#j got that rolex

[test123aee]

Two BESTIE :]❤️

[lsdunesarchive]

L.S. Dunes at the 100.3 The X Rocks Acoustic X Session (Boise, ID) | Part 1 | July 31, 2023

Transcript under the cut

Interviewer: Thank you very much, Big J. Yes, we are live in Studio 1X for Coors Light Corwin Ford, X Session with the band L.S. Dunes. Give it up guys! Everybody, applause. Go here. Thank you for coming in! Uh, welcome back to Boise. Last night, you guys played the Knitting Factory. Uh, tomorrow night, you're in Portland, a nice little day off, sorry that we had to suck up your day off with an acoustic performance, but thank you. Thank you for coming in. I do want to take a second to welcome some of you back personally as Anthony, Travis, you guys were part of one of the worst days of my life. Uh, nothing to do with you, by the way, but it was X-Fest 23, and you both were on the bill, and we had tornado warnings that day.

Anthony: I remember that.

Interviewer: Uh, and, so we had to bring everybody inside, and then, when we brought you guys back out on the main stage, the sewage had backed up into the... But Peter, do you remember that?

Interviewer: So, at our big station festival, you were playing to a crowd covered in fecal matter and thank you for coming back. I hope that wasn't the case last night, was it?

Anthony: It was very metal.

Interviewer: Yeah! It was indeed, it was indeed, but thank you for coming back. How goes the tour so far, by the way?

Anthony: It's fun, It's really fun. Shows have been wild. Everybody's having a really good time, kind of...

Frank: Less GG Allin than your past, I guess, performances...

Anthony: Not as much fecal matter, a little bit less...

Interviewer: A little bit.

Anthony: Just enough.

Interviewer: Just the perfect amount!

Frank: Everybody gets one pink eye.

Anthony: Just enough.

Interviewer: Well, I know one of, you guys have been working on the album Past Lives, of course, which is out now, came out in 2022. One of the big things was to get this out on the road, and actually play in front of people. I imagine the biggest hurdle scheduling and, once you actually got that over, has it been as exciting as you wanted it to be?

Travis: Absolutely.

Anthony: I think it's surpassed what I expected from it, I never thought it was going to, this band was going to be, like, such a fucking big monster... Oh, sorry for cussing... Goddamn!

Travis: Not again!

Interviewer: That counts too!

Anthony: I knew it was going to be a special, I never expected it was going to take up such a huge part of my life, and so willingly.

Interviewer: And so, when it came down to scheduling and figuring this all out for everybody, what did, it is just like, hey we're carving out the middle part of 2023, and that's the way it's going to go, or how was the actual process of that?

Anthony: It's just communication, honestly. It's really, like, everybody putting, you know, their previous obligations out on the table, and everybody trying to fit in between what we have going on with our other stuff, and yes, that stuff...

Frank: We really have great teams, I think, behind every band that we're in, and everybody's, kind of, working together, they know how important this is to us, so, you know, being open about the schedules, and things of that nature, and not trying to step on each other's toes is huge.

Interviewer: You know, there's a lot of words that, kind of, go into the description of L.S. Dunes; you throw in, you know, emo, you throw in post-hardcore, you can throw in rock, alternative, all that kind of stuff but, when it comes to a personal opinion, is there a particular way that you would describe yourself, or you just let the music...

Frank: Supergroup.

Tucker: It's rock 'n' roll.

Anthony: It's rock 'n' roll.

Interviewer: Yeah, exactly.

Tucker: Rock 'n' roll... supergroup.

Frank: 24-Carat Diamond supergroup.

Tucker: We're the Rolex...

Anthony: We're the Timex.

Frank: We're the Lexus made by Toyota of the supergroups.

Anthony: We're the calculator watch of supergroups.

Interviewer: Well, I'm a fan, and one of the things that I love about it, is the origin story of how the whole thing came together. You guys want to, kind of, give the cliff notes as to how this whole thing came together as one cohesive...

Travis: I feel like Tucker...

Anthony: We made it up, actually. The story is like a farce. We did... We're an industry plant. We're, we're put together by big, big wigs and suits that...

Travis: We're giving that up today?

Anthony: Yeah, I need to be honest with people. I'm feeling honest.

Interviewer: (...) But thank you, I appreciate the exclusive, but I mean, it really is, kind of, like, just a group of friends that wanted to jam and it turned into L.S. Dunes essentially.

Tucker: I think we had the itch to be creative, and we're all friends for twenty-some odd years, and it just all fell into place. And then it, kind of, presented itself as more important than we thought it would be, so we decided to keep scratching that itch.

[groovetrill]

Oh right, oh

Oh why na-da-da-da

I keep my head high

I got my wings to carry me

I don't know freedom

I want my dreams to rescue me

I keep my faith strong

I ask The Lord to follow me

I've been unfaithful

I don't know why You call on me

This is my canvas

I'mma paint it how I want it baby, oh I

This is my canvas

I'mma paint it, paint it, paint it, how I want it nigga

Fuck you 'cause there

There is no right or wrong

Only a song

I like to write alone

Be in my zone

Think back to Forest Hills, no perfect home

But the only thing like home I've ever known

Until they snatched it from my mama

And foreclosed her on the loan

I'm so sorry that I left you there to deal with that alone

I was up in New York City chasin' panties, gettin' dome

Had no clue what you was goin' through

How could you be so strong?

And how could I be so selfish?

I know I can be so selfish

I could tell by how I treat you with my girl

Damn, she so selfless, but she put up with my way

Because she loves me like you do

And though it don't always show I love her just like I love you

And I need to treat you better

Wish you could live forever, so we could spend more time together

I love you mama

I keep my head high

I got my wings to carry me

I don't know freedom

I want my dreams to rescue me

I keep my faith strong

I ask The Lord to follow me

I've been unfaithful

I don't know why You call on me

Apparently, You believe in me, You believe in me

Apparently, You believe in me and I thank you for it

Another day another rhyme hoe

Another day another time zone

Today I woke up feelin' horny so it's only right

I got two bitches playin' on my trombone

Keep up, never sure where the words would take me

Niggas eat em up, and regurgitate me

Shit jumped tight never slurred it lazy

Give a virgin the urge to rape me

Nigga please

Best friends really make great for enemies

My watch came niggas can't wait for one of these

I see you nigga, this ain't no Rolex, it's a AP nigga

I'm hot dog, catch up to me nigga

Uh, couldn't resist

Aim for the stars and I shouldn't have missed

But I was ridin' on fumes so I stopped by the moon

Now I'm sittin' on the hood of this bitch

Like thanks for the view

Waitin' on thanks from a few 'cause without me you wouldn't exist

You know that shit gave you the blueprint don't forget

Cold as your phone on zero percent

Going off, now niggas showin' off

Niggas swear they hard but they flowin' soft

I'm taking off like boing on a big ass Boeing

Gettin' head like a coin toss

Too easy

I keep my head high

I got my wings to carry me

I don't know freedom

I want my dreams to rescue me

I keep my faith strong

I ask The Lord to follow me

I've been unfaithful

I don't know why You call on me

Apparently, You believe in me, You believe in me

Apparently, You believe in me and I thank you for it

[chathura03]

My two cents about J. Cole's "Middle Child".

Written by J.Cole, T-Minus,Allan Fedder and Norman Harris and produced by J.Cole and T-Minus this is one the best songs by J.Cole so far.

This song is starting with the flow of Mariah Carey's hit "Santa Claus is comin' to town".Just take a look at Carey's part.

"He's making a list

He's checking it twice

He's gonna find out who's naughty or nice

Santa Claus is coming to town"

Now take a look at what Cole is telling,

"N****s been countin' me out

I'm countin' my bullets, I'm loadin' my clips

I'm writin' down names, I'm makin' a list

I'm checkin' it twice and I'm gettin' 'em hit"

J.Cole is famous for his minimal lifestyle.Typically most of the rappers outta there go crazy after they find the same.They wear ice from toe to head, buy fancy cars and jewelry and do many crazy things that possibly make them go broke.But Cole is a real one who's conscious about his lifestyle.

In an interview with Angie Martinez, he once said he sold his Range Rover and bought a bike at some point.

In this line he's telling he wears a Rolex but it was a gift from Drake.This line is a reference to his minimal lifestyle and his close friendship with drake.

"Just put the Rollie right back on my wrist

This watch came from Drizzy, he gave me a

gift".

In the next part, Cole addressing about rappers going at each other.He's famous for his humble character.There are many examples of this part of his character.After he got into a beef against Lil Pump he dissed Lil Pump several times but days after he sat down for an interview with Lil Pump.Also, fans chanted "f*ck Lil Pump" at Cole's concert and he told them not to do it.This is his thought about beefs.

"Back when the rap game was prayin' I'd diss

They act like two legends cannot coexist

But I'd never beef with a nigga for nothin'

If I smoke a rapper, it's gon' be legit"

The next part is a bit interesting.If you dig down carefully you can find out this is a shot against Kanye.Cole's close relationship with Drake and Drake's past beef with Kanye pushed him to spit this shot.He didn't say Kanye's name directly,but take a look at this bar.

"It won't be to sell you my latest lil' sneakers"

This bar itself talks about its target.Because Kanye is famous for his sneaker brand "Yeezy".

In the next part he talks about the inspiration he got from OG's.Also, he talks about the younger generation.He's telling that he's like a middle child who's in between two generations.He's not old enough to be an old school or not young enough to be a new school.

"To the OGs, I'm thankin' you now

Was watchin' you when you was pavin' the

ground

I copied your cadence, I mirrored your style

I studied the greats, I'm the greatest right

now

I'm dead in the middle of two generations

I'm little bro and big bro all at once

Just left the lab with young 21 Savage

I'm 'bout to go and meet Jigga for lunch

Had a long talk with the young nigga Kodak

Reminded me of young n****s from 'Ville

Straight out the projects, no fakin', just

honest

I wish that he had more guidance, for real"

Cole is one of the greatest ever to step behind the mic and that's a fact.Hope he gonna drop some fire in 2023.

[beautifulscreaminglady]

Ooh ooh ooh I love this kind of discussion! Gansey is very obviously traditional Preppy style - I mean hello, boat shoes and polo shirts on the weekend and salmon colored pants! But also he's a guy who walked for miles along lay lines - his clothes are sturdy and worn in. His sweaters have holes.

Henry is the ultra-cool Asian rich kid - think of the more experimental outfits that come out of NYC Looks. Think K-pop star fashion. Vintage alternative designers like Vivienne Westwood paired with high quality slow fashion basics. Bright colors, metallics, leather, lace, and band tees all together. He'll wear nail polish and skirts, and get super expensive haircuts.

I like the idea of Declan's clothes being an armor or an almost alternative identity that doesn't quite fit - lifts in his shoes to make him taller, padding in the shoulders to make him look broader. He has a Casio watch because it's not flashy like a Rolex. He collects vintage ties from eBay. He irons his shirts every morning. I bet he shops and J. Crew and Banana Republic. He's on his way to wealth and power but he's still a teenage boy (!).

I don't know much about punk fashion so I can say less about Ronan but he probably gets his basics from Tractor Supply and mixes them with Docs and random jewelry he makes from junk around the house or the hardware store. Ancient rubber boots that belonged to his dad and idk some knit hats his mom made thrown in the mix too, because goddamn he loves his family.

Adam's clothes come from all over. Some stuff from Walmart, some from the thrift shop, some stuff he got from other boys rooms one time when he made a little money cleaning out the Aglionby dorms after the boarding students went home for the summer. He definitely Feels Something wearing Tad Caruthers old button down and would die of embarrassment if Tad recognized it, but Tad never does. Tad actually thinks Adam looks quite nice these days...

if trc was a visual medium and I was a tiktoker i would go insane talking about quiet luxury and how Declan and Adam both fall into this position of people with OBJECTIVELY less money compared to their peers and how both of them are trying to replicate luxury (ie: clothing=persona/identity) to varying levels of success. adam wears old gifts from the ganseys and declan is very clearly called out by other characters to be overcompensating. neither are fully seamless and even though thats not an overt plot point it is DEFINITELY very significant since plenty of their story beats echo each other down to their relationship with ronan, who is a different fashion debate (eg. how punk can you get off of a bank account you dont need to look at and a shaved head which needs to be constantly maintained and a BMW you stole w no repurcussion). again I DO think stief implies fascinating plot points that she doesn't focus on but her display of class and economic variation is very very cool & obviously people w more context of specific USAmerican culture can have this debate better than I can

editing to link the video that finally helped me put this thought into words

[claraswritings]

All I Want

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (Andrew Garfield Peter/TASM Peter)

Warning: Bit of angst, no spoilers, not one of my best- might delete.

Notes: I’m not entirely sure if I like this one or not.

***

You’d first become friends when he’d awkwardly asked to sit next to you in a library. You were reading a book but had a notebook open in front of you with jotted down quotes and snippets of what Peter assumed was your brainstorming

“Can I…”

You looked up from your book. “Sure,” you shrugged and whilst going back to your book you held out a bag of sweets

“Want one? Help yourself. You’d be doing me a favour if you ate the green ones though, ever since they’ve swapped from apple to lime they’ve gone down”

Peter smiled “Green happens to be my favourite,”

“I would say you have terrible taste but you’re probably the best person to share a pack with in that case. I’m [Name],”

“Peter Parker” he offered a half wave.

A copy of the Daily Bugle folded under his arm caught your eye.

“You read that crap?” You scrunched your face up “Jameson is the worst,”

Peter raked a hand through his fluffy dark hair “Yeah… he’s…something alright…You’re not a fan?”

“Hell no” you snorted. “Guys a loon,”

“You’re telling me? you ever met him,” Peter shared a wry smile. Jameson was indeed a bit of a loon. He’d on one occasion thrown Peters stack of images out of the window all because he didn’t manage to get a picture of Spider-Man “helping” the getaway driver. Jameson had convinced himself that by focusing on catching the robber with the money rather than the man in the idling truck, Spider-Man was involved with the robber

“God no,” you cackled “I don’t think J Jonah Jameson and I run in the same circles, thank god, you don’t look like the kinda guy who’d read this,” you joked.

You nodded at the research notes he’d also had placed on the table between you.

“You have all those science looking notes, you gotta be smart”

“Im…” he protested quickly “I’ve erm…just got a second job working for him… freelance photography…but it’s extra money, I help my aunt out and…” he trailed off “rents expensive”

“Oh shit I’m sorry” you stated so matter of factly that it took Peter a moment to click you meant “I’m sorry you have to work with that guy” rather than “I’m sorry your boss is insane,”

You’d realised you lived close in the city and you’d been friends ever since…and Peter had liked you as more than a friend since about a week after that.

***

You were soon inseparable, you’d go out for food, for walks, to movies. Hed come over to yours and often fall asleep on your couch and wake up the next morning with a perfectly timed coffee and a blanket over him.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by May that he’d made a new friend. She was grateful he was finally doing something other than work and visit her. You’d picked him up from her place once and May was quick to notice the reaction her nephew had to you. She hadnt seen him like that since his former girlfriend. Given how she’d passed and how Peter seemed to avoid any sign of romance, she was a little surprised.

When he’d returned for dinner she’d invited you in and whilst you were parking, she gently pried to see if there was something more but Peter had just shrugged and told her he didn’t think you liked him that way.

By the end of the evening, she knew the answer. Long before you did.

***

The day you told Peter you were going on a date, he felt an ache in a part of his heart he’d thought was long since numb to any semblance of heartbreak.

His name was Liam Parsons. You’d met in a coffee shop.

The second he’d arrived home, Peter had fired up his laptop. From looking at his google search results, Liam was a once divorced art dealer, 6’2”, blonde hair slicked back with almost an entire tub of hair gel. He seemed to wear almost exclusively Hugo Boss suits and Rolex watches. He had a Porsche, a speedboat and a holiday home in the Cayman Islands.

Peter slammed his laptop screen shut with more force than necessary and took off into the night to patrol the streets. In a rare moment of peace, he found himself swinging over to one of the penthouses Parsons lived in and staring at the shadows moving inside.

It was 11PM and he wondered if you were one of them and shook the thought from his head. The implications of you going home with Liam was not something he wanted to think about.

He wondered what you saw in Liam. You never were impressed by rich, flashy guys so what did this guy have? Peter couldn’t decide what would be worse. Liam being a good guy as well as having everything or if you were just dating him for the fun lifestyle that he could never ever offer you.

He didn’t care. Liam could keep the nice car and the fancy penthouse, the seven figure salary and the beachside villa. All Peter wanted was you.

***

That night Peter watched you from a rooftop, Liam was beside you, one arm casually over your shoulder as he chatted to another man in a suit with a too tight shirt.

You looked beautiful in that black dress. You always looked beautiful. Peter couldn’t remember a time when you weren’t the most lovely person he’d ever seen. It would have been before he met you.

Even from a distance he could picture the favourite red lipstick you’d have worn, from how often he’d looked at your lips, he could pick the shade out of a million. He knew the way you’d have curled your hair carefully but you could never get that one bit right first time, so many times he’d wanted to be the one to reach over and fix it back for you.

You looked cold and uncomfortable and Peter could tell by how you were shifting that your feet were starting to hurt in your heels. He felt a pang of annoyance he knew was unjustified. Liam was still talking away, whilst you rubbed your arm, awkwardly.

If he was your boyfriend, he’d offer you his jacket and carry you home. Unable to watch anymore, he leapt off, swinging into the night.

He loved you for your details. The way you pinched your ear lobe when you were nervous, the way you had five different smiles depending on your mood or who you were with, the way you were so unashamedly honest, the way you once told him you hated an iconic movie for ending on a cliffhanger in such a casual way, the way you went out of your way to help anyone who needed it without having to be asked.

Watching you with another person was like the worst gut punched he’d ever felt.

***

He took to watching Liam from a distance. Sometimes you were there, sometimes he was just making sure Liam wasn’t some sort of criminal. A part of Peter wished he was. The jealousy was unbearable sometimes. How cruel was fate to give him his perfect match in every way but he couldn’t.

Why didn’t he kiss you on the evening when you’d sat together watching the sun come up after a night of watching lame movies. Why didn’t he pull you in closer when you’d fallen asleep on his shoulder when you’d had a picnic in Central Park. Why didn’t he tell you how stupidly, insanely, irrevocably in love with you he was when you’d sat on his fire escape with him for three hours because he’d couldn’t sleep. Why didn’t he thank you for being the best thing in his life when you comforted him over the phone when he spent nights reliving the worst moments of his life.

***

It carried on like this, a week, maybe two passed, and you’d visited his as normal and the whole way through the time you spent together, Peter could barely concentrate. Each minute ticking closer to when you’d leave felt like a step closer and closer to losing you.

He feared when you’d step out the door, he’d never get a chance to say what he needed to.

So he acted on instinct to stop you going.

“Don’t go”

Flicking your eyes from your hand now webbed to the door to Peter and back, Your expression was one of pure shock, Peter could almost see the cogs turning, processing every clue he’d ever dropped.

“It’s you,”

Peter nodded once. “Yeah, it’s me,”

“What the FUCK,” then you tacked on “I don’t know how I didn’t notice”

“I need to tell you something…I forgot…” he hesitated. He could hear the cars below and the neighbours and the blood rush in his ears. “Actually I remembered what I had to say,”

And with a surge of confidence he kissed you, one hand in your hair. “I love you”.

It was short but passionate and said everything he could ever need to say and when he pulled back, you were a little breathless

“So… any thoughts… can you say something… anything about any of this?”

“You’re Spider-Man? And you’re in love with me?”

“Yes” Peter “to both. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I didn’t want you to get hurt but…” his eyes searched for a reaction in your face “Don’t be with Liam, leave him, be with me, I know it’s selfish but I don’t care… I love you, You’re the first person I think about in the morning and the last person I think about at night, All I want is to make sure you’re safe, All I want is you to be happy, I never ever want to spend another day without you as my girlfriend, I’m so so so crazy about you, You’re it for me, I never thought I’d ever love someone again, until I fell in love with you,”

“Pete” you stared at him then started laughing.

“What. What’s happening” he was panicked now. “Shit did I say too much”

“I ended things with Liam. Last week. He was nice…but I ended things because I couldn’t ever see myself in love with him…mostly because I’m in love with someone else,”

“Oh..Oh,” Peter raked a hand down his face “Well I erm, I hope he’s good enough for you or… yknow, I’ll have words” he gestured

“he’s tall, he’s dark haired, total science geek- i love listening to him talk about experimenting even if I don’t understand it, and he reads every single draft poem I send him, he’s my best friend, he helps people, everyone and asks for nothing in return, I never cared about falling for someone or finding love until I realised that was because I was already in love with someone, him”

Peter was staring at you and a smile spread over his face.

“You… you mean me right”

“Of course i mean you, you idiot” you joked

“I love you,” he stressed again “I’m sorry it took so long for me to catch up,” he stepped in close and pressed his forehead to yours.

“I forgive you” you teased “Now can you get my hand off the door? I think we have some making up for lost time to do”

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey do you have any fics where john sits in sherlocks lap? Like in any way, shaoe or firm thats just my fave trope. Love your content btw.

Hey Lovely!!

Ahhh, because of you, I started a list, so not everything nor a lot is here, sadly! I never had the foresight to consider it as something people would want, so I’ve never tagged fics, LOL. Here’s what I got that have some sort of Lap Sitting in the fic! 

Feel free, Lovelies, to add your own recs!!

LAP SITTING

The Healing Touch by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 2,307 w., 1 Ch. || Caretaking,  Domestic Fluff, Stroppy Sherlock, John Loves Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sofa Cuddles, Insecure Sherlock) – Sherlock's broken his foot and he's becoming unbearably stroppy. Good thing John has the healer's touch... ;) Part 3 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Where You Are by Mazarin221b (E, 2,478 w., 1 Ch. || Beach Sex, First Time, Fluff, Smut, Holidays, Pining, Lap Sitting, Stroppy Sherlock, Touching) – He can admit he’s secretly a little glad Sherlock didn’t come with him. He needs a break. Sherlock is a handful at the best of times, and the near-constant apologizing, fixing, dealing-with, and following up on is exhausting. The near-constant unrequited attraction is a bit exhausting, too, to be honest, and John could really use a tiny bit of rest from the relentless hammering on his brain and heart.

Rumpled by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 3,601 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Insecure Sherlock, Fluff, PWP, Proposal, Bottomlock) – Then, halfway through a documentary on river otters that neither of them was paying attention to--how could John, with a gangly, limp consulting detective practically purring in his lap?--Sherlock suddenly bolted upright, looked at John with a perplexed expression and a crinkle above his nose, and blurted, “Marry me.” Part 4 of Longitudinal Cohort

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

Deck the Halls by itsalwaysyou_jw (T, 31,018 w., 24 Ch. || Advent Fic / Multiple One-Shots, Assorted Tags) – One Johnlock ficlet for every day leading up to Christmas. Who is ready for pining, first kisses, established Johnlock, and everything in between? This collection of stand-alone ficlets will have it all.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Inger Lorre & Jeff Buckley

Monday, February 20, 2012 1:36 PM

In conversation with Jeff Buckley - the clouds within

.

   I have always avoided mentioning Jeff in interviews for a number of reasons:

First, 'cause it's not cool to name-drop at every opportunity - two, 'cause I still find it hard to talk about him -  and thirdly,   as he's not available to reply,  we have to apply utmost care and diligence when citing his name.

Jeff was one of the very few people I made a   connection that went  way beyond the tour schedules; but if anyone here is hoping this story is going to be filled with gossip of a personal nature, don't bother reading further, for the trust of  friendship I had with him was sealed absolute, and that will never be broken.

But I wanted to share a conversation we once had, as it does have some bearing on my own anatomical life as an artist, and therefore, has still some relevance today.

I will be drawing a few parallel lines between us, but I must stress: strictly of a non-musical nature: for Jeff Buckley, in my view, was the brightest of all stars, profoundly talented, and this shabby Isabel Monteiro - (no capital bold here), just a 5ft meteor lucky enough to hit his path.

But I will draw attention to some idiosyncratic personality traits we shared, this being the topic of the conversation in question.

-

Anyone who's met Jeff will surely remember him as I do: a really, really funny guy - I mean, he was one of the funniest people I've ever met - sharp, witty, with an incisive sense of humor, always on the money and spot on.

But one could easily see that beyond the jokes and crisp remarks, there lurked a pool of great sadness and disquiet.

In this respect, I believe, we were very much alike.

We were talking about our personalities and moods, and how annoying it was that most people often made the wrong assumption that our 'sad side' was somehow 'more real' than our 'funny side' - which we both concluded it was a mistake, 'cause from our perspective, all those aspects made up the full picture of who we really were.

Then Jeff came up with this beautiful metaphor, one that stayed in my memory, he said:

'You know, it's like we've got this weather system trapped inside us - in the pit of the stomach, the clouds are always forming and waiting to rise. Even when everything's sunny, the clouds are always there, brewing. And every now and again they rise up and it pours  for days, sometimes weeks; then it dies away, the sun comes out and the whole thing starts again. We're stuck with it, the clouds within.'

This struck me as such a pretty and lyrical way to describe the complexity of our souls, and it brought to mind this wonderful image of artists going round the world with clouds in their stomachs. poetic.

But then, the implication of what he said hit me ,  so I asked him:

'But...that means we can never be happy?!'

'Yeah, that's right, people like us can never be happy.'

-

The last time I spoke to J, sounds quite surreal now and hard to believe, but we've been talking about recording/writing a little acoustic album together in NYC -  whole thing was gonna be quite simple, country-esque and gospelly  -  this now sounds so far-fetched, almost in the realm of fiction - but it didn't then.

I had  a few tours booked ahead with Drugstore, but was planning to fly out to NYC once the promo/tours etc were done.

When I got back to London, I checked my voice mail, which at the time was one of those retro  BT machines, that had a cute mini-cassette tape inside, remember those? To my surprise Jeff had left lots of little messages - each one under a completely different guise/voice - and very funny they were too.

People may not know this, but he was also a master impersonator - he could do voices, any voice, really well.

The messages ranged from Homer Simpson to Nigel Tufnel, via Al Pacino - each one was funny, quirky and very lovely (in one, he said I should soon be traveling to the US on Concorde 1st class, as the royalties from him singing Alive and No more Tears would soon kick in - though he needn't worry, knowing that he liked my songs was the greatest reward.)

By the time I called him back, he already had traveled south and was   stuck in the studio, working on his new record, so I thought it was best to pursue our own little project later down the line, once his album was done.

I never had a chance to speak to him again.

The years went by and, sadly, I lost track of that BT answering machine, (probably deemed obsolete during some last minute flat move).

In this life, I've been given a lot of  really expensive crap that had no intrinsic value to me whatsoever, from Cartier to Rolex -  all met the same end: a cheap desperados' pawnbrokers in East London.

But if I could have something back, I would choose that little tape with Jeff's messages in it - I'd be very happy with that.

[tomdiddlyumptious]

T.H| YOU TORE ME APARTTTT

Summary: this is only like a real quick because I had writers block

Warnings! Language, kids, and shit like that

A/n: them Medea movies used to smack

You stood in your shared kitchen, dancing while you stirred the gumbo you made for your family, the one and only Mary j Blige playing, your favorite song ‘My Life’ playing as the kids were silent watching you as your little princess tried to dance like you.

“Look mommy I’m doing it!” “No you aren’t” Wesley said, mugging his sister Oliver. “Don’t be like that Wes, you keep practicing Oliver, you’re doing great” you smile looking back at her, Wesley still watching her as he felt second hand embarrassment “how about...you come and taste this” you grab the ladle and grab a small thing of the food and bring it to him, “blow it” you say, holding your hand under the ladle, he blowed it off and took it, “mmmm!” He smiled at you, Oliver still trying to practice the moves. “Mommy is the best cooker” Wesley said and Oliver agreed, “of course she is! Better then daddy at least” you let out a “pfft” and started laughing “you a lil bully oli” “he doesn’t know how to cook!” “He knows how to cook, he just doesn’t know his seasons yet honey”

“You should teach him!” “Teach him what Wes?” Tom said, coming in the house and eyeing his son as he shut the door. “How to cook!” “Ouch who said I don’t know how to cook?” He asked, Oliver and Wesley looked at each other before pointing at you “mommy!” Tom fake gasped as he walked into the kitchen “mommy did it?” They both aggressively nodded their head. “No I didn’t!” You giggled turning around and added just a little bit spice, he came behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Smells good” “it tastes good” he chuckled and pursed his lips to give you a kiss on the cheek, then you turned your head to give him a lip one.

“Yay!” “ew” Wesley stuck out his tongue as Oliver clapped. “Mommy and daddy are in loveee” she became googly eyed. “That’s naty” he shook his head in disgust. You and Tom laughed and pressed each other’s lips together again. He danced and pressed himself up against you “ya know, it could be mommy and daddy time” he whispered. “It’s Christmas, it’s actually children time” you both looked back at Oliver and Wesley who sat there playing Rock Paper Scissors. “How about we watch a movie” Tom said to the kids. “Yeah! And no Medea mom” Oliver said making you laugh. “Medea is a classic! I used to watch it all the time in the holidays, or anytime for that matter” you shrugged, “yes Medea!” Wes said.

“How about we like play the grinch or something” Tom asked, sneakily tickling you and you smacked your lips at him trying to get out of his grip. “How about you take a shower so we can have our matching pajamas” you suggested. “No! Medea Medea Medea it is!” Oliver said, hoping out of her seat and jumping on the couch and Wes did a ‘Ching Ching’ and went to the couch and plopped down. “Your stinky Oliver!” You shouted over the music. “No!” She shouted back, she’s actually scared of the water, absolutely terrified. Tom kissed your neck and you smiled “go play the movie Tom, I’m gonna take a shower” “without me?” “Thomas” you sighed, “whatttttt, I just wanna see my wife’s body, is that bad?” He whispered. “No it’s not, just go play that movie and I’ll get us situated”

You and Wes matched in the dark green pajamas while Tom and Oliver wore the red, all watching the grinch as you were leaning on Tom half asleep, Oliver and Wes to invested in the movie while Tom was watching you slowly fall asleep.

The doorbell startled you as you jumped making Tom laugh and stand up, “I got it” he kissed your forehead and put the thick weighted blanket ontop of you, “thank you” you stuck your lips up for a lazy kiss which he took happily. Tom walked over to the door, opening it revealing “mum?” He said more of a question then a statement. “You thought it was gonna be Christmas without us?” “Or us?” In the back ground stood your mom and dad, your older brother and other siblings.

“So much for mommy and daddy time” he muttered. “Y/ns asleep” “that’s a surprise” your older brother said (let’s call him jamie). Harry and Sam held the bags of presents and Tom helped jamie. “She cooked gumbo?” Your mom (let’s call her...Angela) whispered, putting the macoroni in the oven.

Jamie plopped down next to you as you were knocked out, he smiled and joked to himself and he clamped his fingers over your nose, making your eyes go wide as you slapped whosever hand away. “Prick” you muttered as he laughed again, you sighed “why are you in my house” “that’s so inviting y/n” “shut up James” “not my name” “similar”

Sam and jamie set up the presents and the kids were gonna be really happy this year, you and your mom chatted as you had to continuesly look at your dad socializing with Tom. “Baby would you stop! He has nothing against him” Angela muttered. “I know but dad can be mean sometimes” “well he has nothing to be mad for” her lips in a tight manner as she glared at you, you sighed and playfully rolled your eyes which she smiled at. “He misses you” she adds. “I don’t believe it” “yeah because you’ve both havent talked to each other for years” “that’s not true” “well it seems like it! He loves you girl” niki made her way into the kitchen “alright grown folks bisnuess ” “mom I’m litterally 22” “and just 5 years ago you were a minor” you groaned and threw a fit, draping your feet as you left the kitchen and into the livingroom, Sam and Harry playing with the kids as you placed the weighted blanket back on yourself.

By time it was dinner, you and Tom thanked each other mentally for the buying the large table. You and your family sat mixed, Tom and your mom of course sitting next to you. Wine glasses and glasses of juice being clanked together, laughing at childhood stories that you dad told, Tom giving you kisses on the forehead and holding your hand.

After the kids opened up the presents you all collected each other’s presents, you got body mists and some clothes and a bracelet, you made everyone a large gift bag, niki and your mom with purses, dresses and gift cards, you bought your dad a Rolex and keys for a new car, you just went all out this time.

“Mommy daddy time?” Tom asked, watching as you were in the desk, wearing lingerie. You turned your body towards him and took off your glasses. “Yes, mommy daddy time” you stood up and walked over to the bed, and then just stopped infront of it. Tom raised his eyebrows at you before you started dramatically dancing. “Jingle bell jingle bell jingle bell rock” you sung, doing body rolls as he cringed. You turned to the side and popped your back out, placing your hands on your knees. “Stop” he genuinely asked. “No you wanted mommy and daddy time right? What bright time it’s the right to rock the night away” you hit the whip and did the nae nae, “y/n stop” “that’s the jingle bell rock!” You climbed on the bed and sat on his lap, pressing yourself on him as you continued to sing, he gripped your ass “that’s the jingle bell rockkkkkkk!” You shook him and he scrunched his face trying to stay stiff.

“Pleaseeee be serious!” He glared at you. “LAST CHRISTMAS I GAVE YOU MY HEARTTT THE VERY NEXT DAY-“ he cut you off by putting his lips on yours while flipping you over, laughing as he went down to kiss your neck “THIS YEARR TO SAVE ME FROM TEARS-“ “y/n shut up!” He laughed and you smiled, “fine, get to work Santa” “don’t even” “ho ho ho” “your a ho ho ho” “get off me Thomas” “wait-“

Let’s say bells weren’t the only thing that jingled 🤭😳

[crystalstar8]

Eye of the Sky

Ch. 2

Pairing: Namjoon x oc

Genre: heist au, action

word count: 1,791

warnings: action, violence, gun violence, car chases, car crashes, swearing, blood probably

notes: heist au, action, adventure, crime, enemies to lovers, ooc namjoon, because he has his license lol

Summary: Ten years ago, Namjoon's father was killed by his best friend and partner in crime, A man who now goes by the name Hawthorne. Now, Namjoon wants to get into the family business in order to avenge his father's death. After finding the man who killed his father, Namjoon builds a team and creates an elaborate plan to finally take the man down.

But will they be able to get through Hawthorne's state-of-the-art security system? And will they succeed with a mysterious assassin chasing them? Let's just say, it's a good thing Namjoon's team members keep surprising him with useful skills.

@mozy-j  @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @daechwitad-2

In the top floor penthouse in downtown Seoul, Taehyung stood in his walk-in closet, tying his tie in front of the floor length mirror. He checked the time. Five minutes before he had to leave. A text from his driver let him know that his ride was downstairs. After pulling his jacket on and checking himself one last time, he left his penthouse and made his way downstairs.

               The drive was quiet. Taehyung appreciated his early morning drives to the museum; it was a moment of peace before getting to work.

               His museum was his pride and joy. The building was all white marble, Grecian in design with a massive atrium dome in the center of the roof. He built it himself, without his father’s help. Not that his father would have helped him even if he were alive. His father was killed when Taehyung was a teenager, but the man was never very present in Taehyung’s life. He was almost always overseas on business, a business Taehyung was now in charge of.

               Taehyung never minded. He loved what he did. The thrill of it was almost as great as the wealth that came with it. The only thing he wished was different was the fame. He was the owner of the biggest private museum in Korea, not to mention the youngest, and with that title came press. He passed a billboard on the way to his museum, his own face looking down at the expressway.

               Stealing famous art and priceless artifacts would definitely be easier if his face wasn’t on every Louis Vuitton cologne and Rolex advertisement.

               His museum came into view and he was pleased to see he already had a line outside, waiting for the doors to open. There was a new exhibit opening today, and he was just as excited about it as the people waiting along the sidewalk.

               Once he was in his office, his assistant came in with a frazzled look on her face.

               “Sir, there’s a big problem,” she said.

               Taehyung took a deep breath before saying, “What’s wrong?”

               “One of our tour guides called in, he said he came down with something,” she said, frantically riffling through the disorganized mess of papers in her arms. “Which leaves us with only five guides. We’re going to be overloaded. There’s going to be children running around like monkeys, putting their filthy hands on the new exhibit-“

               Taehyung grabbed his assistant’s shoulders and fought against the smile threatening to come out. This was just like her, panicking every time something small didn’t go according to plan.

               “I will take his place,” Taehyung said.

               “But, sir…”

               “It’s my exhibit after all,” said Taehyung. “Who better than me to give the tour?”

               “Are you sure? People will recognize you,” she said. “Your most recent photoshoot for Hyundai is currently trending on Twitter. You’ll distract from the exhibit.”

               “I am sure,” said Taehyung. “I don’t think I’ll be a distraction.”

               His assistant gave him a skeptical and not at all placated look as she left his office.

               The museum doors were finally open and visitors were pouring in. The crowd was split up into six different tour groups, and Taehyung began his speech throughout the new exhibit. Quite a few eyes were glued to him rather than the exhibit, but he paid them no mind.

               A few tours later and something caught Taehyung’s eye through the crowd. He stuttered in the middle of his speech and stared wide eyed at the visitors waiting for him at the entrance.

               “Everyone, if you would please pardon me for a moment,” he said. “Please be responsible and follow the signs through the exhibit. Another guide will find you in a moment.”

               Taehyung pulled his earpiece and microphone off and pushed through the crowd of visitors. He made it to the front doors of the museum and stopped in front of two men, his smile dropping.

               “What are you doing here?” Taehyung whispered.

               Jin smiled and said, “What, we’re not allowed to visit an old friend?”

               “I’m working,” said Taehyung. “You can’t bring this here-“

               “Meet with us tonight,” said Namjoon. He handed Taehyung a slip of paper. Taehyung took it and slipped it into his inside coat pocket without tearing his eyes from them.

               “I will speak with you later,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of a tour.”

               Taehyung backed away from them and then made his way back to his tour group.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

               “How do you know he’ll actually show up?” Jin asked as they drove back to Namjoon’s apartment.

               “He will,” said Namjoon. “He lives for this kind of thing. Literally. He does jobs like this for a living.”

               “I thought his museum was honest now,” said Jin. “Doesn’t he do modelling now too?”

               “Oh, sure. His museum is honest alright,” said Namjoon. He took the turn into his parking garage. “If by honest you mean every single piece on display there was stolen one way or another.”

               “Doesn’t he buy or…” Jin began.

               “Sometimes. But most of the time, he acquires them himself,” Namjoon said as he parked the car. Jin’s Mercedes was parked beside them.

               “I’m glad we have him on our side then,” said Jin. They sat in silence for a while before Jin said, “Well, I will see you later tonight. Tell your mother I say hello.”

               “I will,” said Namjoon. Jin opened the passenger door and stepped out, getting right into his own car beside them. Namjoon waited a few minutes after Jin drove off before leaving the parking garage himself.

               The prison loomed over Namjoon as he stood in front of it, leaning against his car. He didn’t have to wait long before he saw his mother step out of the double doors. He smiled as they met in the middle. His mom wrapped her arms around him and held him in a crushing hug.

               “My son,” she said, her voice wobbly. “My beautiful son. Look at you.”

               She pulled back and held his shoulders.

               “You’re so handsome,” she said. “I mean, you’ve always been handsome, but there was that weird awkward phase you had-“

               Namjoon scoffed and rolled his eyes as she burst out laughing.

               “I missed you, mom,” he said.

               “I missed you too.”

               They got into the car and Namjoon began the drive back home.

               “How’s your sister?” his mom asked.

               “She graduated yesterday,” said Namjoon. “She wants to be a school teacher.”

               “Good. I knew she’d be successful,” his mom said. “She’s a smart girl. You both are. How are you? What have you been doing with your life?”

               “I work for a tech company in Seoul but I’m planning on leaving them soon,” said Namjoon. “I have a lot of work to do for my new job. Jin says hi, by the way.”

               His mother narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized him. “You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

               “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Namjoon, keeping his eyes on the road.

               “Well, I suppose it’s none of my business, as long you keep me out of it,” she said. “Whatever you’re up to, you know I won’t stop you. I just want you to be careful.”

               “I will,” said Namjoon. They drove in silence for a while before he said, “I’m taking us out for dinner tomorrow to celebrate Geongmin’s graduation.”

               “I can’t wait to see her. Why didn’t she come with you today?”

               “She’s busy with interviews today,” said Namjoon. He chuckled at his mother’s shocked face. “I know, she doesn’t waste any time, right?”

               “Good for her,” his mom said.

               After getting home and helping his mother settle into her new apartment he had bought for her next door, Namjoon spent some time getting ready for his own meeting. Jin arrived early, then Taehyung shortly after. Namjoon served them drinks and then sat with them around his dining table.

               “So, tell us the plan,” said Jin.

“Hawthorne’s collection is underground,” said Namjoon. “Behind a safe door that only opens with a password and thumbprint.”

               “How are we going to get Hawthorne’s thumbprint?” asked Jin.

               “We won’t,” said Namjoon. “Because that’s not the print we need. The only thumbprint that will open the door belongs to his son, Laurel Hawthorne. Laurel is the heir to the entire collection.”

               “Ah! Laurel Hawthorne!” Taehyung exclaimed. “I’ve worked with him in the past. Not a fan.”

               “You’re going to have to meet with him one last time to get the prints,” said Namjoon. “We’ll set up a meeting with him, where you’ll fake a sale. We’ll have someone hiding nearby with a tranquilizer gun. Once we take him out, you’ll nab his prints and we’ll be out of there.”

               “This sounds dangerous,” said Jin.

               “Inside the collection room is where the real trouble begins,” Namjoon continued. “Hawthorne uses a state-of-the-art technology to protect his collection. The security system inside uses gaseous detection. Once the door is opened, the room fills with a harmless gas. If there’s any kind of movement behind the barricades of the artifacts, another gas is released into the air, turning it toxic. From there, the person inside the chamber will only have a few minutes before dying. Once the security system is neutralized, and the cameras are placed in a loop, we’ll be able to just go in and take what we want. We’ll obviously replace everything with fakes, especially the Sky’s Eye, the item we need to leave with.”

               “Ah, the Sky’s Eye,” said Taehyung. “I had a feeling the necklace was what this was about. But I thought only one man has been in possession of the Sky’s Eye for ten years.”

               “You are correct,” said Jin. “Hawthorne is the very same man.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened as he made the connection.

“Hawthorne is Montgomery,” he whispered. “So, this job isn’t just for the necklace.”

“We’ll do all of this on the day of Hawthorne’s party, while he’s distracted,” said Namjoon. “We just need to find a way to get an invitation.”

               “Yes, that will be difficult,” said Jin.

               “Do you know anyone who’s going?” Namjoon asked Jin.

               “I might,” he said.

               “Do you think it’s someone you might be able to go with as their date?” asked Namjoon.

               “Oh, trust me. I would die to be this man’s date. He is the most handsome man in the world, after all,” said Jin. Namjoon narrowed his eyes. Jin burst into laughter, slapping his knee and pulling an envelope from the pocket inside his jacket.

               “You had an invitation all this time?” asked Taehyung.

               “Of course!” said Jin, laughing and slapping his knee. Namjoon shook his head but couldn’t help a fond smile from pulling at his lips.

[americanpsyche]

          OPEN   STARTER  :       (   open   to   muses   of   all   genders   )      . . .    narrated   by   p.atrick   b.ateman  .     not   going   in   tags   but   anyone   can   respond   if   u   guys   are   interested ^^     no   need   to   match   length  !     the   first   half   is   to   establish   scene  +  introduce   b/ateman  .           SETTING  :       an   inconspicuous   bar  .   b.ateman   is   intruiged   by   [character]'s   arrival  .   he   takes   the   opportunity   he   sees   presented   to   him  ,     and   starts   an   appearingly   innocent   conversation  .          contains   potentially   triggering   content  !     alcohol   .    violent   and   self   righteous   narration   .    appearance   based   judgement .    rude   rich   guy   mentality  .

     i   find   myself   within   the   belly   of   new   york   city  ,     lost   in   a   dim  -  lit   bar   with   “  WHAT’S   LOVE   GOT   TO   DO   WITH   IT   ”   by   t.ina   turner   humming   over   static  -  rippling   speakers  .     a   sense   of   distaste   loiters   on   the   back   of   my   tongue   when   i   approach   the   bartender  :     a   middle  -  aged   woman   with   wrinkles   practically   embroidered   into   her   skin  .     such   a   shame  ,     too  ,     because   she’d   be   decent  -  looking   if   she   put   in   some   effort  .     i   quickly   recall   the   reason   why   i   avoid   tobacco   when   i   approach   her  ,     bar   uniform   soaked   in   the   stench   of   stale   nicotine   to   pair   with   her   skin   texture  .     she   does   not   notice   my   approach   initially  ,     so   i   have   to   clear   my   throat   to   catch   her   attention  .      she   looks   up   from   her   place  ,     working   a   rag   along   the   bar   surface  ,     and   i   offer   her   a   polite   smile   and   fork   forth   my   am  -  ex  .     i   order   my   usual  ,     a   tasteful   j&b   scotch ,     hold   the   ice  .     it’s   my   go   to   drink  ,     though   i’m   fully   aware   a   place   like   this   wouldn’t   carry   it  .    i’m   right  ,     and   she   offers   me   some   off  -  brand   shit   that’d   probably   disintegrate   my   teeth   like   hydrochloric   acid   on   human   bone  .     i   settle   for   a   corona   and   i   skimp   her   on   a   tip  ,     because   i’m   certain   she   charged   me   extra   for   the   drink  .

     i   seat   myself   a   little   down   on   the   bar  ,     far   enough   away   from   the   bartender   so   i   could   enjoy   my   drink   in   peace  .     i   enjoy   a   long  ,     crawling   sip   from   my   drink  .     some   people   fear   seedy   little   bars   like   these  ,     ones   you   would   never   find   someone   like   me   in  .     for   me  ,     it   is   a   sense   of   comfort  .     a   shedding   of   skin  .     i   turn   my   gaze   to   the   number   that   walked   in   a   few   minutes   prior  ,     tired   and   weary  .     weighed   down   by   the   weight   of   the   world   around   them  ,     emotions   on   their   sleeve  .     begging   to   be   noticed  . . .       primed   for   dissection  .         “     hello  .   ”     i   drawl   to   them  ,     the   same   practiced   smile   i’d   given   the   bartender   earlier   coming   to   my   lips  .     my   tone   is   calm  ,     and   i   do   not   appear   like   i   pose   any   threat  ;     at   least  ,     not   to   someone   in   a   place   like   this  .    in   comparison   to   those   who   frequent   here  ,     i   probably   appear   as   if   i'm   the   equivalent   of   the   fucking   patron   saint   of   new   york   city  .     i   catch   a   glimpse   of   my   reflection   in   my   peripheral  ,     cheekbones   high   in   the   late   night   glow  ,   and   i   know   my   smile   is   a   winner  -  especially   to   someone   in   a   tough   spot  .     i   introduce   myself   with   a   joke  ,     holding   the   formality   of   a   handshake   to   the   daylight   hours  .          “     you   look   like   you’ve   got   a   lot   on   your   mind  .     ”    then   i   pause  ,     passively   checking   the   time   on   my   two  -  tone   datejust   rolex  ;     even   though   i   have   no   where   to   be   at   this   hour   of   the   night  .         “     not   a   t.ina   turner   fan  ,     i   take   it  ?     ”

[cagestark]

Hey Cagey, I hope life is treating you well. Tomorrow's my birthday so I was wondering if I could get a teeny tiny FIC of WinterIron? Anything smutty would make my heart whole. If not that's okay too, just hope your doing well. Sending all my love ❤️

Happy birthday ;)

About this: winteriron. Professor!Bucky, student!Tony. Blackmail. Rough oral sex. 

-

Bucky shifts the stack of files in his arms, using one hip to jolt open his office door and one elbow to reach the lightswitch. It’s years of well-honed instincts that keep him from dropping the papers at the sight of the figure slouched in the chair in front of his desk. A familiar figure, who turns to give him a familiar smirk at the sight of Bucky in the doorway. 

“Mister Stark,” Bucky says flatly. “Office hours have ended.”

“Did they?” Tony asks, sitting up. He glances down to the Rolex on his wrist. “Well. You know, it’s hard to see one’s watch in the dark.” 

“Something that could have easily been fixed by turning on the light. I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Mister Stark. If you have questions over today’s material, you can send me an email.” 

“Aren’t you going to come in?” Tony asks, eyes glittering. He must know the sight he makes to Bucky, his dress shirt open at the collar, hair rumpled, mouth full and red. Tony Stark knows how attractive he is. Worse, he knows how attractive Bucky finds him and has been leveraging it against him ever since. “After all,” Tony continues. “This is your office.” 

“Leave, Stark,” says Bucky. Before I do something I’ll regret, he thinks. 

“I’ll be quick,” Tony promises, dark eyes growing wide and guileless at Bucky’s stern tone. “I just wanted an upcoming event that I couldn’t find on the course schedule.” 

Sighing, Bucky gives one last glance to the empty hallway. This is most assuredly a trap, but Tony has always had a way of finding the cracks in Bucky’s armor, of wedging himself in like the head of a crowbar and leveraging himself until Bucky feels on the verge of shattering. He steps in against his better judgement, sitting the stack of files on the nearest cabinet. The door falls shut—where the hell is the stopper that will prop it open? Gone from its usual spot. Stolen, Bucky suspects. 

“Be quick, Stark,” Bucky snaps. 

“Got a hot date tonight, Professor?” Tony asks. 

Bucky sits down heavily in the chair on the other side of his desk—better to keep that between them, a silent reminder of their statuses and the separation that must be maintained. The look he gives Tony must be scathing and unimpressed judging by the grimace the younger man gives him. Still got it, Bucky thinks to himself. “Which event isn’t on the schedule?” 

“Your impending termination of employment.” 

It is silent enough to hear a pin drop. 

“Is that so?” Bucky responds cooly. “Then I see where the mistake was made, because I’ve been given no notice of dismissal from the board.” 

Tony smiles, leaning back in his chair. Cocky, he puts one expensive loafer up on Bucky’s desk and then the other. “I haven’t filed my grievance yet. You know how they sent out the teacher assessment forms to select students? Well imagine my delight when the board wanted me to assess your class. To assess you. I haven’t decided what I’m going to say yet. Did you corner me after class and hit on me? Were we in your office when you came on to me, propositioned me, said you’d give me a glowing recommendation if I’d only get on my knees and suck your cock? The options are endless. I’ve always had a flair for the dramatic and honestly, I’m eager to put it to use—” 

Bucky is nearly stunned. “I never would have thought that you’d sink so low, Stark.”

“Honest mistake. Next time, don’t underestimate me,” Tony says brightly.

“Why?” Bucky says through his clenched teeth. “Why would you lie to them and have my job, my certificate taken away? Because I won’t keep turning you down? Because I won’t fuck you? Are you really so desperate?” 

“Yes,” Tony says easily, sitting up and letting his feet fall back to the floor. He leans in closer than Bucky would like, close enough for him to see the darker brown ring around the whiskey of his irises. “I’m desperate. And I know you’re desperate. You fucking want me. I’m just trying to give you the incentive you need to take me. I’ll give you glowing marks all down the line. I’ll never say a word against you. Just give in already.” 

“You’re fucking despicable,” Bucky says. He slides the chair back from the desk, putting space between them that does nothing to abate the fury in Bucky’s blood nor the heat pooling in his gut. It takes several deep breaths for him to keep his temper, for him to turn his eyes to Tony and find the young, relentless student watching him, smug. “Well?” Bucky snaps. “You want me so bad? You’re so desperate for it? Get on your knees.” 

Tony’s eyes widen fractionally, any last shred of doubt in him that this would work brushed away in the face of Bucky’s rough words. He scrambles down onto his knees, crawling around the desk and into the space between Bucky’s thighs. Bucky looks down at him, face twisted with malice. But his shame is obvious, tenting at his dress slacks. 

“I have places to be,” Bucky says cruelly. “Open your mouth and put it to use for once in your fucking life.”

Thin, capable fingers nimbly unbuckle Bucky’s belt, too eager to do anything but press either end aside and reach for the button and zipper. His fingers brush against Bucky’s cock, pleasurable zaps of electricity that have him taking in deep, slow breaths to try and maintain his control. He looks up towards the ceiling begging forgiveness from whatever cruel deity put Tony Stark in his path. Can’t believe I’m doing this, he thinks to himself. 

Then Tony is pulling Bucky’s stiff cock from his boxers. Bucky keeps his eyes on the younger man’s face, watching as Tony assesses him with clever eyes: the flushed head, the thick shaft, the neatly trimmed pubic hair at the base. Reaching out, Bucky threads his fingers into Tony’s unmanageable hair and tugs hard. “I hope this isn’t the first cock you’ve sucked,” he says. “Because I’m not going to go easy on you.” 

“I don’t want you to,” Tony says, eyes half-lidded. “Use me, Professor. God knows you fucking need to get laid.” 

“Open your mouth,” Bucky hisses through his teeth. For once, Tony does as ordered, and Bucky slips past those wicked lips into liquid heat that burns his cock in the best way. A sound is torn from deep in his chest against his will, and when Tony’s eyes flash up at him victoriously, Bucky pulls the head of dark hair down just to fuck the expression clean off. Tony’s mouth is good for more than just snark and flirtation, Bucky learns. He keeps his lips closed tight to create a seal that only increases the pressure around his cock when Bucky pulls Tony’s head back. His tongue works to caress the shaft, but the finesse is lost in the brutality of Bucky’s thrusts, fucking up into Tony’s mouth with a vigor that has tears welling up in those dark eyes. The sounds are obscene, wet gags and stifled, choking coughs, the likes of which squeeze Bucky’s cockhead in a way that has his teeth clenching tight. 

One of Tony’s hands slaps at Bucky’s thigh. 

Bucky draws back for a moment to slap his cock lightly against Tony’s cheek, watching with dark pleasure as he gasps for air. 

“Don’t you fight me now, kid,” Bucky says, hooking a thumb over Tony’s bottom teeth to pull him back in. “You wanted this, you’re going to take it.” 

Tony’s eyes roll, a groan vibrating around Bucky’s cock. The mouth around him relaxes further, throat opening to let Bucky in a fraction deeper, the expression on Tony’s face a cross of bliss and agony. When he glances down, Bucky sees that Tony’s hips are aimlessly thrusting against nothing but air, cock hard and untouched. The sight sends the simmer in his stomach boiling, his balls drawing up, desperate for a release that (Tony is right) has been a long time in coming. 

“I’m going to cum and you’re going to swallow every last fucking drop, do you hear me, Stark? You get a single drop on my suit and you’re going to be licking it up.” A weak vibration around his cock is the only answer, Tony’s eyes fluttering as Bucky gives a few last brutal thrusts, pulling back just far enough to cum in Tony’s mouth instead of down his throat. It’s the hardest he’s cum since he was just a teenager, body seizing up tight as his cock shoots its spend. The sound that comes from him is almost unrecognizable, something primal and so, so satisfied. Tony latches his lips around the head, sucking him clean, swallowing in hefty gulps. 

Tony finally sits back on his heels. His hair is even more a mess, his mouth red and swollen from the fucking he was given, his eyes heavy-lidded. One of his hands reaches down between his own legs, gripping the impression of his cock and squeezing tightly. 

“Hands off,” Bucky snaps. 

“Professor,” Tony groans, voice wrecked. “Please let me cum. Please.” 

Bucky straightens a leg, guides it between Tony’s until his shin brushes Tony’s hardon. “Don’t ever say I didn’t do anything for you, kid. Rub off on me. Thrust your hips—there you go. Good boy. That’s how you take orders, Stark. That’s how you follow instructions. Where’s this obedience any other time? Jesus, are you about to cum already? What a hair trigger.” 

Tony cums with a stifled shout, back arching obscenely so that he can drag his twitching cock against the firmness of Bucky’s leg, entire body shaking with the force of his orgasm. Bucky’s own cock gives a twitch. Jesus, but he’s wanted the kid. In all his years teaching at the university, and he’s never given in to any attraction to his students. Until today. 

Standing abruptly, Bucky leaves Tony shuddering on the floor while he comes down. He stalks to the file cabinet by the door and sifts through the files, searching, searching, until at last he plucks one free and opens it. 

Bucky clears his throat. “Tony Stark, student-teacher assessment for Professor J. Barnes, submitted this afternoon at a quarter past twelve. Five stars in all categories. I especially liked your note at the end: Mr. Barnes demonstrates an obvious mastery of his subject and an empathetic investment in his students. He obviously wants each of us to succeed, and does whatever he can to see it come to fruition. He is an asset to the university. Very eloquent, Tony.” 

The younger man gapes up at him. “You, you knew I was bluffing? They aren’t supposed to give you those with our student information on them,” Tony croaks.

“Good thing they did, or I might have been anxious. Next time you try to blackmail me, don’t be a fucking idiot about it. Now get up, clean yourself up, and get the hell out of my office.”

[noladyme]

Chess. Chapter 12

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes. 

TW: Language, sexual themes, injuries. Rated M 

(This chapter is a little less Rick centric, but none the less essential to the story. This story is obviously non-canon, i.e. Diablo and GQ, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.)

A spotlight blazed at us. I stumbled backwards. “Harley!”, I hissed again. “Get back here!”.

She smiled in my general direction, unable to see me. “It’s fine, Chess”, she beamed. “Show yourself”.

I shook my head, but deciding to trust her, reappeared.

“Jonny, would you turn that down? It’s doing nothing for my complexion”, Harley called; and the spotlight was turned off; replaced by softer lights, coming from colored lightbulbs spread throughout the large hallway we were standing in.

A serious looking man in a suit stepped out in front of us, surrounded by masked enforcers; all carrying machine guns.

“Harley”, the man said. “You’re back. Again”. He did not sound pleased.

Harley introduced us. “Chess; Jonny Frost. Jonny; this is Chess. She’s my friend; and if you let anyone touch her, I’ll punch you in the dick. Again”, she jeered.

She took my hand excitedly. “Come on! I have someone I want you to meet”, she grinned; before stopping to plump up her hair. “Do I look ok?”, she asked. “You look like a high end escort, who got dressed in a candy shop”, I answered with a smile. “Perfect!”, she beamed.

Running up another flight of stairs and down a hallway – all the way dragging me with her – she stopped in front of a double door, painted over with a large grinning mouth, I knew all too well what represented. I didn’t like where this was headed.

The man named Frost had run after us with his men, and stepped in front her, blocking our path.

“This isn’t a good time, Harley”, he said gruffly. “Move, Jonny”, she said, and bared her teeth at him menacingly. “Or I’ll tell him about the time you tried on his favorite Rolex”.

Frost tightened his lips. “He’s got company”, he said. She shoved him out of the way. “Great!”, she smiled. “Bring us a tray of macaroons and some espresso. It’s been a long day”.

I grabbed her wrist, and held her back. “Harley; this isn’t a good idea!”, I whispered.

“This”, she said, “is our ticket to freedom!”.

She threw the door open and stepped inside.

“Hi, puddin’”.

---

We were in white walled conference room. Walls were adorned with old paintings of what seemed like very important men; whose faces had all been retouched with spraypaint – making them smile menacingly at me. There was a crystal chandelier hanging over a long table; set with plates and silverware for guests that didn’t seem to have had the guts to show up. There were lobsters, cheeseburgers, exotic fruits and jellybeans; laid out on silver trays. Jewelry and money were thrown about the table between the trays.

At the end of the table sat a man with a pale gaunt face, green slicked back hair, and terrifying blue eyes. He was wearing a white tuxedo, shirt open to show the many tattoos and gold chains on his chest. His painted lips spread in a snarl; and he stood up; putting his hands on the table to lean over it.

The Joker. My breath hitched, and I could hear my heart beat in fear.

Next to him, sitting in front of a bowl of what looked like clam chowder; was a man that seemed familiar. In another chair, in the corner, sat a man in a lab coat, working on a tablet.

“Princess”, the clown sneered. “Last time I saw you, we had an… exchange”.

Harley pouted innocently. “I know”, she said. “I shouldn’t have taken the lambo out on my own”. She fluttered her lashes at him.

Frost, who had followed us inside; was smirking at her from where he was stood, leaning against the wall.

Joker exhaled in a way that sounded like a mix between a growl and a laugh. “It wasn’t so much the joyride, as the scratch across the hood; from your impromptu dance party on top of it – in stilettos, I might add”, he said, slammed his fist into the table, and stared at her intensely.

Harleys eyes started to well up, and her pink lower lip vibrated.

“Harley…”, Joker said softly; and suddenly leapt onto the table; his snakeskin boot stepping in the bowl of chowder, spraying the content in the face of the man in front of it.

Kicking a lit candelabra out of the way, and stepping on a tray of pearls and grapes; Joker stomped down the makeshift runway of the tabletop. Harley squealed, and sprang up to meet him, running into his arms.

“I missed you, bunny”, he growled, and grabbed Harleys butt cheeks; making her jump into his arms, straddling his hips. She squealed, and latched on to his lips; and they began making out in a way I hadn’t seen anyone do since high school. “I can’t stay mad at you”, he smiled between kisses.

Frost met my eyes, and rolled them at me. Here we go again, he seemed to be saying; and I couldn’t help but smile.

Joker laid Harley down on the table, and crawled on top of her; shedding his tuxedo jacket in the process – revealing a gun holster carrying a large silver revolver. Harley grabbed on to the back of his head, as he moved downwards, attacking her neck and collarbone with brutal kisses.

Frost cleared his throat, and the green-haired crimelord looked up, meeting my eyes in a terrifying glare.

“What’s this?”, he snarled.

Remembering herself, Harley grinned at him. “Oh yeah!”, she said. “I brought you a present, baby!”.

Joker sprang of the table in a swift move, and walked up to me; head tilted – never breaking eye contact.

I couldn’t blink. Ok. I’m dead, I thought for the second time in just a few days; and swallowed hard.

Harley came running up behind him, hooking her arm into his, and smiled brightly – lipstick smeared across her chin from their make out-session.

“This is Chess”, Harley said. “Chess, this is my Joker”. She put her head on his shoulder.

Giving Harley a quick pat on the head – still not breaking eye contact with me – he shrugged her off, and stepped towards me again.

“Chess…”, Joker breathed, baring his gleaming gold rimmed teeth. “You’re the disappearing girl”. My breath hitched, as he came closer; and I began to move backwards. He grinned at me, and put his hand up, as if coaxing a small animal.

“Here, kitty kitty kitty…”, he said, and moved up slowly until his face was merely a foot away from mine.

“She’s got a killer smile, puddin’”, Harley said from behind him.

In a swift move, he grabbed a hold of both sides of my face, and moved in so close that I could feel his warm breath on my skin.

“Show me”, he demanded with a sneer.

Not moving, I glanced towards Harley, who was nodding at me encouragingly.

Taking a deep shaking breath; I focused, and smiled.

The clowns breath hitched, and his eyes widened from seeing my face disappear between his hands. He jumped back, looking from his hands to where I had been standing.

This would be a good time to run, I thought to myself, but for some reason, I decided against it. I reappeared.

Joker cried out at seeing my shape return; then began laughing. “Oh, honey!”, he declared. “This is the best present you have ever given me!”.

“Even better than the Rolex?”, Harley answered, sending a leering look in Frosts direction. The man looked down at his feet. “Can we keep her?”, Harley asked.

Joker growled, and grabbed her waist, pulling her into a violent kiss.

“Mr. Joker?”, a voice called from the other end of the table. The chowder man was wiping his face with a napkin. Joker angrily unlatched himself from Harley again.

“Jerry, I was having a moment here!”, he growled.

I looked at the stout man, whose suit was still stained.

Judge Jeremiah Kelper.

I breathed heavily – every fiber in my body in attack mode. I clenched my fists; and my claws sprang out. Storming towards the slimy politician; Frost sprang out of nowhere, and held me in a tight grip, as I snapped my teeth at his hands, trying to break free.

“Do you two know each other, Jerry?”, Joker asked with a smile.

Harley looked from me to the judge; eyes serious.

Kelper looked at me; a scar running from his cheekbone down to his chin. I made my mark, alright, I grinned to myself. “I’ve never met the young lady in my life”, Kelper said. Well I was invisible for most of our last… encounter.

“How’re the balls, your honor”, I hissed.

Joker turned his face to look at me. With a sudden realization, he laughed loudly.

“Ghosts, Jerry?”, he guffawed. He walked up to Kelper, and patted his cheek. “You should probably leave, before I let my newest pet loose on you. We’ll finish this meeting tomorrow”.

“But mr. Joker” Kelper began. “I really need to talk to you about these attacks in Downtown”.

Faster than a lightning strike; the clowns revolver was aimed at Kelpers head. He gulped. “T-tomorrow”, he stammered; and went to leave the room – taking a wide path around me and Frost.

He quietly closed the door behind him.

“Now, where were we”, Joker said; and looked at Harley pointedly. She shrieked excitedly, and ran into his arms.

“Let’s go. Give them some privacy”, Frost said, and pulled at me. I tried to struggle. “Trust me”, he said. “You don’t want to see this”.

From behind us I heard groans and moans. “Mr. J…”, Harleys voice gasped.

We left the room as swiftly as we could.

---

I was put in a smaller room furnished with an intricately patterned couch. A six-pack of off brand cokes were set on the table, next to a plate of sushi I didn’t have the appetite to eat.

I wasn’t exactly a prisoner; but a man had been posted outside the room for if I needed anything, as Frost had said, before leaving me alone.

About an hour had gone by, when I heard a gentle knock at the door. Harley stepped inside; wearing a bright purple minidress, and a brand new diamond necklace.

“Wow”, I said, staring at it. “It’s just a little something”, she beamed, and gestured for me to sit next to her on the couch.

“That judge”, she asked, “was he the one you neutered a year ago?”, she asked earnestly.

“How did you know?”, I asked. “I might have eavesdropped on you and the pole when you was talking”, she answered.

Rick! “Harley, we need to get out of here!”, I said, panicked. “Why”, she asked indignantly. “Because if we don’t return to Flag and the others, they’ll come in after us, and that’s not a fight I think they can win”. “Flag or J?”, she asked, brows furrowed. “Maybe both”, I answered.

Harley popped a maki roll into her mouth, and chewed audibly. “We can’t go right now. I haven’t seen my puddin’ in forever”. I shook my head at her. “This isn’t the time for a Bonnie and Clyde, going out guns blazing situation!”.

She sighed, and toyed with the heavy necklace. “I talked to J”. I raised my eyebrow at her. “What?”, she said. “We talk. Sometimes… in between…”. Her eyes glazed over for a second, before returning to focus, and she shook her head. “Anyway. My J has been hanging out with that judge for a while. He’s been throwing him some parties; helping him out with some cash. Apparently judgie is a fan of cheap strippers and expensive scotch; but that’s not so good when you got a political career to tend to… You know. That old story”. Another roll disappeared into her mouth.

“Is this relevant to our about to die situation?”, I hissed.

She looked at me, annoyed. “I’m gettin’ to it. Gosh…”. She licked her fingers. “So. J’s been throwing some money in Kelpers direction. And in return, Kelpers made sure the cops look the other way when puddin’s been doing business around the city”. So Kelper was working with the Joker. That much I had gathered. “And?”, I coaxed at her to continue.

“Kelper’s been getting’ a bit upset lately, since J’s moved in on Downtown. Some bank or other was robbed; and suddenly, the limp bastard doesn’t want to continue their partnership”. She raised a brow and smirked at me. “Apparently, letting criminals run free in your city, doesn’t look good when you’re running for congress”.

I was still confused. I was also drained, so I opened a soda can; and began drinking from it.

Harley continued. “Now today”, she suddenly leered at me, “Kelper told my J that he needed to back down. Or else”. “I’m sure Joker took that well”, I said, and took a sip. “That bowl of chowder in front of him wasn’t clam”, she grinned. “It was pigs balls”.

I choked on the soda running down my throat, and coughed. Harley slapped my back and giggled at me. Once I’d calmed myself, she continued.

“Kelper told J that he had friends in high places”, she said.

“That’s why Waller wants the Joker dead”, I realized. Having a crony in congress would definitely help her further her own agenda. Especially surrounding the question of tracking down bad guys, and sending them on what pretty much amounted to suicide missions. “Duh!”, Harley smiled. “Here’s the thing. You want to get back at that judge. And I don’t want my boyfriend dead”. She looked at me pointedly.

“So we work together”.

We heard running down the hall. Joker swung open the door and looked at us. He was flanked by the man in the lab coat, and Frost.

“Snickerdoodle, we have company!”, he said, and looked me in the eyes. “This is it, Chessy Chesschess. In or out”.

I heard gunshots from downstairs. He snarled at me. “You want that collar off?”. I looked down at my harness. The light was still green. I nodded at him. “Good kitty. Doc, make it happen!”, he growled. The doctor furiously typed something on his tablet, and the little light on my chest went black. I quickly rid myself of the harness, and threw it on the floor. Joker grabbed Harleys hand. “Lets go!”.

More gunshots. I could hear Ricks angry voice roar. Harley looked from my worried face to the clowns. “Don’t hurt our friends too much. And leave the soldier alone”. “You steppin’ out on me, pumpkin?”, he asked her in a menacing voice. “’Course not baby. But this one has a thing for men in uniform”, she answered, and nodded in my direction.

Joker gave a final snarl, and nodded at Frost – making the man run in the direction of the gunfire.

Harley took a hold of me.

“Grab her arm!”, Harley told Joker, and he put his cold hand around my uncovered wrist. I made us disappear.

---

We ran up down the hallway, leading us to a separate staircase. I heard running behind us, and a yelp from a henchman; as Croc bit into his shoulder, and threw him over his head.

“Where are they?”, Ricks voice boomed. I was aching to show myself; but the Jokers icy hand reminded me of what I needed to do.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, my companions let go of me. We were met by Frost holding open a back door for us. Outside stood the ghastliest sports car I’d ever seen. Chrome, neon purple varnish, and gold rims. “Get in!”, Joker yelled, and got behind the wheel; Harley joining him in the front seat. “Chess!”, she called.

The door behind us swung open, and Rick ran through it, clocking Frost over the head with the back end of his gun.

“Y/N!”, he hollered at me, eyes furious.

Joker aimed his revolver at him, and I stepped in to the line of shot. “Don’t, puddin’!”, Harley yelled, and grabbed for his arm. Joker growled, but put the gun down.

“What are you doing, kitten?”, Rick asked, voice shaking.

I walked up to him, and put my hands on either side of his face.

“Don’t do this, baby”, he pleaded; his eyes intense. I kissed him softly.

“You asked me to trust you. Now I’m asking you to trust me”, I said. “Let me go. Please!”. He furrowed his brows, then pulled me in for another kiss. He put his forehead to mine.

“Go”, he said hoarsely.

I ran to the car; and threw myself into the back seat. The Joker revved the engine, and then sped off; the force of it throwing me into my seat.

I turned my head to look out the back window. Behind us Rick and my friends were disappearing into the fog of the city.

Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r​

@hyp-oh-critical​

[pointreyesjournal]

Starboard : ep12

Requisite googling complete and I’m more determined than ever to revisit and photograph Point Reyes. And to be clear, I’m talking about Point Reyes, the spit of land, not Point Reyes Station, the little village on Highway 1. Google says there are some fairly picturesque places on the point and I’m determined to find them. Next trip up, maybe I’ll take the Tahoe and a camera.

Summer is fast approaching and it’s time to start thinking about my other passion (well, one of my other passions to be more specific), sailing! Each autumn St. Francis Yacht Club hosts a regatta called the Rolex Big Boat Series. The RBBS is arguably the premier regatta on the West Coast and I’m keen to have a team dailed-in by the time racing starts in September.

The name “Big Boat” is a bit of a misnomer. Sailing yachts on the West Coast are tiny compared to the yachts in the mediterannean. Big boat is really referring to the fact that there are no dinghy classes in this regatta. By far, the most popular (or populus) class is the J/105, which is less than 30 feet at the water line (so not a very big boat). The second most popular class is the J/70, which is positively tiny at 23 feet. Throughout the bay, and for the majority of summer weekends there are local sailing races organized by various yacht clubs.

I am a VERY competitive person. But atypically, I have a laissez-faire attitude regarding yacht racing. Do I like to be competitive and win? Sure. But to really be competitive with yacht racing you need a dedicated race boat (which precludes it from being a good weekender boat because of the austere accomodations onboard) and a well trained (and even well paid) crew. I like to gather a few friends, and at most, leave a “crew wanted” note on the cork board at one of the higher-end yacht clubs in hope of snagging a junior dinghy racer with a ton of talent and no “ride” for the summer.

Thus far I’ve yet to join one of the yacht clubs. I suspect it would be a great way to make friends and have better crew resources for the racing season, but I’m a bit of a free agent and enjoy the freedom of just leaving the boat in a marina in Sausalito, and participating when it suits me.

To be honest, I’ve actually considered joining a yacht club. But, I suspect I’d choose one of the “lower class” clubs rather than one of the prestigious clubs like San Francisco Yacht Club or St. Francis Yacht Club. It’s not that I can’t afford it. It’s just that I’m more low key and like a more scrappy crowd. I am a motorcyclist after all. Every biker you’ve ever met started life as a motorcyclist.

Personality wise, I’ve got a toe dipped in both ponds.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph, got any good old (maybe new?) bedsharing fics for a fanfic obsessed lurker?

Thanks 😘

Hey Nonny!!

Hahha! I actually just did a list recently of my old ones, but I just double-checked my offline lists and I actually DO have some fics on my next Bed Sharing list, so GUESS WHAT? Your ask is the one to start the next Bed Sharing one, LOL.

As usual, if anyone has any they’d like to add, especially if they’re brand new fics, let us know! <3

BEDSHARING Pt. 5

See also:

The Speckled Blonde / BedSharing

BedSharing Pt. 2 and Insecure Sherlock

Bed Sharing Pt. 3

Bed Sharing Pt. 4

Bed Sharing “Just Happens”

Soft. Happy. Content. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 223 w., 1 Ch. || Sleepy Cuddles, Bed Sharing, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Spooning, Morning After, Sherlock POV) – Sherlock reflects on his state of mind.

And When The Night Is Over by Simply Isnt On (K, 329 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Platonic Bed Sharing / Not Slash) – Sherlock and John sleep together.

I Knew You Loved Me by inevitably_johnlocked (T, 743 w., 1 Ch. || Morning Cuddles, Fluff, Clingy Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slice of Life, Morning After, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Declarations of Love, Pet Name, Bed Sharing, Snuggles) – John and Sherlock share a lie-in the morning after their first time. So fluffy and gross your teeth will fall out. Part 4 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Sleep Tonight by Jenn1984 (T, 1,220 w, 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Bed Sharing, Worried Sherlock, Sick John, Hugs/Cuddles, Touch Neediness) – Fingers begin prying open his jacket looking for a wound and John would really like to swat at them. No, he's not hit anywhere, he's just damn sick.- John Watson has a fever.

Loved. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 1,231 w., 1 Ch. || First Sherlock POV, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nose Kisses, Morning After, Love Confessions, Morning Cuddles, Emotional Sherlock, Sentiment, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock reflects on his relationship with John. Part 5 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Here to Stay by MockJayPhoenix12 (K, 1,574 w., 1 Ch. || Post Reunion, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Headache, Bed Sharing, Care Taker Sherlock, Hand Holding, Fluff) – On Sherlock's first day home, John wakes with a migraine.

The Perfect Place by SilverSmile (K+, 1,955 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Romance, 5 and Ones, Fluff, Experiments, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock attempts to find the perfect place to sleep, but his little experiment proves to be far more difficult than expected.

Insomnia by TheSingingGirl (K+, 2,635 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Bed Sharing, Sleepy Sherlock) – Sleep is merely the next frontier in what has become the battle to keep Sherlock alive. It's because of this that John ends up in bed with a sociopath.

Human Body Pillow by Lunavere (K, 4,122 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Five and Ones, Sleepy Johnlock, Bed Sharing) – A story about the five times John fell asleep on Sherlock, and the one time Sherlock fell asleep on him.

The Myth by AGirloftheSouth (M, 4,329 w., 1 Ch || Sex Toys / Anal Beads, PWP, Romance, Bottom John, Prostate Stimulation) – Sherlock believes something to be a myth. John proves him wrong.

When We Sleep by PrincessNala (K+, 6,660 w., 1 Ch || Post-TGG,  Alternating POV, Bed Sharing, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, Hugs) – Sherlock needed to feel every beat of his heart, every rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It was the only way to completely assure himself that John was alive and right there next to him, and not dead, no, never dead…

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

There's So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world's only consulting detective will be on his own once again...or will he?

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (NC-17, 16,400 w., 2 Ch. || LJ Fic || For a Case / Case Fic, Fake Relationship, Humour, Romance, Marriage Proposal, Awkward Idiots, Cuddling, Touching, Kissing, Love Confessions, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fake Until It’s Not, Schmoop and Fluff, Bottomlock) – “John, we need to get married. It’s for a case, not any romantic notions on my part pertaining to our partnership,” Sherlock said, with brutal honesty, and without even looking up.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love,  Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Background Case Fic) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

[sandjsbeachbumbonanza]

Day 98 – Pineapple Bay: no Wifi, no electricity, no hot water

We woke up in the morning and realised we needed to get on to our Tanzanian e-visas. We were surprised to learn that as J is a US citizen, she has to apply for a special category of visa, which is just for US citizens, the multi-entry tourist visa. This basically means that instead of paying $50, J’s visa costs $100. We also learned that we were supposed to file the application 10 days before departure to Tanzania, and we did it within 3. We will see what happens, but we may need to have to try to go to Tanzania without a visa and blague our way in.

Breakfast at the Lakeview Regency resort was very good. J had hardboiled eggs and tried the ‘rolex’, which is a rolled up piece of chapati bread with a sort of omelette inside. S had a hardboiled egg and the ‘g-nut matoke’, which was matoke in a thick sauce. S also had the passionfruit juice without sugar. It was very good and diabetic friendly. J had the watermelon and pineapple. She also got to try the African spiced tea, which is made with boiled milk, tea and fresh ginger. She loves that tea now.

After breakfast, we met Dona and headed to Kampala. On our way out of the hotel, we drove by a pair of golden-crested cranes, which landed right next to the car. During the drive, Dona asked S for business advice, which S happily provided. As usual, we passed through a number of police checkpoints. However, at one of them, we were pulled over by the traffic police, who wear white military-esque uniforms. Dona had to get out of the car to speak with the police officer. We couldn’t hear what they were saying, but we saw lots of frustrated hand gestures. After around 10 minutes, Dona grabbed his wallet from the car and went back out to speak with the police officer. A few minutes later, he got back into the car. The police officer stuck his head into the car and asked how we were doing. We said we were fine. After the police officer let us go, Dona explained that there was an argument about insurance on the vehicle, which was thankfully resolved. Dona did tell us if we weren’t in the car, he might have been taken to unofficial police ‘safe custody’ and expected to pay a small sum to be released.

Dona had arranged for our COVID test in Kampala, the capital and largest city in Uganda. Once we arrived in Kampala, we stopped at a service station and were met by a lab technician. The technician jumped into our car and took down our passport information. We enjoyed our 13th COVID test of the trip. Oddly, this one involved a Qtip between the tongue and the jaw, which was the least intrusive we’ve experienced. We handed him the equivalent of USD160 in cash and he headed off, promising that we would receive our results within 48 hours. Poor Dona took this time to snack on a chapati. He isn’t used to our two meals a day schedule and has been missing having proper lunches. As we continued our drive, we passed by more interesting roadside food stalls. At first we were seeing sweet potato stalls and then entered an area with smoked and fresh tilapia. Dona pointed out how big the tilapia were (around 3kg each) and said they had been caught nearby at Lake Victoria. Some of the stalls were also selling beautiful, handmade drums made with animal skin.

We then drove to the pier, where a boat would take us to our next hotel, Pineapple Bay. To get on to the pier, we had to have our hands sanitised, our temperatures checked and had to walk through a disinfectant spray chamber. This is the first time we have seen this on our entire travels. The smell of the disinfectant bothered J and she wondered what would happen if the disinfectant had been sprayed on to nice clothing. After he dropped us off at the pier, Dona waved goodbye so he could have two well-deserved days with his family in Kampala. Apparently his children miss him.

Pineapple Bay is a 5-star hotel located on Bulago island in Lake Victoria. It is owned by the CEO of Pepsi in Uganda. We took a small speedboat from the pier, which was driven by Anderson (Andy), a supervisor. The trip was 19 miles and took around 45 minutes. S enjoyed getting sprayed in the face from time to time as the boat bounced through the lake.

We arrived at Pineapple Bay pier and were greeted with the usual spray of hand sanitiser. We were given hot towels and fresh pineapple juice, which was delicious. We then got our briefing about the hotel and were taken to our room and given a room tour by our butler, Fred. Our room is a massive villa. It has a full-sized reception room with working fireplace, a kitchenette, a massive bedroom and an enormous bathroom with a jacuzzi tub. The staff had decorated the bed with fresh flowers, which said “I heart U”. As all the windows have screens, there is allegedly no need for mosquito netting. And as there is allegedly air conditioning, there is no need for a fan. But guess what, if the electricity is not on, the air conditioning does not work. In addition, even when it is on, the air conditioning only comes on for 3 minutes and goes off for a minute at a time. This is as annoying as it sounds. We learned that the electricity was not working as the generator only runs during certain periods of the day (for 3 hours in the morning and for 5.5 hours at night). When the generator is not on, the place is powered by an inverter, which turned out to be broken and did not work. The WiFi was also cut off, so they are in the process of getting it back online. After we complained profusely, Andy bought some data for his phone and let J use his hotspot. We explained how important this was given the uncertainty of our travel to Tanzania in 3 days. J tried to take a hot bath and then a hot shower, but the water was not hot, so she had to take another cold shower.

Given that there is no electricity in the room, we headed back to the main area for some wine. As the hotel is located on the lake, there are many different bird species on the property. At around 7pm, we noticed it had gotten completely dark and there were no lights on in the seating area. We were told that the lights are broken and were asked to move to the dining area. Thankfully there is another seating area next to the dining area, with working lights. While we were sitting there, however, the power went off for 5 minutes before being restored. We are still trying to work through our Tanzania trip. This may be the toughest hurdle we’ve faced.

Dinner was a three-course affair. J had the carrot ginger soup and grilled chicken breast. S had the zucchini fritters and the beef stroganoff (with rice, not noodles). The food was very tasty and we finished it off with caramelised pineapple, which S loved. J prefers fresh pineapple. J had another African spiced tea as a digestif and S had a Ugandan coffee liquor.

We returned to the room. This isn’t as easy as you might think as Pineapple Bay is taking this opportunity to tear up and rebuild their walkways and the walkways are not lit. This means that you have to navigate your way around the freshly added dirt, grassy area and ongoing renovations. While J was in the washroom, there was another power cut. This one was around 10 minutes. As S is used to getting around without seeing, he came to the washroom to escort J to bed. J turned on the expensive roaming on her phone for the first time on this trip to tell Dona we needed to get the hell out of here as there is no internet, no hot water, no fan/AC and no electricity.