#if you can't tell i was forced to watch passion of the christ as a kid

[shalom-iamcominghome]

I never really thought about cultural xtianity, but I did notice it even when I "was" xtian and... why is it that when I enter a hospital, the literal first thing I see is jesus being crucified. I understand the significance of that, but I think if I'm at a hospital I don't want to think about that.......

[familyagrestefanblog]

They actually did it

Fucking christ I was RIGHT! They even went so far as wiping out Adrien's memory!

We're back with Chat Blanc.

That's what made Chat Blanc such a unreliable narrator, I made a post about that YEARS ago that Blanc eventually wiped out his own memories with only his love for Marinette left in all that horror while Hawkmoth having been the monster who got him. That's why he incorrectly blamed their love for having ended the world, that was all he could remember as we even saw once he detransformed!

I do not have time to write about this today but this is the worst possible outcome! We are absolutely FUCKED! "Representation" was already a combination of "Chat Blanc" and "Ephemeral" because they were never avoided in the first place and now for the rest of the finale every bad consequences we just sidelined for seasons on end! "Chat Blanc", "Kuro Neko", "Ephemeral", the entire season 4 finale!

How DENSE do you have to be to think that Gabriel Agreste gave Marinette his BLESSING?? She literally told him right in his face that "fOr ThE gReAtEr GoOd" she will let Adrien as an orphan pay for all his family's sins right after the man had a whole mental breakdown of 5 seasons of build-up because he was THIS aware of incompetent and horrible of a father he was!

He was WILLING to give her his blessing and Marinette fucked it up in every way possible! What the hell does Gabriel give a shit about the greater good?? The only thing he cares about is himself, his wife, Adrien and Nathalie! Marinette told Gabriel that everything he loves, is, was, worked for and wished to safe can go and fuck itself because for the greater good she decided that HIS SON is now going to go through every hell that's waiting for him and she didn't even care to ask what that hell will BE!

She just signed Adrien up for it and expected Gabriel to be okidoki with that?

Gabriel Agreste made the wish. It doesn't matter what excuse Marinette has, all that matters is what GABRIEL thinks. And for him she is the enemy of everything he loves and regrets having failed this horribly! What makes you think Gabriel Agreste gives a SHIT about anything else?

Why are you trusting this man?? Gabriel's love is and has always been the worst thing in Adrien's entire life!

What do you think is gonna happen now?? Gabriel made himself a martyr and wiped Adrien's memory of having been horrible while simultaneously the cover story is that Gabriel Agreste died heroically defeating Monarque by Ladybug's side because Chat Noir wasn't there and his son Adrien was kidnapped!

Adrien is gonna fucking blame himself for his father’s death! He thinks he failed his father! Adrien was created out of Emilie's love for Gabriel, Gabriel is counting on Adrien being the only person who would want to bring him BACK! We were RIGHT reading it like that in "Passion"!

Gabriel KNOWS that he can't force either Adrien himself, Marinette, Nathalie or anyone to break apart but if he takes Adrien's memories while everyone remembers how shitty of a father he was to him than Adrien will want to distance himself from them by his own CHOICE!

What the fuck is Marinette gonna do when Adrien now obviously want to go back into his fathers business because he can't remember why he left in the first place and now he wants to make it up to his dead father by stepping into his role and continuing his legacy! You think Marinette crying a bit and saying "I don't want you to work as your father's successor, you don't have to be like him!" is gonna do it??

Adrien is gonna CHOOSE to go back because from his perspective what he's doing is good no matter if his father wasn't perfect and she's just really not being understanding and unsupportive. Telling him to choose himself "but not like that!"

Fuck, im short on time, but I will scream and shout about this forever! What are you guys WATCHING that this is good? Marinette turned into an easy two-for-one kill without Chat Noir, she NEEDED him and now she lost!

Adrien/Chat Noir was NEVER saved and now his insane father GOT him! The new universe started with Adrien waking up, NOTHING before that happened no matter what other people including Marinette herself think they remember! It never happened! The universe started with Adrien and Marinette kissing him awake because Gabriel WANTS her to think taht he gave her blessing or at least what he did wasnt so bad and for good intentions so she doesn't try undoing it before it's too late!

Can you stop being so naive? Why are you trusting and insane and abusive villain father who HATES you to do you JOB?

[lastweeksshirttonight]

Hey uh remember when I did retrospectives of Last Week Tonight episodes? Let's bring it back to 140.

Last Lee Tonight (wherein I'm definitely showing United Passions at my next bad movie night) Season One, Episode Six

(original air date: 6/8/2014) Major topics covered: FIFA, Bashar al-Assad's incredible iTunes library

"And speaking of Germans losing things, it was the 70th anniversary of D-Day this week."

It's really nice to throw this show back on again, on a note unrelated to the purpose of this project. I don't talk much about myself but it's been a rough few months with work scheduling, my chronic illnesses, and my mental health. For every "I'm taking a very spontaneous and ill-thought-out trip to New York to see John Oliver WOOO!" moment, there's been at least five "why can't I catch a break"s. When I'm not being beaten down by the collective forces of capitalism, I genuinely haven't been watching much John at all, mainly in an effort to play the large backlog of video games and read the large pile of books lying around my house. I've been moderately successful there (hey y'all should give Cassette Beasts a go, it's delightful), but there's nothing like going back home, so to speak. (I hesitate to call LWT a comfort show for me, given that it's basically A Record of the Decline of the United States in Real Time, but it kinda serves that function to some degree. I am a psychopath.)

Where we last left off in... May, Jesus Christ, I'm so bad at scheduling and writing and content creation - when we last left off in May at Episode 5, things were finally starting to coalesce into the modern LWT experience. We had our first viral segment on Net Neutrality, the first time a segment was uploaded in full to the LWT YouTube, and an opening news roundup that was starting to feel more thoughtful and themed. This episode continues that theme and gives us our second big viral topic.

There is a variant on the desk-slapping here, where John doesn't do it to open the show, but does a milder version of it to get the audience to shut up so he can move on with doing the show. One of my favorite things about him is his constant desire to barrel through clapping or any audience praise of anything he's done at a given moment in time and this opener is a pretty good example of that.

We open on John calling the week disappointing because California Chrome, a horse competing for the Triple Crown, did not win the Triple Crown. You can tell this is an early episode of LWT because there is no prerequisite horse-fucking/bestiality joke, just John angrily saying "fuck that horse" about Tonalist, the horse that defeated California Chrome. All of these horses sound like indie bands from my college years. I feel like Tonalist opened when I saw MGMT live.

We then move into German Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. This gives John an opportunity to plumb one of his favorite comedic depths, making fun of the musicality, smoothness, and romanticism of the German language. A German man used his lifeline to call Chancellor Merkle, who, thankfully, did not answer, as she was busy running Germany.

This transitions into China hiding the events of Tiananmen Square from their populace, including by censoring the Internet.

Attempts by protestors to use different trending words - and to put facts about Tiananmen Square in a sex tape - to get around that were also clamped down on, leading to this absolutely glorious screenshot of John's hypothetical romance novel:

I feel like someone on Reddit probably wrote When Spring Turns to Summer recently.

We also learn that Friends is incredibly popular with Chinese youth. I'm not really shocked by this, Friends has a weird international reach. I know multiple Korean idols who learned English partially through watching Friends. The fact that there's a Chinese replica of Central Perk? That's wild. The show edits a Friends clip to include historical facts about the massacre, and then we move to our central story.

I'm a big fan of whenever John talks about FIFA and football in general. Recently in one of her "posts relevant to my interests", @tellthemeerkatsitsfine noted that there's a strain with John and his contemporaries with them being nerds who really wanted to be jocks, and I think that dichotomy really helps John come off credibly when he talks about the deep-rooted corruption in this particular organization. The sport is something that is literally rooted into him, hardwired as something he deeply cares about... but there's the rest of it to consider.

In my opinion, someone who deeply loves something can really be the best at describing everything wrong with it. You don't really find the grime if you're only on the surface of something. I know that critical observation of a fandom while in said fandom is in short supply these days, but I wish it was more common.

Anyways. I think FIFA's corruption and grotesqueries are pretty known in 2023, but at the time, knowledge of their fuckery wasn't as widespread. Socially, we've definitely spoken a lot more about the cost-benefit analysis of the Olympics and taxpayer-funded stadiums, which is comparative to John's opening about the issues with FIFA and claims that World Cups bring money to the areas hosting them. (Not true!) Other items I'd completely forgotten about, like FIFA Court and their boardroom looking like something out of Dr. Strangelove.

The "And Now This" is "Chris Matthews Reminds Everyone Who He Used to Work For". (Answer: Tip O'Neill.) My abiding memory of Chris Matthews is Zell Miller accusing him of beating a woman and challenging him to a duel at the 2004 Republican National Convention.

SNL had a pretty great sketch of this where Will Forte played Miller that I can't find right now. PISTOLS AT DAAAAAAAAWN MATTHEWS!!!!

The final segment is on Bashar al-Assad's campaign of terror against Syria, rigged electioneering, and chemical warfare. More importantly, al-Assad's life history and iTunes library are discussed.

This was also the subject of the classic Bugle episode 187, which has a chance to go far more in depth about his favorite music, like "Sexy and I Know It". (Andy Zaltzman describing Lil Wayne and Busta Rhymes as a doubles tennis group is one of my favorite Bugle moments of all time incidentally.)

Right Said Fred coming out to perform an anti-Assad version of "I'm Too Sexy" gives us the first time John has had a celebrity come out basically to troll one single person, and thus almost the cornerstones of modern LWT have been established. Eagerly awaiting the first bestiality joke. Also, really love the changed lyrics, they put a hell of a lot of effort into this one. I wanna see Right Said Fred live now.

Random notes:

Lee will continue sexualizing one (1) older man damn it: light blue and dark blue checked shirt, black tie, and black jacket? I know I've said red is John's color but light blue is a very close second, 10/10

I feel like I made up for not doing these for two months by writing about five year's worth of unnecessary analysis of this damn episode. Hopefully you enjoyed it!

It was amazing seeing an ESPN ad for something not handegg-related. -groan-

LWT YouTube is still a bit confused, as we did get the two major topics as their own videos... and then 1 minute of the FIFA section as its own minisode. I really would love to know the logic behind why there specific jokes were isolated like this in the beginning of the show's airing.

My sausage, if anyone cares, is the Korean idol industry. It's an absolute cataclysmic nightmare and yet there's a lot there personally that changed me and a lot that I love out of it. It's complicated. Fuck SM Entertainment.

A reminder that John's LMFAO fandom has endured for a decade longer than the band itself lasted:

[ilovefandoms102]

Captivated by You-Part 3*

Pairing: Mr.Freezy x Plus Size Reader, Robert Pronge x Plus Size Reader

Summary: You find out what Robert does for a living after a terrifying account…

Note: I have so much planned for this series guys😛 here we have my third installment of the basement wife writing challenge!

Click here to be added to my taglist!

Warnings🛑:smut(oral(fem and male receiving), dom/sub aspects), mentions of blood and gore, talk of the mob, basement wife, brainwashing, manipulative relationship

Part 2 Part 4

Today was a special day, grocery day. The day I got to leave the house…

Usually, Robert would join me, but he had something come up at work. He never disclosed what he did for a living, but since that night almost five years ago, I knew it was something I probably didn’t need to know about.

I woke up wrapped in his arms, his beard tickling my skin which made me shiver. I opened my eyes slowly, his handsome face coming into view. I leaned the last few inches separating us, laying a chaste kiss to his full lips. He shifted a bit, pulling me impossibly closer to his warm body.

“I have to get ready baby, it’s grocery day.” I whispered, kissing his bearded cheek before slipping away from him. I wrapped a short, silk robe around my naked body before making my way into the kitchen.

I got breakfast started, mixing the pancake batter when Bobby entered. He was sexy as ever, walking around in just his boxers. I stared at his flawless body, the tattoos and scars littering all over him had me biting down on my lip.

“See something you like my love?” he smirked, purposefully flexing.

“N-No,” I squeaked, turning my attention back to the task at hand.

Robert smiled, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around me. One hand went to my neck while the other groped my breast. He forced my head back, sucking his mark into the skin of my neck. I wiggled against him, whining as his fingers on my breasts began twisting my hardened nipple.

“I think my little wife saw something she liked hmm?” Robert prompted me as he pulled my robe down over my breast to feel my skin.

“Mhmm,” I hummed, moaning as his hand on my neck squeezed lightly.

“Tell me sweet baby, tell your husband.” he grinned as his hand on my breast slid further south, fingers finding the slick lips of my core.

“You-always you baby,” I panted, grinding my hips against his hand.

“So wet, and all for me.” Robert growled.

Seconds later, I’m being turned and lifted on the counter. Bobby stood between my legs, shoving his boxers down.

“Wait, I want to do something for you.” I said breathlessly, pulling Robert in for a sweet, passionate kiss.

I hopped off the counter, sliding to my knees in front of him. Robert pushed some hair from my face, rubbing my cheek softly as he looked down at me.

“My sweet wife, you want my cock down your pretty throat hmmm?” he asked, grinning when I nodded my head eagerly.

“Since you asked so nicely my love,” he murmured, taking his cock and jerking it a few times.

I didn’t wait for his say before licking up his length, kissing the head before tonguing the precum that has oozed out. My hands joined as they guided his cock down my throat, holding what couldn’t fit in my mouth. I watched him through my lashes as he threw his head back, the pleasure overtaking him. I loved watching him lose control over me.

“Christ woman, how’d I get so fuckin’ lucky?” he grunted, his fingers locked around my hair as he thrusted his hips.

I choked a little, spit dribbling down my chin. I purred against him as he tugged my hair harder, Robert cursing loudly as he thrusted his hips faster.

“Can't decide if I want to cum in this pretty mouth or your pussy baby, shit.” he groaned, deciding the latter as he pulled me off his cock.

Robert joined me on the floor, shoving me down and spreading my legs. He slid inside of me, both of us sighing in relief as we connected as one. My hands ran down his muscled chest to his abdomen, scratching at the tufts of hair that I loved. I loved everything about his body, he was so beautiful.

“What’s going on inside that pretty head of yours?” Robert questioned, leaning down close enough for our lips to touch.

“How much I love you,” I whispered, tangling one hand in his hair while the other held his bulging bicep.

“I love you my pretty wife, so perfect.” he whispered back, fucking into me until I lost my senses.

Bobby kissed me what felt like a million times before we left, not wanting to waste a single taste of each other.

“You need to get going before you’re late baby.” I giggled.

“They’ll be alright, I’m sure they’ll let me by if they knew I was kissing my beautiful wife.” he grinned, interrupting my giggles with another kiss.

Once we finally parted, Robert sent me off with a loud smack to my ass. I prayed the neighbors hadn’t seen, but at the same time I didn’t care. I waved goodbye as he pulled out before me.

I triple checked my list before going inside, doing a mental count to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything. I wasn’t allowed to leave the house for another month at most after grocery day, and Bobby really hated having to swing by the store because I forgot something. I’d gotten myself punished the first few times I’d done that, but got better over the years.

Swear woman you’re so fucking dumb

Why can’t you do anything right

I ask you for one thing and you can’t do that

You’re lucky you’re pretty

My pretty little wife, so fucking stupid

I felt a sudden chill once I got out of the car, almost like someone was watching me. I looked around, not seeing anything suspicious. I tried to shrug it off as I stepped in the store, grabbing a buggy and taking out my list and a pen.

Once I’d gotten about halfway through my list, I felt like I was being followed. It could be my paranoia, but something felt odd. I looked behind me, seeing an older man with a long face and grey hair staring at me, his suit jacket pushed back to make room to put his hands in his pockets. My eyes widened when I saw the gun sticking out of his suspenders, my heart rate spiking as I turned back around quickly.

I whisked through the rest of the store, not paying mind to my list. If I forgot something, I’ll take the punishment. I just wanted to get out of there. I practically threw my things on the belt of the cash register, apologizing to the young boy for being in a hurry. I kept looking over my shoulder, feeling even more panic when the man continued to follow me. I ran to my car after paying, hearing the footsteps trail behind me.

“Excuse me, Mrs.Pronge?” he called, my heart dropping.

I ignored him, throwing my groceries into my trunk. I squealed when I felt a hand on my elbow, the man putting his hand over my mouth.

“Shut the fuck up bitch, I need you to deliever a message to your worthless husband.” the man snarled, tightening his grip enough to leave a bruise.

Tears threatened to spill, my heart rate increased so loud I’m sure he could hear it.

“You tell him Leo wants the hit done by tomorrow night or he’s done.” he snapped, shoving me away from him.

I’d never been so eager to be home. I regretted not waiting for Robert to go with me, the terrifying confrontation with that man could have been avoided. I quickly carried my groceries inside, locking the door and bolting it. I even checked to make sure the windows were locked, closing the curtains just for good measure.

My heart was racing, worrying if Bobby would even come home. I paced the living room, chewing anxiously on my nails. I tried to take my mind off of it by doing my chores, but my hands shook too much. I jumped when I heard a bang on the front door, freezing in place before I heard his voice. I hurried to unlock the bolts, my eyes widening as Bobby fell at my feet.

“Bobby!” I gasped, helping him inside.

“Lock the door sweetheart,” he growled, my fingers working double time to make sure the locks were secure again.

“What-What’s going on?! What happened?!” I cried as I rushed next to my husband.

“Listen to me, it’s going to be ok baby. There’s a medical kit in our closet, I need you to get it for me.” Robert instructed, my head nodding along as I ran to our room.

He had removed his uniform by the time I got back, an angry red slash near his hip bone. I knew I needed to be strong for him, but it was so hard seeing him in so much pain. He tried not to show it, I knew he wanted me to think he was ok.

“Fucker shot me, bullet is still in. You’re going to have to remove it.” he said, my heart dropping.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, tears flooding down my cheeks.

“I love you so much y/n, my love.” Robert breathed, raising a bloody hand cupping my cheek.

“You’re gonna be ok baby, you’ll be just fine I’ll fix you. I will, I promise.” I croaked, leaning my forehead on his.

My mother was a nurse, luckily she taught me everything she knows. I found the supplies I needed, sitting everything out I needed. I doused every tool and my hands in alcohol, knowing I couldn’t risk him getting an infection.

“This is going to sting baby,” I informed him as I wetted a cotton round before cleaning his wound.

“Fuck! Shit!” he howled.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby.” I sobbed, hurrying to clean him up.

“Not your fault baby, ‘s okay.” Robert nodded.

“I need you to-to stay with me ok?” I said, grabbing to forceps with shaking hands.

“Go for it pretty girl,” he gritted out, clenching his teeth as I dug around in the wound.

My heart broke as he cried out, making my nimble fingers work faster. I got the bullet out, proceeding by applying pressure on his wound while I found the stitching I needed.

“Almost done baby ok? We’re almost done.” I said, more to myself than to him.

I got to work stitching his wound shut, cleaning the area one more time before bandaging it. I cleaned all the tools again before putting everything back in the kit. I helped Robert to his feet, taking him to our room and lying him on our bed. I got him comfortable before rushing to the bathroom. I vomited everything I had consumed that day, my stomach heaving.

I flushed after I was done, getting to work on scrubbing the blood from my hands.

“Sweet baby?” Robert asked from beside me, making me jump since he was supposed to be in bed.

“You need to be laying down!” I scolded.

“I’m fine baby, not the first time I’ve been shot.” he chuckled.

“That doesn’t make anything better! I want answers right now Bobby! What the literal fuck is going on?!” I screamed, feeling the verge of a panic attack coming.

“Ok, ok baby I’ll tell you everything. Please just calm down-” he spoke softly.

“Calm down?! First I had a really strange and scary conversation with some asshole named Leo, and then my husband comes home covered in blood, and oh let’s not forget he had a fucking bullet stuck is his fucking side!” I raged.

“I know baby ok? Just sit down please.” he insisted, pulling me to our bed.

I sniffled as I followed him, forcing him to lay on the bed while I sat at his side. I moved some curls from his face, finding some bruising along his jaw and cheek.

“Jesus Bobby,” I whispered, wondering if I should do a full body inspection.

“Someone talked to you today?” he blurted randomly.

“Yeah, at the store someone named Leo.” I shrugged, trying to hide how much it scared me.

“Son of a bitch!” Robert growled, shoving up from the bed and stomping to the kitchen.

I chased after him, shouting that he was going to rip his stitches. He picked up the phone, harshly spinning the dialer while grumbling something to himself.

“What the fuck is going on!? Who’s Leo?” I asked, but Robert ignored me.

“Did you fucking speak to my wife at the store today?!” Robert hissed over the phone.

A moment passed by, Bobby’s face getting redder by the second. Something bad was happening, you hadn’t seen his face get that red since…

“If I catch you near her again I’ll blow your fuckin’ brains out.” he snarled before slamming the phone down.

I took a step back from him so he could calm down, my earlier fear creeping up my spine. Not because I was afraid of him, but because I put the pieces together.

“The mob,” I muttered, slowly looking into his eyes.

Robert slowly nodded his head, his expression changing from anger to worry. He snatched me in his arms, cradling my head against him.

“Don’t leave me, you can’t leave me baby. I’ll protect you I swear I will, I never wanted you to be dragged into this.” he babbled, his worry growing when I didn’t reciprocate his hold.

“Sweetheart please, I’m still your husband. I’m still me, that will never change.” he whispered, tightening his hold.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you mumbled, sliding your hands up his back and clinging to his shoulders.

“You aren’t?” he questioned.

“No baby, I love you, and I will never ever leave you.” I affirmed, kissing his lips hard to seal my answer.

“Now will you please lay down?” I asked to which he chuckled lightly.

“Yes ma’am,” he grinned, taking me with him to our room.

Shit was about to get way more complicated…

[ssamie]

eight. i’m calling the police

oikawa tooru x fem langa!reader

(hq x sk8 the infinity)

warnings: spelling mistakes, swearing, 2k+ words, adam, u have langa’s blue hair sorry 

gen masterlist.            “snow” masterlist.

"we're sorry!" the three boys exclaimed

"why are you sorry?" she asked in confusion as she stared down at them with furrowed brows "it wasn't your faults, oikawa-san, matsukawa-kun and hanamaki-kun." she reassured them "and you've been apologising the whole day.. its not like you need to anyways" 

"no, we still feel guilty" hanamaki chuckled "since it was our idea in the first place"

"well i was the one who skated so its fine. you don't need to apologise" she smiled at them

"but you're so sad!" oikawa groaned out dramatically "you look so heartbroken!" 

"im really not" she sweatdropped

"will you forgive us if we kneel down?" they asked "we already are, just in case!" y/n sweat dropped as she peered down at their grovelling forms and shook her head. "please don't kneel for me" she said

"its fine. i think i'll manage a few days without it" she said

"so why's your eyes all puffy?" iwaizumi deadpanned

"i cried" she replied with a straight face

"i see." iwaizumi hummed.

"hey, y/n-senpai!" kindaichi called out from the gym. "i think this is yours!" she looked up at him with a look of confusion ran over to where he stood. "what is it?" she asked 

"its your skateboard." kindaichi replied "it's in the gym for some reason" he said. y/n's eyes sparkled as she picked it up and hugged it to her chest. "wow! did you get it back?" she asked him 

"ah no.. it was just there when we entered the gym. kunimi found it" he said as he pointed towards kunimi who was too busy looking at his phone 

"thank you!" she beamed at them 

"no problem. maybe the teacher decided to give it back" he said 

she grinned and happily inspected it for damage just in case. though her smile quickly fell as her eyes trained themselves on a card plastered across the snow monster design's face. she plucked it off and wearily read over the neat letters written in gold ink. 

"you'll need this for later.. " she read with furrowed brows

she flipped the card over and paled as she saw the name that was signed. "love, adam" she shuddered 

"who's adam?" oikawa asked as he peered over her shoulder to read the card 

"um. he's-" she was cut off by the gym lights suddenly shutting off, causing her to jump in surprise. "what happened?" she asked oikawa, who shrugged in response and held her closer to him 

"my eve~" a voice cooed, accompanied by what seems like a sigh of delight and pleasure

she shivered and subconsciously backed up into oikawa's chest as she recognized the voice. "hey, what's wrong? you know that creep?" oikawa asked with a frown 

"its adam." she said 

everyone watched in confusion as the mysterious man entered the gym in an unnecessarily dramatic way. a red carpet rolled from the outside until the spot where y/n stood, and the gym lights turned on but were dimmed. 

"i hope you like my little gift" adam cooed as he skated towards her with a grin "you'll need i for what i have in store, as stated in my letter" he said 

y/n didn't answer but simply looked at him with a grimace, silently praying to whatever god out there that he just trips and dies or something. 

"though i have another gift for you, SNOW" he cooed as he came to a halt before her. adam grinned as he pulled out a huge bouquet of roses "these flowers are red, which symbolise one thing.." he said

"passionate love" adam cooed as he held it before her, making the petals fly around and making her hair sway. 

oikawa blinked once, and twice. he looked at the masked man in both fear and ick. just who the hell as he, anyways? "hey-what the?! aren't you like thirty?!" oikawa accidentally blurted out as he pulled y/n away 

adam simply ignored the brunette and kept his eyes trained on the girl. he waited patiently for her to accept the flowers. 

y/n pursed her lips and reluctantly took it from him. "thanks." she said. 

"you're accepting that??" oikawa groaned out as he looked at her in dread and confusion. 

she shrugged and gently placed the bouquet on a random bench. "adam--" she cut herself off with a squeak as she felt his hands gently grip her waist and pull her closer 

"come to this location i picked out." he whispered into her ear as he handed her another card. y/n stiffly nodded and quickly snatched the card from him, wanting nothing more than to get out of that situation.

"amazing!" adam exclaimed as he, finally, pulled away from her. "you never fail to entertain me, SNOW." he grinned "i knew coming here will be worth my while" he chuckled. 

"ah. right.." she muttered as she looked at him weirdly "wait, did you follow me?" she asked with a raised brow as the realisation finally dawned upon her. 

"other factors do not matter, my eve" adam mused as he took her hand in his and grabbed her hip with his other. "meet me later and let us dance like old times, okay?" he cooed with a smirk 

she looked away in discomfort and reluctantly nodded her head. "right.." she mumbled 

the boys, who were standing right there to witness the whole thing, looked at each other with a look that embodied the term 'what the fuck' and mentally agreed to step up and help her. 

"excuse me." iwaizumi cleared his throat, making adam side eye him with a look of disinterest 

"who are you and what are you doing with y/n?" he asked as he placed his hand on y/n's shoulder to try and pull her free from his grasp. "let go" oikawa said with a scowl as he pried adam's hands off her

"who are these nuisances, my eve?" adam asked her as he completely ignored their presence. "i thought i've already gotten rid of that redhead, and yet new names will be added into the list" adam hummed with a smile 

y/n gulped as she took note of the faint hostility behind his tone. "they're my friends." she said as she backed away from him and into oikawa’s arms once again 

"i'll meet you for a beef later but that's all" she said as she turned away from him "after that, please leave, adam." she requested with a sigh as she picked up the bouquet and her bag 

she gathered the boys and pushed them all out of the gym, quickly ushering them to run off along with her. she looked back one last time, only to be met with adam's eyes which seemed to be comically glowing red under his mask, paired with a grin 

she gulped and set him a curt nod. "bye" she said 

"goodbye, my eve" adam cooed as he watched her run off to the boys 

"hey hey! what the hell was that?!" oikawa exclaimed as he hugged y/n tightly in his arms "that creepy mask man came out of nowhere!" he said "and why'd he start touching you?" 

"yeah, who was that?" iwaizumi asked her

"his name is adam, or atleast that's what we call him" she replied "he's just like that, don't mind him" 

"uh no, i think i'm gonna mind him, thanks very much" oikawa scoffed "what did you mean when you asked if he followed you?" he asked with furrowed brows 

"oh.. well there's no other way he would've known i was here" she replied as she leaned back against his chest 

"also, oikawa-san.." she trailed off

"yeah?" he hummed 

"why are you still holding me?" 

oikawa blinked and slowly retracted his arms with a hint of reluctance. "haha, sorry" he chuckled 

"why does he call you eve?" matsukawa sweat dropped. "it has something to do with his name. adam, and eve.. like lovers" she answered with a look of distaste 

"..." 

iwaizumi let out a sigh before pulling out his phone and dialling a number. "im calling the police." he said 

"ah, don't do that" she waved her hands dismissively "i don't think that'll do much anyways" 

"well, he's clearly sick in the head so maybe they'll take him somewhere else other than jail" matsukawa mused. "ya know.." hanamaki chimed in "like the psych ward or something" 

"well when you put it like that.." y/n sweat dropped 

oikawa had a frown on his lips as they chatted. he wasn't joining in like he usually would, and was simply thinking to himself. y/n side eyed him and nudged him with her shoulder. "would you like to have dinner together, oikawa-san?" she asked him 

oikawa's eyes widened as his head instantly snapped over to hers "what?!" he spluttered "did you just ask me out?" 

"... i asked if you wanted to have dinner" she said 

oikawa bit back his tongue as he yearned to say 'that's the same thing!' but fought against it. "ah, sure!" he agreed with a grin. she smiled back and nodded. "great. i needed to stop thinking about adam" she said 

"also, will you guys come with me later?" she asked them 

the boys raised laughed and immediately nodded. "well, i was going to tell you not to go but.. i guess it'll be fine with us there" iwaizumi said. "yeah. if that dude does something sketchy, i'll seriously call 911" hanamaki laughed 

"oh, you can't." she said. "or else you and i will get involved. the skating i do isnt really appreciated by legal forces." she chuckled nervously 

"what?" 

"its kind of illegal." 

"...y/n.." iwaizumi trailed off with a sigh. 

"no way?! cool!" oikawa exclaimed as he gave her a high five. "it is, isn't it?!" she grinned as she and oikawa laughed together 

"jesus christ." iwaizumi deadpanned 

"that dinner was great!" she grinned as she sent oikawa a thumbs up 

"ah you're right.." he agreed with a meek laugh. "though it would've been better without them." he muttered as he sent the iwaizumi, maki, and mattsun a glare 

"oh cmon captain!" hanamaki mused "you love us!" he laughed. "no i don't" oikawa huffed and crossed his arms. 

"well, i love you guys" y/n interjected with an innocent smile

oikawa jumped and hastily waved his arms about. "no! no you don't!" he exclaimed. "why.. why not?" she sweat dropped 

"that should be saved for a special someone!" he said "cough. me. cough." 

"you're right!" y/n beamed with a grin "like reki!" 

oikawa dramatically sulked, kicking rocks by his feet and muttering under his breath as a gloomy aura surrounds him. "reki this reki that. why is it always reki? hmp" he muttered bitterly to himself 

iwaizumi sweat dropped and simply dragged him along "shut up, shittykawa. this is just getting sad" he said. "also, y/n where exactly are we going?" iwaizumi asked her as he looked around the dark and unsettling part of the woods they have entered 

"adam said he set up a course for us tonight" she answered with a shrug as she pushed her way through random bushes "it has to be hidden but we're very close, don't worry." she reassured 

"that's the problem. we're close." iwaizumi sighed. "just so you know, im still against this whole thing" 

"don't worry iwaizumi-san! it'll be fun!" y/n said with a grin as she pushed through one last bush, revealing a bright light from behind. 

"ah, there she is!"

y/n covered her eyes as a bright light shone against her "my eve!" adam announced followed by multiple cheers and shouts

"what the hell..?" matsukawa muttered as he looked around the abandoned looking part of the forest which was littered with skaters cheering and watching. "what the hell is this place?" she muttered as she recognised a few faces from S "is this S..?"

"my eve" adam cooed as he skated towards her "do you like it?"

"i've gathered everyone here to see you skate!" he exclaimed "everyone has missed you. but not as much as me" adam grinned as he tucked a single rose between her ear, making her shudder and warily poke at the flower.

"is reki here?" she asked with widened eyes as she looked around for a certain redhead

"that boy is not needed, is he not?" adam rebutted with a scowl "so there was no need to invite him."

her face fell at the statement and peered up at him with a frown. "don't say that about him.." she muttered

adam hummed and lit up a cigarette. "if emotions could be seen by the eye, what shapes would they be?" he mused

y/n brows furrowed as he listened to him. "i believe it will be a spring. and that spring will have different amounts of water depending on the occasion." he said "my spring is currently completely dry. because i don't have even one millimeter of interest in that.. reki..." he said with a grimace 

"but you.." adam trailed off as he threw the cigar away. 

he skated towards her and grinned, encaging her in a bubble her as he skates around her. "good.. you're good.." he said with a sigh of pleasure 

"it flows out... it gushes out!" adam exclaimed 

"that's right. the prize of this bet shall be you!" he announced as he gripped her waist and pulled her closer to him so their chest were touching "and what shall you ask for if you win, little y/n?" adam cooed as he tilted his head with a grin 

y/n sheepishly looked away from him and muttered. "if i win.. you have to go back and leave me alone.." she said 

adam's smile momentarily fell. he then grinned and nodded along. "what a cruel request" he mused "but if that is what you want then so be it.." he chuckled 

"but that just means i have to win no matter what, right?" 

y/n looked at him with dread. she didn't answer but simply turned away from him and faced the boys. "hey, i think we should leave" oikawa suggested with a nervous laugh "that guy is crazy!" 

"and what's with this place? i thought for sure he'd just bring you to a skatepark or something" he said as he eyes the various skaters who were chatting along 

"you'll see oikawa-san." 

everyone watched in anticipation as the lights blink one by one, a buzzing sound acting as a count down for them. as the last ringing of the buzzer filled the air, both adam and y/n skated off.

"holy shit" matsukawa cursed in surprise

they had done so in immense speed and force, that they'd even left some skid marks and a trail of dust and rubble behind

"yeah! go SNOW!" "im betting on you, SNOW!!" "SNOW you better win!"

oikawa watched with widened eyes as the crowd around them cheered and hollered, shouting her alias along with some encouragement. "snow?" oikawa hummed in confusion "is that like a nickname or something?" he muttered

"yes. we like to keep our personal lives apart from our skating activities." a guy chimed in "and that includes our given names, so we make up aliases or nicknames, as you said."

oikawa looked up at the man with a mask and nervously chuckled "i see." he said "what's your name then, sir?" he asked, only to quickly correct himself "or ma'am? uh-"

"cherry." he answered

cherry looked oikawa up and down and brought his eyes up to the screen displaying y/n and adam. "also im a guy." he said with a sigh. "ah right, sorry" oikawa chuckled

"its the hair isn't it?" a new voice cooed followed by a laugh 

oikawa watched as cherry sighed and irritably glare at the green haired guy that skated towards them. 

"sup kid" joe greeted with a nod "i heard you came with our rookie over there" he mused as he stared up at the girl through the screen. "im joe. im a friend of hers" he said with a grin as he held his hand out for him to shake. "cherry here is too" 

"oikawa tooru" oikawa said as he accepted the hand shake "im also her friend" he smiled at them 

"stop talking and watch. she brought you here so you better make the most of it" cherry interrupted their conversation 

"right.." oikawa nodded 

"YEAH GO SNOW!" "she's speeding up!" "ADAM's totally catching up though!" 

oikawa's eyes glistened in wonder and amazement as he watched her sharply turn a corner and flip her board around, using the edge to balance herself from the steep curve of the concrete. 

"its here!" adam exclaimed in delight 

y/n turned back with a cautious gaze as she watched in partial dread and confusion as adam does some type of dance as he skates. though she wouldn't lie, it was kid of impressive for him to keep his balance. but still.. 

" here, here! right in my heart!" adam exclaimed with a light squeal, continuing to dance and spin around, only making her dread what was to come next even more. 

"now, little y/n.." adam cooed as he suddenly appeared behind her to grab her waist and drag her closer to him, causing their boards to bump. 

"dance with me!" he said with a grin as he took her hand and maneuvered their way through the curves and turns of the course 

"what the..?! that's dangerous! shouldnt this be against the rules or something?!" oikawa exclaimed as he watched the scene play out in fear 

"no. there are no rules when it comes to S." cherry explained. "it may be dangerous but, the moment she agreed to the beef was her brushing off the consequences she may face." 

oikawa gulped and look back up, watching on distaste as adam spreads her feet to make her lose her balance 

iwaizumi, matsukawa and hanamaki's expressions were just about the same. they didn't really know what they were expecting when she brought them here but it surely wasn't this. 

adam chuckled as he pushed her, making her stumble and almost fall off, only for him to catch her by the small of her back and dipping her as if it was a dance. 

"okay, this is going too far.." iwaizumi muttered as they watched her expression through the screen 

y/n gritted her teeth as she glared up at him, only for adam to smile at her in amusement. 

"y/n.." oikawa muttered with a frown as he felt the worry build up inside of him 

"we're approaching a big corner now!" adam taunted her. he intertwined their hands and grinned mischievously as he lifted her up and started spinning her around. "here we go!" he exclaimed with a laugh

it was a total contrast to her screams of pure dread and adrenaline, tightly gripping his hands so she wouldn't fall and injure herself 

"this is so fun, SNOW!" adam cooed as she finally was able to place her feet back on her board, although they were still spinning 

everyone watched as the camera zoomed in on them, showing her widened eyes and gritted teeth as she stared up at adam, who was smiling tauntingly at her. "oh? is something the matter?" adam cooed "please don't tell me youre scared." 

it seems everyone, including adam was pleasnatly surprised as a small but noticeable smirk carved itself onto her lips. maybe it was adrenaline, but it seemed like it was out of enjoyment as well. after all, it's been a while since she's skated properly against someone. 

y/n grinned as she narrower the space between them, pushing herself against him as she took turn to maneuver them against the turn 

"she narrowed the turn radius to speed up" joe said as he stared up at the screen with a proud and amused smile "still the same as always" 

the boys looked at him and gulped. they had no idea what was happening whatsoever, except for the fact that she can literally die or injure herself with one wrong move. 

"love-love-love-lovely!" adam exclaimed with a laugh "wonderful!". y/n panted as she pulled away and finally managed to get a grip of her board once again 

"he's gonna do the love hug" a new voice filled the air 

the boys whipped their heads around to see a redhead rushing towards the scene with two other guys, one younger. 

"love hug..?" oikawa tilted his head in confusion as he peered down at the vaguely familiar redhead. though his attention was averted back to the screen as the atmosphere seemed to have grown heavier 

adam was grinning as he spun back around, spreading his arms as he looked at her through his mask. "come here.. into my arms!" adam cooed "love hug!" 

"Y/N!!" reki exclaimed as he shifted anticipatingly in his place, dropping his own board in the process 

as comical as it was, she somehow managed to hear his scream. maybe it was because everyone else was quiet due to suspense. but reki's voice echoed throughout the cleared out forest loud enough for her to hear. 

"reki..?" y/n spluttered as she immediately jumped over adam, performing what looks to be a snowboarding trick. she stayed in the air for longer as she eyed the area she planned to land. 

"YEAH! GO SNOW!" cheers erupted among the audience, filling the tense air with noise yet again. 

"she did it!" reki grinned as he watched her through the screen 

"reki?" oikawa mumbled with widened eyes as he looked at the redhead with a new sense of intimidation and wariness. though his eyes were quickly averted back to the scene before him. as unexpected as it was, he'd still rather focus on y/n skating rather than some kid he didn't know. 

"adam's not having it." cherry sighed as he watch adam try to keep up with her speed but struggle due to the advantage she had received

"she's gonna win!" reki grinned as he watched the two skate in anticipation

and just as he had predicted, loud screeching of her board's tires were heard as she passed over the finish line. "ah-ah shit!-" she cursed as she lost her balance and toppled over, causing her to wince in pain 

"ouch.." she sighed as she sat up on the ground, rubbing her head and checking her board for damage since the course was rockier than usual 

"y/n-chan!" oikawa exclaimed as he, along with the three boys rushed over to her, given that the finish line was a few yards away from them. "oikawa-san!" she faced him with a grin as she opened her arms for him to drop into "i won!" she said

"i know! you were so cool!" oikawa gushed as he stared up at her in admiration

"ehem." iwaizumi cleared his throat

"oh right." oikawa muttered. "but that was really dangerous!" he scolded her, a total contrast to his reaction before. "are you injured? your hand is probably wounded with how much you skidded it against the rocks!"

she smiled sheepishly and shook her head "im fine, oikawa-san" she reassured him "my hands and feet are kind of sore but it's alright"

"also.. was reki here? i heard him" she asked as she looked around the place, trying to find the redhead 

"i've lost" adam said as he stopped before her 

"you.. you do remember what my request was right?" she asked him with a wary gaze. "of course, my eve" adam mused. "i'm not very happy with it, as you may know" 

she looked down at her shoes and gave him a quick bow "sorry." she said "but a bet is a bet. and i won." y/n looked up at him and sent him a faint ghost of a smile. "it was fun skating with you, adam. but you have to distance yourself from me.." 

adam gazed at her with pursed lips, not looking too amused about the situation, but nodded nonetheless. "im glad i've left you satisfied, my eve" he cooed as he took her hand in his and placed a quick peck onto her knuckles 

the boys around her sweat dropped as they witnessed the strange and awfully uncomfortable interaction. "right well.." iwaizumi cleared his throat as he hesitantly pushed them apart. "we'll be going now." he said "this place is dangerous and you shouldn't really be making her participate in reckless things like this. do better sir." 

y/n smiled at him and chuckled as he dragged her away along with the others, more that eager to leave that place. 

"you're never skating ever again." iwaizumi said to break the silence 

"what?! no way!" she whined "didn't you see that iwaizumi-san? it was so fun!" 

"that guy was a creep and you were on the verge of dying." 

"well.. it was fun though" she huffed as she realised she couldn't even disagree with his statement 

"well, i think it looked fun" oikawa whispered to her with a cheeky wink, making her chuckle and suppress a smile 

"anyways.." she started as they had finally reached the exit of the forest. "i asked you before but.. was reki there? i heard him" she said 

"reki? well..." oikawa hesitated as he nervously looks around the place. "was he there, oikawa-san?" she asked him with an innocent smile 

"he-" 

"Y/N I FOUND YOU!!" 

i just used the whole beef langa had w adam on ep.5 here lol </3

sorry for the spelling /grammar mistakes if there are any :> 

[watching-pictures-move]

Put On Your Raincoats #20 | Squalid Motels and Desperate Gals, courtesy of Kim Christy

This review contains mild spoilers.

When I first heard of Kim Christy, I knew I had to delve into her work. Here is someone who was involved in the drag scene in the '60s and went on to direct and produce pornography from the '80s onward. She's also a trans woman director (and occasional actress), which is not just unusual in golden age pornography but even mainstream cinema today. Unfortunately, figuring out where to start was a challenge. There's a very good interview with her on the Advocate but which doesn't really delve into her directing work. So I did the highly risky and ill-advised move of scanning through the titles in her filmography and trying to pick out ones with interesting sounding premises. Even this was a challenge, as a lot of her movies sounded like they didn't have a terrible amount of story. (A good many of them also had certain slurs in the title, which are unfortunately common in trans pornography.) So out of the crapshoot of movies I picked, I can't say I really got to the bottom of what makes her work interesting or even gelled to most of them, but hopefully I can convey what makes the ones I did take to interesting.

To start with the most slight, the two Divine Atrocities movies are basically a collection of sex scenes. There's a theme of dominant women running through them, but otherwise there isn't much tying together in terms of staging, aesthetics and the like. The segments have titles like "The Leather Lass Tamer", "Rubber Rampage" and "Ms. Degradation", but truth be told, nothing here is terribly shocking. So there isn't a lot to either of these movies, but if you're watching it for those reasons, they're enjoyable enough. A few of the segments feature trans performers, and I did find that Sulka had a nicely imposing screen presence in her scene, and while Sugar Nicole briefly threatens her partner with her "big black cock", I did like that for the most part the movies don't discern between these scenes and the ones with cisgender performers. In the eyes of Kim Christy, there's room for everyone in this great sexual melange. Also notable is the threesome scene with Janey Robbins, who (after likely reading Dan Savage's column) tells one of her partners, "If you don't find a different way to fuck me, you can forget it, I'll have to find somebody else", and in the first time in the history of civilization, gets mad at her male partner for not climaxing quickly enough. "You always say it'll only take a few minutes. Time is the only thing I can't replace, and it always takes too long."

A bit more substantive narratively but less interesting is Momma's Boy, with a premise that you can guess based on the title. Tantala Ray presides over a brothel set during an indeterminate period, where she presides over her girls and also her son, who mysteriously became a deaf-mute at a certain point of time. Why did her son become a deaf-mute? Will we ever find out? Spoiler: it's incest. Tantala Ray does have a weird enough screen presence to make her parts watchable, but this has none of the charge that, say, Taboo brings to the same material. (It's worth noting that Ray in this movie, looking like a debauched queen of Mardi Gras in one scene, is a camp villain while Kay Parker plays her role straight in the other movie.) As it's shot on video, the movie is not very nice to look at, and the dirt cheap production values make it unclear whether this is supposed to be a period piece. Some of the dialogue is amusing ("Oxford?" "Guess again." "Princeton?" "Try Biloxi Tech, my sweetie."), and there is some old timey music and one of the clients wears an ascot at one point, so it's not a totally squalid affair. (It's classy, see? He's wearing an ascot.) As the son, Jerry Butler does a cringe-inducing lisp, but I did chuckle at his last line.

A bit easier to recommend is True Crimes of Passion, where Janey Robbins plays a private detective (cheekily named B.J. Fondel) who invariably bungles her investigations and winds up in sex scenes with the people she's supposed to be investigating. "Out of the fog and into the smog" begins the overwrought voiceover, which truth be told doesn't compare to the likes of Chandler but I guess the effort is nice. The first case involves her investigating the wife of a minister whom her client suspects of infidelity. Surprise, surprise, it turns out the wife has a girlfriend with whom she has dominant sex. Thanks to Robbins' investigative prowess, she gets found out and forced to join the proceedings and ends up getting her client, a Dan Quayle looking motherfucker in a cowboy hat, captured as well, which leads to an incredible burn.

"The lord will punish you for this."

"The lord already has, he gave me you for a husband."

Also, when Robbins is forced into cunnilingus, she says over narration, "Oh Christ, I'm not even sure I've seen one of these things up close", and yeah, okay, Janey.

The second scene is probably the most notable as it features Christy as a performer. Robbins visits her friend to investigate a death threat against her friend's brother (also Robbins' ex), and the twist can be deduced when you start wondering why a seemingly minor character gets an unusually large amount of screentime. The scene features a trope that likely isn't terribly sensitive by modern standards, but I get the sense from that Advocate interview that Christy isn't too hung up about such things and one must concede that the film is a product of its time and genre (and within that context, there's a lot worse out there). The last scene has Robbins spying on her neighbour in hotel to get some industry secrets, which leads to some really awkward dialogue about champagne and then a threesome involving her client and mark. Like the work of Yasojiru Ozu, this scene breaks the 180-rule, but I guess if this is your thing, you might enjoy it. At the very end, the mark just gives up his secrets to the client. The secrets of male bonding sometimes elude me.

Easily the most accomplished and enjoyable film from Christy that I watched was Squalor Motel. It combines the sexual variety of the other films with a sense of camp and grounds it in a distinct, memorable location. There isn't much more "plot" than the other movies, as it's basically about a motel concierge doing her job over the course of a day, but as it follows her bumping into a variety of (usually horny) guests and finding herself in amusing (and unfailingly sexual) situations, there's enough of a narrative through line that it feels like a "real" movie where the other movies strained for similar effect, and the movie uses a soundtrack of icy synths and jazz that sounds like imitation Angelo Badalamenti to give it all an alluring vibe. I'm gonna make a wager that David Lynch would have liked this movie. Look, I have no idea what his viewing habits are or what sends his motor running, and the thought of him jacking it furiously to this or any movie is not something that brings me pleasure. But this shares some of the campy tone and surface qualities of his works, and I also wanted to leave you all with that image.

Why does the motel have its own house band (to whom people try to listen to while they engage in all kinds of sexual congress)? Why is Jamie Gillis made up like a vampire and trying to sell marital aids? Why does the one guest's blow-up doll turn into a real person (and prove, uh, extremely vocal during their scene)? Why is the owner wearing a pig mask and a tutu while he spies on his guests? Why is everyone laughing at the newlywed? Why is the one scientist with a Hitler mustache and his shrill-voiced assistant conducting experiments (read: having a threesome) with Tantala Ray? And how are most of these things taking place in the mysterious Reptile Room in the middle of the motel? With an extremely winning Colleen Brennan in the lead role (sporting a pair of thick glasses, a Lucille Ball updo, and a big, toothy smile), we'll have a pretty good time finding out. Like a lot of hardcore movies, this is pretty episodic in structure, but its distinct atmosphere gives it a nice sense of momentum as it drifts from scene to scene.

With its nice production design (and the fact that it seems to have actual sets, rather than being shot in what I assume are people's homes like in the other movies), Squalor Motel feels a bit more upscale and lavish than the average porno. While I don't have any budgetary information handy, I do know that the production had an assistant director, Ned Morehead. To what extent he contributed to the movie's DNA I can't say for certain, but the directorial effort of his I watched, also produced by Christy, had many of the same qualities. Desperate Women starts off feeling pretty stylish with its spraypaint style opening credits (although it loses a bit of style when it misspells star Taija Rae's name as "Taja Rea"). Taija Rae plays a reporter who ends up wrongfully convicted for a murder and thrown in brutal women's prison presided over by the sadistic Tantala Ray, who seems to get her jollies from spying on her prisoners as they get it on or abusing them with the help of her dimwitted guard. During such incidents, the guard frequently ends up ejaculating on her uniform as a source of comic relief. (One such scene ends with a shot of a photo of Ronald Reagan.) I must however disclose, without revealing too much about the shameful inner workings of my hopelessly degenerate mind, that the denouement of scene involving Ray, her guard and Sharon Mitchell did not leave me unmoved. Mitchell plays a prisoner who befriends Taija Rae, and it's worth noting that despite being one of the best actresses in classic porn, she's saddled here with an atrocious Hispanic accent and at one point sings a bit of "America" from West Side Story.

By porn standards, this is actually quite well produced and has a relatively sturdy narrative. (I must however note that one scene has a blatant ejaculation-related continuity error.) Women in prison movies tend to be pretty squalid affairs in general, at least in terms of production values, so this doesn't feel too far off from the real thing and offers more explicit versions of the same pleasures, while its sense of humour gives it a nice campy quality. Tantala Ray especially delivers in a pleasingly over the top performance as the teeth-gnashing villain (the camera often frames her severe face in wide angle close ups), and say what you will about Sharon Mitchell's accent, I did like seeing her pop up in here. With all the flamboyance and excitement around her, Taija Rae almost becomes a supporting character in her own movie, although I must confess that I found her character's hopeless naivety pretty cute. ("I didn't wear rubbers, it's sunny out".) With a fun cast, a firm handle on the genre's pleasures and a groovy soundtrack, this is a pretty good time.

[theworldsoul]

Uhh warning VENT!!! Talks about self harm and shit... also religious bullshit and gender bullshit??? Like I'm really trans and also Catholicism really fucked me up so if ur uncomfy with that just... skip this post. Also if ur Christian and can't handle seeing ur shit defaced then skip this post. Also if ur gonna clown on this post as "cringe atheism" then fuck you because I'm literally coping with pain lol

:readmore:

Anways now that the disclaimer is over... here comes the real shit.

I... have been going through a LOT lately, jesus christ. I was HAPPY today, yknow? I thought I was gonna be happy the whole day.

I was dancing today. That's how happy I was. For the first time in like... a whole year... I was really so happy. I thought I was gonna cry. But then I got home. And well,,,, I did cry. But not from happiness. I just got my math grade back. A fucking 49 percent. MY AVERAGE RIGHT NOW IS A 57 PERCENT. I MIGHT FAIL MATH 20. I MIGHT HAVE TO RETAKE IT. oh my god I'm such a failure I cant do anything ever i try SO fucking hard but honestly??? I cant fucking do this. I can't, I'm not mentally capable. "Just work harder"... BITCH I AM WORKING AS HARD AS I CAN. I AM SPENDING HOURS AND HOURS OF MY LIFE STUDYING AND PRACTICING. I'm starting to think that how hard i try doesn't even fucking matter because I'm STUPID and all i know how to do is PAINT SHIT!!!! NOBODY CARES ABOUT ART!!!! IF I FAIL THIS CLASS I MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO HAVE A HOUSE IN THE FUTURE!!!! A HOUSE!!!!!

I dont even want to be a fucking orthodontist. Okay??? I wanna do what I love: painting. But NOOOO. I have to get a "respectable" job that will "pay me enough money to live". WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO MAKE MONEY TO LIVE??? WTF??? THATS LITERALLY SO FUCKED UP. everyone deserves to live (unless they like murdered someone? I guess? Idk) BUT LIKE I DIDNT KILL NO ONE SO WHATS ALL THIS BS ABOUT WORKING TO LIVE???? WTF??? I rly gotta do all this shit I hate, all this shit I'm mentally incapable of doing... so i can have a house. Fuck this. Yknow with my average at a 57... I might fail this class even if I get a really good grade on my next quiz. Can you fucking believe it??? I'm literally so fucking stupid I cant even pass a dumb fucking math class god i hate myself. I cant fail this class. I've NEVER failed a class. Almost failed... but never HAD TO RETAKE A CLASS. that's the ultimate failure. I think my parents would hate me if I failed this.

And on top of that... I'm really struggling with uhhh, dysphoria and body image... and it's so fucking horrible man I want to rip all my skin off I want to suffocate god I want to KILL him I want to MAKE HIM SUFFER. I want to gouge his eyes out and force him to eat them. WHY WOULD HE MAKE ME LIKE THIS????? WHY????? WHATS THE POINT IN MAKING A CHILD SUFFER SO MUCH???

What did I ever do that was so wrong I deserved all this punishment???

Well FUCK YOU and fuck your stupid book and FUCK THESE STUPID FUCKING SAINTS. WASNT THERE SUPPOSED TO BE A WHOLEASS ANGEL WATCHING OVER ME?? PROTECTING ME??? WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT BITCH NOW?? WHERE WAS THAT BITCH WHEN... when I was being bullied? When I literally wanted to kill myself?

Where was that guardian angel when I kept making THE SAME MISTAKE over and over again and I KNEW it was wrong but I kept doing it anyways because it was the only way I could feel like soemone cared about me????

I bet that angel motherufcker KNEW they didnt care. DID THE ANGEL EVER ONCE HELP ME??? NOOOO. all those times I was bruised and broken... all those times...

Man, I was just a kid. I was SO fucking young. And I would come like a lamb to the slaughter and kneel. I would pray... ask for guidance. I would pray the rosary too, I would read the bible and try my very best to understand it, I would go to church and volunteer at church and do my best to be a Good Boy and never sin. I did EVERYTHING right. I literally fasted at some point, like a religious fast. I was devoted...

Honestly though? I think it was the same mistake I make over and over again, except not with a real person.

And you have me NOTHING. GO GIRL, GIVE US NOTHING!!!!!!! I literally used to self-punish for the sins I couldnt bring myself to confess. At my communion, there was one sin I didn't tell because I knew it was unforgivable. I still hate myself for that. But man, I used to try and do all sorts of things to somehow cleanse myself of it. I figured THAT whole ordeal was why I was constantly being tortured.

But I was stupid and I am stupid and that makes NO SENSE because if the thing I'm being punished for happened when I was a child, WHY DID THE PUNISHMENT BEGIN AT MY BIRTH????

They used to tell me that god handcrafted every part of me specifically for some sort of grand reason.

Why.

Really? This bitch really "handcrafted" me just so I could cry and cut myself nearly every night??? Fuck that. Like why would you make me this way. It hurts more than you can IMAGINE. The only reason I'm not dead yet is because of ME, MY strength, not any of the bullshit YOU gave me. I hate when people say "oh, god made u so hardworking" or "oh, god made you so passionate/hopeful/full of love/fiery/whatever" LIKE STFU BITCH THAT WAS NOT SKYDADDY THAT WAS ME!!!

you wanna know what he made me?

dysphoric, ugly af, yeah.... but the worst part?

He made me feel.

That doesn't sound bad, right? Well it's the worst thing on the list. It is my downfall, my Achilles heel or whatever. This emotions shit??? It RUINED my life. My whole life I was cursed with a fucking monster inside me. I kept trying to tell everyone that it wasnt me!!! I kept telling them that it felt like I was being possessed. But adults are SHIT. I hate adults. I want to kill them all. They failed me and their god failed me. None of them every listened to me. All they knew how to do was punish, punish, punish.

It's like giving an allergic kid some peanuts and then getting angry at them for going into anaphylactic shock or whatever. Nobody ever thought "hey, why don't we stop giving the kid peanuts?"

ALL THE ADULTS AROUND ME ACT LIKE CHILDREN AND THEY ALWAYS HAVE ACTED LIKE CHILDREN FUCK ADULTS

Anwyays that's how I ended up with all these unresolved issues,.... emotion is a tough one, like I literally dont have the ability to control my emotions at all, I can try and like, repress them but I cant make myself actually feel less.

My emotion hurts more than anyone else's and nobody ever understood that. I would tell them that it hurts, it PHYSICALLY HURTS, and they would say I just wanted attention. I would tell them I literally couldnt control what my body said and did, I would tell them I felt like A PUPPET ON STRINGS and no one believed me. Fuck them.

Healthy coping mechanisms? I literally self ship with Snape to cope. I literally self ship with characters my brain made up and put in my dreams to cope. I used to hurt myself so much trying to feel loved and cared about irl. Fiction is so much better. I sound like a loser but its TRUE. The sort of thing I need, the sort of love I need is like... a parent. You can't go looking for a parent in a romantic partner, it fucks everything up and you end up... well, let's just say it proabbly wasnt the most legal thing, but I wasnt thinking strisght at all I mean dude I was So fucked in my head when I did all that...whatever...anyways so thank u for fiction!!! I love fiction. Want to kill someone? Draw it. Then you'll feel much better!!! And you dont go to jail!!!

Well the pics here... idk, it was really calming to do this. It's new, painting over religious shit. I was gonna do the whole bible but I already burnt that shit so.... and I was going to cut but I'm trying really hard to stay clean... like really hard. It's so weird and like, addicting, once I hit styro I don't want to stop, but also it kinda transfers the emotional pain to physical pain, making it way easier to deal with. I just can't keep doing that because I KNOW it's bad and look I thoguht I was clean for a whole year but then I fucked up and WOW, GUESS WHAT MADE ME RELAPSE??? MATH CLASS!!!!

Whatever anyways here are my wonderful works of art I made while crying and cursing god (like I'm so pissed at all this catholic bs I believed in him again just to swear at him lol)

.... but imagine for a moment, a better world. One in whcih these saints whose images I've defaced are actually good people... a world in which they SEE ME AND THEY HEAR ME... and I go unpunished.... and I am embraced by someone who UNDERSTANDS.

I think I would cry.

Too bad that world doesnt exist and I just made it up to try and feel a bit better. Whatever, whatever. I painted the things, they're gonna dry. I work hard, I'm gonna do good on my quiz, I hope. I just have to be making it through, that's all it is, work work work without a break but I can proabbly do it. I'm really slipping I admit like the mental health is slipping it's getting worse like I havent had a "fuck I am afab" moment in such a long time so yeah...

Anwyays I feel so much better now that I did my little art project yknow???

[renee-writer]

The Hunter Chapter 14 Devil's Own Courage

She wakes in her bed with no real memory of getting there. Had Joe seen her to bed and is he still here? She needs to talk with now that the shock of Joy Bailey's death has eased some. She gets up and heads into the living room.

“Sleep help?” Joe inquires from the couch.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You know it isn’t your fault.”

“I am trying to reconcile that. To tell myself I gave her solid medical advice but couldn’t force her to take it. It is getting from my head to heart that is hard. It hurts.”

“It will. I can take you to see Mr. Bailey. Now that it is morning.”

“Is it. I hadn’t noticed.” Jamie. She needs to call Jamie. But first..

“It is. I am glad you were able to sleep all night. I was quite worried about you love.”

Oh God! How was she to do this? She must. For him, herself, and Jamie. She pulls her courage around her. “I will phone Gillian. See if he is still at the hospital. But, first I need to talk to you.”

“I am listening.” She joins him on the couch, pulling her knees up. It is a protective gesture and Joe lopks at her with concern. “Claire, what is wrong?”

“I hate this. Really hate it. We can't work. Not as anything but friends.”

“What?” She watches the shock and hurt on his face and her eyes fill with tears.

“I love you. I love you to much to lead you on. I don’t feel the passion I should feel for you. The fire. I wanted too. I thought I could. This, us, it was comfortable familiar safe. But you deserve someone who is crazy about you. Head over heel nuts. I can't be her. I've tried but..”

“Claire, I do feel that way about you. That fire and passion.. I traveled across the world, took a job in a different country.. Look okay. You are lost in grief right now. Shouldn’t make any major decisions. Give it a few days, a week. Then we will have this discussion again. Okay?”

“It won't change the outcome.”

“Please.” His soft brown eyes are also full of tears. “I love you Claire. Please.” She nods her head even as she knows it won't matter. She just can't take away the last of his hope. “I'm going. Give you time. Call me if you need me.” Another nod and he is gone.

She needs to grieve Joy. She needs to grieve hurting Joe. But, above all else, she needs him. She needs Jamie. She heads to the shower to clean up having slept in her clothes. To upset to eat, she then just hurries out. Driving on autopilot, through a film of unshed tears( for once she starts crying, she won't stop for awhile, she arrives at the cabin.

She stumbles up the porch, at the end of her strength and courage. She knocks.

He opens the door in pajama pants without a shirt. His shorn hair still sleep tussled, his eyes barely open. “Claire.” She falls against him.

“Oh God Jamie.” The tears start. He wordlessly guides her into the cabin. Lifting her with one arm, he places her on the bed before joining her. She clings to him. An anchor. A port in the storm. He holds her close and lets her cry. He strokes her back and whispers Ghaildhig words he prays she doesn’t understand over her.

She was right, once she started, it was hard to stop. Finally, after an hour or so, she lays hiccuping against him.

“Your patient?” he softly asks.

“Yes. She died. Had eclampsia. I told her to go straight to the hospital. She didn’t. Had a massive seizure and died on the operating table.”

“And the bairn?”

“She made it. But she will never know her mom. Her dad has to raise her and her four brothers and sisters alone.”

“A very sad situation, indeed. She should have listened. You aren’t blaming yourself are you?”

“I am trying not to. I must look a mess.”

“You are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen.” She stares at him. “But to make you comfortable, let me fetch a rag to wipe your face.” He starts to move away and she tightens her grip on him. “I will be back. Promise.” He walks over to a sink on the other side of the room and wets a rag. He returns and gently cleanses her face.

“Thank you. It isn’t just Mrs. Bailey. I talked to Joe.”

“Did you? What happened?” he is laying back beside her and she feels the tension coming off him.

“I told him we, that him and I couldn't work. That I felt nothing but friendship for him and, loved him to much to hold him when I don't feel passion for him.”

“And he said?”

“That he did for me. That he does love me. That he thinks it is just a reaction to my grief. Asks if we could talk about it again in a few days or so. Reminded me that he had moved across the world for me. I told him it would change nothing but. He begged me with tears in his eyes. I could do no less.”

“Christ Claire, you have the devil's own courage. To walk away from a man who loves you so, who you have so much in common with. For me.”

“It isn’t just for you. And what exactly is wrong with you?”

“You don't know me. You don't even know my last name.”

“So tell me. Tell me what I don't know Jamie because you are my choice. Truly I didn’t have a choice.”

“Me either. I meet your eyes and was lost. Gone. There was no one else and could never be.”

“Exactly. So tell me who you are.”

“James Mackenzie Fraser. Your servant ma'am.”

“Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. Will you take me to bed Jamie? Will you make me forgot for a minute? Will you make love to me?”

“Oh God yes!”

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Chapter Nine of Can’t Find My Way Home is posted! Read the whole fic at Ao3!

Chapter Nine

Baz

I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to be in a cramped economy seat. I’m reveling in it. I’m basking in the notion that Simon had us moved because he wanted us to be closer to one another.

Which we are. He pushed the armrest up out of the way almost as soon as he was seated. He’s leaning up against me, the warmth of his body soaking into mine, his head resting on my shoulder.

I think he’s nuzzling my neck.

“’M glad you still smell like this.”

“What?” I keep saying that today. I’m almost sure I’ve tumbled into some alternate dimension where Simon actually craves my companionship and I’m incapable of articulate speech.

He nudges my shoulder, face still buried in my neck. “You smell the same. As you did at school. I always liked it.”

My heart thumps in my chest. I think it’s these small admissions, more than the kissing even, that make me concede this is real. I’d never have had the audacity to dream these up.

I’ve answered more than my fair share of questions today, most of them inadvertently. I have a few of my own for Simon. I’m not sure I’m as brave as he is about asking them though.

I rub circles on the back of his hand with my thumb. I like everything about this seating arrangement. The way his leg is pressed against mine, how he’s leaning into me, the way our fingers intertwine. Christ, did he just kiss me?

He’s trailing kisses just below my ear, in the middle of a crowded flight. My eyes dart over his head to look around, but no one is paying us any mind. It probably just looks like Simon’s passed out on my shoulder. I should . . . I don’t know what I should do.

I close my eyes and let my head tilt back. I’m should just let myself enjoy it, I think.

Simon

He tenses for a moment and I wonder if he’s going to pull away. But then Baz sighs ever so softly and lets his head fall back. I can’t help smiling against his skin as I feel the tension seep out of him.

This is more like it.

I let my lips skim down his neck, breathing in the scent of him, feeling the racing of his pulse against my mouth.

I wonder if this counts as distraction.

Baz

The arrival of the drink cart puts a stop to Simon’s exploration of that surprisingly sensitive spot behind my left ear.

Probably a good thing. I was ready to grab his face and snog him senseless. I’ve lost all sense of self-control when it comes to him. Too many years of pent-up longing.

Simon doesn’t let go of my hand when he lifts his head to give his order to the steward. I miss the solid weight of him on my shoulder instantly.

There are snacks, so his attention is instantly diverted to the little packet of Biscoff cookies the steward hands him. I don’t know how Simon does it but somehow he manages to get two for himself from the drink cart bloke. I narrow my eyes at the man, but he’s already moving down the aisle.

I can be as territorial as Simon, it seems.

“I love these.” He’s already torn into the first packet and a small shower of crumbs drifts over his shirt, the tray table and my arm. Simon crumples the empty packet and starts in on his second one. I watch, because I can now. His Adam’s apple bobs in that familiar way and I’m mesmerized by the sight of it.

I notice a crumb at the edge of Simon’s lip and I want to lick it off. Christ, I’m pathetic.

He turns to grin at me and it’s typical Simon—lopsided smile, food stuck in his teeth, that crumb precariously perched on his lip. I can’t help myself. I lean in and kiss him (just a brush of lips to his cheek) (I don’t want the remains of his biscuit in my mouth) (I don’t lick the crumb off) (I still want to).

He grins even more, and then his eyes settle on the lonely biscuit packet on my tray table. “You going to eat that?”

“You are incorrigible.”

“You like me anyway.” His face moves closer.

I most certainly do. I’ve been hopelessly in love with this idiot for almost a decade, and for the first time I don’t feel anything but elation at the thought.

A part of me is still frightfully mortified that he knows. But mostly I’m so fucking relieved at not having to conceal my regard for him anymore.

It was exhausting. Soul-crushing. Heart-breaking every single time I would think one thing in my head and then force myself to say an awful thing instead. Every time I would want to reach out to comfort him and make myself walk out of the room instead.

Simon squeezes my fingers. “It can’t take that much mental effort to decide if you want to share your biscuits with me.” He waggles his eyebrows in an utterly ludicrous fashion. He’s spent years trying to lift his brow at me and it always ends up looking ridiculous. I love it.

“Oh, fine, take them then, if you must, you insatiable muppet.”

He waggles his eyebrows again, but it looks far more suggestive this time. “I’ll share them with you.”

I’d share anything with him.

Simon

I don’t actually mean to eat all of Baz’s biscuits, but I do.

He just rolls his eyes at me. “Typical.” But there’s a smile on his face when he says it. I’m not used to Baz being all soft. I like it, don’t get me wrong. It’s just a bit jarring still. This Baz though, the one who’s sharp and soft, his edges blunted but still keen? I could . . . I could fall pretty hard for him.

I have fallen hard for him. I know it’s fast—forty-eight hours and then some—but when you’ve known someone for half your life, when their face, their mannerisms, their moods, are as familiar as your own? It’s less falling hard and more recognizing that I’ve been probably been into him for far longer than I care to admit.

Which brings me to the questions still lingering in my head. I’m thick enough that I only really came to terms with it the other day (probably in denial for far longer) (I just don’t like to think about things that perplex me).

Baz has known for a long time. I suppose I understand why he never said anything. I mean, I was dating Agatha. And I pretty much told everyone I hated him. Told him too.

He said it back, the wanker, even if he didn’t mean it. Maybe he did mean it. Maybe he hated me for hating him. I don’t know. I should just ask him.

How awkward would that be? No. I can’t really ask.

I want to.

I’m not going to ask.

So of course, I ask.

“Baz.”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He presses his lips together. He’s not even going to pretend he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. It’s this kind of behaviour that really throws me off. I know how to pester him, prod him, annoy the fuck out of him. But I’m a bit at a loss when he reads me so easily and follows my train of thought without even trying.

Baz sighs, closes his eyes and tilts his head back. “What would I have said, Simon? You were straight, last I knew, in love with the most beautiful girl at school, and you absolutely loathed me. Telling you would have served no purpose. You probably would have thrown me down the stairs.”

“I would not.”

“You say that now. I don’t know what you would have done, honestly, and I was too cowardly to risk finding out. It was easier to pine in private and aggravate you in public.”

I don’t really know what to say to that. Baz’s grey eyes are on me now and that crease is back on his forehead. The one I want to smooth away with my fingertips. Or my lips. Either. Both.

His fingers grip tightly to mine as his eyebrows draw even closer together. “When. . . how . . .” He stops, tilts his head back and groans. “I cannot believe I’m unable to string a single sentence together.” He mutters the words but I’m close enough to hear them.

I lean closer still, press my leg against his in solidarity. “What?”

“When the fuck did you stop being straight?”

Ah. I’d been expecting that. I’m not really sure of the answer myself.

It’s not something I actively thought about when I was at Watford. I mean, I thought about sex, of course, but not so much about my sexuality. I knew that things were ok with Agatha, that I loved her but not perhaps the way I’d always envisioned I should.

Intimacy felt awkward, forced. Not for lack of trying, but for lack of follow-through. Or passion, I suppose. It felt nice to cuddle, to kiss her, to have someone to hold. But neither of us ever pushed past that.

I missed that, when we broke up. I missed having someone to be with that way. Penny’s my best friend, and she’s a first-rate hugger, but it’s not the same.

I tried not to think about it at uni. Schoolwork doesn’t come as easily to me as it does to Penny. Or Baz. I needed to keep my focus on that. But I couldn’t help the fact that I was noticing people. Girls, yes.

But men too.

I mean, I’ve always had an appreciation for fit blokes, but I never really stopped to think through what that might mean. And then I found my gaze drawn to a bloke second year at uni. Fit. Tall. Darkhaired.

Yeah, he reminded me a bit of Baz. I can admit that now. Not as smart. Not as funny. But still enough to capture my attention.

Figured out kissing a guy’s not that different from kissing a girl. Fumbled around a bit. But nothing serious. Nothing long term. Not the time or inclination for that.

Baz is still staring at me and I realize I haven’t answered him. “Second year at uni, I think. I mean, I might have had an idea before then but I didn’t really think about it.”

There’s a tension that goes out of him with my words. “You didn’t know at Watford then?”

I shake my head. “Nah. Maybe that I had an inclination, but I didn’t let myself dwell.”

“Dwell? Dwell on what?”

On the way his fucking shampoo smelled. How he’d lift his jersey to wipe the sweat off his forehead on the football pitch. The way he looked so soft for those brief moments before he fully came awake in the morning.

The examples fill my mind. How the fuck did I not realize this years ago?

Fuck. I was such an idiot. You don’t have thoughts like that if you don’t fancy someone.

“On you, you wanker.” Baz’s eyes widen at my words. “On the way your hair would fall just so on your forehead.” I keep thinking of more. It’s like a dam of ideas has burst open in my brain.  An entire list of things about Baz that I find endlessly fascinating. “How fucking graceful you were on the pitch.” Fuck it all. “The scent of you.”

His lips quirk up at the corners. “You couldn’t have let me in on this back then? We’ve wasted quite a few years here.”

“Don’t remind me,” I snap. I’m not mad at him. I’m exasperated with myself. I’d tamped this all down, shut it away, until Ebb’s words had brought me up short.

“It’s alright.” Baz’s voice is soft. “You figured it out eventually, didn’t you?”

“That I did. Better late than never I suppose.”

Baz pulls me towards him and presses his forehead to mine. “Much better.”

Baz

I’d frozen for an instant, when Simon was speaking. I’d been paralyzed by the thought that he’d known when he was at Watford too. That I’d fucked it all up royally by being such a prick to him back then.

I did fuck it up by being a prick at school but it chilled me to consider he might have had feelings for me back then and I’d driven him off with my angst-ridden shitty coping mechanisms. Not that I’m letting myself off the hook for being a right arse all those years, but at least I didn’t break his heart.

I let him break mine.

But I don’t care. It’s worth the misery of those years to have this now. I wouldn’t have known how to cope if he’d returned my feelings then. I’d have fucked it up somehow, knowing me.

I came out eighth year, not because I really wanted to but because I needed to let Wellbelove know there was no chance of there ever being an “us.” I couldn’t lead her on like that. It wasn’t fair.

I wanted to let her down gently, to let her know that it was me, not her. Honesty was the kindest option. It was more considerate than humiliating her by shunning her affections publicly. She didn’t deserve that.

I can’t imagine how things might have been if Simon had made his realization earlier. I won’t. It’s pointless to go down the ‘what if’ rabbit hole. I’m eternally grateful for a second chance and mildly surprised I haven’t found a way to fuck it up yet.

I wrap my arm around Simon’s waist and lean against the window, pulling him so his body rests on my chest. He leans back into me, his head falling onto my shoulder again. It feels so natural to have him there. I kiss his bronze curls and breathe in the scent of him.

“I’ve never been so fucking grateful for shit weather.” I whisper the words into his hair. I can just glimpse the smile on his face. I rest my head on his and feel his body relax into mine.

I’m not sure which one of us falls asleep first.

[afjakwritesarchive]

NWC 24

Title: Wrong Reasons Pairing: USUK  Words: 2,532 Rating: T AU: Human au Genre: Romance Summary: Arthur dislikes Alfred’s new boyfriend, but not for the reason he expects.  A/N: this is rushed but I actually really like it and had so much fun writing it so enjoy! :)

Despite being raised in a rather homophobic household, Arthur had never had a problem with homosexuality. While his family had always said homosexuality was abnormal, Arthur simply considered it another way to be normal, and had participated in protests and petitions to legalize gay marriage in the United States before marriage equality had been legal. He’d even debated with his homophobic family members on many occasions, defending not only gay people but all of those included in the community.

Which was why, when his best friend had come out to him as bisexual, he’d barely batted an eye. He’d known Alfred since they were in kindergarten, and something as arbitrary as his sexuality had been of little concern to Arthur. Regardless of Alfred’s orientation, he was Arthur’s best friend, the one person who had always understood and loved him completely. Their bond was far too strong to be broken over something that was of little concern to Arthur.

It was a part of Alfred’s identity, yes, and that made it important to Arthur, but he thought of it no more often than he had when he’d believed his friend to be straight. He cared more for the person Alfred was—a funny, obnoxious, brave, kind, selfless man with a hero complex and an aptitude for math and science that rivaled Einstein—than the labels attached to him.

Or so he’d thought, until Alfred had stepped into the movie theater with his arm hooked around an unfamiliar man’s waist.

“Hey, Arthur,” Alfred said as he and the stranger approached. “I wanted you to meet someone.”

Arthur looked back and forth between Alfred and the man—a stocky man with extraordinarily pale blond hair who stood an inch or two taller than Alfred—and nodded, encouraging Alfred to continue despite the disgust welling up within him.

“This is my boyfriend, Ivan. Hope you don’t mind I brought him tonight, it’s just that he really wanted to see this movie, too.” Alfred said.

Boyfriend. The word made Arthur’s stomach crawl. His best friend had a boyfriend. A tall, handsome, muscular boyfriend who had an arm around his waist. Despite himself, Arthur felt sick at the sight of Alfred with another man.

Internally, Arthur was scolding himself for his intolerance. How could he be thinking such detestable things?! Alfred was his best friend, and there was nothing wrong with him having a male partner rather than a female! And yet, the very sight of the man’s hand on Alfred’s hip made Arthur nauseous. No matter how hard Arthur tried to tell himself that Alfred seeing another male didn’t upset him, it did.

“Ah, no, that’s perfectly alright. I’m Arthur Kirkland, Alfred’s best friend.” The Brit said, forcing a pleasant smile onto his face.

The man smiled back at him. “Alfred has told me much about you. It is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Ivan.” He said, his voice low and bearing a thick Russian accent.

For some reason, the realization that Ivan has an accent put Arthur off. Alfred had always been fond of his accent, and had mentioned several times that he found accents ridiculously attractive. Arthur had always taken pride in this. Knowing Alfred found at least one part of him attractive was a source of pride for him for a reason Arthur couldn’t explain. Now, Alfred was dating a man with an accent. It made an odd sort of discomfort flare up within Arthur, and suddenly he wanted to be the only person Alfred knew with a foreign accent.

“Hey, the movie’s about to start! Awww, man, I wanted to see the previews.” Alfred pouted, as he pulled away from Ivan and started toward the ticket counter.

“Well, perhaps if you weren’t late every single time we made plans, we would have seen them!’ Arthur scolded as he followed Alfred up.

Alfred laughed, clapping his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. Heat bloomed in the spot where he’d touched and a smile came to Arthur’s face, his mood suddenly improving.

"Whatever, dude, you’re always way too early anyway!”

“The word you’re looking for is punctual, love, and—” Arthur cut himself off, watching Ivan approach and slip his hand into Alfred’s.

Alfred looked to Arthur. “You okay, man?” He asked in reference to the Brit’s abrupt pause, following Arthur’s eyes to his and Ivan’s joined hands. Arthur blinked and then nodded, turning toward the counter to buy his tickets.

It became apparent soon after Arthur’s first meeting with Ivan that he disliked the man. Alfred made several attempts to get Arthur and Ivan to spend time together, but it was clear that Arthur didn’t want to. Any time they made plans, the normally punctual Brit arrived late and left early. He would hardly speak, and only to Alfred. On the rare occasions that he spoke to Ivan, it was either a subtle jab or a blatant insult. Although Ivan took his rude behavior in stride, it troubled Alfred greatly to see his best friend acting so bitterly.

Arthur couldn’t help it, though; every time Ivan was near Alfred, he wanted to be sick. He couldn’t stand the man, and wanted him away from Alfred. He knew it was wrong—Alfred was a rational adult capable of selecting his own romantic partners, and it was Arthur’s job as his best friend to accept that whether Alfred selected a man or a woman. And yet Arthur simply couldn’t restrain the mean-spirited attitude he adopted when in the Russian’s presence. The sight of Ivan’s arms around Alfred’s godlike body, his mouth against Alfred’s gorgeous, plush lips, his pale hand in Alfred’s warm palm… It set Arthur off like nothing ever had.

Arthur was astonished by his own bigotry. He couldn’t remember a time where he’d had even the slightest problem with a same-sex couple, even when one or both of the partners were close to him. He’d always sen them as normal couples. But seeing Alfred with another man… Christ. Arthur’s blood boiled at the thought of it. It made Arthur ashamed, but he couldn’t shake the horrible feeling that overtook him when he was reminded of Alfred’s relationship with Ivan.

It wasn’t until after a small dinner party Alfred had invited Arthur to that the Brit realized it wasn’t homophobia which prevented him from liking Ivan.

“Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?!” Alfred demanded, glaring heatedly at his friend.

Arthur blinked, surprised by Alfred’s sudden outburst. They’d barely stepped into Arthur’s apartment and he was already being yelled at! Though he knew he deserved it for the way he’d been behaving, he hated to be yelled at, and whipped around to retaliate.

“What are you on about now?” He snapped.

“You were being a fucking dick all night! Again! God, Arthur, what the fuck is so wrong with Ivan that you have to be the biggest asshole on the planet every time you see him?!” Alfred yelled, arms folded across his chest and already fuming.

“I don’t think he’s right for you!” Arthur replied, finding lying easier than trying to decipher his confusing emotions and explain them to Alfred.

Alfred threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “Oh, you don’t?! Well, guess what, Arthur! I do! I think Ivan is great, and I’ve been trying to get you to see that, but for you’re being crazy! You won’t even give him a chance!”

“Because it's—it’s wrong!” Arthur stuttered out, immediately cursing himself for his wording. He tried to rephrase and explain what he’d meant, but Alfred had already started yelling again.

“Oh, it’s wrong, is it? That’s what this is about? The fact that Ivan’s a guy? I thought you were better than that, Arthur! I mean, we’re friends with a ton of gay people and you never seemed bothered by it! Besides, we’ve been friends for fifteen fucking years! I’ve known you since I was five years old, you know every last intimate detail of my entire life, and you wanna throw it all out the window because I’m dating a guy right now?” Alfred hollered, his face red with anger.

Arthur felt his temper rising as well. “No, it’s not the fact that Ivan’s a guy! It’s just that every time he touches you I want to fucking punch him! I can't—the idea of his hands on your body makes me sick!” He yelled in return, only to realize belatedly that these words weren’t doing him any favors.

“Jesus, Arthur, then why are you imagining his hands on me?! Just because we’re together doesn’t mean you have to fucking contemplate the details of our relationship! Fuck, dude, I can’t believe you right now! Are you seriously that fucking homophobic that you can’t move past it for your best friend?!”

“I’m not fucking homophobic!” Arthur roared.

The beginnings of tears were present in Alfred’s eyes and his face was red. Even glaring at Arthur with all the hatred he could muster, Alfred was still the most beautiful thing Arthur had seen. And, suddenly, the Brit knew. Gazing into Alfred’s hypnotizing eyes, he understood why he was so sickened by the sight of Alfred and another man.

“Then what is it, Arthur?! Why the fuck are you acting this way?!” Alfred yelled.

“Because—Because—Oh, to hell with it!”

And then Arthur was stomping forward and grabbing Alfred by the collar of his shirt. He yanked the American down and crushed his lips against the American’s, kissing him bruisingly. Alfred was frozen for a moment before he suddenly wrapped his arms around Arthur, wrenching him closer. Arthur continued to kiss him with every ounce of passion in his body, enjoying Alfred’s enthusiastic response.

Alfred pushed Arthur off of him. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the labored breathing of the pair as they caught their breath. Arthur’s heart was racing and he gazed at his best friend, flustered and trembling from the sheer exhilaration of the previous moments.

“Holy shit,” Alfred finally gasped out.

“Alfred, I—”

“No,” Alfred interrupted, shaking his head. His gorgeous blond hair fell into his face and Arthur wished to reach out and tuck it behind his ear, but he restrained himself because Alfred was glaring heatedly at him. “You just—I can’t believe you just fucking did that! I n-need to go fucking sort this out.”

And before Arthur could say anything else, Alfred had rushed out of his apartment and left.

Arthur was standing outside Alfred’s door with a bouquet of roses in hand.

Alfred had called him an hour earlier, asking Arthur to come over so that they could talk. Wanting to do whatever he could to increase his chances of being forgiven, Arthur had rushed to the nearest flower shop and paid an absurd amount for the most extravagant rose bouquet they had in hopes that Alfred’s favorite flower might put the American in a better mood.

The door swung open a moment after Arthur rung the doorbell. Alfred stood inside, looking from Arthur’s face to the flowers he held. To Arthur’s pleasure, the American’s face went a delightful shade of red and he gulped before opening the door wider to allow Arthur into his apartment, clearly flustered.

Arthur stepped inside and immediately turned around toward Alfred, anxious and desperate to know what the American was thinking. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of knowing, Alfred merely stepped forward and nodded toward the flowers his friend was holding.

“Are those for me?” Alfred asked in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

Arthur’s pale face flushed red and he nodded wordlessly, holding them out to Alfred. The American reached for them, his hand closing around Arthur’s as he took them. The Brit felt a jolt of electricity when their fingers touched and resisted the urge to reach for Alfred when he pulled away. Instead, he merely admired the gorgeous sight of Alfred bringing the roses to his face as he inhaled deeply before setting the bouquet down on his coffee table.

“I broke up with Ivan.” Alfred said gently.

Arthur jolted, shocked. “Wh-What?”

“I broke up with him. You were right about he and I not being a good match,” the American murmured.

“Alfred, I… I’m so sorry for what I said. I should have never acted that way. I-I know it was ridiculous and I’m so sorry you ever thought I was ashamed or disgusted by a part of you. I-I even thought I was being bigoted at first too, but I realize now that it was just a cop-out so that I wouldn’t have to deal with the terrible jealousy I felt whenever you were with him.”

Alfred nodded, accepting this. “I… I get it. I’m sorry I ever accused you of that. I know you’re better than that, anyway. I should’ve known it was something else…” Alfred mumbled.

“I can’t believe you’re really trying to blame yourself for my shitty attitude,” Arthur teased, a smirk playing at his lips.

Alfred looked up and grinned at the Brit. “Hey, man, I wouldn’t go that far! You were being a total douche, man. I just feel like a shitty best friend for not realizing that you had feelings for me… I mean, how did I not figure it out?”

Arthur shook his head and stepped closer. “Alfred, I didn’t even know it at first. I-I thought… All that time I thought I was straight and simply waiting for that one perfect girl. But now I realize the reason I never had a serious relationship was because I’d already found the one I wanted to be with forever.”

Alfred’s face flushed red. “Arthur, I…”

“I’m in love with you, Alfred. But that doesn’t have to mean anything. I understand that you don’t feel that way about me, and I respect that. But please, please tell me we can still be friends.”

Alfred shook his head. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Arthur’s heart cracked. “What?” He asked, horrified.

“Are you serious right now? I broke up with my boyfriend for you. That kiss was the best of my life. Besides, I’ve been up every night this week thinking about you, so I’m pretty sure I should be with you.” Alfred teased, inching closer to Arthur.

The Brit’s eyes filled with tears before he could stop them. “Christ, you git, you had me worried,” he gasped out in relief.

Alfred grinned cheekily. “Sorry, Artie. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

[solomonfiore]

A Night in Kyiv

“I’m an angel who was attending a school of Satan.”

Anatoly Onoprienko

We have broken our way into an abandoned tenement in the slums of Kyiv. Piles of trash are scattered about recklessly. A black pentagram has been spraypainted on the wall. We mark all the squats we occupy this way as a tribute to Beelzebub. The wallet I stole from the old man I stabbed to death in the park earlier that evening has enabled us to spend a little extra money on drugs. A hypodermic needle filled with high-grade heroin sits next to a piss-stained mattress lying on the floor. I stole some vodka from the market on the way back from the Peste Noir concert. Most of the bottle has been finished. We're thoroughly drunk by now. You can't wait to make love. You're already lying back against the side of the mattress with your skirt hiked up over your pale, young legs. Our skin has yet to become leathery and peel away from our bones like it has to a lot of our friends who are addicts, though my track marks are becoming blacker and blacker—the chronic nature of my abuse growing impossible to ignore. I'm grateful that I was able to cop some decent drugs for a change. Due to the grinding poverty we are forced to endure on a daily basis, we often have to use a substance that is less potent and far more toxic than heroin to keep from getting sick. Were it not for the deplorable conditions of our environment we would not have to inject this garbage known as desomorphine. We are smarter than this! We are better than this! But the hopelessness of our situation keeps us down. We cannot raise our voice to our oppressors for fear of reprisal.

After having suppressed my rage throughout my adolescence, I found solace in Satanism. Huysmans once stated that Satanists are no more than disappointed Christians. Well, I am disappointed. Not only in Christ, but in the entire world. I am disappointed with the U.S. and globalization's fallout. I am tired of being caught in the middle of a tug-of-war between Poland and Russia like a helpless child growing up in a dysfunctional household. Centuries of oppression boil inside me, but I’m not allowed to scream. I must suppress this fury.

I’m getting sick. I feel weak. Tingling sensations radiate down over my shoulders, emptying out into my legs.

You want to make love, but I tell you we must shoot up first.

You have only been using needles for a week. You were twelve when you became my lover. Now you are thirteen. Your arms are as white as a Calla lily drenched in a gauze of mist. They show no trace of abuse. You’re still inexperienced and squeamish so I have to inject you myself.

Everything unfolds before us in black and white as if we were actors in a film. Our favorite scene gets played back over and over again unto eternity. I hear your breath in my ear while I find a tender, blue vein under the light of the moon. The plunger descends beneath my thumb and memories of our love are pushed back into my mind…

You were lost when I met you. The drowning ghost of Ophelia lived inside you. And your emerald eyes climbed out of the black waters of your long hair to cling to me for dear life. I introduced you to the Devil and you embraced His power wholeheartedly. I took sadistic pleasure in seeing what heresies you were willing to commit in His name. We vandalized and burned churches together when I wasn't introducing you to the lowliest depths of sexual degradation. But as our fascination with the occult grew into an obsession, it became apparent that we had both become equally enmeshed within a web of inescapable evil. Murder became more than just a means of fueling our habit. It became a mainstay.

We left a string of killings behind us. We talked about them for hours together, recalling certain details about the incidents that one of us may have missed in the heat of the slaughter. For instance, you were particularly interested in what our victims were wearing. Whether it was the diamond brooch we pilfered from your aunt after clubbing her to death in the schoolyard or the ring I had slid from off the finger of a dismembered hand seconds before proposing to you under a sanguine moon, you always had an eye for accoutrement. You remembered the pattern of the knickers that the street vendor from Andriyivskyy Descent wore when we stripped him down at the abandoned factory and forced him to drink drain cleaner, putting cigarettes out on his chest as he ingested the toxic concoction. After removing a pauper's private parts with a box cutter and feeding them to his dog, you kept its collar, not only as a memento, but to wear around your own neck as a fashion statement. You always had a strong sense for aesthetics.

What fascinated me was how some of our victims would assume an entirely passive stance once they came to the realization that their death was inevitable while others would scream like bloody hell until their very last breath. A trucker we ambushed on Hertsena Street was surprisingly resigned after I had slit his throat. Having worked at a slaughterhouse, I knew it took considerable time for a pig to die after this. Instead of panicking or trying to escape, he just lay there in the brush beside us, surrounded by tall stalks of hazel grass as a burbling fountain of maroon viscera bubbled out of his mouth. Watching the individual suffer is half the entertainment when committing a homicide. He wasn't animated enough so I stabbed him in the eyes with his own house keys hoping that would jolt him into action, but he hardly flinched. We took turns carving upside down crosses into the fat of his thighs but he nary moved an inch. On the other hand, a young woman and her five-year-old daughter would prove to be quite the handful. Not the daughter. The daughter behaved in much the same fashion as the old man, though I only know this from what you’ve told me. I was busy with Mother Goose. She sure squawked like one. Enough for me to have to stuff her mouth up with my own sock while gutting her. After considering these psychological phenomena, I asked you whether or not you intended to die softly or put up a fight.

Your purple lips curved into a serene smile. Lightly dusted with pollen from an upturned window box of chrysanthemums nearby, your cheeks betrayed an ever so slight blush of excitement. Bearing the tenderness of a kitten and the immaculate aura of a cherub, you answered thus:

“If it is for my Master, the Great Spirit Lucifer, I shall approach my grave with open arms. He has assured me during His visits that we will have a place beside Him at the foot of His throne so long as we have done His bidding on the material plane. The violence of our passion burns with a flame intense enough to carry us into the netherworld where we will rejoice together in love everlasting."

The Gods of the Pit must have been watching out for us. For we had successfully taken out almost a dozen people without a trace of the law in sight. But the season of our good fortune would abruptly change one afternoon.

We had been terrorizing a homeless woman in a field just outside of Puscha-Vodytsia. Cold drizzle pelted us as I smashed her head in with a shovel. Amping up the bludgeoning to a hyperbolic frequency, you, my ashen-haired accomplice, whipped her with the branch of a tree. In beige, mercurial gobs, the three of our shadows fused to create a single form projected onto the shivering walls of grass around us. The ghostly reflection of our struggle wavered in the wind. She whimpered and drooled as her brains spilled out of the top of her cracked skull with the same disorder as the tentacles of a freshly beached squid. On a trail less than a yard away, a little boy happened to be riding his bicycle. I knew he recognized you as the missing girl in the papers because he stopped momentarily to get a better look at the scene. I tried to catch him but he sped away.

Now we are on the run, hiding out in the slums of the Ukraine.

Your beauty shines through the gray pall of the room. You excite me beyond measure despite the potency of the heroin. I'm no longer paralyzed by the grinding stress of being hunted amidst a country about to go to war when I’m entering the clean, silky haven of your insides. It seems I could live off your spit and your fluids forever when we are bound together physically. I see the look in your pleading eyes and know what you want me to do. I wrap my hands around your throat and start to squeeze. It’s hard for me to stay focused on making love to you while I'm choking you, but I do it because you’ve come to love it so much. I derive no pleasure from this. I have to be careful not to deface your fragile skin or use too much pressure while at the same time maintaining my own level of arousal. This is difficult for me, particularly when I'm high. I do this strictly for you.

You’ve told me you’ve experienced visions of the Beast while being throttled and tonight something wondrous happens. Lucifer comes to visit, not just you, but both of us while our bodies are entwined together in that squalid lair. Inky jets of smoke climb out from the back of your head as you speak in tongues entirely foreign to this world. Sweaty bundles of pale yellow and green fungi growing on the far wall behind us swell to life. An oozing globule of sulfuric vapors congeals to form a static cloud in the shape of the Horned God. He stands over us, calling upon us to express our devotion to Him through the throes of our lust as we writhe about the floor in throes of illicit rapture. Your face begins to twitch as I apply extra pressure to your platysma muscle, clenching my teeth together so tightly they threaten to pierce the insides of my mouth. Your throat—so pure and white that it never so much as reveals the horizontal stress lines that all of us possess from infancy on—is now wreathed in blue and purple corals of broken blood vessels as ecchymosis sets in from vagal inhibition and the increased strain against your hyoid bone. Your hypoxic climax is a sea of convulsions squirming in my clenched fists. Milky clouds fill up the green domes of your eyes and a tear of black blood runs down your left cheek as my darkness empties into you, blotting out what little you still possessed of your purity like an oil spill spreading out from the center of a crystalline pond.

I collapse on top of you, resting my head atop the thin plate of your solar plexus. You’re coughing violently. You pull yourself out from beneath me. I lift myself up and watch you in silence as you gasp for air while clutching your throat. At first I’m worried I’ve gone too far this time, but you flash me a faint smile to assure me you’re okay once your composure’s regained. I breathe a sigh of relief. I haven’t disappointed Lucifer by denying Him the sacrifice we’ll be offering Him when we execute the joint suicide pact we planned for tomorrow on Walpurgisnacht.

"Regie Satanas," I mumble under my breath.

Solomon Fiore - March 18, 2017

<photos: Aleksandra Petrova>

Special thanks to Aleksandra Petrova of the Kitsune Klan.