, so i don’t have a problem with getting back into your good graces once in a while.” you’re so surprised you don’t even know what the say; the eisuke ichinomiya is going to basically suck up to someone? amazing. there’s a pause before he speaks again, quieter this time. “& i suppose i realize this time probably did go a bit too far. you weren’t supposed to be see any of that, even if it did help sell the show. i didn’t mean for you to get so upset. ...i’m sorry.” his fingers brush through your bangs, his touch gentle against your face. your eyes tear up, arms tightening around his neck as staggering relief courses through you. “such a crybaby,” he murmurs, his tone tender. “i’ll do whatever you want tomorrow to make it up to you, so don’t be angry with me anymore.” a finger on your chin tilts your head up, his lips coming down to brush away your tears. you sniffle & nod, too exhausted from the day to keep the pretenses up any longer anyway. he smiles softly before giving you a sweet kiss, pulling the covers up to cover the both of you. “i’ll wake you up tomorrow, so go to sleep now.” you willingly comply, sticking closely to him as you fall back asleep. the last feeling you have before drifting off is his strong arms wrapped protectively around you, & his deep voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

[findingcalcutta-blog]

When you say “Follow your Dreams...”

I will never forget my utter confusion at my grandmothers response when I received an acceptance letter to a university I wanted to attend, and I remember my disbelief at her response to my first major job offer at a 4 star ski resort.  So I often wonder how she would feel today, knowing what those experiences (both good and bad) have given me.    

All my life she had told me to follow my dreams, to take the road less traveled, to seek independence, education, truth, and happiness, to cast my worries upward and to walk in faith. So, you can imagine how dumbfounded I was when I stood there, with the letter in my hand that justified the years of sacrifice and hardship that we all put into getting me the education, which she assured me, would be my way out of the cycle of poverty.  She was upset, she argued that I didn’t need to go so far away, that I could start at a junior college nearby and live at home. When I finished with school and I was offered a job, a very good job, that not only allowed me to live in one of the most beautiful ski resorts in the country but that honored the maturity, integrity, and leadership skills that she urgently and aggressively forced into my (thick) head…She yelled, she fought it, she told me it wasn’t what was best for me, that I needed to stay near family. I couldn’t understand.  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was hurt.

All these years later, I know that while to me, she was a goddess of strength, to me she could have stepped right out of a textbook on greek mythology, she was still human, she was a mother, and she was scared.  She didn’t want me to be alone, she didn’t want me to fail, and she didn’t want to hurt or to struggle but most of all…she didn’t want to miss me.  

My grandmother passed away 5 months after I moved to Colorado for that job.  I saw her only once after I left, when I drove home to meet her at the hospital prior to the heart surgery that led to her passing.  I remember that the Christmas before I moved, I bought her a winter coat so she could visit me. I did this as a way to assure her that I was still needed her and that I wanted more than anything for her tell me that I was doing the right thing. When I went to her apartment to pick up a few items we needed for her funeral, I walked into her closet to smell her clothes, I sat on the floor in the corner behind her silk shirts and neatly hung slacks and I saw the coat there, the tags were still on it. I sat there sobbing for hours.  I was angry that she left, I was 23 years old, at the time I was only really familiar with one side of my family and I was the youngest of the children she raised.  Everyone else had their houses and their families and their kids, and their lives.  Without her, I was just an add-on.  At the funeral someone confirmed my biggest fear by telling me that  “ perhaps with her last child gone, and no one to look after, she just stopped fighting.”

For 12 years I have carried that with me, I will forever wonder if I did the right thing by leaving and think about it more often than I care to admit but I always arrive at the same conclusion…She spent my entire life and the last 23 of years of her life teaching me how to survive without her, how to thrive in any situation, how to succeed in life.  She taught me to be curious, and fearless, so when I begin to wonder, I have to chose to believe that in spite of her human reactions, what she truly wanted for me was for me to follow my dreams in spite of all of the obstacles, even if sometimes SHE was the obstacle.   

I can only chose to believe that because I am not a parent yet, so I don’t know that to be true from the perspective of a mother, father, or guardian. However, I think it still gives me an interesting perspective when it come to friends and family, people that I care about.  I see so many people with such amazing talents, deep curiosities,  desires to travel, or to try something risky and new, and they are paralyzed by fear.  Fear of failure, fear of dangers outside of their control, fear of being alone, fear of being embarrassed, but most commonly, the fear of simply being uncomfortable.  So I have to say...it leaves me feeling confused all over again, in the same way I was confused when I stood their with my acceptance letter to college, or my offer letter to the job of my dreams.

So I have to ask this question…Parents, when you tell your children that they should follow their dreams, that they can do anything and be anything, that you want more for them then you ever had, saw, or achieved, Do you mean that? Or do you really mean that you want them to follow their dreams as long as their dreams make sense to you? As long as those dreams breed success according to societal standards? You want them to follow their dreams but not to far from home, not if it may be hard for them, not if they have to suffer a little, not if you will have to miss them, worry about them, not if there is a risk?  When you say you want them to be happy, do you mean you want them to be content?  Content with the choices that are easier for you to digest? The choices that don’t make you question your own beliefs?  The choices that lead to the path of least resistance?  When you say that you want them to be independent, do you really mean you want them to still need you, that you want them to have some level of dependence on you so that you can have some degree of control over their decisions?

I don’t ask these questions to doubt a parents love and commitment to their children, I ask because of my own experience, because more often than not when I tell people where I’ve lived, the jobs I have had, the places I have traveled too, the vision I have for my life, what I chose to do professionally, I get the same responses over and over ”really?…I wish I could have..” “I wish I would have..” “it would have been amazing …” and “ Maybe one day…”  

Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying that everyone should aspire to a life like mine, I am by no means an example. In fact, I am more likely to tell the stories of when I needed someones help, I tell about the hardships and the mistakes, I tell about when I was afraid and alone. I warn that the decision to follow your dreams is not for the faint of heart, I warn that it gets lonely and that it is often very costly to health and relationships. But still, the response I get is usually similar… “your so strong”…”I couldn’t have done that” “I would have never”…”how did you make it through that” and most often I get asked for advise that I give with the disclaimer that I am a mess and that anyone can probably do things better than me.

As I have gotten older, I think that what my grandmother truly wanted for me was to be exactly where I am…creating my own path, making my own mistakes, living for my purpose and whole heartedly pursing that purpose. I have come to see how intentionally and strategically she taught me how to be uncomfortable, to deal with trauma, to push forward when the path I chose seems to be impossible to follow, and to trust in Gods plan and not my own (or even her) understanding.

So as I think about my own future children I hope that I have the strength to tell them to follow their dreams and to actually mean it.  I hope that I can teach them to push forward in spite of how big of an obstacle I become.  I hope that I can look them in the eyes and say to them:

“I want you to be fearless, I want you to make mistakes, I want you to find happiness, I want you to do all that you dream of, and I know that one day my love for you will make that difficult, I know that there are times that I will sound like a hypocrite, that my human tendency to keep the things I love close and unharmed will attempt to hinder your own bitter and beautiful journey. But, I don’t know how long I will get to be on this earth with you, so before you feel one ounce guilt for disobeying my selfish desire to keep you close, before you have to spend one sleepless night wondering if I approve of the path you created for yourself, before you second guess the choices and sacrifices you have made to follow your dreams, I want you to know that I admire who you are, I support you, I am here for you, and I am proud to have a child that is willing to challenge the barriers I have created in my own life and that I am trying to impose on yours.  When the day comes that you are old enough to make your own decisions and you make one that I don’t approve of, please know that I respect you, I believe in you, and I know that I have prepared you for whatever failures and discomfort come with your choices.  I know it will all be worth it when you succeed, in part because of who I taught you to be, in spite of what I wanted, and because of who you became anyways.“

I hope I am strong enough to say that, but to the parents who have come before me, I beg of you, don’t let your kids wonder; don’t let them carry that burden of guilt.  It’s overwhelming and painful. If I could go back and articulate to my grandmother what I needed in those big life altering moments, those last big decisions she would be around for me to seek her approval on, I would ask her to let me be uncomfortable, let me take risks, to trust her own parenting, trust in the God that she introduced me to and taught me to seek in times of need.  I would remind her to cast her your own worries on him. I would ask her to harness those tendencies to keep me close and away from harm, just a little bit. I would say that we both know that Gods got it from here, his plan is better than ours, and if this is a giant mistake…I would ask her to love me anyways because that experience will not be in vain. I would ask her to give me the room to follow my dreams because I know she would want me to call her if I was in trouble, if I felt alone, if I needed encouragement, and if I was scared and I know now that I never would have, because suffering the consequences of my own decisions would have been easier than suffering her disappointment.