#cheap doors

[nelkcats]

Danny and Vlad didn't get along so badly anymore, seriously, well, at least they're not supposed to, that doesn't stop him from persecuting Danny from time to time with proposals about being his mentor and he would claim child support in return.

For Danielle more than anything, he loved his "cousin" but he couldn't keep up with her travel purchases, nor provide her with basic necessities and Vlad was a millionaire, he should be able to do that at least.

They were arguing, as was normal, they just didn't realize they had an audience, and that their discussions could be misinterpreted, very badly, even more so because they were in human form.

Jason was considering taking one of the guns off of him while an adult he was sure he had seen at one of Bruce's galas yelled at his neighbor to go with him, his neighbor who looked very tired and on despair, but was a good guy and offered him Cocoa from time to time, the neighbor who never asked questions about his nocturnal habits but still offered help.

His neighbor, Danny, who was his friend outside the bats eye, with whom he laughed, had deep conversations and made bad jokes about death, who had started reading Pride and Prejudice for him despite hating literature for a bad experience. The one who had cried over him for not being born in the right body while he asked him to take off his folder and breathe, the one who had stroked his back during his fever.

He was deciding what to do when Danny yelled "Well maybe I'd consider going with you if you hadn't thrown Danielle away as a mistake 6 years ago and wouldn't even deign to pay for anything to do with her, YOU'RE A MILLIONAIRE VLAD, I CAN'T EVEN PAY THIS APARTMENT, JUST GIVE UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE"

¿Six years ago? Jason did the math in his mind, Danny was still a teenager back then, no more than 14 years old, ¿was this a bribery situation? ¿Threat? "Danielle" sounded like an out-of-wedlock daughter too. Had this "Vlad" caused a pregnancy on a 14-year-old? probably abandoned him too, this was a realistic situation but it really grossed him out. ¿Wasn't "Vlad" the name of his Godfather too? Damn it, this was making him sick.

Then Jason decided that yes, Vlad definitely deserved a bullet in the face, and maybe he should talk to his neighbor about ask for help when threatened, this was Crime Alley after all and he didn't want to see him death.

Being a teenage father was probably not easy, even more so if he was the illegitimate child of a millionaire, ¿is that why he moved to Gotham? ¿Was he running from the bastard? but he hadn't seen any children ¿did he have to hand her over? He needed to talk with him after punch Vlad face for sure.

[gendzl]

target's inventory was off by 10, somehow, so I came home with 1 huge 9-cube shelving unit instead of 3 of their cheap as shit bookcases. if I can't get the rest of my books up off the floor with this thing, I will cry.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Finally put my pin collection in a display case. It was immensely pleasing organizing them.

Have a handful left over, which means it's time to buy another case and allow myself to get more pins again. (These are mostly from conventions and Kickstarters.)

Case: https://a.co/d/c32az7k

[existingingrey]

Get yourself a man who is a gentleman only to you though.

[pearl-kite]

So I came to the realization today that I am not going to get anymore work on this trunk done this year. I still need to finish stripping the paper inside and redoing that, but it's just. Not happening until spring. With that realization, I decided it's time to finally bring it back inside, put all the junk on my floor that used to be in it back in it, and guys

It looks good.

This is going to be a summary post of the project, so let's go back and remember what I started with. Back in, like, 2015 or something, I bought this dome-top steamer trunk at a missionary shop for $65

Yeah. Rough. But underneath that paint it was sturdy, and the only thing missing was the lock and the right-side hasp. While I lived overseas this sat in my parents' house, and when I got back I kept meaning to do something while storing all of my yarn and cat food in it. When I finally got my own space (almost a year ago now!) with my own garage, I finally decided: it was time.

Heads up, this is a long post under the cut.

Did a lot of research online, grew to hate how generative AI has even permeated niche topics like how to refinish a vintage steamer trunk, WHY is there generative AI for that, PLEASE stop, went to Lowe's and bought some supplies (I used Citristrip for the paint stripping, it worked VERY easily), and started stripping that hideous brown* away.

Almost instantly I could tell how good it could be. The tin looked amazing, and for most of the stripping process I wondered why on earth someone would cover it with any color. It took multiple layers of stripping, and I got better at it over time.

I did also start to see some oxidation issues with the tin that made the purpose behind the paint job a little more understandable.

One side was particularly bad, but I will never forgive the decision to paint the entire thing one single color.

At first, the flat metal seemed okay, but the longer I worked on stripping, the longer it was exposed to air, the rustier it started to get. I had already planned on coating it, and I ended up getting some Rust-Oleum Rust Reformer spray paint. Instead of removing the rust, it bonds to the oxide and stops the process from continuing. It also happens to leave it a nice matte black that didn't need additional painting. I taped everything off, then sprayed.

Then it was time for the tin. I looked for ideas, and the best one I found was Rub'n'Buff. It's not so much a paint as a pigmented wax, with the idea that you can buff it to a higher shine. As I was stripping paint, I found a spot under one of the slats that the painter missed, and the original tin had been painted a gold color, so I used that to decide on color. I decided on Grecian gold, though I used the antique gold as a kind of base to make sure the Grecian stretched far enough.

I originally started applying it with some craft foam brushes, but they didn't really want to work for me, so I ended up buying a pack of makeup sponges, the little disposable wedge ones, and the finer texture worked much better. I had to trim them down pretty frequently, because the wax would build up and stop applying as nicely, but there were more than enough in the pack to finish the job.

The coverage is amazing for this stuff. This side was the worst of them, and one layer of the stuff was almost perfect. The Grecian gold was almost a bit runnier, though, and ended up needing a second layer to cover some patches that were almost too thin, thus the other underneath.

This tin is so pretty though. I still kind of regret that it needed it; the places that weren't oxidized were so bright in a way that the Rub'n'Buff had no hope of emulating. There are some places you can still buy the embossed tin for rehabing trunks like this, but I haven't found one with a pattern quite like this, and this one is so much nicer than the ones I've seen. I'm very glad that it was all intact except for where the lock goes.

After the tin came the slats. I knew from sites like Brettun's Village that I wanted to use tung oil, so I had bought what I thought was tung oil. Turns out Minwax gets to call their tung oil finish that even though there's. No... tung oil. in it. ? So uh, if you want actual tung oil, do NOT listen to Minwax, they're lying, I don't understand why it's allowed. It still looks nice enough, but quite annoying.

Speaking of Brettun's Village, they not only do their own restorations AND provide a guide, they have a very extensive supply of recently furbished and original parts. They happened to have a nearly identical hasp to the one that was missing (so nearly identical I only noticed after my dad pointed it out) and an old lock also similar to my original, made in the late 1800s/early 1900s.

The next step was to tackle the inside. Instead of just adding more paper on top (like the last people did, so now there are two layers, one of which hides some original stickers ;3;), I decided to try to scrape that out, and I've found some structural issues that the metal and slats outside have held together and kept hidden.

The top split in the wood is an actual crack on the front that needs fixing. The middle split is just the gap between the planks. The bottom is also a crack, but not as extensive as the top one.

So the final steps, when I get the motivation again come spring, is to finish getting as much of the paper off as I can. Then my dad is going to help me use some bondo to hold the cracks, and I'll find a removable wallpaper I like. Then I can sort out what I'm going to do with the lock. That top split runs right through where the lock should go - you can see some of the wood filler we already put in from where the original was ripped out - so we can't try to put anything there or it'll crack worse.

But I brought it in today!

It looks so good, I glance over and get to feel so satisfied; I did that.

*I don't like to call any color hideous, because a lot of the time it really depends on the context, and it's an okay brown. But for THIS? It was probably the worst brown they could have picked. Mixed with the orange of the paint stripper it looked like I was scraping diarrhea.

[sysig]

Go play pretend on your own (Patreon)

[stzero]

honestly i almost feel more conflicted about all this than i did before precisely because it can't just be written off as basic nostalgia bait lol. like, okay, ya got me with the high effort promo and recontextualization, i'm not gonna pretend like i'm not invested in seeing how this all plays out. but seeing the level of creative energy at play does have me wishing it was going towards something totally new & fresh

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

i think the most annoying part of dog food discourse is how many people will act as though proplan/hill’s/Royal canin diets aren’t extremely and prohibitively expensive and that THAT is the reason so many people look into healthy alternatives.

People complain about corn being in the first five ingredients on most of those feeds because, regardless of other factors here, that is not an expensive ingredient. But it makes up a large chunk of the dry food. So the dry food should be fairly affordable, right?

Oh… with tax you’re spending about $100 for one 45lb bag of food where the third ingredient is wheat and the fourth and fifth ingredients are corn.

Oh… well! It’s slightly cheaper! But the second ingredient is rice, third is wheat, fourth is corn, and then fifth is poultry byproduct. None of those are very expensive so this just must be the low end cost of dog food unfortunately. The vets recommend it so surely that means prices aren’t inflated, right?

Oh? This one has similar ingredients with the only real difference being no corn? And it’s half the price?? Well surely that’s just a fluke.

Oh. Oh no.

This one even has CORN in it and it’s $20 cheaper?? Wow!

Like listen at some point I don’t care if your dog food has the ichor of the gods in it, I’m not spending $100 every five days if there are cheaper options with just as many “good” ingredients in it. If you think I’m a dog abuser because I can’t afford this overpriced garbage, that’s too bad. I don’t care. My dogs are perfectly healthy with the food I give them. Great weight and great coat. People giving dog food recommendations that aren’t those top three hyper-expensive dog foods aren’t trying to epic own those dastardly vets half the time, but I really don’t blame the ones who do lose trust in vets when the only heartworm protection they recommend lately are expensive triple-action brands like Simparica Trio that costs $120+ as opposed to the other heartworm protections that are only about $40-$60 on average, which is still cheaper even if you add on a $20-$40 flea and tick protection separately, and only recommend dog food that costs $85+ a bag even if your dog doesn’t have specialized dietary needs.

Those top three foods are GREAT at making competent prescription diets, I don’t deny that. I do still have to criticize the pricing of those prescription diets though because I have spoken to DOZENS of people who had to pull their pets off of a prescription diet and struggle to find something comparable because they couldn’t afford the food, and that’s terrible! These are not poor companies! Purina, Royal Canin, and Hill’s can ABSOLUTELY afford to lower their prices to make their food accessible to people who need it for their animals but they don’t. They probably never will. Because at the core they are run by greedy corporations. It doesn’t matter how many good nutritionists are on board if the company is run by people who put profits over customers and make the food impossible for people to afford.

[loosesodamarble]

Hii Soda, Here I'm sending my best wishes for your well-being 🩷🩷 I might made some mistakes in my text, I hope that you don't mind them. I'm not a native speaker.

I wanted to make a one-shot request for Nacht Faust where the reader (who is also a Black Bull) despises his all-knowing personality, and how he scorns at the members. And she always talks back at him about his remarks about the members. But things escalate, I don't know how I didn't think this far 😭 I'd love to know what you can come up with this, I just want to read some fluff and see him happy 🥹🩷✨️

Hello there Anon~! First off, thank you for the well wishes, I do kinda need them at this moment. And don't worry about writing in your second language. I make tons of mistakes still land English is my first language. 😅

This oneshot turned into something a little on the long side. I couldn't think of how to make a romance between a critical reader and Nacht work without it feeling weird so I did something longer to show how the two grow closer (not quite a slow burn but the fluff isn't immediate either). It's part of why it took a bit to finish your request. It's probably not exactly what you were picturing but hopefully you still like it.

Summary: The progression of your relationship with Nacht is gradual and not very standard. But it still brings you two ever so close together. Genre: romance Word count: ~1800 A/N: This is a female reader, though female pronouns only come up, like, twice.

..........

“Tch, what a mess…” Nacht groaned after he walked into the base.

The scene he came across was the common area having turned into a war zone. It was a mess of broken furniture and spells being thrown across the room. The usual suspects of Magna, Luck, and Gauche were at play along with Vanessa, Zora, and Noelle. It appeared that there had been an especially nasty disagreement.

“These people really are no better, even after becoming the kingdom’s second ranked squad.”

“Quit giving commentary like anyone here cares about your opinion, vice bastard.”

Nacht turned his head in the direction of the voice. His eyes landed on you, leaning against the wall and glaring at him. Your presence made him tense the slightest bit.

The rest of the squad hesitated to interact with him. But not you. Even if you weren’t friendly with him, the fact that you approached him at all was something he appreciated. But because of your aggression, he was at a loss for how to reply.

Every time. Even now.

“If you really don’t want to bother with us, just quit the squad already,” you remarked before you walked past him and through the chaos, completely unaffected by it.

“Master Nacht… You’re staring at her again…” Plumede whispered in the back of Nacht’s mind.

“Yes. I know,” he said. Nacht felt like an utter fool. Why did his heart race with excitement from your glare? Why did he want to be nearer to you when you clearly resented him?

…

“Thanks for getting our order,” you said while handing payment over to the shopkeeper. You received the parcel and turned to Nacht.

His arms were full with bags of goods that you two picked up for the rest of the squad so he extended one of the less filled bags for you to slip the package into.

“I never expected you to be okay with being used as a pack mule,” you remarked as the two of you walked away.

“I only agreed to accompany you on the shopping trip. I never said I was okay with this kind of treatment,” Nacht replied.

“Yet you haven’t complained about carrying everything.” You quirked a brow in Nacht’s direction but all you got back from him was the same empty smile that he usually wore. You found it a shame that a pretty face like his didn’t express much emotion. “But now that we’ve picked up everything, we can head back.”

“We came by broom, but how about I transport us back with my Shadow Magic? It’s sure to be quicker,” offered Nacht and you immediately blanched.

“Hell no. I’m not getting sucked into that creepy void of yours,” you retorted.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Nacht or his magic. Okay, maybe it was a lack of trust. But after Nacht’s harsh behavior early on, putting your faith in his good will didn’t come easily. Plus, you considered yourself to be Nacht’s biggest critic in the squad. There was no way you were about to be buttered up.

“Alright then. I thought to ask instead of merely whisking you away without permission. And since you’ve declined…” Nacht veered from your side and into the shadows of an alleyway. “I’ll see you at the base then.”

“Huh? Where are you—?”

“Good day.” And Nacht was gone.

You blinked.

A part of you wanted to scream at his abandonment of you. Another part wanted to laugh because of the absurdity. And yet a third part wanted to stop and appreciate how he���d, somewhat clumsily, tried to be polite to you.

“He…” You placed your hands over your face, which felt warmer than usual. “He kinda sucks at being nice.”

…

Nacht put his signature at the end of a mission report then put it into a file with the rest of the paperwork that would be delivered to the Magic Knight Headquarters later that day.

The door opened and Nacht lifted his head to see who it was.

His heart skipped a beat upon seeing you enter, a tray of food in hand.

“I noticed you weren’t there for lunch,” you said by way of explanation.

“Lunch?” Nacht checked his clock and, indeed, it was long past the usual hour for lunch. “Ah…” He turned back to you. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

“We need to keep you fed and alive if we want any paperwork done around here,” you joked while placing the tray down. Due to your closeness, Nacht was able to make out a faint blush on your cheeks. Your eyes flicked in his direction. “What are you staring at, shadow stalker?”

“You’re hovering quite close,” Nacht coolly answered as he averted his eyes. “I couldn’t help it if you drew my attention.”

“Ha! Like I’d ever go out with you. I have a strict ‘no assholes’ policy when it comes to my dating pool,” you said with a wry grin.

Nacht raised a brow at your reply.

“First off, you realize that everyone has an anus so your pol—”

You smacked Nacht’s shoulder. Though it was clear from your bit back smile that you did find his remark funny.

“Since when did you know how to tell a joke?”

“I’m a man of secrets and surprises,” Nacht replied. “Secondly…” He rose from his seat and walked around his desk to you. “It’s awfully presumptuous to think I was staring at you with romantic intentions.”

“Uhp—!” You choked up and your flush darkened.

Feeling bolder than usual, Nacht placed his hand under your chin and coaxed you into looking up at him.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were the one who had an interest in me.”

Nacht’s heart fluttered at the idea of you liking him back. He wasn’t about to get his hopes up, not with the way you still threw insults and sarcasm at him on a daily basis. But he wanted to pretend.

You stayed silent for a moment, staring into Nacht’s eyes. It was cute, the wide-eyed look on your face. But Nacht also worried about what was running through your head. So he prompted you again.

“Well? Have anything to say for yourself?”

“Your cologne smells nice…”

Nacht blinked. “What?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You… pay attention to the way I smell?” Nacht felt his face heat up rapidly.

At that, your own face paled.

“What?! Shut up!” You yelled while stepping away from Nacht. “I’m not some creep! I just—! I just have a good nose! Shut up!”

You hurried out the door and your heavy footsteps were heard fleeing for a while.

Nacht blinked a few more times.

I don’t wear cologne, he thought. Then he grimaced. Oh gods, do I smell of something else? He raised his wrist to his nose. I probably can’t tell if I stink. I’d have to ask someone else.

“She was probably talking about your natural, masculine musk, Master,” Gimodelo said.

“I doubt it.”

Nacht touched a hand to his chest and tried to will his heart to calm down.

…

The Black Bulls were celebrating a day off, complete with alcohol and games once night had fallen. On Vanessa’s insistence, one of the games was 7 Minutes in Heaven with the choosing method being drawing lots.

You stared at the “1” drawn onto the stick you’d drawn. Meaning you’d be going first along with the person who’d drawn the other “1.”

“Alright, so who did I match with?” you questioned the group while showing your stick.

You scanned the group. Vanessa and Zora were already paired. Luck pumped a fist as he exclaimed how he and Magna had been paired off. Where was your partn—?

The second “1” stick was tapped against yours.

“I believe this means we’ve been paired off.”

Your heart leapt to your throat and you felt lightheaded as all blood rushed to your face.

Why him?! You were still recovering from your conversation in Nacht’s office the other day. And now you were supposed to be locked in a closet with Nacht for seven whole minutes? This is torture!

You shuffled into the closet with Nacht and plopped yourself on the floor without much care. It’s not like you had much dignity to bring into the situation.

After a few seconds, Nacht sat down beside you and you instinctively scooted to give him space.

“Don’t worry, we don’t have to kiss if you don’t want to,” Nacht whispered and you swore he sounded hurt.

The problem is that I actually do want to kiss you! You kept the thought to yourself, unable to think of a way to put it more… normally.

“Since we’re in here though, I’d like to make a confession.”

You dared to glance in Nacht’s direction but immediately looked away when you saw his bright red flush and the faint, relaxed smile on his face. It was an entirely different look to him and you feared your heart might burst because of how handsome he looked.

“I might sound ridiculous but I’ve liked you for a while now. You were critical of me and yet I was okay with it. Because you were right with how… flawed I acted at times. I like how unafraid and upfront you are without being reckless. And I’m glad we’ve grown closer so to speak and joke with each other a bit. It might sound strange but it’s true.”

At that point, you felt a firm thumping in your chest and your head getting light from the many beats your heart had skipped.

It was more than shocking to learn that Nacht had started loving you before you’d learned to go easy on him. Then again, you had started falling for him when he was still being distant and aloof.

Love worked in mysterious ways, you supposed.

You felt Nacht’s hand on your cheek so you faced him. Nacht smiled at you with a genuine grin full of warmth.

“I like you. I hope you’re okay with me saying that.”

“Nacht…” You finally found your voice. “It’s okay. I… like you too…”

The words hung in the air for the longest moment of your life.

You and Nacht… Alone in that small space…

Nacht cupped your other cheek, his hands were cold but soft against your skin, and leaned down closer to you. You fully turned your body toward him and placed your hands on his shoulders.

Then, your lips met Nacht’s.

The kiss was slow and soft. Neither of you were too eager, but neither of you were too afraid.

For a moment, you two were in sync.

And hopefully that one moment would become many more in the future.

[seeminglydark]

‘Sparks fly, I hit the ground running

Time stops at the end of the road

The big life, big deals, beginnings,

Hey Driver to the top of the world!’ -Hey Driver by Lucky Boys Confusion

This isn’t what I’d planned to draw for valentines but it’s what i DID draw and I really like it. So here’s a lil Caro (sitting on a phone book probably), their Not-Boyfriend Sully, and the Datsun taking a joyride on the coast. Big Plans, Bright futures.

Sully and Caro re from my webcomic Mil-Liminal and accompanying podcast of the same name!)

[greenerteacups]

Hi GT, I was reading one of your wonderful responses and you mentioned you don't love what they did to Remus, and I have to say I 100% agree. In my opinion his relationship with tonks is weird (regardless of whether people think he had chemistry with Sirius) like he's at least 10 years older than her and he tries to leave her and it just seems like he goes along with HER infatuation without really caring about her very much. It also puts Tonks back into JKR's frequent dynamic for women, which is "badass who really wants to be with a guy who doesn't seem to appreciate her much" (see Hermione/Ron).

Do you have any further thoughts on that? I always found JKR's writing about women in relationships/who want relationships really weird. You definitely do it better.

JKR has many strengths as a writer, but I don't think anyone would say her romances are one of them. I think a lot of authors either consciously or subconsciously look down on romance as a genre because it's associated with sensuality and frivolousness, but writing and selling the idea that two people should and do want to kiss each other is like, really fucking hard to do, and it requires a certain set of skill checks as an author that not everyone has. Just like writing good horror or good fantasy, good romance has tenets and rules and things you can do to get the audience on board with you, and JKR didn't execute a lot of those things (to my satisfaction, YMMV) in the books. Bad romance is also a high-stakes problem, because it risks flattening out your characters and pitching them into OOC territory if the audience doesn't buy that the dynamic evolution is natural. But again, that's something you don't know if you haven't written romance, or tried to, before.

Mostly, you have to really lean into the vulnerability of the thing. Romance is silly and goofy and embarrassing. It makes you say dumb things and act in dumb ways. It can't be ironic or chilled or demure. At some point, to make a real human connection, someone has to get down, take off their dignity, and bare the rotten core of themselves. When we propose, we kneel on the ground. We get dirty. And all authors have a great terror of embarrassing themselves. They're doing something tremendously vulnerable; of course they want people to think they're cool and intelligent. It's embarrassing to put yourself in the head of a 15-year-old boy with a crush. It's embarrassing to write about a suitor earnestly confessing their love, because — what if this is too much? What if it's corny, what if it breaks the audience's suspension of disbelief? What if my readers are laughing at me? What if I'm the butt of the joke?

Anyway, I think a lot of really great books have terrible romance subplots for that reason. In The Great Gatsby, we never actually see Gatsby and Daisy alone together. We get their story second-hand, from people who can deliver it in a cool, reflective tone of mystery; we don't see them undressed, undone, emptying their hearts to one another. And Nick and Jordan, the romance we actually get to see develop, are easily the weakest plot in the book. Meanwhile, authors like Tolstoy have an incredible gift for writing romance that feels right, and is sensual without verging into purple prose. But Tolstoy is one of the greatest writers of all time. JKR wrote some very good books that a lot of people loved very much, but for her, the romances were accessories to the story. They weren't a focus. I'm certain she cared about Remus and Tonks's relationship, in the same way she cared about Ron and Hermione's relationship. Both take up too much space to explain otherwise.

TLDR: Writing romance is hard because it's really easy to fuck up, even if you care about it. I don't know that JKR put all that much thought into selling us on chemistry and interpersonal dynamics of the couples she threw together; I think she writes for plot, and the couples emerged as a part of that. That means the couples that don't necessarily make sense on paper lose out majorly because the audience doesn't know exactly what they're rooting for, and the couples that do make sense on paper lack a certain... I dunno, va-va-voom.

[bonetrousledbones]

lil update post thats mostly rambling tbh

i'm feeling a bit better after a few days of not letting myself ruminate on everything so much. still don't have electricity tho </3 but things are getting better slowlyy. i even managed to draw a lil too

i've adjusted a good bit more to the routine at this point. a lot of people are still struggling out there and once i get my electricity back i'm gonna spread some more resources since wayyy more are available & up-to-date now than what's in my initial post about all this, but for now i'm just lettin y'all know i'm still truckin along 👍

also i wanna give another thanks to yall for spreading that post around so much, even if it's slowed down a lil by now. for those first few days it really felt like we were completely isolated from the world and nobody knew or cared, but i've seen a huge increase in people talking about our situation here since then and it's been surprisingly uplifting. one of the reasons appalachians are such hardheaded motherfuckers is because we're used to having to help each other rather than rely on folks outside the mountains, but seeing y'all expressing sympathies and wanting to help however you can, even if you don't live nearby, has made me feel so much better about our ability to come back from this.

[tortoisesshells]

Dark Shadows episode 85, aired October 21 1966

[adelaidedrubman]

What if the strap could prematurely ejaculate? (Or, Jestiny gets knocked down a peg.) read on ao3.

notes: if i ever accidentally posted something good enough to trick you into following this account, i truly apologize. anyways here’s part two of the john/jestiny failstrap series. set hl&s adjacent and spiritual sequel to mine’s bigger. also new year’s eve themed, i meant to get it posted then but ironically didn’t finish in time. wordcount: 3.8k warnings: explicit sexual content, toxic relationships, emotional manipulation. (neg ’em and peg ’em, the jestiny rook method.) i feel like secondhand embarrassment and cringe dialogue is something of an implicit blanket warning for all my stuff, but. i feel the need to explicitly flag it in this one. that should tell you something. (please also see ao3 end notes or post tags for disclaimers.)

As with all holidays, Jestiny would ideally prefer to spend her New Year’s Eve outdoors. 

She would gladly take her midnight kisses whilst guzzling craft beer and watching fish leap from the water over sipping champagne and watching pixelated footage of a ball dropping — if only the temperatures of December bleeding into January in Montana would agree with her preferences. 

And sure, a sharp chisel and thick jacket could guarantee she would still be taking home her share of trout from a frozen solid pond. A good set of crampons strapped to her favorite hiking boots was all she needed to scale the highest mountain peaks, even covered in ice. A durable tent and well-insulated sleeping bag meant she could still feel wind-nipped cheeks warmed by the flames of a real campfire no matter the season, instead of settling for the store-bought logs currently crackling in the hearth behind her.

But even a rugged outdoorswoman the likes of Jestiny had to admit the blistering, unforgiving cold of Big Sky Country winter required some activities be strictly indoor-only until the first wildflowers of spring poked up from the hard, frozen earth. 

And even with all the proper equipment packed, when it came to the activities that required removing clothing… 

“God, I’ve needed this so fucking bad,” John whined against her jaw, pulling her along by the arm as his other hand impatiently finished her work of centering her strap-on properly in its harness. “I want you to fuck me all night long, right into the New Year. I want you to fuck me in every room of this house, until I can’t look anywhere without thinking of you.” 

What Jessie didn’t have to admit — at least not out loud — was that the spacious yet cozy faux rustic interior of Seed Ranch, with its pervasive scent of leather, pine, and woodsmoke wafting from the fireplace; the vista of sprawling snow covered mountains offered up by its grand far-stretching windows; the lurking presence of hoards of taxidermy animals around every corner, made it the best substitute she could imagine for the thrill of fucking outdoors. 

Yes, it was all blatantly, dreadfully fake — but fake was better than nothing.

“I want you to take me right here on my dining room table,” John continued to lustfully monologue to himself as his thighs hit the edge of the table on his path backward with Jessie in tow, turning from their embrace just long enough to sweep an arm along its length and knock all the stray clutter atop it to the floor. “Don’t hold back. Be rough enough to break it. Just give it to me and don’t stop.” He hopped atop the table to sit, then wrapped legs around Jestiny’s waist to pull her into place. “Then I want you to lay me down in front of the fireplace. Hold me close and take your time with me, give it to me slow until I’m fucking begging. Then drag me upstairs and bend me over the railing. Pound me until I can’t stand, until I cry. Then I want you to carry me into the model plane room and…”

“Yeah, yeah,” she shushed as she pushed him back to his elbows, popping the top off of the bottle of lube clenched in her fist. “I’ll fuck you on every tacky ass piece of furniture in this ugly fucking house.” She forced an extra grumble of irritation to hide the tremor of desire threatening to slip into her words from the sight of him laid back for her with legs spread, brow slick with sweat and the dew of melting snowflakes still clinging to his eyelashes. “I assume you want me to lube it up first, though…”

“Let me,” he cooed, grabbing the bottle from her just as it had begun to drip onto sleek silicone. “I want to do it…”

She shrugged in disinterested agreement, placing her hands behind her head and jutting her hips forward as he poured along the length, palm cradling its underside and sliding along to catch the excess. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, biting down on his lip as he began to pump his hand faster along the attachment. “Already so fucking hard for me.”

She crinkled her nose and cocked her head to the side. “What the fuck are you talking about?” she questioned. “It’s a fucking dildo, John — it’s always hard.”

“It’s — It’s a turn of phrase,” he huffed, tightening his grip and jerking towards him so that she near-stumbled into him. “Are you not familiar with the concept of dirty talk? Not everything has to be so damn literal. Use some imagina —”

“And why the hell are you jerking it off?” she demanded, thrusting a hand against his collarbone. “You know I can’t feel that, right?”

“Well, I’ll try to be more realistic, then,” he snapped as he leaned forward and shoved a hand between her legs. 

Fingers spring-loaded with lingering fury moved to roughly pull her harness to the side, barely stilling or softening their touch before sliding inside her. His other hand remained stubbornly wrapped around silicone to pump it at a now comically harsh pace, as if to prove just how aware he was there was no delicate flesh and blood to be concerned with suffering beneath his vice grip — beginning the spectacle with a rough shove forward of its base to press against her with a pressure that did incidentally send a rewarding flicker of pleasure through hungry nerve endings. 

“Fuck,” he ground out in repetitive correction, his tone wilting midway from a sarcastic hiss to a reverent whimper as he curled his fingers. “Already so fucking wet for me.”

Well, it wasn’t her fault he looked so good flushed and panting, even through the ridiculous theatrics. 

“Like you got room to fuckin’ talk,” she scoffed as she reached to quickly coat her fingers with lube, sliding inside him and finding right where they needed to be with a practiced ease that made her cheeks warm with satisfied pride at her own expertise. Her thumb traced a line up his cock to find and leisurely smear the precum dewing at his tip. “Fuckin’ dripping the second I get my fingers in you.”

The surrender in his next whimper was complete, paired with a bucking of his hips to beg for more as he mirrored her steady pumping in the pace of his own fingers, thumb tucking itself beneath her harness to find and stroke her clit properly — all while still uselessly jerking off the dildo resting atop it, of course. 

Well. Maybe it was useless, but she had to admit — privately — his hands did look nice doing that. 

Even if the curve of his spine restyled itself into a distinctly unnatural, exaggerated arch as he regrettably regained the faculty for words. “God, yes, do you — ah, do you like how it feels inside me?” 

Another stupid question. Reaching past the contrived, polished exterior to find the depths at which he was all warm silk fluttering to the touch? Delving inside him to feel the promise of all the power to reduce him to a stuttering, pleading mess pulse beneath a single fingertip?

How could she not be positively intoxicated by it? How could the rush of adrenaline it stirred be contained to anything less than electricity prickling along every inch of skin until the air itself felt charged with the intensity of her desire? 

“It feels like an asshole, John,” she deadpanned, dragging her finger to tease shallowly. “Felt one, you’ve pretty much felt them all — and until science finds a way to implant a g-spot in the human finger, I’ll be getting just as little out of it every time.” 

She gave a swift upward thrust for one last prod of his prostate in punctuation before she slipped fingers out entirely in the same fluid motion of her shoulders shrugging. “I’m more interested in finally getting to fuck you so good you can’t even talk to ask dumbass questions like that.”

She used the hand sticky with lube to smear a last glob onto the head of her strap as the other cradled his face, smoothing a thumb over his pouting lip as she added, “Just as soon as you ask nice.”

His pout deepened. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb now, baby. You know the drill.” She pushed him to lay with back flat on the table. “Beg me for it.”

“No,” he said testily, lifting his chin to give her a look of pure defiance. “You beg me.”

Her breath caught, for a moment — as if his words sank to snag in her chest before her mind even processed them, lunging back up as sharp barks of laughter the moment it did. 

“Alright,” she sighed, breathless, as she dropped her head to rest against his collarbone and reached down to line up her attachment. “That was funny enough I’ll let you get by without the begging, this time.”

Her hips barely canted a single centimeter forward before they were stopped by a rough fist grabbing at the base of her dildo to hold her in place. 

“It wasn’t a joke,” John hissed, eyes icing cold with determination, like a pond freezing over. “You’re going to beg to fuck me, or you won’t fuck me at all.”

She allowed her confused blinks to pick up pace into a sarcastic batting of her eyelashes paired with a sweet, dimple framed smile. “John, darling. My most cherished love. Light of my life, fire of my silicone sporting loins. Could you, kindly —” she scrunched her face into a scowl, “tell me what the fuck it is you’re talking about?” 

“You’ve done nothing all night but mock and belittle me, and act as if you’re somehow begrudgingly doing me a favor,” he snapped. “Now you’re going to admit you want it as badly as I do,” he said, allowing his tone to melt and soften as he circled a finger around delicate, rosy skin. “If you want this, you have to beg for it.” 

Oh, he was serious. 

Heat flared in the pit of her stomach at how serious he was. 

All the better. She loved a challenge. 

“Now is not the fucking time to be a brat, John,” she growled, threading fingers in his hair and tugging in the way that pulled a needy moan to the surface to tremble in his adam’s apple. “Now is the time to be a good boy and spread your legs.”

“Oh, and I will,” he moaned, craning his neck so the pull of his hair was tautened — a dare, a meet and raise of a bet. “I’ll be so good for you, as soon as I hear that magic word.” 

This time, the hand around her strap stayed still as he reached down to wrap one around his own cock. 

“Say ‘please’ for me, Jessie,” John begged with wide eyes as he began to stroke himself. “I’m already so close — don’t make me cum from touching myself alone. I want you to fuck it from me. I need your strap.”

That bastard. But two could play that game. 

“Are you begging me to beg you?” she scoffed as she began rolling her hips in steady rhythm, the tip of her strap just barely bumping against him as she fucked the grip of his hand in a promise of what she could do. “Why would I beg for something I won’t even feel?”

“Because you want to take me, don’t you, Jessie? Don’t you want this ass to be yours?” Fuck, he did not play fair — spreading his legs wider and pushing forward to rub the head against slickened, puckered skin, make it look so easy to slide home and fuck the attitude out of him. The sight alone made the friction of grinding against a held still strap-on swell to an unexpected thrum of ecstasy trickling through her veins. “God, I want it. I want to feel the way you move inside me. I want to belong to you, every part of me. I want to cum for you, only for my Jessie.”

Christ, when did the cheesy, unnatural porn lines start working on her?

“Must not want it t-too bad,” she grunted with a particularly harsh snap of her hips. The electricity in the air had heavied, absolutely saturated it. It fizzled with that strange feeling of being up high during a thunderstorm, everything so strongly charged that hair stood on end. “Since you won’t just let me —”

“Oh, I will, Jessie,” he panted, training his eyes on her impotent thrusts as he stroked himself faster. “I’ll let you do anything you want, as soon as you’re ready to —”

“Just —” She glared, thrust harder as if she could break right through his grip and end the standoff, only managing to increase pressure. “Move your fucking hand, and I’ll —”

“You’ll what?” he teased, squeezing the thighs wrapped around her waist. “Please tell me, won’t you? At least talk me off the way I like, since you’re not going to —” 

“You’re not going to get off at all, until I —” Fuck, how was this happening? How could she feel every fiber of authority she possessed suddenly unraveling to slip from her fingers? “Say you’re fucking allowed —”

“I’m so close,” he gasped, tossing his head back and arching towards her — the tip of her strap just barely disappearing as he did. “But feel so empty. Oh, Jessie, won’t you —”

“Can you just —” Her cheeks were scalding as she fumbled to grab his hips and grumbled, “For the — the fucking love of god, could you please just —”

She found herself falling forward before she’d even realized the damned word had fallen from her lips, his hand pulling away the second it was spoken and his legs flexing to pull her in, sliding inside him as her knees smacked against the table. 

And every volt of electricity hanging overhead came suddenly crashing down with her as she buried to the hilt as the coaxing of his eager rocking hips — as if lightning finally crackled through the air to ripple down her spine and spread through her body. Spread so forcefully she could taste it in her mouth, feel it tingle along her tongue and shoot down her jaw as the current seemed to hone on the place the base of the strap pressed just right against her clit — suddenly overloading from the sensation, short-circuiting into blissful oblivion. 

And it felt as if she really had been struck by lightning — the way her flesh crawled with searing heat, the way her insides turned and convulsed, the way every muscle twitched and trembled in pure surrender to its force. 

“Did you, um —” he shifted beneath her, pausing and clearing his throat as if for once in his life he realized what a ridiculous thing he was about to say and managed to think twice before saying it, “did you finish?”

“Did I —” she coughed weakly against his collarbone, wishing it had come out closer to a scoff than it did. “I’m genuinely fuckin’ curious — do you even bother to try to make the shit that comes out of your mouth make sense? Or do you just start flapping your jaws and see what happens?”

She did not wait for an answer before summoning her remaining wisps of strength to wind her hips back, forcing wobbly legs pleading to collapse beneath her to instead power a proper thrust forward. 

She yelped, a jolt of pain shooting up through sensitive, overstimulated nerves as the base of the strap pressed against her clit at the full extension of her stroke. 

John craned his neck, eyes scanning far too knowingly along the flush of pink sprawling along her cheeks and chest. “We can stop, if it’s —”

“I’m fuckin’ fine!” she barked. “I just —” She coughed, reaching down to slip a thumb beneath rubber ring and wedge under the dildo to put space between its base and her sore clit. “Gotta adjust a bit — you put this thing in at the wrong fuckin’ angle, fucked everything up.” She wriggled her hips back with a final grumble of, “Why you should never trust a man to do a woman’s job.”

She began rocking forward with hand still in place to lighten pressure against nerves pleading for rest — she could do this, she just needed to fake it through a few minutes of recovery period. She just needed to — 

“Shit!” she cursed, jittery thumb pressing too hard against the base to push it free from the ring with a taunting pop, staying lodged stubbornly inside her lover as she reeled back. She lurched forward, hurrying to retake her place, looking down to gauge position and hopefully reattach herself before he noticed. “Goddamn…” 

“Seriously, are you alright?” John questioned as he pushed himself up to his elbows. “Would you like ten minutes and a glass of orange —”

He was interrupted by a thud as he rose to sit fully upright and meet her face to face, Jestiny’s eyes barely catching to follow the shiny black blur that shot from between his legs to land heavy at her feet. 

“Fuck.” 

Her clumsy rush (since when was she clumsy? first saying ‘please’ and now this?) to turn and reach for the fallen dildo (was her sleight of hand good enough to reattach it without him noticing? what skills did she still have?) resulted in her kicking it with the heft of her combat boot (was it not a good idea to wear them during sex? who even was she?) before she’d even managed to bend down. 

She whipped around, finding hardwood bare save for a slight glistening streak. When she lifted her head to follow the snail trail of lube, she found the strap-on had rolled itself across the greater length of floor — losing little momentum as wood broke into granite. 

The slight rise of the granite platform barely impeded it at all, in fact, as it rolled right past the wrought-iron guard that had been haphazardly left ajar by Jestiny as she built the fire, tenderly welcomed into the roaring inferno of the fireplace. 

“Wha — ! Aah,” A confused, devastated noise caught in the back of Jestiny’s throat, withering there to die at the first crackle of silicone as her prized strap-on went up in flames before her eyes. 

The world swirled around her, buffeting at her senses like the cruelest of snowstorms.

The dead lump of a scream in her throat seemed to creep down to spread its decay, making her insides shrivel into brittle rot. As the stench of burning plastic filled the air, her eyes began to water from the sting of chemical smoke. She wondered if she might actually cry for the first time in her adult life.

Past the whistle and crackle of flame devouring silicone and the whoosh of her own pulse in her ears, Jestiny heard the muffled garble of a television set she hadn’t realized was on blare suddenly loud from the recesses of the ranch, cheers of ‘Happy New Year!‘ over discordant symphony of paper horns blown in celebration conjuring images of ceremonial ball reaching the denouement of its annual journey to the base of its pole into her mind unbidden.

On cue, somewhere in the background, a grandfather clock solemnly chimed to announce the turn of the hour.  

And there stood teary-eyed, gaping mouthed Jestiny — some bizarre sex toy Cinderella whose impressive phallus turned back into a puddle of cheap plastic polymer at the stroke of midnight. 

“Well,” John’s bemused hum pierced through the cacophony rattling around inside Jessie’s brain as he peered past her to the spectacle of silicone bubbling down to black ooze in his fireplace. “I guess it isn’t always hard.”

“Fuck!” Her shout crumpled back into a weak whimper as plain splintered through her knuckles before she even realized she’d swung to strike the table. 

She kept fist loosely clenched and eyes glued to the grain of the table as John turned back towards her. 

She caught in her periphery the falling of his sly smile. His brow pinched inward as he looked back and forth between Jessie’s flushed, scrunched face and the empty rubber ring at the front of her crotch, his eyes softening with the most genuine look of sympathy she thought she’d ever seen him wear, a level of earnest compassion she would have thought him incapable of even faking properly.  

The kind of condescending pity that made her stomach curdle, made her blood boil hot as a melting strap-on. That she would normally lash out to reject, were she not already so thoroughly defeated and stripped of pride. 

“It’s alright,” John whispered softly, reaching over to give a few comforting pats to Jessie’s curled fist before bringing his hand up to cup her jaw and lift her chin, guiding her to look into gentle blue eyes. “It happens to everyone, sometimes.”

“That —” she jabbed a thumb over her shoulder in gesture to the strap-on cremation still blazing strong behind her, drawing in a ragged breath, “has literally never happened to anyone before.”

“Well, it was... innovative,” John innovated the world’s first performatively horny purr that doubled as bland diplomacy to reply in, throwing his arms around her neck in embrace.

“We —” Her voice sounded so uncharacteristically small to her own ears as she stumbled over her words. “We can do other stuff. I can still finish you —”

“That’s alright. It was enough just to feel close to you,” John shushed, nuzzling against her neck. “All I want now is for you to carry me to the fireside and hold me.”

God, it was such obvious, manipulative fawning; such a poorly disguised consolation prize. She should storm out in offense. 

In no position to refuse consolation prizes, Jessie slid an arm beneath the bend of his knees, wrapping the other around his middle. She gave a slight grunt as she hoisted his weight, at this point truly just grateful she managed not to drop him on the short walk over to the bearskin rug she lowered him to sprawl atop. 

“You always look so beautiful, bathed in firelight,” John sighed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“You —” The impulse to counter with a comment that the firelight made him look much older from the shadows cast into the creases of his face extinguished itself as quickly as it sparked. “You would look even prettier by the light of a real campfire,” she muttered as she fell limp, allowing John to tangle their limbs as he saw fit. “That’s what we should do next New Year’s Eve. I hate being cooped up inside.”

“And do you envision our rugged adventures would begin with a first-class flight to the southern hemisphere?” he asked with a soft laugh, a hand smoothing along her sides. “I don’t have your outdoorsy expertise, of course, but I’d say it’s hardly pleasant camping weather around here.”

“It’s not so bad, actually,” she sighed pleasantly. “Pitching a tent in the dead of winter,” she continued, absentmindedly threading fingers through his hair. “So long as you —”

She coughed, clearing her throat and hiding her face and its burning cheeks against his chest as she finished the statement. “So long as you have the right equipment.”

She definitely should have just gone fishing.

[silvershoe]

wish i could disappear for 3 days to play the sims but no. i'm moving