#edit: i hate how uneven it looks...

[pollutionbylimpbizkit]

[sirfrogsworth]

Photo Restoration Project - Part 1

A long time ago, Katrina sent me some old photos of her family I could restore. Her parents have been helping me from afar for years and I really wanted to do something nice for them. Unfortunately my dad got much worse and I pretty much forgot about this project for quite some time.

But then I decided to visit Katrina in Orlando and we discussed having dinner with her parents and I remembered these photos. So I thought I would fix them up so I could present them as a gift in person.

The first and most important photo was from her parents wedding.

Old photo prints can fade over time due to UV light exposure. From what I understand, different colors fade at different rates and red/orange tones tend to be the least susceptible to this fading. Thankfully all of the color information is still there, it's just that the darks are not as dark and the lights are not as light. The dynamic range got squeezed like an accordion. However, if you do a levels adjustment on the red, blue, and green channels individually, you can unsqueeze the accordion and balance everything back to the way it was.

But you can't always save everything and there may be other damage that needs fixing. If something becomes pure white, there is no way to restore that detail. Thankfully I was able to use the new generative fill feature to bring back detail in the dress, the flowers, and the tuxedo shirt.

And because I hate front facing flash and how it makes colors look ugly and sterile, I may have also added a marble floor and pillars.

Next up was a photo of Anastasia, Katrina's mom, protesting Henry Kissinger on behalf of her home country of Greece. This suffered from the same color fading issues.

What made this one a little more tricky was an uneven fading. The left side had to be adjusted independently and the top was even more faded. I had to isolate the trees to bring back their color. And the protest signs were difficult to read, so I enhanced those as well.

Next we have this lovely photo of Anastasia tending to some house plants.

This photo was actually in decent shape. It lost a little contrast, had a little bit of fading, and her top retained almost no detail I could recover. Recovering accurate skin tones is probably one of the most important skills I learned when restoring these photos. I wanted to keep that filmic look of the era while avoiding making people look jaundiced or pale. Lightroom's new masking feature that let's you isolate every aspect of the people it detects in a photo. This made fixing skin tones much easier. I could isolate just her face or her lips or her hair or her eyes and make precise individual adjustments. This process could have taken a great deal longer without this feature. But, I brought back proper contrast and color, added a little bit of detail to her top with gen fill, and hopefully got fairly accurate skin tones as well.

Next up, forward facing flash strikes again in a photo of Mike and Anastasia during Christmas.

Film did not do well in low light. If it was indoors and nighttime, you pretty much had no choice but to use flash. But a flash is a very small, bright light source and this causes a very unflattering result on humans. Today we have much more powerful flashes with rotating heads. We can bounce the light into the ceiling or off a wall and increase the size of the light source to get a more flattering result.

In this photo I wasn't able to do much, so I just balanced the skin tones and brought out some hidden detail and called it a day. It's still a lovely memory and thankfully film has such character that it negates a lot of the unflattering aspects of direct flash.

Next up is some cuteness...

A big priority when editing photos is to make sure the subjects are the star of the photo. And in this one their faces were a bit obscured in shadow. There was also a lot of haze in the background hiding the beautiful vista. Not to mention when I cleared that haze, there was this super faint hint of something in the sky. I can't tell if it was a rainbow, but I decided to believe it was a rainbow. The only thing that I am still struggling with, and this seems to be common with a lot of old photos, is green. Getting a good, saturated, natural green to look right has been very difficult. Everything I try ends up looking toxic or fake. The only thing that ends up looking right with the rest of the photo is more of a yellow-y brown. It's something I'll have to work on as I learn, but as long as the overall photo looks balanced and natural, I'm okay with not perfectly nailing the greens.

Up next we have a lovely scene on a Greek dock...

As far as editing goes, this was pretty basic. I just undid the fading, adjusted the skin tones, replaced the blown-out sky, and made the colors pop. But I think this is actually one of my favorite before and after shots. I just love how such a simple fix brought this scene to life.

A new car is a big deal and Anastasia looks so proud here...

This image has another common issue in addition to the typical fading of colors. It has a yellowish orange color cast. This could have been an issue with the film used or the development process or a chemical reaction on the print. A color cast is a lot like looking through colored glasses. It's like a translucent color material was put on top of the image. This can be a little trickier to deal with, but if you know your color theory, you might already know the solution. Blue is the opposite of yellow/orange on the color wheel, so if you introduce blue to the image it should balance out. Also, add a sky if it was missing.

Next up we have a landscaping project...

This one wasn't too tricky, but there was one interesting issue I had to address. All light has a color temperature. Daylight has a temperature of around 5500K. But the inside of the garage was being lit by reflected light and so that light took on the color temperature of the things it was bouncing off of. So I had to mask out the people and the car and address the color temperature inside the garage to make everything look balanced. Also, the green fought me hard on this one. And with the theme of this picture being plants, I felt I really needed to find a tone that worked. I think I finally got there, but I spent way too much time in the color picker doing trial and error of green tones. Also, new sky.

With this next one I actually did a pretty thorough explanation of how I edited it. But this was probably my favorite puzzle to solve from this collection of photos.

I'll do the abridged explanation...

The physical photograph was printed on a paper with a very heavy texture. And when it was scanned, the light from the scanner bounced off that texture and created a pattern of unwanted highlights.

I was worried this was impossible to fix and I almost gave up on this photo. But after one final Google search I discovered something called "Fast Fourier Transform." It's a mathematical formula that can be used to detect patterns. And the image editing software Affinity Photo, just so happens to have a filter called FFT denoise that helps you remove unwanted patterns from scanned photos.

And thanks to that filter, I was able to remove a substantial amount of that pattern...

Then I did my standard clean up techniques...

Oh, and I decided to try learning how to colorize.

Photoshop has a new set of experimental filters and a colorization tool is one of them. It is not great yet, but it is a great starting place. Instead of having to hand paint every single thing in the photo, Photoshop gave me a base to work with and I could take it from there with traditional techniques.

That's all I have the energy for today, but there are a bunch of cool restorations to talk about. Hopefully you all find this interesting. It was such a great gift to give to Katrina's parents. And spending that time with them and making them happy felt like I was with my own parents again. So we all got a gift in that wonderful evening.

Part 2 coming as soon as I have the energy!

[waffledforbreakfast]

Dreams of you - SAE X READER [oneshot]

Sae x Reader , oneshot, angst + comfort(??)

[pt.2 ]

[Kaiser edition (wip)]

[ BLLK Oneshot Masterlist ]

TW: heavy ooc, bad grammar, bad spelling, bad formatting, cringe, scuff, etc.

“I love you, Sae.” “I love you too, [Y/N].” “Please babe. Wake up.” 

Sae shot up, cold sweat running down his body. His hands were shaking and his breath was uneven, how many times has this been now?

26. It had been 26 days since he broke up with you. Why was he still having dreams of your first date? Your loving words and tender affirmations, your smile so bright it had engraved itself in the back of his mind.

It had been a month since he broke up with you, and yet every night your warm touch had seeped into the back of his mind, and into his dreams.

Breaking up with you was meant to help him focus. Not the other way around.

He wondered if it would’ve been better if he just didn’t leave.

“Whatever. What’s been done has been done. There’s no going back.”

He took a deep breath, fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose.

The clock read 4:02 AM. Not that he had to check, it was always 4 in the morning that these dreams released him.

Sae wondered what you were doing in Japan, did you have lunch yet? What were you eating? Who were you eating with? Was it your new boyfri-

“Stop.”

Sae hissed at himself, trying to keep his thoughts in check. He would think of you everyday, he hated it. Whenever he saw your favourite food, he’d think of buying you some. A plushie, would you like it? The cats at the shelter, maybe he should send you a pic…

He grabbed his hair, nails digging lightly into his scalp. It was always you. Why must you haunt his poor heart  head? 

He refused to waste more time on this. He stood up and fixed his bed, a habit he got from you. It was already 4:11, he’d used almost 10 minutes thinking of you again. He clenched his jaw, mentally noting that he didn’t deserve to get himself a sweet treat today, for wasting such time.

But it was better than yesterday’s 18 minutes, right? That’s improvement! Plus, he had trained for 10 hours yesterday as a punishment, so surely it’d be okay to take it easier today, right?

Sae remembered how you used to convince him to take breaks from training with such logic.

He dug his nails into his palm. Enough of you already, he had things to do.

Sae left the apartment, wandering the empty streets illuminated by the streetlamps and the few open cafes/restaurants. 

Sae used to blast music through his headphones to mute his thoughts, but it stopped working after he was reminded that you were the one who handcrafted all the very few playlists of his.

So now he just tried to focus on his surroundings, promptly ignoring any thoughts of you.

He’d been doing this for weeks now, did he feel any better? Would he be happier if he fully got over you? Sae didn’t let himself answer that question.

He was well familiar with the area by now, becoming a regular at any place open at this time around here. There was nothing new for him to focus on.

No no, surely there was something. Wasn’t a new cafe opening somewhere? He could’ve sworn someone handed him a flyer about it…

But truthfully, he could barely remember anything these days. 

Sae pulled out his phone and looked through his gallery to find the picture of the flyer, pretending to not see the dozens of your photos, which he had deleted and re-downloaded multiple times now.

He followed the map towards the cafe, flipping through its online menu. It seemed that the cafe really was new, almost nothing had been set up online, no images, no menu, no reviews. It seemed to be a small struggling business. Sae almost pitied them. If he was capable of such emotions anymore.

Sae pushed open the door, the small bell dangling above it rang a light jingle, notifying the worker that there was a guest

“Oh hello! Uhm… that door was supposed to be locked, haha…”

The poor employee laughed awkwardly, sweating visible bullets.

Sae turned around to look at the door, the rusted lock fell off the frame on to the floor.

The employee gulped, “So, what can I help you with!” She tried to put on a bright smile, since the customer was clearly wealthy, given his looks, there was no way she’d be able to tell him to get out!

Sae looked around, the place really was run down, was it really ready to open?? 

“What do you have?”

“Uhm, let’s see… We have water?”

“...”

“uh- hahaha… just kidding! W-we have other stuff too… uhm- dango, milk tea, tanghulu, pudding, anddd milk?” 

The worker gave a weak smile, Sae was staring right into her eyes, she felt like he’d jump her at any moment!

“Get me two waffles”

“I- sorry?? We don’t offer those, haha…”

She did NOT remember listing waffles as an option, was the guy even listening???

“Oh”

He was not listening

“... Actually- I’ll get that done for you! Give me a few minutes….”

She headed to the back to get his order done.

Shit. Sae impulse ordered waffles again. He doesn’t even like waffles! It was supposed to be your favourite food, not his. Why’d he do that…

He knew exactly why, but refused to admit it.

What was he even going to do with two of them!? The only option really was to scarf it down…

“Uhm… you’ve been staring at me for a while… is there something wrong?”

“Hm? Oh, I wasn’t aware, sorry.”

The worker gave him a skeptic look, as he was still staring, even after the apology. “This guy must be barely awake…”

“Well, here’s your waffles!”

She handed him a paper bag, with clear plastic on one side so he could see inside. Two warm waffles sat, Sae could feel the heat.

“Could I ask, what made you think we were open? No offense or anything- It’s just that the sign on the door said we were closed, and all the flyers said we’re opening next month… I don’t wanna mislead anyone or anything, haha..”

Sae gave a confused look, did he hallucinate…? It wouldn’t be the first time…

He pulled out his phone to check, and sure enough, “GRAND OPENING: NEXT MONTH” was written in bold. How did he miss that???

“Sorry, [Y/N].”

He mumbled, pulling out his wallet, and putting a few hundred bills on the table and sliding it to the worker, “For your troubles”

“Oh! Uhm, Thank you!”

The worker was visibly taken aback, he had given her $750! If she was in a different situation, she probably would’ve insisted on giving it back, but with the way the store was looking, it would go a long way.

Sae headed towards the door, checking the time

“Uhm sir, my name’s not [Y/N] by the way… you can just call me-”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Sae cut her off. He didn’t really care who she was. Now he knew why he was staring at her the whole time, her eyes looked like yours.

“Barely. [Y/N]’s are darker.”

Sae took a waffled from the bag, taking a bite as he walked home

“What am I doing with my life, I can’t even remember Rin’s eye colour but I know her’s? What curse am I under…”

“Maow!”

Sae looked down, a tabby cat was jumping up his leg, reaching for the waffle bag.

“Maowmaowmaowwwwww”

Sae leaned down, squatting as he opened the bag and gave the cat a waffle.

The tabby ate it happily, it seemed well groomed and clean, maybe it belonged to someone?

Sae pet her head, the cat leaning into his touch with a content smile as she purred.

“How cute, they have the same eyes…”

Sae stood up, dusting himself off. He waved goodbye to the cat and continued walking home.

But the cat followed, meowing loudly to get his attention. She didn’t seem to have any intention of leaving.

Sae looked at it for a bit, hesitating. You had always wanted a cat, you even had names prepared. Maybe one day, when you visit, he could show you the cat and convince you to come to his apartment.

“Forget it. She’s never coming back.”

There was no point in keeping the cat, he was never planning on getting one.

And yet he still stared at the cat, the cat staring back with those eyes that he oh so loved, resembling yours.

Fuck it.

Sae scooped up the cat, and continued walking,

“You’re mine now.”

A/N: Teehee! First oneshot :3 this ones inspired by irl events ;) bc i have a crazy rate of dreaming- (daily. And I can remember 75% of the time, which mean my dreams give me crazy amounts of content LMAO)

Hope u like it :3

[robo-writing]

NSFW Alphabet - Clive Rosfield Edition

Pairing: Clive Rosfield/Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+, minors DNI

Author’s Note: Might've gone overboard, this ended up being 2.7k words!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Clive makes it his personal mission to make you as comfortable as possible both during and after sex. His arms become your own personal cocoon, kissing your forehead as he cradles you closer. “I didn’t hurt you did I?” Clive asks, checking over you once, twice, before you have to stop him with a hand to his chest. “I’m fine, really, you didn’t do anything that I wasn’t actively encouraging.” You lay a kiss to the hand resting on your cheek, enjoying the smile that blooms on his face. “Are you sure?” He studies your nude body concerned, lightly rubbing the indents where his hands gripped you. You nod. “I’m sure. Now come, lay with me.”

“As you wish.” He answers, moving to hold you close.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

It might sound cheesy but he genuinely enjoys watching you smile, it brightens his day like nothing else. For him, it’s his arms, because you get so giddy when he lifts you for a hug, legs dangling in the air. The two of you are walking side by side through a meadow, a rare day of peace where Clive can simply enjoy being in the moment with you. You had insisted on a break, and now that he’s here he feels a sense of calm wash over him. Your stumbling form brings him out of his head, moving quickly to catch you before you fall. “Are you alright?” You both look down, a huff of annoyance escaping you. “Just tripped over some rocks, I’ll be fine.” A closer look and the road ahead is a bit uneven. He couldn’t risk you falling and hurting yourself, so his next course of action was obvious.

Within seconds you find yourself lifted bridal-style in his arms, holding onto his tunic in shock. “What—Clive?” Your legs dangle in the air, secured by strong arms beneath you. You look at him, waiting. His tone is genuine, but the pleased smirk he wears tells another tale. “I can’t have my lady walking in such dangerous conditions, what kind of man would I be?” You raise an eyebrow in knowing, aware that he just wanted an excuse to hold you. “You could’ve just asked me, you know.” He nods in agreement. “Yes, I could have. But this is more fun.”

You feel yourself laugh in his arms as he walks, an ever-present smile on his face.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves the sight of his cum dripping from you, but equally hates the smug look Tarja gives him when he asks for some medicine the day after. He’ll settle for finishing on your stomach to save himself the embarrassment but if you want to watch every thought exit his brain ask him to come inside you, he’ll never say no.

“My love,” he grunts, the scruff of his beard tickling your neck. He’s pushed himself as far as he can go, unwilling to separate for a second. “Tell me to stop, please—“

His movements are uncoordinated, single-minded in their attempt to bring you pleasure. You can barely hear him past the sound of your own moans, but your legs bring him closer either way. “Don’t, stay, please—“

Something snaps in his brain, his thrusts move even faster, a hand on your hip to keep you steady as his hips cant deliciously into yours. “Founder help me, you feel so good, fuck—!”

He cries your name as he stumbles off the edge, a violent shudder moving through his body. When he finally gathers himself he looks down at you through lidded eyes, a dopey grin stretched across your face.

“A smile like that means I must have done well.” He breathes, shallow and ragged. He watches his seed spill from you captivated, a single finger moving to spread you apart and watch more of him drip from you.

Tarja be damned, this was worth it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wants to be submissive to you, wants to just lay back and take whatever you have to give, but the poor boy doesn’t know how to express it. It might have to take some detective work from you, but if you ever figure it out he’s putty in your hands.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He had no previous lovers besides you, but he isn’t totally oblivious, trust me when I say he’s eager to learn.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Good ol’ missionary, also enjoys doggystyle. Something about the sound of you screaming his name into the pillow drives him wild.

Muffled noises leave your lips, a beautiful song of his name harmonizing perfectly with the sound of his hips meeting yours. You’re pressed perfectly beneath him, arched just the way he likes it, a hand running down your back appreciatively.

He finds himself grinning at another whine of his name, fully draping himself over you. His lips meet your ear as the force of his thrusts increases, legs shaking in an attempt to keep up with his brutal pace.

“Just like that my love, you’re doing so well.”

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

To him, having sex is his way of showing his love for you, and he’s very serious about that. He’ll crack a smile or two, but if you joke around too much he’ll probably look at you confused before starting again, making sure that this time you’re too preoccupied to try.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He does keep himself trimmed regularly, a habit from his days as a former royal. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Having sex with Clive is a declaration of his love to you, every action speaks to you in a profound way that extends beyond just pleasure. There's something so affectionate about being with Clive, every action fulfilling a need you were never aware of. His touch, a declaration of his love, his words devout.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Moderate sex drive, doesn’t really jerk off and if the urge does rise, he’d rather just go to you. On the off-chance he does partake it’s very quick, driving himself to pleasure as fast as possible with a hand on his mouth to silence himself.

You had left early in the morning while he was still asleep and when he woke up he found himself missing you, which then evolved into him missing your body, how soft it was under his hands, how it moved for him as he explored it. Further and further did his imagination take him under his fingers squeezed at his hardening cock, a sigh leaving him as he freed himself from his nightwear. 

He wanted to take his time but the thought of you made him frantic, hand moving faster and faster against his length. Just when he felt that blinding sensation build up in his core the door opened abruptly, the shock causing him to halt in fear before he realized it was you who walked in.

A look of shock, then of lust passed through your face. “Of all the things I expected to find, this was not on the list.”

Clive moves to apologize, reaching for a blanket to cover himself before he’s stopped by your hands at his wrist. 

You eye him up and down, pulling the blanket further away as you sit at his side, lips kissing softly at his neck. He’s confused, hesitant to move from his spot.

“My love?” He asks, looking up and down at you. His cock is still throbbing with need, even more so now that you’re touching him, breath hitched when your fingers trace against his length.

You whisper into his skin, breathy. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here before, but I’m here now. Let me take care of you.”

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise kink - He’s always complimenting you one way or another, whether that’s on the battlefield or in the bedroom.

Body Worship - Truly believes you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and he makes you feel like it too. If you’re insecure about anything, he’s going to make it his personal goal to show you how perfect you are.

Frottage - Sometimes the two of you are so eager that you can’t be bothered to take your clothes off. At times like this he’s content to watch you fall apart on his lap, only to have his hips stutter when your fingers press against his clothed erection. 

Size Difference - He can’t help the pride that swells in him when you can’t reach something and have to ask him for help, it makes him feel needed. He also can’t help how his dick throbs when you struggle to take it, the smallest little bump forming against your stomach when he pushes all the way in.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom, or if you’re on the road, a local inn. He prefers sex to be somewhere neither of you can be bothered.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Spending time with you, holding you close. It’s not unsurprising to have a hand “innocently” rest under your clothes and if anything else were to happen, well, that’s just a happy accident.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything pain-related, or anything that can draw blood. He doesn’t want to hurt you, so any and all weapons are off the table.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Has a preference for receiving rather than giving, only because the sight of you with his cock in your mouth makes him weak in the knees.

His hands are bundled in the sheets, hunched over, trying his best to control his hips. Your mouth laps at the head of his cock, and when you look up at him doe-eyed he nearly comes right then and there.

You love him when he’s like this, such a strong man reduced to his base form, struggling to contain himself under waves of euphoria. When you lift your mouth away he begs for you to return, only to silence himself when you put his hand in your hair.

“Go on,” you goad, licking a stripe against his length. You don’t miss how his fingers tighten in your locks. 

Your only warning is a groan of your name before he forces you to take every inch he has to give, a sinful grin curling at his lips when he feels you gag.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow, purposefully strokes, enjoys taking his time with you. Might treat you a bit rougher if he’s had a bad day, but he’ll apologize after and give you the best aftercare the world has ever seen.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If he’s short on time, sure, but he much prefers to take his time with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Like before, he isn’t experienced so any risks being taken would most likely be proposed by you. He’s up for trying anything once, so long as it isn’t dangerous.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Former Shield of Rosaria, as well as the Dominant of Ifrit? You’d be lucky if he breaks a sweat.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He probably wouldn’t think about them until you showed him one, all of a sudden a new world has been unlocked to him. This goes back to the dirty secret bit, but he’s also played around with the idea of you using them on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Likes to tease you, but can never commit to it because the moment you beg him to keep going he’s quick to give you whatever he wants.

He has you encased in his arms, back pressed against his front as his fingers move across your aching sex, so close and yet so far from what you need. 

He laughs at your frustration, keeping your legs held open with one hand while the other makes feather light touches against your exposed folds. He’s enjoying himself, but you’re fit to burst. 

“You look beautiful like this, a pleasure for my eyes only.” He whispers into your ear.

Even when he’s teasing you he’s a romantic, even if you’re ready to cry in dismay.

“Clive, I’m begging you—“ You reach a hand to his wrist, pressing his hand further to touch your clit. “Touch me, please.”

He looks down at your glassy eyes, and his heart tugs at the sight of you so desperate. He obliges without a second thought, enjoying the sound of your moans bouncing off the walls.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not a moaner, but a chatter. Likes to tell you exactly what you do to him as he fucks you.

“Founder, I could spend the rest of my days like this—“

A sharp thrust leaves you keening, a jumbled mess of what would be his name leaving your lips. The sound of his cock entering you is obscene, only made worse by your own voice crying out for him.

“—you, ah, you want that, right? Want me buried inside you until you can’t stand—“

He can barely finish a sentence without moaning, too far gone in the feeling of your wetness clenching around him. You don’t reply, but your body tells all, your back arching off the sheets.

“Ah, I knew you would,“ He hits that spot inside that has you seeing stars, and before you could scream he swallows whatever sound you make with his mouth against yours, sloppy and unrefined. 

When he’s satisfied, he pulls away to admire your supple body laid bare before him. With a growl, he continues. “Don’t worry, I want that too.”

He doesn’t stop moving, not for a second. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Likes to use Ifrit’s flames to keep you warm in the cold winter nights. It’s also an excuse to keep you close.

Even as you sit in front of the fireplace a chill is settling deep into your bones. After the third shudder you find yourself lifted into the air by a familiar pair of arms, enveloping you in a warmth that causes you to relax instantly.

“You didn’t have to Clive,” you murmur, moving closer into him. “The fireplace would have gotten me warm soon enough.”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Would that have been before or after you turned into a block of ice?”

You smile at the joke, relaxing even further when he presses a kiss into your hair. He places you on the bed, quickly maneuvering himself behind you as a blanket of heat spreads across you.

“Sleep well, my dear. I’ll keep you warm instead.”

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

6 inches, very girthy, needs to work you up a bit before getting anything done, but once you’re nice and prepared you feel so full.

No matter how many times you’ve had sex, Clive always marvels at how tight you are, how small you look beneath him or how wide your eyes get when he rests himself at your entrance. 

The first time you had sex you had told him unsure, “I don’t think it’ll fit.” 

He proved you very wrong that night, as he did every night since. Even now, as your eyes roll back at the delicious stretch he provides, he’ll prove you wrong once more.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Moderate, he's always thinking about you and making sure you're comfortable.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

The moment he’s certain all your needs are met he’s falling asleep alongside you. Will also take some time in the morning just to admire you before he has to leave.

[dadsbongos]

preacher's boy likes choir singer

2.5k words / warnings - sacrilege, bad attitude bastard zeke, demon possession??, cunnilingus (reader got puss)

summary - you and your church crush try earning God's forgiveness for temptation... only for Zeke Jaeger to have to suck demonic influence straight out of you.

kinktober: day twelve - blasphemy, church ~~~

“No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. Matthew 6:24.”

Zeke glances up through golden lashes, pushing his wiry glasses along his nose. In the other hand, he clutches a spankin’ new copy of Book of Common Prayer, Pew Edition over his knees. His right foot taps impatiently, expertly disguised as him simply bouncing his baby brother to keep the infant content. Carla is allowed a rare moment of rest on his right while his grandparents watch his father in the center of the floor. Grisha continues to wave his hands and grasp the podium and implore every devout there to pledge their souls, and keep them pledged.

Zeke is not focused on Grisha; Zeke is focused on what stands behind Grisha. Two silent rows of the church choir, in silky ivory robes -- similarly fresh and unweathered. Taller adults, the baritones and tenors, in the back with all two altos decorating the middle, and the sopranos -women and people Zeke’s age- lined up in the front. And right in the center of the bottom row, is you. Who is similarly aged as Zeke, only a couple months apart, and who seems to also doze off while his father speaks.

Managing a sneaky glance at the clock over his grandmother’s head, Zeke celebrates the fact his father’s sermon must be coming to a close. Which also means soon you’ll be free.

He swallows the wad of trepidation in his throat and slides Eren toward Carla with those big wet puppy dog eyes that always smuggle him out of trouble. Carla swipes up her baby while Zeke sits up straighter and smooths wrinkles in his pants. He straightens his glasses again. He looks up at you.

You’re looking back. You give the tiniest wave, just barely brushing above your hip and he waves back.

Carla catches the sight, but merely shakes her head fondly.

Grisha prompts the room to rise before bidding them well.

“May almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Have pure love for our Lord in your hearts, and remember He is always first and He is the only one that can satisfy. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

Zeke slips away from his step-mother and grandparents to find you among your own family. Tugging your hanging sleeve with an uneven grin, “I liked your singing.”

“Thanks, you probably couldn’t even hear me though…”

“I could hear you,” he assures, “I always can.”

“That’s bad!” you raise a modest hand over your horrified mouth, “You shouldn’t hear me over the others!”

“No, I mean,” Zeke huffs, “I can hear you.”

“Huh?” now you’re giggling awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck, “What does that mean?”

“Nevermind,” he mutters.

“Sorry…”

“No, don’t- “ he scoffs, sliding a glance towards his father, “I want to hear you sing. You by yourself.”

“Oh,” you giggle, clapping your hands over your face with an embarrassed whine, “Sorry!”

“I can’t talk right anyway.”

Your hands lower into a shy clasp at your hips, an even shier twist working your lips, “I like how you talk. It’s confusing sometimes, but you sound smart.”

He has to smush a cheek against his shoulder -- earnestly attempting to hide a staining rouge, and there’s a new response tickling the back of his throat. Until:

“Zeke!”

Grisha’s voice snaps over you both. He glares disapprovingly at his son, then scowling at you. Zeke moves to block his father out, offering a small condolence in the form of timidly rubbing his neck and smiling, “I have a weird request.”

“Like what?” when you’re fresh off a scolding, your lips delve into the most perfect pout. And shame wets your eyes deliciously. 

Sounds sick, but you’re so pretty when you’re scared.

“Can you meet me back here? When your grandma falls asleep,” Zeke whispers the last bit, especially cautious even though your grandmother is ways away by her little old rustbox.

“What? Why?”

“I just need you to.”

Scary words. Doesn’t help coming from Zeke Jaeger, who's prone to long silences and sulking in isolated corners. But to you, Zeke Jaeger has a sweet face and kind eyes, cloudy and gray as they were.

So being agreeable comes easy to you, “Okay, Zeke.”

When it comes to Zeke, you find yourself too easily influenced. His father warns against false prophets but you’re sure his son is no ravening wolf. Not a voice that smooth, and not a soul so weepy.

“I’m sure if we just ask, then He’d let us,” Zeke reasons, a little preemptively cocksure. 

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely,” he takes your hands and they’re warm, “He’d stop us if we weren’t meant to be together, right? That’s part of omnipotence. He’d know and stop us somehow.”

Another thing, Zeke is so smart. Someone so clever can’t be dumb enough to purposefully be cruel, right? That would be begging eternal punishment and Zeke knows better.

“I’m pretty sure the whole point is to overcome temptation by ourselves…”

“What God would be so heartless as to forever cast devout believers to hell for one slip up?” Zeke moves up to squeeze your shoulders, “If He stops us this once, then I’ll drop it,” then he steps back, “Unless, I misread you, and you don’t like me?”

“I do!” you admit boldly, then covering your mouth, “I, well, I do! I’m just… Nana always said to wait, right? For marriage, you know?”

“I’ll marry you one day,” Zeke’s hands ball up at his sides, he shrugs, “But aren’t you curious? Other kids get to do this kind of thing all the time. I just want to be normal like them for once.”

“We are normal!”

“Sure,” he shakes his head, realizing quickly this argument is going nowhere, “We can just go home, then. I’ll walk you.”

“Well…” you gnaw a thumbnail nervously, “Hold on. I don’t know. Maybe. God wouldn’t mind, maybe, just once? If we do ask? It’d be okay, you think?”

“I do.”

“Then, okay, ask.”

“Me?” he chuckles quietly at the idea.

“You’re Pastor Grisha’s son…”

“Oh, yeah, okay. Let me,” Zeke straightens up and clears his throat, “Father in heaven,” the words feel clunky and unfamiliar on the back of his tongue, “We humbly ask that maybe, just this once, we could- we could give into temptation? We’re young, and everybody else does it,” last minute he decides to throw out, “And if nothing happens, I’ll assume we have your blessing!”

You’re sent back screaming when the window over your shoulder shatters apart. Glass shards litter the floor and your heart bangs against your uvula. Stomach lurching.

“That was a bird!” Zeke rationalizes.

With little reasoning, you crumble to the floor as if to sweep up the mess. Hide it away before Zeke’s father finds it the next morning.

“Huh?! How can you be sure…?” you mumble, hands hovering over glinting shreds.

He has to bite his lip before the because this isn’t real can escape, merely shrugging, “It just had to have been.”

“Then why do I suddenly feel sick?” you cradle a hand against your stomach.

“Sick?” Zeke scoots closer, gently brushing his hand over yours, “Sick how?”

“My whole chest is on fire, and my face is hot, and,” your spare hand now retracts between your thighs until your forearm is firm against your crotch, “I’m. uhm. I think I’m… throbbing?”

“Throbbing,” Zeke repeats, eyes locked on your subtly rocking hips, “Are you horny?”

“I don’t know…”

“Have you never…?” speechless, he makes a crude jerking motion.

“No!” you cry horrified, but when his eyes only widen you gasp, “You have?!”

“Everyone does.”

“Not me. I’m scared, Zeke, what does this mean? What am I feeling?”

“I can’t be sure, but I can feel… if you want?”

Immediately, you’re relieved at the offer: someone you trust with infinitely more experience towards bodily pleasure willing to assess for you, “Yes, yes! Please!” 

“Alright,” he clears his throat, gunmetal eyes flickering your way before toward the window then to Jesus bleeding over you. A stuttered mewl from the back of your throat distracts him. His heart pounding into his ribs as he watches you aimlessly bounce against your arm, “Let me see, then.”

Without much thought you comply, leaning back onto your elbows with knees collapsing to opposite sides of your torso. A darkened patch weeping around your hole, and heat straight spiraling up your spine until it's spewing along your cheeks. An involuntary mewl is choked between clenched teeth,

“Zeke!” you whine, twitching on the floor, “Zeke, I feel so…!”

He crawls forward on his hands and knees, eyes staining between your legs. Mouth hanging limp before he can spit out a marbly, “I’m gonna touch you,” his right hand smooths up your shin, over your knee, and down the plain of your thigh before his thumb sears along the seat of your panties.

Pausing at your clit to swirl before peeling the material aside.

Snowy fog mists up Zeke’s round glasses, he quickly swipes them off just to rub down and replace -cutting his gaze to yours as if you had any questions, “I wanna see you. All of it.”

Genesis 3:3  But of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, God hath said, Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die.

With nothing of a response, you nod meekly and push up into his hand. The movement forces his thumb against your bare, swollen nerves -- syrup clings between you. Webbing from his warm finger pad to your cunt. He swallows harshly.

Genesis 3:4  And the serpent said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely die:

You pierce his thoughts with a whiny, “Put your mouth on it, Zeke…!”

As if he could miss what you were talking about, you hump his hand. Budding your slit against his knuckles.

His brain short circuits under your lidded stare.

Genesis 3:6  And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave also unto her husband with her; and he did eat.

Zeke’s tongue sizzles up you in a broad, fat stroke before abandoning the pleasantries. Muted moans die in your hip as he worms a lick inside you, then he slurps straight from the source -- now slipping a hand down to scissor you open. Lewd, loud sucking crescendos from between your thighs -Zeke drowns and begs for more.

Whether he’s really saving you or only sinking you deeper into corrupting with every dive of his fingers, he cannot be sure. Nor does he care too much to. If you’re struck out of heaven for this, then he’ll fall with you. 

Reinforced immediately as you snag his golden strands between frantic fingers, nails spiking his scalp interim to him flicking his tongue inside you. 

Zeke had a hypothetical relationship with God -- he’s simultaneously real and nonexistent; his father knows exactly what he’s saying and his father is a bumbling fool. You are an ultimate temptation and you are just a sweet member of the choir. One person cut from many.

He pulls back to suck a sharp breath before delving to suck on your clit. Peeking up at you through crooked frames. Eyes clouded and unattainable through your own.

Harder he sucks, the more bearable your churning, heated gut becomes. So you encourage, pushing his head deeper into your pulsing cunt. Grinding down onto his nose with abandon. Eagerly pushing back into you, Zeke hums around you -quiet prayers to lure out more of your wetness. 

Prayers answered: waves of gush splatter onto his clear glasses and muddy your visage. Zeke bathes his tongue with your taste. Sharp, maybe a little sour, but so so fucking warm and so soft. He imagines this is what angels drink: he knows he’s totally unworthy.

So he thanks you with a dedicated curl of his fingers. 

You return gratitude tenfold, wringing blonde hairs dangerously. Back snapping in an overwhelmed arch, jaw hinged with raucous wails. Garbled versions of his name, and he loves the song- your voice is marvelous.

What was it his father said this morning?

You cannot serve two masters?

Zeke blinks up at you, still murky and wavering with the goop now drying against his lenses (which he does not plan to wipe away soon), and suckles again just to hear you scream.

He knows which master he believes in: the one he can see, the one cumming on his face like a divine wine. 

You cannot believe pleasure feels so good, and so right.

You cannot comprehend why a God claiming to love you bars you of this feeling.

You would not hold it against Zeke if he’s damned you both, instead clawing for more and gasping into the dark, empty church, “Yes, yes, yes, ah! S’good, so good!”

Zeke pushes down onto the hardwood floor, grinding uncomfortably as you squeal mindless, “thank you, Zeke!”s and clamp your thighs around his ears.

If he weren’t occupied swallowing your spewing slick, then maybe he could thank you in return. For what, he can’t be sure -- this is not salvation, surely. Though, perhaps it’s much better.

As soon as the flaming knot in your stomach has unraveled, you notice a cool almost clamminess washing over you. Clear and sensible, you softly push Zeke away by the forehead. 

“Too much?” he murmurs, panting for breath. You nod slowly. He licks his lips shamelessly, “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry!” you slip over across the floor until you’re nestled into his side, laying your dizzy head against his shoulder, “It was- uhm… it was nice.”

“Only nice?” he dramatizes a pout, working off his glasses before holding them up into the pouring moonlight to map out where your slick stains.

An unflattering snort leaves you, you burrow into his arm and try to shake off the sudden embarrassment, “Very much better than ‘nice’.”

Zeke nods, a small grin coming over his face as he attempts to wipe his glasses clean. Then dropping his head against yours, overly familiar and not unlike a proper lover, “I’m glad. I’d only seen that in magazines before, so I wasn’t sure I was doing it right.”

“I didn’t even know you could put a mouth there,” you shrug.

“Hm. I have to show you more things, then.”

“You’re the pastor’s son, yet you’re worse than any boy I know…”

“Are you complaining?” he’s being sardonic, though some tiny anxious part in the middle of his chest has him watching you through his peripherals.

“No,” you shake your head into his arm, “Not at all, really…”

[raindrop-on-a-spiderweb]

Sending love to one of the best writers on ao3 😘💕 I check your page frequently and wanted to ask about the things that you enjoy doing or aspire to do

Hi Anon, it's so sweet of you to send this ask to ask after me. Rest assured your words are appreciated on this end; thank you from the bottom of my heart and top of my soul 🫂 I'm very glad you think highly of my work even after so long, and I'm so so sorry I haven't had any new content in such a long time. But I am hard at work on a oneshot that will definitely be published before the next chapter of Samarra, so the well won't stay dry for long! The summary is “A jaded prison nurse must come to rely on a man she hates and fears in the midst of a deadly prison riot.” I started writing it in the ward; it's based off of the Moundsville Penitentiary which is an especially spooky place I've been to–an old 19th century prison made of towering stone turrets, eerie high ceilings, and rusted iron cells packed together like pigsties. I'm hoping to get that atmosphere across; it's about ⅔ of the way finished so good progress is being made!

Well I enjoy writing, most of all, but I've already talked about that in detail a thousand times so I'll spare you. I love reading, of course (I just finished “The Five”, about the victims of Jack the Ripper, and it's a fascinating bit of history and an incredible and horrifying look at Victorian-era industrial Britain). I love exploring the mountains with my cats trotting along beside me and photographing what I find. In all honesty I'm a bit of a trappist–I rarely see people except hunters and cashiers, and most of my time is spent alone with myself or my dad. But each day is an adventure when you're in nature and each season brings primordial and beautiful changes– I collected watercress the other day and found the downy remains of a fawn. 

I love watching old movies. My dad and I were watching Laurel and Hardy last night and I swear it holds up a century later. Before that we watched King Rat, which is one of his–and my–favorite movie; about two men stuck in a Japanese prison camp and the Machiavellian and underhanded ways they survive there. The book is particularly good too, and the epilogue about rats devouring each other has haunted my dreams for a long time. 

On the same subject, a series that I highly recommend is called Tenko, which is very similar to King Rat, except the prisoners are women. It's so grueling, realistic and enrapturing; I've never seen anything that so squarely focuses on women's experiences, relationships with each other, the hardships they face, and how they struggle to survive together in a thankless, deprived environment. The backstabbing and despair that comes in their darkest moments, the love and support in which they uplift each other with, their mistrustful and uneven relationships with their captors that occasionally erupt in friendships and affairs–and all the episodes are on dailymotion, too!

https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x74u4fi

I like dreaming most of all. So many of my story ideas come from my dreams. The worst thing in the world is waking up and trying to catch the stray strands of the dream slipping through your fingers. It's amazing to live so many lives–good or bad–inside your head. Sometimes when I wake up, I feel a sweeping, palpable sense of relief that I don't live in the world I conjured last night, and sometimes I wish I could just claw myself back into my brain and live in that little pocket world for the rest of my life.

I do not aspire to much. I don't really have any base wishes but to keep writing and live til 70. We all have our hopeful fantasies, of course, and when I finally do get Ragnatela on Amazon Kindle (Microsoft Word is trying to swindle me out of one hundred and fifty American dollars to use their dogshit platform, and since the manuscript is half-edited, I'm afraid to lose my formatting if I switched to a free program like Libreoffice) maybe it will get some attention. 

I still intend on writing on Ao3 until the day I die, though. Even with its unsavory content I have such a soft spot for its unrestricted freedom of speech and prose. Plus I don't want to give up talking to you guys and goofing off in the comments ☹️ I also aspire to stop drinking. I'm sure I've already shaved a few years off my lifespan with my tippling habit. But when one day is much like the other, is there much point in extending it?

I aspire to travel around the United States more. I took a trip through the Deep South to visit Savannah and it was enrapturing; something I will remember for the rest of my life. Rusted-out cars felted in green moss, skinny, grazing horses in windswept fields, peeling roadside signs advertising tent revivals, clownish golliwogs behind still windows of cafes, forgotten tugboats half-sunken into lagoons, highway strip hotels where craggy hookers peered at you suspiciously from their fold-up chairs, and derelict cemeteries separated between Union and Confederate. It was just post-Irma and we were often the only tourists at any of these places. The effects of the hurricane were stark and obvious, with the land in a state of shock before any official agencies came to clean them up. I remember boats crashed into the harbor and grandfather trees felled in front of opulent antebellum homes, and the sea churned brown and murky when we trekked to the beach. The sense of desolation, and not only from the hurricane, was chilling–but I loved being there and loved being swathed by the kudzu and history. My mother is very ill and before she dies we might make up briefly and take a trip to New Orleans together and explore rural Louisiana; I'd always wanted to write a story set in New Orleans. Louisiana is a fascinating state with its mixture of Napoleonic and Creole influences; and I've always been drawn to the grand, decaying tombs of New Orleans as much as I have been to the odd Francophone swamps and their hidden dialects and traditions. And one day I would like to go way, way out west and explore the Gold Rush ghost towns. All the mines where I am are filled-in, so I would like to venture underneath the earth just once. 

Most of all, I aspire to be alone, and live by myself for the rest of my life, far away from town, somewhere in the mountains like where I am now. I wish I didn't have to see another person for the rest of my life. Being alone with myself is bad enough, being with others is intolerable.

Anyways, I apologize for my undue pleonasm, you caught me in a chatty mood 😀 Here's an excerpt from the newest prison one-shot:

Rhoda had met Jesse Fitzner her first day on the job. It was midway through her shift, and she was taking a lunch break and grading her sister Sherise's homework in her office. The day had started with a white-knuckle ride in early morning mist so thick she couldn't see the taillights of the car in front of her. Midway through her preliminary tour of the prison, an inmate had stuffed his toilet full of socks, which promptly overflowed and leaked sewage out of the cell onto her high heels. The hoots and jeers had made her speed up, trying to avoid the leering eyes of her future patients. And her introduction to the mental ward, by a younger but just as pessimistic Fawna, had not lifted her mood any either.

So there she sat in her office, snatching a moment of calmness and frantically scribbling corrections over Sherise's homework before her sister turned it in tomorrow. And then the door swung open.

A blond man poked his head in and briefly raised his eyebrows. He was wearing the omnipresent, drab gray prison uniform, pants and a sweatshirt rolled up to his elbows. "What are you up to?"

She flipped the cover of the notebook over.

"Going over my sister's homework. Is there something you need?"

"Passing on a message to Nurse Judson. One of the inmates wants to switch his blood pressure medication."

"Oh, she'll be back soon. I think she's–doing something with the prisoners. Just give her a few minutes."

"No hurry." He pulled the chair opposite her and sat down in it. "So you're grading your kid sister's homework? Shouldn't she be doing that herself?"

The man had thick blond hair that stuck up in back like a duck's tail, and very rosy cheeks. He looked like he had just shaven, by the nicks on his neck. 

"It's a long story. I should be–"

"I've got time. If this is your first day, you need to take some time to yourself to relax--else you'll end up in the infirmary."

Rhoda laughed. He had a nice smile and a nice manner about him–very jovial and friendly. It was refreshing to see a man who didn't stare at her like she was a piece of meat. "Well, my parents died when my brother and I were still young. Seth was seventeen, I was fifteen. He went to work so we didn't have to break up the family, and I stayed home to care for my little siblings, all three of them. It wasn't fun. I always wanted to do more for them than what I was stuck with, so I'm making sure they get good grades and go to good colleges. That's why I got this job in the first place, to put some back for their college funds."

"That's real decent of you. I don't know a single woman who would go so far for their family. You'd best be proud of yourself. Where's your brother now?"

"He's working out of state in Pennsylvania. He found a good woman and has a concrete contracting business now."

"You got yourself a man?"

"Never saw the need. Someday, maybe, when I'm lonelier."

"Working here for a few years will train that loneliness for a man right outta of you." 

They both laughed at that, and Rhoda felt her tensed muscles begin to relax. "I didn't catch your name."

"Jesse Lee Fitzner." He reached across the desk to grip her hand. For being such a small-built man, he had a crushing handshake.

"Rhoda Ames. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"I knew a few Ameses when I was on the outside. Where your folks from?"

"Beckworth, west of here."

"Oh, you're bullshitting me. I have folks from there too. You don't know a Harry Fitzner, do you?"

"Harry who used to run the car repair shop?"

"That's him! My uncle. He retired a few years ago. His lungs got to him. Too much time in the mines."

The door slammed open again. An elderly prison guard, who had greeted her rather abruptly upon her hiring and who had a hard and wrinkled face, was standing in the doorway. When he saw Jesse, his face grew harder. "What are you doing here, inmate?"

Jesse raised his hands, still not moving from where he was leaning back on the chair. "Just dropping off a message for Nurse Judson."

"Next time, leave the message with Nurse Ames and promptly return to your cell. There's no reason for you to be here actin' so friendly."

To Rhoda's mild disappointment, the guard grabbed Jesse by his arm and yanked him out, harder than he needed to. Before he was escorted out, Jesse tossed a glance over her shoulder and winked at her. "Rhoda, you're a young lady, and I'm a bit of a spring chicken myself. I think we would get along real well outside these walls."

Rhoda couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up from her throat. She felt lightheaded. She was a rangy and abrupt woman with a working tan, and hadn't much experience with men flirting with her.

When Jesse was marched out, Rhoda stood up and grabbed her peaked nurse's cap, girding her loins for the next shift on the ward. While she was counting medications, the elderly guard–Miles–came in again and shut the door behind him. She flinched, expecting a dressing-down on her first day of work. I wasn't fraternizing with the prisoner, was I? Am I… am I gonna lose my job?

He sat down opposite her. "You ever hear that tale 'bout the lady and the snake?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to–"

"Old story; old, old story. One of them Aesop stories they wrote when people was still in togas and carved words in stone. A woman was walking home one day when she saw a frozen snake lying on the side of the road. It begged her to save its poor little self, this little creature of God. So taking pity on it, the woman brought it home and warmed it by the fire between her breasts. And as it thawed, it bit her breast. 'Oh, why would you do such a thing? Your poison will kill me,’ she wailed. And the snake smiled and said, 'You knew I was a snake before you brought me into your house.'"

Rhoda stared at him, puzzled. "I don't understand."

"You know what that fellow did to get in here? Fitzner was top dog in a motorcycle gang outside of prison. A real nasty one. He ordered a contract killing on a rival gang member. They snatched the poor fellow when he was leaving a bar. Hung him from a tree, broke his legs with doublejack hammers, used him as target practice with their sawed-offs, cut his dick off and shoved it in his mouth, then left and let him choke on it and bleed to death for the rest of the night. He was out, too, far out in the mountains, and they only found him weeks later when a hunter stumbled on him. One of the killers snitched on Fitzner in exchange for dropping a drug felony sentence he was staring at. That snitch went into hiding and changed his name. Two days after Fitzner was taken to this good penitentiary, he was found with his head beaten in, in a dry creek bed."

Rhoda's head began to spin in slow whirls. Her hand where Jesse had shaken it grew very clammy. She remembered his bright smile across the desk, his dark eyes, and felt bile and vomit churn in her throat.

"You both were talking for a while, I noticed. He's good at prising information out of people, Fitzner is. A boyish smile and a few good words and he can make both men and women melt like butter on yer tongue. See? Now he knows who you are, and where your folks live. Now he can get to you."

Rhoda tried to talk, but her tongue was paralyzed. She looked down and wiped her sweaty hands on her knees.

Miles got up and went over to the door. He looked out of the window set on top, and his hard face relaxed. He seemed much older in that moment, more wrinkled and exhausted.

"You'd best be careful of him, Nurse Ames. He's a bad 'un. I'll be glad to see the back of him."

As it turned out, Miles retired later that year and it was Jesse who saw the back of him. 

And Rhoda became very wary of him from then on. Whenever he saw her in the hall, in the chow line, in the infirmary, he smiled at her and tried to make small talk. She ignored him, or was curt with him.

Unfortunately, he seemed to take that as an invitation.

[utanonicolechan]

SONG LETTER - QUARTET NIGHT (English TL + Do read notes!!) + HBD REIJI SENPAIIII!! <3

||Heyyo so it is already 0:00 in Japan right now so HBD REIJI SENPAI SJSHDHJDSJS <3 Plus the notes are same as before, TL-ed so you can sing it, might do some edits in the future, and I used jisho, translator LOL and some of my Japanese knowledge, but pls do enjoy! <3||

|| NOOO THE MEANING IS JUST TOO MELLOW, MY HEART GOES </3 :O :( :') ||

(Ranmaru)音符(ノーテーション)の海辺から届いて…と祈った

Hailing from the notation seaside, I’ve conveyed it and wished for it..

(Reiji) 何度も打ち変える歌詞(ラブレター)どうか響きますように

Of countless times where I write a love letter thinking how it will resonate in you?

(Camus)凍えそうな電子世界悴(かじか)んだココロへと

In this frozen electronic world, to my heart that is numb to coldness?

(Ai) 何を伝えて?　何を魅せたら? 君を笑顔に出来る？

What am I trying to say? What am I captivating? Can I even make you smile brightly?

(Ranmaru) 時計の長針と短針が

The hour and minute hand of the clock is ticking away

(Camus) キスをする度胸が苦しく

It’s getting hard, my nerve to kiss you is disappearing away (Reiji) 互いに互いの想い出募る

My memories of the precious days with you is getting stronger (Ai) その度に願うよ

Hoping for that time to come

(All) 「哀しみ歓びすべて一緒に抱き締めて生きたい」と

I want to live with the feeling of sorrowness and joyful together with you my darling love (All) 誰かが書いたシナリオじゃない

It is not a scenario written by someone ありのままの姿の

But it’s just the way of how it is 

「生きている」証明を残し

Leaving you a proof of how I am willing to [Live] 君を愛で刺すよ

Piercing you with how much I love you

言葉なんて虚しく

These words alone are just meaningless 風のように消えてく

They will soon disappear just like the wind 一番傍で歌を

I just want to sing beside you.. my love..

(Ranmaru) 楽園と希望を探し追い求め歩んだ

Trying to walk through this stranded path, I tried to search for happiness and hope (Reiji) 傷だらけになったハートは尚も明日を頼って

My heart that is filled with wounds and keeps bleeding on, still depends on what tomorrow will bring 

(Camus) どうして人は急かすのか？「幸福」と云う位置を

Why are people keeping rushing on simple things? And wanting to be the happiest one? (Ai) 時の無常は　恋で塞いで涙は分け合いたい

In such uncertain times, I want to cover it with love, and I want to share these tears with you (Ranmaru) カラカラと乾いた音が鳴る

The sound of emptiness in my heart keeps on resounding on (Camus) 冷めている心を否定する

Trying my best to deny that my heart is indeed cold (Reiji) まだ見ぬ自分の限界何処に

Where is it resides the limits that I haven’t yet to see (Ai) 在るのか？の旅路へ Does it even exist in this journey?

(All) 不揃いなのはわかってる尖った生き様が信条さ

I know it is uneven, but I have faith on this sharp way of life, trust me my dear (All) ゆずれない想いが今でも

This unwavering feelings for you now it is still 静かに燃え上がって

Burning real brightly yet silently 自分だけの物語へと

The one and only story for you my love

未だペンを握る

I still hold the pen to write it again 退屈など嫌いな

Hating on the feeling of tediousness

不器用な夢追いでも

Even if I’m ungraceful to chase my dreams 好きだと言って欲しい

If you love me please just say it to me 

(Ranmaru) 自分自身でなくてはならない

Please just believe me you just to be yourself (Camus) 自分の人生の主人公は

Because you are the heroine of your own life (Reiji) 信じて信じて続けた夢を

Trust me and believe, Trust me and believe, so the continuous dream (Ai) 失くさないように Will not be lost nor even closed (Ranmaru) 生きた印(あかし)を振り返る日に

One day we’ll look back to see the proof of our life (Camus) 命が閉じ旅立ちゆく日に

The day where we close and depart this from this wonderful life

(Reiji) 愛して愛して愛した君と

With you my dear whom I love, I love, I love (Ai) 足跡を語ろう

Just to recite our own footprints (All) 「そんな未来の為音楽へと捧げようこの今」を

For that future’s sake I will dedicate myself for the  music right now my love (All) 誰かが書いたシナリオじゃない

It is not a scenario written by someone ありのままの姿の

but it’s just the way of how it is 「生きている」証明を残し

Leaving you a proof of how I am willing to [Live] 君を愛で刺すよ

Piercing you with how much I love you

言葉なんて虚しく

These words alone are just meaningless 風のように消えてく

They will soon disappear just like the wind 一番傍で歌を

I just want to sing beside you.. my love.. 一番傍で夢を

I just want to dream beside you.. my love..

[mslanna]

All Is Fair In - Well, War

Chapter 8 of Be My Guest now up on AO3

In which I went overboard with poetry (apologies), Haarlep learns that hugs are necessary for human health, and Raphael learns nothing at all

An uneven rhythm settles over the House of Hope. The war has begun in earnest and Raphael's forces move to corner Zariel in her flying fortress. With the number of fiends coming and going undisturbed time with Raphael or Haarlep is rare. And since devils have no need for sleep, the bustling is all around the clock. Tav's mind starts to simmer in anxiety and hyper-vigilance.

"Most of them don't care if I'm around," they complain to Haarlep. "They strut through this place all wings and armoured boots. I may need a sphere of invulnerability. Or my own wings, preferably armoured."

"That opposes the whole point of wings, but do go on." Haarlep lounges on their side, fingers tracing invisible patterns on the silken sheets.

"They make excellent cocoons," Tav insists. "Throw some armour on and they are good protection. Here, a little like that." Tav scoots closer and pulls one of Haarlep's wings over them like a fleshy tent.

"Ah, we don't do that." The incubus retracts their wing and folds it out of reach.

"You don't?"

"No. Whatever gave you that idea."

"Raphael?" Tav ventures.

"What?" The incubus sits up. "As if he wrapped a wing around you to keep you out of reach from one his underlings?"

When Tav turns red instead of answering, Haarlep claps their hand in delight and croons:. "Oooh, he is smitten!"

"Well, if he is, he has a strange way of showing it," Tav grumbles.

"My dear, you may have a rather distorted idea about how devils go about something that may resemble affection. We are creatures of pain and suffering. We strive only to better our own positions. Everything that falls outside of those parameters is affection."

For a moment Tav imitates a surprised fish. In the end they close their mouth and look down at their hands. "Translation to other species is lousy, just saying. And you are not helping."

"Or course not. We are all grown adults here. Not to mention the show is absolutely entertaining and has so many benefits."

"Well, at least one person in this house benefits from it," Tav huffs.

"I am torn, my dear, I truly am. As much as I love to see our poor master suffer like that, I also hate to see you this dejected." Haarlep puts a finger under Tav's chin and raises their head. "Maybe I can find a truly delicious way to give you want without involving him."

Tav snorts. "You can always start with a hug."

"Oh, but for certain." Haarlep opens their arms. "I am all yours."

Tav climbs into the embrace, rests their face against the incubus' shoulder and for a moment, all is well. But soon sneaky fingers slither over Tav's shoulders, writing fiery lines over their clothes.

"No, none of that," Tav mumbles. They squirm but Haarlep takes their job of holding them very seriously.

"But why not," they whisper into Tav's ear. "That is where all the fun is."

"I'm not here for fun, Haarps." Tav manages to push a way a little. "At least not that kind of fun."

"What is in it for you then?" The incubus tilts their head. "And for me?"

"Well. Humans need contact; we're very social. We become unhappy and languish when we are isolated. And I am rather isolated here as you might have noticed." Tav leans back against the incubus. "Hugs are healthy."

"Is that so." Haarlep adjusts a careful grip around the human in their arms. "And what do I get?"

"Another thing to rub Raphael's nose in should he ever notice," Tav mumbles. "Plus, excellent new data on how to seduce a human extended edition - hugs can last for days."

"Never lost for words," Haarlep chuckles. "I see why he likes you. Now you just have to speak the same language."

Tav doesn't point out that learning infernal is very difficult when all you have is books and random fiends that don't slow down and also use vocabulary not listed in the beginner editions.

"That's why you're doing the song and dance thing with me, too, isn't?" They ask instead. "Because Raphael likes those and I am sharing them with you."

"Of course," the incubus agrees readily. "He has a love for words and musics, he has. Raphael frequents the opera houses of many planes, a true patron of the arts."

"And I am sharing this with you."

"Delicious and true." Haarlep tightens their hold. "But nobody forces Raphael to stay away. You are a guest in his very own house, ready to give him anything he asks for."

"He doesn't strike me as the asking type," Tav grumbles.

"He is certainly not. Which makes this all so very delicious." A wing closes around Tav. "Such a naughty little mousling. And since you are hells bent on being bad, so shall I. How is your health?"

"Much improved," Tav mumbles. It's not even a lie. They feel safe and for once, actually welcome and wanted in this house. "Give me five minutes and I should be ready for rehearsal."

# # #

Five minutes stretch out until Haarlep shakes Tav awake because their services are required. The paladin stumbles out of the boudoir, rubbing their eyes. They are just getting their bearings back when Raphael crosses their path.

"On time, I see." He gestures towards the balcony overseeing the Feast Hall.

Tav smiles despite the small desperation forming in their stomach. They slept longer than they thought and now it was too late to get some dinner into their belly before the wine-doused bickering session with Raphael. But the hells will fall before they let this part of their day slip.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Tav leads the way and slips into their comfortable chair. They pour the prepared wine, a blanc de noire that smells like soaked cherries and gooseberries. It will be difficult not to indulge. Raphael is getting their taste in wines down pat.

They watch the devil over the rim of their glass. The straight line of his thin lips curving gently upwards when Raphael catches them stare. Tav returns the smile, unable to rip their eyes away. The candlelight softens the harsh planes of Raphael's face. The hint of a five-o'clock shadow hugs his jaw. Tav wonders how it would feel to put the tip of their index finger into the shallow dent in the devil's chin.

"Anything in particular you want to discus ere we begin?" The words run smoothly from his lips.

There are many things Tav has on their mind but none seem wise to disclose. So they shake their head and reach for one of the books. "I am sure your questionable choices in literature will be enough to fill the evening."

"My choices are questionable?" Raphael stretches his legs and leans back. "I cannot remember losing a single argument against your rather poor interpretations."

"Because your memory sucks," Tav murmurs under their breath.

"I heard that but I will choose to ignore it."

Tav looks up. "No stomach for a fight this early?"

"I prefer your ramblings slightly intoxicated," Raphael agrees. "They are much more unhinged and entertaining that way. Not to mention, easier to lay waste."

"Doesn't make your old-fart traditionalist approach any more palatable."

"I pick my battles," the smile is deceptively gently. "And I pick the ones I will win."

Tav takes a provocative sip of their wine. If Raphael wants unhinged and intoxicated, he can get it. He can get a lot actually, too bad he doesn't want any. They grab the closest book and open a random page.

Time and wine do their job and flush Tav's face and belly with cosy warmth. Raphael watches as those eyes soften and let go of whatever fight it is Tav continuously carries with them. Less conscious of the world and themself, Tav's motions are far flung and slightly clunky. As if the tight control over their limbs left them unsure of what to do without it.

Now and then Tav bounces some body part against the table top or leg and frowns as if the piece of furniture hadn't been there the whole time. And while their words are less polished and the sentences janky, it is easier to see the vast mind behind them, working overdrive to connect to the world on the other side of Tav's head.

If Tav knows, they don't show. The change is slow like a sunrise: the single shades easy to miss, but unmistakable in its entirety. As Tav takes another sip of the carefully chosen wine, Raphael picks his next fight.

"It is cowardice in the end. The narrator doesn't take responsibility for their meandering and self-inflicted misery."

"Still caution," Tav counters and prods the open page with a finger. "They value their friendship and are not willing to give it up, not even for their own happiness."

"And where exactly-"

"Here: O ay, my friend, I watch you still, afar to silence sworn. I wish to say, I stopped myself, but I am much too torn to leave or speak or even seek a glance falling my way and yet I'm bound and cannot run and cannot even stay-" Tav recites.

"Self-made torment," Raphael repeats. "People are excellent at creating unnecessary hells for themselves. Why swear yourself to silence when words can easily resolve the problem?"

"Because friendship." Tav shakes their head. "Worst thing to lose. All the trust and care and commitment. Poof, gone."

"So the narrator is justified in pushing their decision onto the object of their affection?" The devil raises an inquiring brow.

"Did you even read the sonnet?" Tav huffs. "Says here

Please stay a while, my favourite smile, now I have come so far just take my hand in foreign land and tell me who we are.

The narrator made their choice. They're all-in deep in love. They leave it to their friend to set the frame of their interactions. Friendship or love. Both are options."

"It is still cowardice."

"Maybe, but to lose what you have for something that can never be hurts. And it is avoidable."

"Self-styled martyrdom. Withholding information on the grounds the other will know if they care and look close enough."

"Do you really think you can be around somebody so desperately in love and not notice?" Tav snorts.

"You forget yourself." The words cut cold thought the warmth cocooning Tav.

"Maybe I do." Tav drains their glass desperate to change the subject. "Do you ever write poetry yourself?"

"Why do you ask?" The words are warmer than the last but wary.

"Because as critics we have it easy, don’t we? There is no danger in taking apart and judging what others have created. But the writers, the poets, they put parts of themselves out in every piece."

"You want to dissect a part of me? Bold."

"That is not-", Tav stops. In a way, that is exactly what they ask. "Point taken."

"So let me ask you," the devil's voice drops, betraying his curiosity, "do you ever write poetry?"

Tav hopes their flaming blush isn't that visible in the dim light. "Everybody does, don't they? I sure did when I was a teenager." The grimace when Tav remembers those attempts is painful.

"And now?" The words are velvet and whisky. He is tempting them.

"Wanna have yourself enshrined in words?" Tav teases.

"No need for something so fancy, which also, I already have."

Spite flickers in Tav. Unwise and born from wine and embarrassment that makes it even less smart. But they already offended their devil. And tomorrow was the final assault on Zariel's flying fortress. They might not see him again. They might find themself waking up in the clutches of Mephistopheles. Was are a few reckless words in comparison?

"There once was a cambion in hell who thought that he was truly swell but if you get close a shortcoming shows as his incubus will surely tell."

Tav leans back and stares a challenge at the devil on the other side of the table.

But Raphael doesn't take offence. He leans back, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. "Low hanging Fruit. The best you can do?" He doesn't wait for Tav's answer.

"There is a loudmouth from Baldur's Gate who was way too eager and could not wait their turn for a deal their soul now a steal and them bound to a devil they hate."

"Oh, now it's on," Tav huffs. "I was never and in no way eager to deal with any devil."

Raphael raises his glass and sips expectantly. "A notion obviously too complex to fit the chosen form."

For a moment Tav grinds their teeth. But the self-satisfied smile on Raphael’s face eggs them on.

"There is a paladin, oath-bound and pure who had to deal with devils for sure but back-doors rule they are no fool it is the devils that are caught by their allure."

Tav takes a triumphant sip from their own wine. It glows warm in their belly, suffusing their whole body and the surrounding air with a gentle glow.

While they still imagine how Raphael will take their bait and what confession the next limerick may extract from him, the door is opened carefully.

A devil pokes their head in, eyes wide with fear at disturbing the Master of the House even on his own orders. "The last scouts have returned. We are ready."

A vicious smile spreads over Raphael's face, supplanting the indulgent ease. "As you were." He waves the devil away and stands.

"Alas, as much as I enjoyed our little skirmish, my war cannot wait." His hand makes an unresolved gesture in Tav's direction. "And let me know how it goes for your allure to other devils."

His eyes rake over Tav, stripping them for goods worthy of a deal. What the devil sees, seems to satisfy him and he leaves the human shivering in their chair.

Tav stares at the closed door for along time. What in the nine hells was that? And what had been in the wine to loosen their tongue into such a reckless foray? With nobody to see, Tav's face starts to burn. They reach for the almost empty bottle. Something to drown their thoughts with. They head to bed, intending to sleep of the worst of the embarrassment and intoxication.

# # #

Tav wakes and squirms under the blanket, wondering what pulled them from sleep, when they notice the feeling of a ghostly hand that wanders restlessly over their clit. They inhale sharply.

So much for the devil's promises. Worth nothing. The other ghost hand clasps around their shin and Tav can only imagine where Haarlep's leg goes with the insistent friction inside them raking over their every nerve.

Getting up takes concentration. But the more awake they are, the easier the feelings are to push aside. Tav stumbles queasily into the corridor and makes their way haltingly to the boudoir. They will find out who is allowed to break contract like this and then Tav will confront their sleazy devil with his own lies. What good that will do is uncertain. But with the tension rising in their body, so does Tav's determination not to let this slide.

The house is silent. The quiet before the storm. Tav wonders how long they slept. A last meeting and then battle. Was everybody gone already? Tav doesn't meet a soul on their way to the boudoir, even the voyeur debtor is nowhere to be seen. Tav spies a red figure on the bed with Haarlep, wings spread and working. But the fence breaks up all details.

Despite the fiend on the boudoir being obviously deeply engaged, Tav walks slow and quietly. The gurgle of water from the fountains covers their hitching breath. When a moan slips from their lips at an especially spot-on thrust, Tav stops. They shake, but only partly from the fear of being detected and caught.

The fiend has not noticed their presence though, and moves over Haarlep with viscous need. Tav slinks up to the curtain bound back against the wall to peer at the bed. For a moment, their heart freezes. Haarlep writhes on it in Tav's shape with their back arched. Ecstasy is written over their body in sweat and gasping moans. Their hands reach for the fiend working himself hard, one of Haarlep's legs propped up against his chest.

He leans down to capture Haarlep's borrowed mouth with an angry kiss and Tav finally can make out his face.

Raphael.

Tav jerks back behind the curtain. Trapped in place they cannot make their trembling legs move and slowly, their knees give in. With the pressure building inside them, Tav risks a quick scrabble out of sight and curls up behind one of the opulent beds around the pool. They hug themself tightly as Haarlep comes after taking the devil's ferocious climax.

As soon as the waves of second-hand release start to abate, Tav forces themself up into a shuffling run back to their room. Once out of the boudoir they drop all secrecy and sprint as fast as their trembling body allows.

Locking the door won't hold stop Master of the House, but it gives Tav enough security to curl up on their bed and cry unashamed. A tangle of emotions rolls over them suffused with shame of all flavours. Shame at what they witnessed, shame about the relief that is is Raphael himself, shame at the anger that it is Haarlep, shame at the angry knot in their stomach and the yearning wetness between their legs.

A halting hand moves down and shaking fingers slip into hot and empty folds. Tav tries to relieve their unsatisfied body with their own means but the image of Raphael fucking Haarlep in their shape, the utter greed of it, makes fingers a useless substitute. Tav howls their frustration into their pillow and pulls the blanket over their head.

It settles with unusual weight and the ghost of something hard slips up between their thighs. Tav groans, angry and grateful. The devil cannot get enough and this time, this time Tav will make sure they find their own release. Their fingers burrow back between their legs and Tav raises their hips unconsciously when the after-image of a ridged cock presses down.

[saythenamecabebe]

Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye

Warnings: Miscarriage, Depression? Angst? (Let me know if there's anything else I miss)

A|N: Based on the song, "Bigger Than The Whole Sky" by Taylor Swift. I hope you guys like this one, I've been having writers block 😭 I did cut some parts of the song out. I recommend hearing the song while reading this. Let me know what you guys think.

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

No words appear before me in the aftermath

Salt streams out my eyes and into my ears

Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness

'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs. Hong."

For the past two hours, that sentence has been replaying in my head over and over. I sit up on the bed, and my hands begin to tremble. My breathing uneven, my head falls onto my hands, and my vision blurs. Uncontrollable sobs pour out, and then I feel the warm arms of my husband's wrap around me. Josha pulled me into him, and I could feel his body shake as he tried to control the tears that threatened to spill. He holds me close to his chest and kisses my temple. No words were said as we both sit there crying over our beloved loss.

"I'm so sorry, Josh," I cry out. "It's all my fault, I'm the reason why our baby isn't here with us. I'm the reason why we lose everything because everything I touch gets sick."

"Don't say that," he cries. "None of this is your fault. Do you hear me? None. This happens, and it's out of our control. So please, my love, do not blame yourself."

I wrap my arms around his neck as he tries to pull me impossibly closer to his chest, and tears consume us once more.

Did some bird flap its wings over in Asia?

Did some force take you because I didn't pray?

Every single thing to come has turned into ashes

'Cause it's all over, it's not meant to be

So I'll say words I don't believe

I entered the room where Joshua and I spent most of our time getting ready to welcome the new edition into our family. I walk up to the crib where our child would've slept in, tears spilling in the process, and I wipe them away. I look at the dresser where the ultrasound was displayed in a tiny frame. My fingers gently run across the wood and onto the photo.

'Mommy is so sorry, baby. It's my fault that you are not with us. I haven't had the chance to at least hold you in my arms that were supposed to protect and love you, my little angel, but I do love you so much.'

Tears stream out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I hold the photo in my hands and place a kiss onto it. I put the photo in it's place and walk out of the room. I close the door and head to my own. I lay in bed as the tears continue to fall. I feel the bed dip behind me and I'm pulled into Josh's chest. I could feel him place kisses on the back of my head. I turn in his arms and look at him, eyes red, and swollen. I wipe his tears away as he does for me. I place a kiss onto his plump soft lips and rest my forehead against his.

"I know what you're thinking, and it's not your fault, love. They know it isn't your fault either."

I sigh and nod my head as a silent okay. He pulls me to his chest once more. My eyes flutter shut and sleep engulfs me.

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

You were bigger than the whole sky

You were more than just a short time

And I've got a lot to pine about

I've got a lot to live without

I'm never gonna meet

What could've been, would've been

What should've been you

A month has passed since the horrible news, our family and friends would visit us. Seungcheol and the rest of the members stopped by with food and drinks. I sadly smile and head to the kitchen. I pull out the drinks for them and place them onto the counter.

"Hi y/n," Jeonghan says.

"Hi Hannie."

"It's been awhile since I've seen you smile," he states, but carefully contines as if he doesn't want to cause me pain. "I hate to bring up this topic since I know it's very sensitive and fresh, but how do you really feel?"

I sigh as I look at the counter, I could feel the tears, but I keep them at bay. I slowly breathe in and out. I turn to look at Jeonghan and I see a mixture of worry and sadness in his facial features.

"I still feel as if it's my fault. Shua says it isn't, but I still can't help feel this way."

"I understand, I mean, no words will make you think or feel otherwise. But what he says is true, it's not your fault, and we all love you. We are all here for both of you. I hope you know that."

"I do, Hannie." I sadly smiled. "It's just hard to live knowing that I've never got to see their face, hold them, and give them kisses. It's not fair that I loved them so much, and they were taken away from me."

Jeonghan pulls me into a hug. "You'll both be okay. You both will have another opportunity one day to be able to love another child of our own again. It's going to take time to heal these wounds, but we are here for you." He says once more as he pulls away. I smile at Jeonghan and wipe my tears.

"Thank you, Hannie."

"Let me help you with the drinks."

He grabs a couple of bottles, and I do the same. I entered the living room and found the members spread out on the floor passes plates and food. I smile and go to sit next to Josh. Josh looks up at me and smiles but fades away once he sees my face.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Everything's fine," I said. "I was just talking with Jeonghan."

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks once again.

"Yes," I say with a smile.

Josh looks at me again and smiles. He places a kiss on my head and pulls me close to him. The rest of the night is filled with laughter and smiles.

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

You were bigger than the whole sky

You were more than just a short time

And I've got a lot to pine about

I've got a lot to live without

I'm never gonna meet

What could've been, would've been

What should've been you

White roses fill the backyard garden. Family surrounding both Joshua and I as we held a small black box containing a yellow onesie that would've been our little angel's. Tears rolled down my face, Joshua held out a tissue for me, and I dapped it onto my cheeks and let out a shaky sigh. I look back at Joshua and let out a small thank you. He holds my hand and places a gentle kiss on my knuckles.

Joshua and I walked up to the sliver stand that was surrounded by the roses. I kiss my fingers and place it onto the headstone. 'Our Beloved Child, Angel Hong'. Sobs spill out and go on my knees with the help of Joshua. He soon follows, and we hold the box and place it onto the ground. Hands grabbed the soil, and we placed flower seeds once it was completely buried. I hold my face in my hands as I continue to sob, and I feel my mother help me back onto my feet. She holds me close to her and places kisses on my head. My dad rubbed my back, trying to soothe me. My siblings stand close to me as they cry. I lift my head up from my mom's shoulder and look towards Joshua. His mom holds him, his uncle handing him a tissue and his members looking at the ground.

Joshua looks at me and lets go of his mother as we make our way towards each other. He wraps his arms around my waist, and I wrap mine around his neck. His face buried in the crook of my neck, and he placed a kiss. We stayed there for a while, holding each other, he pulls away and placed a kiss on my lips.

"Our Angel will be watching over us now," he says. "My love, I haven't said this in a while with everything that has been happening, but I love you so much."

Tears well up in my eyes, and I blink them away.

"They are now in heaven resting," I say. " I love you so much, too."

I placed another kiss on his plump lips, but we soon pulled away and headed inside the house where our family was waiting for us.

"Wait... Josh, I want to do something," I tell him.

He looks back and nods his head. We walk back to the spot where Angel's headstone is at. We stand side by side as silence consumes us. I take a step towards the stone and place my hand on it.

"Angel," I start. "Our sweet little Angel, though we will never get the chance to meet or know you. Just know we will never forget the moments we had with you when you were still in my belly. Those midnight snacks you wanted that your dad would get for us, but what I want to say is we love you so much, baby."

I place a kiss onto the stone and backed away. My hand finds Joshua's, and I hold onto it tightly. I wipe my tears away and look at Joshua. I wipe away his tears, and he smiles at me. I kiss Joshua's lips, and we make our way inside the house.

'Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, our sweet little Angel'

[dont-read-this-im-dead]

When I was in 10th grade, I was in the literary magazine club. The club had faded from my school for several years, but I helped some friends rebuild it with my English teacher.

I was never brave enough to submit anything for the publication, but soon before the magazine was published, we hosted a program called Shout Out.

Anyone who wanted to read something they wrote (even if it was not in the magazine), could get up.

I was expecting maybe 3 people, plus the editing team.

But the auditorium was FULL. Students, parents, some teachers.

And I stood up to read.

But before I read, I told my audience, "I just want to let you know that none of the names or events in this story depict real people or events. Everything is completely fictional."

And then I spoke for 30 minutes, reading a short(?) story I wrote about this girl who was systematically and repeatedly raped by her father, her brother, and her best friend's brother, each one unaware of the other two, until one day, a medical condition puts her in the hospital, where she finds out she's pregnant.

I wove this tale about a 16 year old girl who asked her doctors to banish her family from her room, unable to speak the forbidden words that would simultaneously grant her freedom and render her homeless.

I practically whispered the bittersweet ending of a 19 year old with a two year old son that looked just like her husband, because she didn't know how to live alone, so she chose an uneven path, gradually learning how to fall in love with her best friend's brother.

I ended the story with her going to a high school with her son and talking to a health class during their sex ed week, telling her story.

Then I thanked my audience for their time and sat back down, my knees trembling something fierce and the silence so PROMINENT, even I could have heard the pin drop.

While everyone else decided to clap to fill the silence (still not sure why they gave me a standing ovation--it wasn't a GOOD story), my dad, sitting in the seat next to me, leaned over and whispered, "I'm really glad you warned everyone at the beginning that it was fictional, because they would probably be trying to arrest me by now if you hadn't."

When everyone was done reading, a friend of mine found me and said, "first off, how dare you have her end up with her rapist, that's evil, and I hate you for that. Second, I was on the edge of my seat the whole time, and omg, that was SO GOOD. Third, it was good that you said that thing at the beginning, but seriously, anyone who has ever met your dad knows he's basically a teddy bear. But also. WHY DID YOU HAVE HER END UP WITH HIM????"

And I just shrugged, because I didn't really want to answer, but Ive never told anybody this before, so here goes.

The reason I had her choose her non-blood relative rapist to marry, was because I had started getting really bad episodes where I basically wanted to kill myself. But I didn't want to make my family find my body, because ouch, do I hate THEM, or do I hate ME?

But every breath weighed me down until I was drowning, so I wrote this character that I could give my worst to. Someone who had it worse than me, who would need to find a sliver of hope to survive past the current hour. And I gave her my worst. I gave her a life that should have killed her, but she lived.

I gave her everything I hated, and more.

And then, I imagined my dull future of having to simply...*live,* and I gave it to her in the worst way possible that I could think of: by marrying her rapist.

And still, she lived.

And still, she loved.

Because I wanted to see someone be worse off and continue on living. Because that gave me the strength to do it myself.

[stiricidewrites]

All the Things We’ll Leave Behind: ch 26, pt 7

So... I return ._.

I've been sick off and on for the last few months and basically not engaging with anything fandom related, which obviously included uh... not even letting people know where I went ._.

Many apologies, but I return and hopefully won't get sick again anytime soon??? I think it's cause the kid I babysit started going to a full daycare as well this fall and is just bringing all the horrible viruses into my house 😭

Hopefully, as the weather gets nicer, we'll be able to be outside more and I won't get as sick but who knows. I hate being sick as I already have health issues and being even mildly sick takes me down so hard 😭

Anyways, previously!

This is the last bit of this chapter, and I'll be putting up the full edited chapter on ao3 later today or tomorrow~

~

jzxuan watched as Chong-xiansheng finally pushed himself back up, eyeing up the entrance behind lwj as though he could possibly get around the irate alpha.

“Aiya, little dearies,” the omega owner tutted, putting her hands on her hips and shaking her head at the alphas. She took a few steps out of the building, fearlessly stepping between the two men. “You,” she said, nodding at Chong-xiansheng, “get yourself back inside and leave them poor teenagers alone. They’ve enough to deal with without you making matters worse, no matter how much I think they enjoyed the show,” she added, an almost cruel smiling spreading across her face that had jzxuan assuming she had liked it too. “And you four,” she continued, turning towards lwj and glancing between him and the rest of them, “I don’t much appreciate violence in my establishment—especially not drunken violence. I’ll get your food wrapped up for you and then you can take this lightweight on a little walk, see if it sobers him up. Be back in a moment.”

With that, she turned and left, Chong-xiansheng scrambling after her, staying as clear of lwj as he could, before leaving their odd group of four standing awkwardly outside the restaurant.

“What… happened,” jzxuan asked after they had stood too long in silence, waiting for either lwj or jwy to offer up an explanation of the events of the last few minutes.

“He was rude,” lwj said while jwy gaped at him. “You disagree?” the older alpha asked, taking an uneven step towards the Jiang heir.

“No, but I don’t think he was rude enough to throw him out of the damn restaurant!” jwy spit out, turning towards the path that had led them there from Lotus Pier. “Whatever, I’m leaving. Good luck babysitting this drunk,” he hissed at them as he stomped off, disappearing down the dirt path as his sister called out, trying to get him to come back.

“Why do you seem drunker than before?” jzxuan asked as lwj reached their side, smelling and looking noticeable more intoxicated than he had minutes before, when jzxuan had been considering whether his friend was faking it.

“Accidentally drank,” the older man said, nodding as though that explained it.

“How did you accidentally drink?” jzxuan asked, narrowing his eyes at his friend as he swayed uneasily in place.

“Was sitting there.”

“You were?”

“Drink was.”

“What drink?”

“The drink. It wasn’t mine. I don’t drink alcohol. Bad things happen to Lans who drink.”

“Then whose was it?”

lwj squinted at him, looking as though he were solving the most difficult of problems before shrugging and assuring jzxuan that he didn’t know.

“It was probably Chong-xiansheng’s,” jyl offered, moving around them to the restaurant entrance to wait for the owner to return with their food to go. “A-Zhan must have accidentally drank whatever he had ordered—and I bet it was strong.”

“Great,” jzxuan said, abruptly reaching out to support his friend when the man looked like he was about to topple over. “Just great. He was just sobering up and then that guy had to come along and cause problems—I thought you said he was harmless? From what I’ve seen, he’s managed plenty of harm.”

“Ah…” jyl sighed, shifting uneasily on her bare feet. He couldn’t imagine it was very comfortable, standing or walking on the rocky road without shoes, but he had yet to hear her say a word of complaint over it—although he supposed she knew if she dared even flinch as she took a step they would have forced her to turn around. “Chong-xiansheng says stupid things all the time. I suppose that because of his past people just let him get away with more.”

“Stupid,” lwj bite out, blinking absently into space. “People must be held responsible for their words.”

“Do you hold everyone responsible for their words, deary?” the owner asked as she stepped back outside with their food. She stared up at him, smiling not unkindly as she added, “It can be difficult to hold people responsible when you know the people who hurt them were never held responsible. When you know they still see those people and their descendants around, from time to time.” She looked between the three of them, her expression tired and sad. “Everyone knew what that Jiang girl did—she never tried to deny it. People still did business with the family, talked nice with her. Watching people you thought were your friends—who you thought were good and moral—tolerate that, just cause money and power was involved, ah… that takes a toll on a person.”

“Does not make it right to tolerate his bad behaviour,” lwj insisted, looking very much like he was about to snarl at the woman, which jzxuan did not think would make the situation any better.

“No, I suppose it doesn’t make it right, but I hope it makes it at least a bit understandable,” the omega said, nodding towards jyl as she added, “All the kids round here know their parents and grandparents did that man wrong. Tolerating him, when they know he’ll do no more that shoot his mouth off at them, is their way of penance, I imagine.”

jyl swallowed, looking away and muttering something that seemed like an agreement, a lightly embarrassed blush spreading across her cheeks.

lwj was beginning to open his mouth—likely to continue arguing with the woman over if it was acceptable to tolerate mistreatment for things your ancestors were responsible for—when jzxuan slapped his hand across the man’s mouth.

“It’s complicated,” he said as lwj glared him, one of his hands rising up to fasten itself over jzxuan’s. “Thank you for the food—it’s delicious. We’ll be sure to find a nice place by the lake or something to eat it.”

The woman blinked at him, looking like she would have been quite inclined to continue arguing with lwj, before turning back towards her restaurant. “You have yourselves a good evening,” she said, pushing the door open and stepping inside. “Make sure you get the little omega home safe, you hear me?” she called back as the door clattered shut, leaving the three of them in silence once again.

“Ah… guess it is getting a bit late…” jzxuan noted, looking up at the darkening sky. This time of year, with the days getting longer and longer every day, it would still be light and warm until late into the night, but that didn’t mean they could stay out too late with jyl—or even just he and lwj, not with a death having occurred so recently. “We should take the food and go sit on the pier again… where Wangji will not be pushing anyone in, right?” he joked, raising an eyebrow at lwj who was simply standing there, staring at him with his hand still holding jzxuan’s to his mouth. “Ah… you gonna let go of my hand?”

lwj shook his head, adjusting his grip slightly and jzxuan assumed he was going to insist on holding hands or something on the way back when—

“Lan Wangji!” he hissed, tugging on his hand as the older alpha slipped several of his fingers into his mouth and began to suck. Heat spread harsh across jzxuan’s cheeks as he attempted to pull his hand free of the horrible drunkard. “Give me my hand! This is— Wangji!!”

He squeaked when jyl popped up next to him, eyeing up the situation before letting out a little laugh. “At least,” she said as she began walking back towards her home, bags heavy with their takeout food swinging in her arms, “this time I’m not alone to deal with this menace.”

~ Somewhere Inside ~

“Didn’t think you had a phone,” the owner commented mildly as she set the rest of Chong-xiansheng’s order down next to him. He’d had enough sense to seat himself on the side of the room furthest from the teenagers, his back to them—to remove any temptation to speak to them again, she assumed.

“Found it,” he said as she was turning to leave.

She glanced back at him. “Chong-xiansheng, did you steal some poor soul’s phone?”

“Finders keepers,” he said, barely glancing up at her as he flicked through the phone. “Lot’a missed calls.”

“That’s probably cause someone’s looking for it,” she said, trying to see if she recognized the phone in the man’s hands and quickly recognizing it as jyl's. “That’s the little Jiang omega’s phone,” she said sternly. “You need to return that.”

“No way, finders keepers.”

She pressed her lips together, the lightweight alpha boy’s words flooding back through her head. She had been ready to argue with him—to defend the areas practice of letting Chong-xiansheng get away with most everything—but a little part of her couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he was right. Maybe they’d let this man get away with too much for too long. “You return that phone, Chong-xiansheng,” she said as she turned to leave. “I ain’t gonna turn you in for takin’ it, but I won’t lie if someone comes in asking after it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the old man said, waving her dismissively away and sending a shudder of annoyance through her. She turned away from him, taking a few steps towards her teenage patrons when one of them—the omega boy Chong-xiansheng had made derogatory comments towards before the alpha boy had taken offence and tossed him out—caught her eye. They were watching her and Chong-xiansheng. Their eyes caught for a moment and she tried to remember what it was like to be young like that—being young and powerless, reliant on alphas to stand up for you because no one else’s words mattered. She had been fortunate, finding a man to love her and support her in being herself—in being strong and demanding and so many things omegas weren’t supposed to be.

Most omegas didn’t have that. They had no one to stand up for them. They accepted what society—what alphas—told them was right, and what so many alphas had decided was to let this man, who had been seriously harmed by the Jiangs, who they had all made a living from, get a free pass. No matter what he did, no one local ever stood up to him, and she wondered where they would draw the line—if they ever would.

She broke eye contact with the omega boy, shame rippling through her as she turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

~

A/N: Why didn’t wwx know Chong-xiansheng when they spoke? Chong-xiansheng lived elsewhere for a long time, he only returned a decade or so ago after his parents died and he inherited their house. wwx has probably met him in passing during his visits to Lotus Pier, but stress of his missing mate combined with his bad memory meant the guy’s name didn’t ring a bell.

[velvetgoldie]

Peter Pan and Wendy: a review

Directorial decisions, backlash, and final result

I don't usually seek out reviews, and even less so write them, but I had been waiting for this new Peter Pan adaptation ever since it's been announced (2016!), and as such, was anxious to see what people had to say about it.

And, well, considering the vitriolic reviews this film has gotten, I wanted to balance the negative critics out a little. I didn't hate the film -- although there are things that could have been managed better (but those are not what you would expect). More under the cut.

On directorial vision:

David Lowery's style is extremely subdued, for lack of a better term. You can go through one of his films and expect a big climax, only to realise at the end that all changes happened gradually, so much so that the story has displayed its meaning without you noticing.

His films are mostly focused on the "within", with a huge focus on personal turmoil rather than big events.

For Peter Pan and Wendy, this approach remains: he took the original story from the book, and apparently drew out the elements which mattered to him the most (the fear of growing up/the bitterness of aging) and translated them into a very personal vision (which extends to the visual aspect of the film: its green hue, the worn-out aspect of the costumes...). So rather than present the story as an epic series of adventures, he rerouted the narrative to tell one singular story (my first thought, finishing the film, was actually "It holds up quite well!"). It tells a simple story, with a definite beginning leading to a definite end -- but as such, can feel rushed and uneven.

On the pacing of the film:

Lowery has one main issue, and it's his obsession for perfectionnism. As a former video editor, he's liable to cut, re-cut, and re-edit up until he's told to stop (see how plenty of the material from the first Green Knight trailer hasn't made it to the finished product). I believe it's the same with this film: especially with the Covid-19 hiatus and the interception from Disney studios (because they surely veto a lot of things in these kinds of productions).

The director and screenwriters had a story to tell, but spent so much time on it that they lost track of the smaller details for the sake of the bigger picture. It's quite visible considering the repartition of the main acts of the film, which are as follow:

Introduction of the Darlings and flight to Neverland

First introductory adventure with the pirates

Meeting the Lost Boys and Skull Rock adventure

Break at the Lost Boys hide out and "death" of Peter Pan

Climax (fight on the Jolly Roger)

Conclusion.

What's obviously lacking here is a middle adventure: we've barely become accustomed to Neverland that the climax is already reached. We should have had another scene, not only to give the viewer a chance to breathe, but also to better introduce secondary characters (the underdevelopped Tiger Lily, for instance).

This seems to be the result of over-editing: a middle adventure wouldn't have been necessary to understand the story, so off it went. But as such, it causes pacing issues. This is really my main problem with the film.

On the realistic aspect of the film:

I've seen people take out of a context a quote about Tinkerbell's lack of glow ad nauseam, and while it's typical Tumblr 'Chinese whispers', it needs to be addressed because I don't want people hating on the film for wrong reasons.

The question on how Tinkerbell should glow concerns practical rendition of an animated version. When you have to translate effects which were easily done with drawings, you need to ask yourself how it would be done practically (like, how to make the Beast look realistic in a Beauty and the Beast live action?). The quote does not mean Lowery hates on fantasy elements...

The film does have a realistic, down-to-earth look, though. That's obviously pointed out by Wendy, realizing that Neverland is "a different kind of real". But that ties up with Lowery's style, as mentionned before. He's not making an over-the-top, theatrical epic: he chose to translate the story in his style, and that's fine. We don't need another 2003 Peter Pan, because there already is a 2003 Peter Pan. As much as I love this previous adaptation, I am, for one, glad of the change. There's a Peter Pan for everyone, and maybe this one could be yours, if you look past the first knee-jerk critics and give it a chance.

I'd like to conclude on what @not-wholly-unheroic said about the film, because it sums things up quite nicely:

"I think the problem is largely that the audience was expecting an epic adventure and got a tearjerker instead. In a lot of ways, this version of the story was more for the adults than the kids… but those adults largely have a nostalgia for the adventure story they grew up with and wanted something closer to that than what they got."

There's much more that could be said about the film, but for the time being, I only wanted to counteract the overwhelming, and sometimes undeserved, negativity surrounding the film. I am not for Disney live actions at all, but I consider Peter Pan and Wendy as a David Lowery project first and foremost. Perhaps, if it had been produced by another studio, it would have been actually more imaginative and personal. It did a great job in producing an original retelling of a well-known story while taking liberties, but keeping true to a certain spirit from the original book. Barrie's Peter Pan feels very personal to each reader, and this is a personal film as well. I hope it will be revisited in time by children who have grown older, just like the adults of today keep on returning to their own favorite version of the story.

[kieshartzishere]

Behind Closed Doors || Rtsoot || UPDATED

Made this on the spot for Jay and some others are particularly asking for it now. I may as well, no? Look away mutuals

UPDATE: This is now significantly edited and better so god forbid

Genre: Fluff

!Shipping: rtsoot! (if you don't like that, go.)

Word count: Formally 1303, now 1475

Trigger warnings: Tabacco (Mention)

Edited: Barely yep yep!

To think scrolling through your phone in a private dressing room was just a bonus of all of it, and Daniel was just really here to watch from the back and be a moral support for his boyfriend. It was comfy, though, and the room whiffed with smells of caramel and syrup— it coupled with the whiff of some burnt cigarettes that ranged from weeks to months— The comfort of the mix of scents brought in was odd. Sure, it wasn't the best of smells, a handful would say it was even disgusting, but it was his and brought more warmth than any burning tobacco would light.

He wonders how long Wil would get back—

SLAM

Oh, not long.

Daniel peered his head from the couch he laid upon to see a less-than-content Wilbur standing by the door he just burst open, the glistening nameplate to show for it that the room was his to bang up. Something's wrong. Not to mention he seemed to be seething.

Daniel watched Wilbur close the door behind him loudly once he entered the room. His steps were with angered purpose, showing some grouchiness to be noted by his boyfriend that something was definitely wrong. It was until Wilbur sat down right across from Daniel. With a loud and exasperated sigh, he tried to seem lax with both arms propped behind him above the furniture's top. Daniel knew better than that. The way his breathing was ever so slightly uneven gave it away. How his fingers twitched in a clenching and unclenching pattern was enough to tell him the genuine emotions that surged into his veins. He couldn't hide that, no matter how much Wilbur tried.

Daniel only waited a few seconds until he had to be sure it was alright to speak. He'd hate to set off the wrong thought without some analysis. Wilbur probably hadn't gotten a smoke break to relax about it, but Daniel's been making an effort to help him cut the habit down.

And, of course, that meant helping him deal with his problems instead. "Alright, what's the matter?"

Wilbur only glanced at his dearest, catching the concerned eyes gazing upon him. He almost made him break. But before he could, he looked away and seemed to try and come up with some bullshit of an answer.

"It's nothing just... technical difficulties with the show." Even if the bullshit of an answer had some truth in it.

"Is that all?" Daniel pushes a little further, pulling down his phone and adjusting where he sat.

Another sigh left his lips that were involuntarily, "Yes, it's just some stupid technical issues, no need to worry about it." Wilbur was nearly about to snap, but Daniel knew there was more.

He learned where to put his foot in the stepping stones of the water that is Wilbur's mind while knowing that one wrong skip could be a snapping point. He just needs to get to him, and that meant physically as well.

Daniel stood up from his place, leaving his phone behind, and walked over to Wilbur, much to the latter's surprise and slight dismay. He was about to protest whatever Daniel was doing when he felt a new weight on top of him. Ah, Daniel had decided to sit right in between his legs. It was a tactic to make it impossible for the taller to move now.

"Daniel," Wilbur said sternly because this must have been at least a little uncomfortable. He had enough of the decency to adjust himself so that the one in between his legs was more sat down instead of balancing on them. It seemed he was far too busy worrying about how he sat instead of the true matter at hand.

"Wilbur," Daniel stated, grabbing his lover's attention back. "What's the matter?" He asked again. The soft eyes made Wilbur's heart ache from the sight and made his brain crumble to pieces. Both subjects wanted to heed being vulnerable, even for just a short period. His mouth still decided to stay shut. Daniel hummed as he brought his face a little closer, urging him to let up. "Please? You can tell me. Just let it out."

 Seeing his other half asking him to spill and say what he needed to say to get it all off his chest was daunting. He must care for the well-being of his dumb ass. It was enough to break him.

"It's..." Wilbur started, still unsure. He always wanted to keep things to himself. "It's a lot..."

Daniel hummed as he raised an eyebrow at him. "And...?" He stretched out, still making it clear he wanted Wilbur to let it all out and let him hear it. Well, Wilbur guessed he had no other choice.

Daniel won this round, as per usual. And now Wilbut has to break the bank to open up his vaulted emotions and stress.

"There's still so much to do, and every time the guys and I fix one problem, it's like three other ones come out of nowhere!" He yells, lifting his arms to show his frustrations about it in a tad dramatic flair. "We've already had so many different shows before, but this is the biggest one to date, and it feels like everything is just going wrong in the worse way possible!" At this rate, Wilbur was finally breaking his chains of holding back. It was just exactly as Daniel wanted.

Wilbur went on. "I thought yesterday was bad enough when somehow the wrong light colors were delivered to the studio. One of the speakers blew out a fuse, so we had to get the quickest replacement for that." You can see the anger building up as he ranted. His face turned to a more pinkish red with every word uttered. "Now someone had fucking lost the power cords and an amplifier— a whole amplifier. How the hell did that even happen?!" Okay, Daniel does have to admit that sounded stupid.

But he had to stay quiet and let the other spill it all out. At least he isn't brimming anymore with emotions. "Some fans raided the place too to try and find us, and that caused even more of a mess than before." Ah... yeah, that happens at times. Well, not to the point it came to what Wilbur called a "raid."

 "The mainstage screen won't connect to the computer's presentation for it, and the fucking management team is just awful to work with— like the main guy's last name is "Suggs-cox" so of course he had to be such a dick. Living up to that name, aren't you?"

Okay, Daniel had to hold a laugh in for that one, but a snort slipped past. It was enough to derive Wilbur's focus back at Dan.

"Sorry, sorry, but it's just... it's quite an unfortunate name." Daniel admitted, still giggling to himself.

Wilbur playfully rolled his eyes as he couldn't help but grin. "Laughing at my pains now, Condren?" Wilbur raised an eyebrow at him. Daniel stuck his tongue out at the mention of his last name.

"I'm laughing at the bad surname, not you, Soot." Wilbur couldn't help but laugh out loud. If there was a sound of the bright sun rising from the cracking dawn, it would be this.

The loud and boisterous laugh was the best music to Daniel's ears, and it was better than any song Lovejoy, the band that Wilbur's in, has ever made. Wilbur made good songs all the time, but that chortle alone was enough to keep Daniel pleased.

Warm eyes with the color of tree bark fluttered back open. "Oh, you are such a dork," Wilbur says as he looked at Daniel, who only gives a small hum. "Yeah, but this dork let you rant to him, right?" He remarks.

His hands were now on broad shoulders as his gaze softened once again. "How do you feel now?" Daniel asked hopefully. Wilbur observed the caring watch on him. He sighed... and he smiled.

Arms slipping themselves around the waist of the other to show his appreciation of the closeness between them. "Better, thank you." He confesses in gratitude. Daniel giggled to himself as he heard the news. "I'm glad." The look of Daniel being satisfied, because Wilbur himself was content, was everything to him.

He really couldn't ask for anything more.

"You're lovely," Wilbur muttered as he pressed their heads together, eyes closed. Daniel was surprised firstly but beamed as he ogled the now calmer and happier Wilbur.

"And you're loving." At that moment, just this feeling, everything was right. If Wilbur had to have every frustration in the world, every Murphy's law to apply, and every bad coincidence, Daniel is going to make it all disappear just like that. 

Because he'll always be there, and he always has been.

[dankusner]

proposal

You Are a Badass: How to Stop Doubting Your Greatness and Start Living an Awesome Life

Jen Sincero, read by the author. Tantor Media, unabridged, five CDs, 5.75 hrs., $34.99 ISBN 978-1-4526-1551-6

Jen Sincero offers a no-nonsense approach to reinventing yourself, shedding the past’s baggage, and grasping the opportunities awaiting you, once you’re ready to seize your inner awesomeness.

Her goal is to chisel away the fluff of the self-help genre and identify exactly what you need to do in order to succeed.

Sincero reads in a conversational voice, however she sometimes comes across as slightly condescending.

As a narrator, Sincero tries to be both lively and relaxed, and thus her narration sounds uneven.

Still, listeners looking to find their inner badasses and live awesome lives will find this spirited audio edition useful.

A Running Press paperback. (Sept.)

lens dunham proposal

milo book

How nice of Kusner to write a light-hearted piece about a notorious bigot. With no research at all, he bought into Shocked's lie that her anti-gay rant was planned (several comments on social media and interviews immediately following the event refute that lie.) He's normalizing bigotry and hate speech, and the Dallas News is letting him do it. You all must be so proud of yourselves for trying to resurrect the career of an abusive, hateful woman. She has had multiple Twitter accounts suspended for abuse. She has been asked not to perform at several venues after lashing out at fellow performers and audience members (she physically assaulted a man in a wheelchair at LA FrogSpot.) But I guess none of that matters as long as you can make one punk happy. 

Michelle Shocked has spent the last several years spewing hate. Nothing has changed except that our culture seems to have decided that hate is now normal. I disagree. By supporting her, you are supporting cyberharassment, prejudice, and racism. 

I'm sure it slipped Kusner's mind to include in his article that he has befriended Shocked on Twitter and that he has a personal bias towards her that clouds the validity of his article, so I thought I'd mention it here, on the off chance the Dallas News has an editorial staff who reviews these posts and wants to take action against this serious breach of journalistic ethics. All Kusner did is accept a known liar's word and Dallas News printed it as fact.

[thewarriorspecial]

Weekend In The Woods

*Archive Edition* Previously only linked to AO3, full work now available under the cut.

Read on AO3

Rating: Mature | John Stewart/Kyle Rayner

Additional Tags: Huddling For Warmth, Camping, Tropetember, Tropetember 2022

John finally takes Kyle on a little getaway.

Kyle wouldn’t normally call himself the outdoorsy type, but for John, he’d happily make an exception. He was perched on a large stump watching aforementioned sexy man split logs for firewood. It’s not like Kyle didn’t want to help, it’s just that John kept giving him jobs like sit over there or just hold this for a sec. So, Kyle did as he was told and happily watched as the sweat stains on John’s drab, grey t-shirt grew. The graphic on the shirt looked like the AC/DC logo but it said HV/AC and John found it so funny. 

It was like, if John’s brain was an onion and you started to peel back the layers, you’d just keep finding dad jokes and obscure pop lyrics. And then suddenly, a forty minute monologue (or soliloquy, maybe he was actually talking to himself) about roof shapes or a bird would just fall out of his face. It was adorable and every time Kyle was delighted to hold John’s hand and listen as they walked and talked. 

John knew so much about industrial arts and contemporary architecture but also so much about long forgotten ska bands and the proper ways to brew different kinds of coffee. Kyle didn’t even know there were other types of coffee. He rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, sighing happily as he watched John work.

John paused his rhythmic chopping, resting the axe and then his palm against a still-standing tree. He leaned on the young tree’s trunk, crossing one foot over the other and putting a hand on his hip. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see if Kyle was still watching without being obvious. He couldn’t be sure, so he lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. Kyle bit his lip as his eyes followed the motion. Okay good, John thinks, still looking. 

John looks over at the small piles of similar items he made after he dumped out the tent bag. He can’t remember the last time he had to put a tent together. He looks back at the pile of wood carnage he created. He stacked everything nicely to hide how uneven it was. Hope I’m doing this right, he thinks. He’d love to ask for help but he doesn’t know what to ask for. He’s making this all up. Adapt, Improvise, Overcome and whatnot. He heads over to the Pile of Many Things and starts putting the tent pieces together in his mind. 

Kyle sighs as he watches John think. He so smart. He’s so organized. He’s got his whole life together. And he’s really hot. 

John unfurls the main tent piece and puzzles over the stakes. Why are there more anchor/strap/hole things than there are stakes? Why did I have to get the big stupid multi-room pain in the ass tent? Because it looks cool, he remembers thinking. bEcAuSe iT LoOkS cOoL, he mocks himself as he starts laying zippers end to end, trying to figure out which fitted sheet monstrosity was supposed to be the fancy little tent foyer. Why did I buy this? Why am I like this?

“Do you need any help?” Kyle calls out.

“Nah, I’m good. I got it,” John smiles. Kyle smiles too as he stands and brushes off his pants. John hates asking for help. The more tent John unfolds the more Kyle is sure this is at least a three person job.

“Here,” Kyle says gently as he helps John line up zippers and hold up walls. 

“That’s perfect, thank you.”

They work together in companionable silence for the better part of an hour until finally, finally their home away from home for the weekend proudly stood. Kyle raises his hands above his head with an excited cheer. John does the same and they double high-five each other with a loud smack. John keeps their hands pressed together, laces their fingers together, and brings Kyle’s arms to rest around his shoulders. 

“Now what?” John asks, rubbing his nose against Kyle’s. 

“Now we should go swimming!” Kyle gives him a quick peck and then races towards the nearby stream. 

They return as the sun begins to set. Kyle’s already buzzing with excitement about the mesh roof of the tent. He’s hugging John’s entire arm as they walk a well worn trail in perfect step. John listens in rapt fascination as Kyle tells him about the Leonids and summer constellations, and he watches the setting sun’s light turn Kyle’s eyes shining hazel. 

John lays Kyle down and makes love to him as the night sky rains stars. 

Kyle wakes up when he feels a gentle tickle on his cheek. He pushes his hair out of his face; leans back and stretches when he realizes he was drooling on John’s shoulder. As he opens his eyes he sees eight more staring back at him. 

Kyle leaps back with a hiss like a startled cat. 

JOHN, he mouths, but no sound comes out. JOHN, he tries again. He slowly stretches his leg to poke John’s calf with his toes. “…John…” he croaks. 

A massive, hairy, monstrous spider the size of a dinner plate had parked itself in the center of John’s chest. Probably trying to suck his soul out. Through his eyes. 

“John,” Kyle whispers, more urgently. The spider turned its eyes to look at him. It turned. It looked. It looked at him like it knew him and it spoke English. Killer Space Spider From Outer Fucking Space. Oh…Oh…Ohmigod I’m gonna die in this tent and when they find me I’m gonna be all spider sucked out and I’m gonna look like that bitch from the ring got me holy fuck I gotta get out of here. 

“S-sp-spider…John!” 

“Hm?” John hums.

“Spider…J…John…” Kyle has himself pressed against the corner, John and his stowaway blocking the only exit. Unless…Kyle imagines himself summoning his uniform and blasting out of the tent roof like Team Rocket.

John’s eyes open, the spider turns to look at him, and they contemplate each other for a moment. “They don’t eat much,” John decides and closes his eyes.

Kyle makes an assortment of wet cat noises like, “fsssfffsf” and “hhkkaakk”. 

“It’s more scared of it than we are of…wait. It’s more scared of us…you know what I mean.” John opens his eyes and takes in the sight of Kyle trying to crab walk up the wall of the tent. 

“Please do something about Shelob!” Kyle begs.

John sits up, stretches, and laughs. The spider clings to chest, slowly moving upward.

“Hhkkttssssuuughhhhh,” Kyle says, touching his own neck in an attempt to relieve the second-hand creepy-crawlies.

John scoots over to the door and unzips it. He gently removes the spider, letting it crawl over his knuckles as he looks for a spot to set it down. “It’s a wolf spider,” he declares as he sets it down on the stump Kyle had sat on the day before.

“Didn’t ask,” Kyle huffs. Now he’s awake, terrified, and cold. Ridiculous. Too early. 

“Nope, wait,” John remarks as he sees his little visitor in the morning light. The spider is almost black, with barely visible stripes on all of its legs. “Fishing spider.” 

“A what?”

“Fishing spider,” John repeats as he reenters the tent. His skin is already cold from the crisp morning air. Kyle hisses and grumbles as John settles back in for cuddles.

“Th-they can swim?” Kyle asks.

“Oh yeah,” John says with a grin. “You ever hear about the cranberry farmers?”

“I don’t think I want to, honestly,” Kyle clings a little tighter. 

“Not a bug guy, huh?” John pulls Kyle close, rubbing his back.

“Definitely not.”

“What’s your favorite animal?”

“Does Guy count?” Kyle looked up at John with a big smile as he pictured Guy belching and brazenly scratching himself in public.

“Absolutely.”

A/N: This is my weakest work, honestly. It needs a solid rewrite and some good old TLC. My first event, first johnkyle. I took a swing and I'm happy I finished it. Thanks for reading! <3

[oneandonlykyeonmi]

ɪ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

Disclaimer: All photos, videos, music, and GIFs belong to the rightful owners and not mine. However, all edits used with the following do belong to me.

Everything was not fine.

He felt as if he humiliated not only him, but his whole family. A disappointment, he repeats in his head as he kept degrading himself as he took deep breathes.

The feeling of uneven breathes as he tried to make himself better by watching the candles on the pond swimming their way towards the other direction as the waves sway them towards their final destination.

He couldn't see what went wrong with him. No matter how hard he tried to get off the negative thoughts out of his head, they seem to plaster themselves right up his stupid head.

He was an idiot, he knew. They kept repeating to him like it was some sort of chant. And he hated it every second.

That's why he left, he left from the dark place that was beginning to feel like hell. Back then, he was the happiest whenever he went home as his parents went to give him the big amount of love he deserved.

Years later up to now, it felt like what he deserved to get thrown out of an abyss.

With him getting swallowed up on her thoughts, he forgot that he was talking to her about his problems as he continued to watch the candles swaying on the water, beating himself up with anger and pity.

"Hon..." She called him softly. He heard her call as he looked at her. His gaze softened from his frustrations as he hummed to her, making a smile went up to her face as he acknowledged his call.

She held her right hand unconsciously and held it up high for them to see. A sign of an unconditional bond that they created, even with the storms surrounding them both.

"What is it...?" He whispered timidly, afraid that he might break and he didn't want her to see that. She had seen him as a strong person capable of protecting her. He didn't want to think that he was fucking weak.

As tears seem to brim under her eyes without him to notice, she lifted her other hand and wiped the tear that went down her right eye as his lips quiver when he saw her reassuring smile.

"Let's breathe together, yeah?" Knowing that he was hopeless at this point, he nodded slowly as she gave him another smile.

Breathe in

Breathe out

Breathe in

Breathe out

"That's it," she softly told her as she rubbed her hands on his palm as comfort making his heart melt knowing that he was lucky to have such a miraculous woman by his side.

He gave her a quivering smile. "Thank you, really. I don't know how I would held myself up any longer because of..." his voice cracked at the end as he sighed shakingly and closed his eyes.

She shushed him comfortably and rubbed his shoulder as if he was the most precious person in the world.

The next words coming right out of her mouth made him sob his heart out.

"Love, I see you." She looked at him with eyes full of emotions, but one thing that stood most out of them all, admiration.

She gave him a loving smile as she intertwined their fingers into a tight grip, letting him know that she's there. She's always been there, at front of behind giving reassurance.

With her words, he felt as if everything was going to be okay.

"I see all of you..."

Perhaps, everything was going to be fine.

xoxo. 

Disclaimer: All photos, videos, music, and GIFs belong to the rightful owners and not mine. However, all edits used with the following do belong to me.

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