#ken garland

[geekynerfherder]

'Ex Machina' by Ken Taylor.

[supercosplaylover]

Wizard of Oz/Barbie Characters + Quotes 🌈👠🦁🪄

[thena0315]

Happy Father’s Day to the Dads of SVU

[bob-the-movie-man-film-reviews]

The Assessment ('15'): Assessing Parental Fitness in a Dystopian Future.

One Mann's Movies Film Review of "The Assessment". A brilliant glimpse into a dystopian future of parenting with a brilliant cast. 5/5.

A One Mann’s Movies review of “The Assessment” (2024) (From the 2024 London Film Festival). Is AlexGarlandy an adjective? If not, it should be. For “The Assessment”, a brilliantly polished debut feature from the memorably named Fleur Fortune, is one of the most AlexGarlandy films I’ve seen in a while. Bob the Movie Man Rating: “The Assessment” Plot Summary: It’s the near future and society…

[denimbex1986]

'Christopher Nolan's "Oppenheimer" is set to be one of the biggest (non-"Barbie") films of the summer, a grand historical drama with a vast A-List cast and intense exploration of one of humanity's greatest errors. It's a chance for Nolan, a filmmaker never short of ambition, to stretch himself even further as a storyteller, but it's also a rare opportunity for its title star to take on a leading role. Cillian Murphy is a Nolan ensemble staple, having played the Scarecrow in the "Dark Knight" trilogy and made appearances in "Inception" and "Dunkirk." 

The Irish actor and "Peaky Blinders" favorite has long been an underrated presence on screens big and small, having spent well over two decades establishing himself as a striking character actor and reliable talent. He's made horror films with Wes Craven, fought zombies in "28 Days Later," romanced Scarlett Johansson in "The Girl With a Pearl Earring" and told stories of the Irish War of Independence in Ken Loach's "The Wind That Shakes the Barley." He's done it all. He's even dealt with the peril of an atomic weapon and the threat of mass extinction on Earth in a movie before! Thanks to Danny Boyle and "Sunshine", Murphy is familiar with this quandary.

Sunshine is an apocalyptic horror sci-fi

In between his zombie horror "28 Days Later" and the Oscar-winning drama "Slumdog Millionaire," Danny Boyle aimed for the stars. Screenwriter Alex Garland, with whom Boyle had worked on his messy adaptation of "The Beach," took inspiration from the likes of "2001: A Space Odyssey," Ridley Scott's "Alien" and the Russian classic "Solaris" for his jaunt towards the center of our solar system. In "Sunshine," it is the sun itself that is dying. With it, so will all life on Earth perish as the planet's temperature drops beyond the means of human habitation. Eight astronauts from around the world have been tasked with flying towards the sun on the spaceship Icarus II and planting a bomb on it that they hope will reignite its solar fury. As many a sci-fi horror featuring people in enclosed spaces floating through the vast nothingness can attest, it doesn't take long for things to go wrong.

"Sunshine" has an enviable good cast, the kind of ensemble of character actors and future leading icons that would put most films to shame. Alongside Murphy, who plays the lead physicist Robert Capa, are a pre-Captain America Chris Evans, Rose Byrne, Michelle Yeoh, Cliff Curtis from "Fear the Walking Dead," and Benedict Wong of "Doctor Strange" fame. To have the cast form a tight bond, Boyle had this ensemble live together for several months and undergo space training and scuba diving. He also took them on a tour of a nuclear submarine to give them a sense of the claustrophobic living conditions of real astronauts, and even sent them up on a zero-G plane to experience weightlessness. Murphy worked with physicist Brian Cox (not that one) so that he could fully understand the awesome scale of the bomb required to make the sun work once more. He found the experience of making "Sunshine" so revealing that it made him an atheist!

Why Sunshine is so terrifying

Many scientists grumbled over the inaccuracies of "Sunshine," from slow-motion movement during weightlessness to whether or not a bomb really could reignite the sun. For Alex Garland, such details were beside the point, although both he and Boyle did hire a number of advisors to shape the science of the film into something believable. The real power of "Sunshine" is in its portrayal of isolation among its astronauts. The crew of Icarus II are shaken, both by the magnitude of their mission and the sheer psychological terror of being stuck in space for an extended period of time. As a viewer, you feel entrapped in the space this ensemble shares, made all the more stifling by Boyle's refusal to cut back to scenes on Earth that are common in this genre. Everything is designed to make you feel trapped, including the space suits that have a post-box-sized slit to see through rather than a full-face visor (the suit was nicknamed Kenny after the character from "South Park" because of this choice.)

The other recurring theme is an age-old one: science versus faith. The mission of Icarus II is stridently atheistic, one of pure logic designed to do for humanity what nobody else can or will do. They are following in the footsteps of Icarus I, which went missing seven years prior while trying to deliver its own bomb to Earth. When the crew discover this lost ship, they find its crew charred to death save one astronaut, Pinbacker (Mark Strong playing, of course, a villain). After years of loneliness and untreated first-degree facial burns, Pinbacker has gone mad and tries to sabotage the Icarus II mission, claiming that God (meaning the sun) has told him to send all of humanity to Heaven. This third-act frenzy makes "Sunshine" a more traditional horror film than its preceding parts, and it does become less satisfying as a result (although there is a moment where Pinbacker has the skin pulled from his arm that is truly horrifying).

Sunshine is more relevant than ever

Despite positive reviews, "Sunshine" didn't inspire audiences, and only grossed around $32 million from a modest $40 million budget. Reviews generally agreed that the third act was weak and let down the rest of the film's more metaphysical approach to the sci-fi horror genre. It didn't hurt anyone's careers, least of all Cillian Murphy, who went on to a strong career in film and TV that has culminated in his acclaimed role in "Oppenheimer." It's a movie that makes excellent use of his unique face and ability to convey a blend of unnerving and empathic (which is perfect for J. Robert Oppenheimer, the man who became Death, the destroyer of worlds.)

Audiences did eventually find their way to "Sunshine." Its philosophical terror remains potent, arguably more so as we experience the disintegrating effects of climate change in real-time. Much like its cinematic predecessors, "2001: A Space Odyssey" and "Solaris," "Sunshine" acutely captures the gargantuan scale of the galaxy and how it cannot help but overwhelm you, the mere human being, trying to be its equal. In the film's first two-thirds, the enormity of the mission is inescapable. If these mere mortals do not succeed, billions of people will die and that is a weight that smothers them, as it would for any of us. 

Ultimately, we are but specks that populate a slightly larger speck floating through the vast nothingness of the universe. When we confront that painful reality, especially as non-believers in an omnipotent deity, it's understandably tough to deal with. It can break you. Yet there is also awe here. The astronauts are left dumbfounded by the sight of the sun so up close. It's no wonder that Pinbacker gazes upon it and sees the face of God. We are but debris in the grand scheme of life and "Sunshine" nails that sensation, but it also believes in fighting to survive amongst it all. There is hope amid the desolation, and that's worth saving.'

[drolesdedalesalbumphoto]

L'épisode "Une croisière en or".

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Bing Crosby - White Christmas 1942

"White Christmas" is a song reminiscing about an old-fashioned Christmas setting. Written by Irving Berlin for the 1942 musical film Holiday Inn, the song won the Academy Award for Best Original Song at the 15th Academy Awards. Originally sung by Bing Crosby, it topped the Billboard chart for 11 weeks and returned to the number one position again in December 1943 and 1944. His version would return to the top 40 a dozen times in subsequent years.

Since its release, "White Christmas" has been covered by many artists. Crosby's version is the world's best-selling single (in terms of sales of physical media), with estimated sales in excess of 50 million physical copies worldwide. The Guinness Book of World Records 2009 Edition lists the song as a 100-million seller, encompassing all versions of the song, including albums. Crosby's holiday collection Merry Christmas was first released as an LP in 1949, and has never been out of print since.

The song established that there could be commercially successful secular Christmas songs - in this case, written by a Jewish immigrant to the US. Before 1942, Christmas songs and films had come out sporadically, and many were popular. However, "the popular culture industry had not viewed the themes of home and hearth, centered on the Christmas holiday, as a unique market" until after the success of "White Christmas" and the film where it appeared, Holiday Inn.

The version most often heard today on the radio during the Christmas season is the 1947 re-recording. The 1942 master was damaged due to frequent use. Crosby re-recorded the track on March 19, 1947, accompanied again by the Trotter Orchestra and the Darby Singers, with every effort made to reproduce the original recording session. The re-recording is recognizable by the addition of flutes and celesta in the beginning. In 1974, the 1942 recording of the song by Bing Crosby and The Ken Darby Singers was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame. In 1999, National Public Radio included it in the "NPR 100", which sought to compile the one hundred most important American musical works of the 20th century. Crosby's version of the song also holds the distinction of being ranked No. 2 on the "Songs of the Century" list, behind only Judy Garland's "Over the Rainbow," as voted by members of the RIAA. In 2002, the original 1942 version was one of 50 historically significant recordings chosen that year by the Library of Congress to be added to the National Recording Registry.

"White Christmas" received a total of 74,5% yes votes!

[my-plastic-life]

Happy holidays, everyone! Anyone seen the Storytime with Deadpool feature at Disneyland/Disney California Adventure? No? Then by all means go look it up because it's hysterical. :D Just click here to see one!

I have several mini trees, all needing decorated, and I was inspired by the Storytime holiday special to create a scene using my new 1/6 scale Hot Toys Deadpool figure. I had a ton of fun with this, and I'm super happy with how it turned out. It started with the red tree with black baubles and it just escalated from there. Even the merc with a mouth enjoys this special time of year! So sit back and enjoy some classic holiday tales told by SantaPool! I had a Ken size Santa suit and I was able to get the jacket on, and the hat is from a Barbie. The pants wouldn't go over the gun holders, but hey, I'm not complaining! The last photos are the inspirational ones from the show at the parks. Almost all the props were made by me.

Who's ready for a holiday tale?

Yes, I painted the edges of the pages green to match the actual prop from the show. :D

"Look everyone! It's Loganeezer Scrooge!" :D Yes, I know, that's not the proper Wolverine - that figure doesn't come out until next year. Then I get to do this all over again LOL.

I think he loves the tree I made for him:

Who needs an elf on the shelf when you can have a merc on the woodwork? (It's actually a Funko Bitty Pop - this one comes with the chimichanga truck lol)

Not sure if he got that out of his own stocking or if he's supposed to put it in someone else's stocking, but he loves that unicorn!

Dogpool is ready to enjoy the story, too!

The scene! The tree was spray painted red and the little baubles and the garland were all spray painted black. The black star on top came from Amazon, and there are both red and white fairy lights (they're lit, but it's hard to tell in the photos).

The chair was 3D printed in red and wood, then I went over the red with a less vibrant shade to tone down the hue. And we can't forget the claw marks! I used a watercolor pencil to draw those on. :D

The picture above the fireplace is an exact replica of the one from the show. The red ornaments are pearl beads glued together, and the stockings came with various Barbies.

We have to have unicorns in the stockings! (I don't have a mini Dogpool or Deadpool figure/plush to put in there lol - hint to Zuru Mini Brands Disney Store!)

Presents under the tree were 3-D printed. The darker blue bows were painted, then we managed to get the file working right so we could print the file in two colors. :D The actual tree has unicorn and Wolverine ornaments, in addition to the black baubles, but since I don't have any of those, some extra presents (instead of just one) will balance it out. :D

Hubby made the tree skirt for me. Yes, it's the Deadpool logo, made out of felt. :D

I had this lamp in storage with the fireplace and didn't even know I had it LOL, it's the perfect size and was even already painted these perfect colors. I printed mini "stickers" and stuck them to the shade with sticky tack.

Closed version of the book:

Opened version of the book (it wasn't until today that I was able to see the actual doodles inside the real one, but I'm okay with this!):

Source photos from the show, including the stage, book, and doodles:

[random-imaginess]

i’m obsessed with ur work rn omg :o can you please write a shayne x reader fic where it’s their first halloween together and they’re just indulging in all the mushy couple activities? like matching costumes, scary movies, pumpkin carving, sweater sharing, all the sweet cozy fall vibes? thanks so much! <3

Hi!! Thank you so much for sending in a request, and I appreciate your comments so much! I’m sorry it took a little bit to get posted. (Tumblr is being a pain and not letting me post things directly from my computer so I have to jump through hoops just to get these to post, it’s so frustrating!) I really hope this meets your expectations. There were so many ways I wanted to start this and so many options of what to focus on, I couldn’t decide! I do plan on posting another version of this that will capture more of a cozy couple-y vibe! And it will be longer! But I hope you like this as well!

Not to be dramatic or anything, but Halloween was THE best time of the year, and to say that you were excited to finally be able to start decorating for it would be an understatement. If you had it your way, and technically you could have, you’d keep your place decorated in a spooky aesthetic all year round! Or at least fall themed, though either option would be equally valid. This year particularly, though, you were even more excited because you were able to spend it with your boyfriend, Shayne. You and him had been friends for a little short of a decade so it wasn’t even close to being the first year you two did something together, but this year was different because you were a C O U P L E and it just hit different.

Practically since after the 4th of July you were in plot mode, having a serious conversation with him about what you were doing for Halloween. It was important to know what you were going to dress up as, and it was vital to get ahead of it so you had time to get on the same page about what you were doing. Costume parties were going to be starting soon, and you had to be ready! You had both talked about options; going as a salt and pepper shaker, Mario and Princess Peach, Morticia and Gomez Addams, or more cliché, Barbie and Ken (though Shayne would most definitely be an Allan)!

“We should go as a cat burglar!” You exclaimed out of nowhere, startling Shayne a bit as he adjusted a leaf garland he was hanging up. “What?” He chuckled. “For a matching costume idea. We could go as a cat burglar! I’d be a cat and you a burglar and together we would be a cat burglar!” You raised your brows, enthusiasm sketched all over your face like it was the most brilliant idea. “Say cat burglar again, I don’t think you said it enough times,” he teased playfully. “That would be pretty funny, though.” “Or OOOH!! Pennywise and Georgie! Wouldn’t matter who would be who!” Shayne just laughed, watching you go back to placing plastic pumpkins on the mantle above the fireplace.

“I think the best part of this costume planning is going to be watching you get all excited about what idea to go with,” he laughed again. Shayne’s ideas were more subtle, which was great too. You didn’t normally go crazy about the dressing up aspect of it, but this year you wanted to do something special since you had someone to plan this sort of thing with. And you appreciated him being such a trooper about it! “It feels weird getting this amped up about costumes because normally I would prefer to just stay in and have horror movie marathons, which you can expect we’ll be doing because you can’t not do that during the spooky season.” “Yes, of course. Though technically spooky season isn’t until October..” “That’s up for debate,” you retorted quickly, getting another laugh out of him.

“Spooky season should always happen directly after the 4th, just like they do it with Christmas after Thanksgiving. But TECHNICALLY, spooky season gets started August 1st because that’s when all the fun things start, like horror nights and spooky conventions.” You let out an excited squeal as you hyped yourself up all over again. “So many fun things are starting!!”

After finishing up the decorations, your placed mostly decked out with fall themed items; apple cider and pumpkin spice scented candles and black cats and garlands everywhere, you were very pleased with how it all turned out. Standing next to Shayne, you wrapped your arms around his waist and marveled at both of your work for a few moments. “It looks like a Spirit Halloween store threw up in here.” “I know, don’t you love it?” You grinned. Shayne wrapped his arms around your shoulders and squeezed, giving you a long hug before breaking it.

Thinking about what the next couple months were going to bring brought you so much joy. You were anxiously awaiting for the colder weather to kick in so you both could snuggle up on the couch with hot drinks and a crackling fire while you watched scary movies. You were excited for when you could carve pumpkins, make halloween goodies together, experiment with spooky themed bread because you knew Shayne would enjoy the hell out of that! There was so much to look forward to and you couldn’t wait to share this all with him.

[sanctobin]

Brighten the corners are Frank Philippin and Billy Kiosoglou, who established their studio in 1999.

I used to be a design student – 50 graphic designers then + now The book we authored, edited and designed was published in February 2013 by Laurence King Publishing in London. It looks at the process a designer goes through in finding their ‘voice’. We asked fifty graphic designers to give us the low-down about their student days and their professional lives. A piece of their college work is shown alongside an example of current work. Each designer also offers a key piece of advice and a warning. Topics addressed include how ideas are researched and developed; design and other cultural influences, then and now; positive and negative aspects of working as a designer; motivations for becoming a designer; and whether it's really possible to teach design.

Awarded a Bronze Nail at the ADC (Art Directors Club) für Deutschland and a Certificate of Typographic Excellence at the TDC (Type Directors Club) in New York. Reviews on eye Magazine, Brain Pickings, It’s Nice That, Fast Company Design and other places. Order online at Laurence King, amazon.co.uk, amazon.com, amazon.de. In 2014 a Korean edition of the book was published by ag books and in 2016 a Chinese edition was published by HuaZhong University of Science & Technology Press.

Contributions From Andreas Gnass (U9 Visuelle Allianz), Andrew Stevens (Graphic Thought Facility), Annelys De Vet, António S. Gomes (Barbara Says...), Ben Branagan, Bernd Hilpert (Unit-Design), Brian Webb, Christian Heusser (Equipo), Daniel Eatock, Danijela Djokic (Projekttriangle), Emmi Salonen (Studio Emmi), Éric & Marie Gaspar (Éricandmarie), Fons Hickmann (Fons Hickmann M23), Hans Dieter Reichert (Hdr Visual Coomunication), Holger Jacobs (Mind Design), Hoon Kim (Why Not Smile), Hyoun Youl Joe (Hey Joe), Isabelle Swiderski (Seven25), James Goggin (Museum Of Contemporary Art, Chicago), Jan Wilker (Karlssonwilker), Julie Gayard (Jutojo), Kai Von Rabenau (Mono.Graphie), Ken Garland, Kirsty Carter (A Practice For Everyday Life), Kristine Matthews (Studio Matthews), Lars Harmsen (Magma Brand Design), Laurent Lacour (Hauser Lacour), Liza Enebis (Studio Dumbar), Lucinda Newton-Dunn (Space-To-Think), Maki Suzuki (Åbäke), Marc Van Der Heijde (Studio Dumbar), Margaret Calvert, Marion Fink, Martin Lorenz (Twopoints.Net), Matthias Görlich (Studio Matthias Görlich), Michael Georgiou (G Design Studio), Nikki Gonnissen (Thonik), Oliver Klimpel (Büro International), Paul Barnes, Prem Krishnamurthy (Projects Projects), Renata Graw (Plural), Richard Walker (Kk Outlet/Kesselskramer), Sandra Hoffmann Robbiani (Visual Studies) , Sascha Lobe (L2m3), Stefan Sagmeister (Sagmeister Inc.), Sven Voelker (Sven Voelker Studio), Tim Balaam (Hyperkit), Urs Lehni (Lehni-Trüb, Rollo Press), Yasmin Khan (Counterspace), Yves Fidalgo (Fulguro).

They also designed the website for Anish Kapoor

[dabilove27]

Chapter 7

Chapter 6 | Next Chapter

Paring: Shuji Hanma x Fem!Reader, Draken (Ken Ryuguji) x Fem! Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: emotional turmoil, possessive behavior, romantic tension, life-altering decisions, and smut at the end. If I missed anything please let me know!

The decision to leave college weighed heavily on your mind, but every time you glanced at Hanma, his confident smirk seemed to melt away your worries. “It’s all gonna work out.” he had told you the night you said yes to his proposal. “You’ll see.” His faith in you felt unshakable, and somehow, you clung to that.

Now, standing in front of the mirror, you smoothed out the dark green dress Hanma had picked out for you for the Christmas party. The silky fabric hugged your curves, with a daring slit up one side and a plunging neckline that left just enough to the imagination. It was striking yet classy, perfect for making a statement—unlike your fiancé, who would probably stride in with all the swagger and chaos that came naturally to him. He was finishing up in the other room, muttering something about his tie being a nuisance.

“You ready?” Hanma asked, leaning against the doorway. He looked sharp in a tailored black suit, the dark fabric making his gold accessories gleam under the light. He had forgone the tie entirely, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to make a statement. “The guys are a mixed bag,” he added with a grin. “Some of ‘em will love you. Some of ‘em might act like punks. Don’t take it personally.��

“Thanks for the heads-up,” you replied dryly, giving him a once-over. “You look good.”

“You look better,” he shot back, his voice dipping lower as his hand slid to the small of your back. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “If you keep looking at me like that, sweetheart, we might never make it to the party.” His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t stop the slight smirk tugging at your lips.

“Let’s make an entrance,” he added, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

The venue Hanma’s company had chosen was a sprawling banquet hall, decked out in fairy lights and festive garlands. The scent of pine and cinnamon hung in the air, mingling with the hum of conversation and laughter. As you stepped inside, all eyes seemed to turn toward you. You felt the weight of their stares, and your grip on Hanma’s arm tightened.

“Relax,” he murmured. “They’re just curious.”

The first to approach was a man with sharp glasses, slicked-back hair, and an air of smug superiority. His calculating gaze flitted over you before he addressed Hanma. “You actually brought her,” Kisaki Tetta said, his voice laced with amusement. “I thought you were joking.”

“Why would I joke about something like this?” Hanma shot back, his grin unfazed. “This is my fiancée. You already know she’s off-limits, Kisaki. That means no grilling her, no games, and definitely no scaring her off. Got it?”

Kisaki’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he gave you a curt nod. “I’ll behave. But you already know, being with you isn’t for the faint of heart.” There was a glint of amusement in his tone, one you expected from him, though it was hard to tell if it was directed at Hanma or you.

“Hello to you too, Tetta,” you replied evenly, refusing to be intimidated.

“Have fun,” Kisaki said, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely sincere. With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Hanma chuckled, leaning in to whisper, “Don’t mind him. You already know he’s like that with everyone.”

Although you already knew Kisaki, the rest of Toman was a mix of unknown faces—except for one. Hanma began introducing you to his coworkers and friends, and your breath caught when you saw the blond-haired, sharp-eyed leader Mikey. The boy from your childhood, the one you used to share carefree afternoons with, now stood before you, looking more like a delinquent schoolboy than the head of a feared organization. His calm demeanor was disarming, but his eyes held a weight you’d never seen before, a heaviness that made you suddenly understand why people followed him.

“Mikey?” you blurted, the name escaping before you could stop yourself. He glanced at you, his expression momentarily shifting to one of surprise before a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Well, this is unexpected,” he said, his tone casual but tinged with something softer. “It’s been a while.”

Hanma raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of you. “You two know each other?”

“We go way back,” Mikey replied, his gaze still locked on yours. “Didn’t think I’d see you here, though.”

You managed a smile, still processing the shock. “Same here. I did not know you worked with Hanma.”

The realization hit you like a slow ripple spreading through the water. If Mikey was here, could Draken be here too? Memories of your childhood bubbled to the surface, unbidden. You hadn’t seen Mikey and Draken in years, but back then, the two had been inseparable—always laughing, always causing mischief, always talking about grand ideas of brotherhood and loyalty. Your chest tightened with an odd mix of nostalgia and unease. This was feeling uncomfortably similar to the gang from your childhood, but with an edge that made it far more real and dangerous now. The idea of seeing Draken again—of stepping back into a world you thought you’d left behind—sent a shiver down your spine.

You haven't seen Draken for years now. Not that he ever left your mind, but in fact he was like a constant ghost in your thoughts. Hanma notices your unease and wraps his hand around your waist as you talk to Mikey.

“So, this is the infamous fiancée,” a playful voice chimed in. A bubbly girl with blonde hair and a mischievous grin sidled up to you. “I’m Emma. If you ever need to talk about this one,” she said, jerking a thumb at Hanma, “you know where to find me.”

“Hey, no badmouthing,” Hanma teased, but there was warmth in his tone.

Emma’s playful demeanor put you at ease even as you tried to forget if Draken would show up, and before long, you chatted with her and a few others. The initial anxiety ebbed away as the festive atmosphere took over.

Then the room seemed to shift as the heavy oak doors at the far end of the hall swung open. Conversations paused, and all eyes turned to the imposing figure stepping through. You froze, your breath catching in your throat as you recognized him instantly—Draken.

He looked almost the same as you remembered: tall and commanding, with his signature dragon tattoo curling down the side of his shaved head. But there was a harder edge to him now, a quiet intensity that made the air feel heavier. He scanned the room briefly, his gaze landing on you for the briefest of moments before moving on, as if he hadn’t just shaken the very ground beneath your feet.

Your heart raced as memories flooded back: the boy who had been your childhood crush, who had pushed you away for your own safety when his world became too dangerous. The boy who had promised it was better this way, even as his words broke both your hearts.

Hanma followed your line of sight and grumbled. “Ah, there’s Draken. Took him long enough.”

You barely heard him. The tension in your chest was unbearable as Draken began making his way through the room, exchanging nods and brief greetings. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to run to him or disappear entirely. The reality of where you were—and what this gathering truly represented—settled over you like a heavy cloak. This wasn’t just Hanma’s world; it was Draken’s, too.

What a small world, bringing together the two loves of your life, unbeknownst to you. You look around for anything to show if this was in fact the Toman you once knew, but there were no signs to indicate the name of the “company”. Which oddly confirmed that this was Toman. Of course, they wouldn’t plaster it around. They were a criminal gang.

A pit formed deep in your stomach until someone popped out behind Draken and yelled out your names. A mix of blonde hair and a bright smile meets you as arms come to wrap around you in a tight hug. You take a moment to recognize that it’s Chifuyu. You try to stifle a sob from the immediate entrance of all these old parts of your past.

You’re so caught up that you miss Hanma’s sneer at Chifuyu’s actions.

“What the fuck, Matsuno?” Hanma hisses, and his grip around your waist tightens as he tugs you away from the blonde.

Chifuyu finally pulls away after he hears Hanma and makes the connection as his eyes dart back and forth from Hanma’s hand on your waist to the ring on your left hand.

“Oh,” Chifuyu says slightly, his eyes wide.

You can feel the tension rising and the anger from Hanma. One thing you knew about him is that he did not like sharing, especially when it came to you.

“Shuji, this is my old friend Chifuyu. I knew him at the same time I knew Mikey and…” you trail off your eyes, glancing back at the doorway to see Draken just standing there stunned and refusing to move.

Hanma follows your gaze again and lets out a huff. “A lot of surprises this evening.” He did not like being surprised, especially with all these people who knew you so well. He didn’t like it at all.

As you see Draken staring, you want to stop but feel a pull towards him. You have to talk to him; you have to say something. But before you can step his way, Hanma jerks you in the opposite direction towards the bar to order drinks for the two of you.

He’s more handsy now. One hand is always somewhere on your body, staking a claim, making a mark so that everyone knows who you belong to. His hand travels from your waist to your hips, fingertips digging into the fabric of your dress.

Draken POV

Draken’s heart stopped the moment his eyes landed on you. He hadn’t expected to see you tonight, or ever again, for that matter. Yet there you were, standing in the middle of this chaotic world he’d tried so hard to shield you from. But what hit him harder than your presence was the fact that you were with Hanma. Of all people, Hanma.

He forced himself to keep walking, exchanging nods and greetings as though the sight of you hadn’t just upended his composure. His mind was a storm of memories: your laugh, the way you used to look at him, and the heartbreak in your eyes when he’d told you it was better if you stayed away. He’d believed he was doing the right thing back then, keeping you safe from the darkness that consumed his life. But now, seeing you here, his resolve wavered. Had it all been for nothing?

And Hanma. The sight of his arm around your waist stirred something primal in Draken—anger, jealousy, regret. He knew Hanma’s type too well: charming and dangerous, someone who thrived in chaos. Was this the life you’d chosen? Or had Hanma pulled you into it the way he did everyone else, with that magnetic pull of his?

Draken’s jaw tightened as he continued moving through the room, but his mind was spinning. How could he talk to you? What could he even say? Every instinct told him to pull you aside, to ask what the hell you were doing here, to demand an explanation. But the look in your eyes when they met him—a mix of shock, hurt, and something he couldn’t quite place—left him rooted in place. He’d pushed you away once. Did he even have the right to say anything now?

He clenched his fists at his sides by the time he reached the other side of the room. He glanced back briefly, watching Hanma lean down to whisper something in your ear, making you laugh. The sight was a dagger to the chest. This wasn’t just Hanma’s world; it was yours now, too. And Draken didn’t know if he could stand to watch it.

Draken makes his way to a table in the back where Mikey was sitting, sipping on a deep red drink.

Draken slips into a seat next to Mikey and lets out a deep sigh. He can’t fucking believe this is happening.

“So you’re just going to say nothing?” Mikey doesn’t even miss a moment as he challenges Draken.

“Shut the fuck up, Mikey! What the hell am I supposed to say? She’s with Hanma, for fuck’s sake.” Draken knew he was releasing his anger on Mikey, but everything felt like it was spinning. And that you were here with Hanma, of all people. It made his head hurt.

Your POV

Throughout the evening, you caught snippets of Hanma being his usual self—loud, confident, and unapologetically him. But there was a new edge to his behavior now. Every so often, you’d catch him glancing in Draken’s direction, a sharp, knowing smirk tugging at his lips whenever their eyes met. It was subtle at first: a hand lingering possessively on your waist, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in to whisper something meant to make you laugh—and to remind Draken exactly who you were with.

As the night wore on, Hanma’s posturing became more deliberate. He pulled you closer during conversations, his arm draped lazily over your shoulder or around your hips, but his gaze always seemed to flick toward Draken, daring him to react. There was no mistaking the message: you were his. And he wanted Draken to know it.

You felt the tension crackling in the air, but Hanma’s antics made it impossible to address it. Instead, you found yourself playing along, letting him guide you through the evening with his magnetic charm, all the while feeling the weight of Draken’s eyes on you from across the room.

By the time dessert was served, you were seated at a table with Emma and a few others, laughing at a story about one of their more ridiculous heists. Hanma excused himself to go to the bathroom, leaving you momentarily alone.

Your gaze flicked across the room, landing on Draken. He stood by the wall, his posture stiff and his attention seemingly elsewhere, though you could feel the tension radiating from him. Gathering your courage, you rose from your seat and walked over, your heels clicking softly against the floor.

“Draken,” you said quietly, stopping a few feet away. He turned his head slowly, his expression unreadable, but his eyes clouded with a mixture of emotions you couldn’t quite place.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was low, almost accusing, though it lacked any real malice. It was more shock than anything else.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his gaze. “I—I’m with Hanma,” you said, your voice faltering slightly.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. “I can see that,” he said finally, his tone clipped. “How did that happen?”

“It’s complicated,” you replied, shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny. “It just… happened.”

Draken let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Of all the people you could’ve ended up with, it had to be him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, a defensive edge creeping into your voice.

He looked at you then, his eyes filled with something raw and unspoken. “You don’t belong here,” he mumbled, the words cutting through you like a blade. “This isn’t your world.”

“And whose decision is that? Yours?” you shot back, your cheeks heating with frustration. “You pushed me out of your life, Draken. You don’t get to tell me where I do or don’t belong.”

The words seemed to strike a nerve. His shoulders stiffened, and he glanced away, his jaw working as if he were holding back something he couldn’t say. “I did it to protect you,” he muttered after a long pause. “I didn’t want you caught up in all of this.”

“Well, it’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” you replied, your voice softer now but no less firm.

Draken looked back at you, his expression conflicted. “I…” he started, but whatever he was about to say was cut off as Hanma returned, sliding an arm around your waist with a casual possessiveness that made Draken’s jaw tighten further.

“What’s this?” Hanma drawled, his grin sharp as he glanced between the two of you. “Catching up with an old friend?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just catching up.”

Draken said nothing, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned and walked away, his footsteps heavy and his shoulders tense. You watched him go, your heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid.

As the night wound down, and the crowd thinned out, Hanma stayed at your side. “You survived,” he said, his grin teasing but proud.

“Barely,” you joked, but you’d enjoyed yourself more than you’d expected. The evening contained mixed emotions, but your immersion in Hanma’s world now presented many issues.

“Let’s head home,” he said, slipping his hand into yours. As you walked out into the crisp night air, you felt a sense of uncertainty settle over you.

Draken POV

Draken’s chest felt like it was caving in as he walked away, each step heavier than the last. His mind replayed your words, sharper than any blade: You pushed me out of your life, Draken. He knew you were right, but that didn’t make the guilt any easier to bear.

He moved to the far corner of the room, away from the crowd, and leaned against the wall, trying to steady his breathing. From his vantage point, he could still see you with Hanma. The way Hanma’s hand lingered possessively on your waist, the way you seemed to relax under his touch—it was a sight Draken didn’t want to see but couldn’t look away from.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He’d decided to cut you out of his life years ago, convinced it was the only way to keep you safe. Back then, he thought he was doing the noble thing. But now, seeing you here, entangled in a world he’d tried to protect you from, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed.

The sight of Hanma—smirking, cocky, always in control—only made it worse. Draken knew exactly what kind of man Hanma was, and it tore at him to think of you being pulled into that chaos. But what right did he have to intervene now? He’d forfeited that the moment he walked away from you.

His fists clenched at his sides as he fought the urge to do something—anything—to pull you out of this. But what could he even say that wouldn’t make things worse? All he could do was watch from the shadows, his heart twisting every time you laughed at something Hanma said, every time you looked at him with a softness Draken had once wished was meant for him.

“You’re an idiot,” he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the din of the party. But the words did nothing to ease the ache inside him. He’d made his choice, and now he had to live with it, no matter how much it hurt.

Your POV

The moment you returned to the penthouse, Hanma’s hands were all over you. Possessive, gripping, bruising.

Hanma’s touch on your hips was intense, his fingers digging into your soft flesh with a bruising force. He scoops you up, a giggle escaping your lips as he playfully tosses you onto your bed a second later.

The deafening sound of your heart pounds in your chest, reverberating through your body as he slowly crawls over you. With a swift motion, he effortlessly shrugs off his open shirt, exposing his chiseled chest.

“Shuji…”

“You sure surprised me tonight, Kitten,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your ear as his fingers gently trace your lips. A deep, husky voice resonated from him, making her speechless under the weight of his intense stare, a silent conversation passing between them. The world shrinks, your heart pounds like a drum against your ribs; you are nothing but helpless prey, sensed by a predator ready to strike.

“I-I….”

As his hands cautiously slip into the silky fabric of your dress and tenderly explore beneath the elastic band of your underwear, a rush of sensations envelops you. The room seems to hum with anticipation as the air becomes heavy with the intoxicating scent of desire. A shiver runs down your spine, accompanied by the sound of your quickening breaths. As he skillfully plunges two fingers into your wetness, a crescendo of pleasure builds within you, causing you to release a passionate moan that echoes through the room. Overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the moment, you instinctively close your eyes, surrendering yourself to the blissful ecstasy.

“Hmm, so wet,” he commented, noticing the clinging moisture on his skin.

“Shuji, stop.”

“This is what you love, isn’t it?” He asks, lowering his lips to yours to place the briefest of kisses there. “Being underneath me as I fuck you?”

As his lewd words reach your ears, your face immediately flushes with heat, feeling a prickling sensation on your skin. The sound of his whispered words lingers in the air, sending shivers down your spine. The scent of passion hangs in the room, mingling with the hint of musk. You can’t help but murmur a protest, your voice barely audible amidst the charged atmosphere. Your eyes reluctantly glance at his fingers, glistening with your slick essence, catching the light like a shimmering reflection. Overwhelmed, you seek solace by burying yourself into the softness of the pillow, desperately trying to escape the intensity of the moment.

With a grunt of exertion, he lifts you, his hands surprisingly gentle as he rolls you onto your stomach, apparently wanting to aid you. As Hanma settles his weight on your back, you sense his hands running up your arms, gradually stripping off your clothing. His approach may not be the most efficient, but he continues until you’re stripped down to your bra and panties.

His hands, rough and calloused, eagerly explore your body, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. As he lifts your hips, the air rushes past, causing a gentle breeze to brush against your skin. Your heart races, anticipating what’s coming. The sound of his murmurs, deep and husky, fill the room, adding a hint of anticipation to the atmosphere. The scent of desire hangs in the air, intermingling with the faint aroma of lavender. A mix of pleasure and apprehension fills your senses as his hands tighten their grip on your breasts, sending shivers down your spine.

As you let out a loud moan, the sound echoes through the room, intertwining with the hum of appreciation that escapes him. The air carries a hint of anticipation and desire, while your heart races in response to the electrifying atmosphere.

As his body envelops yours, you sense the heat radiating from his chest against your back, creating a comforting and intimate connection. The weight of his presence presses against you, causing a tingling sensation to run through your body. It’s not just his lips that touch your skin, but the soft brush of his breath as he plants kisses, some gentle and others more fervent, leaving a trail of warmth and anticipation. The contrast of his lips against your bare, chilled skin elicits an involuntary gasp, a mixture of surprise and pleasure. The sound of his moans, muffled against your back, joins the symphony of his kisses, heightening the intensity of the moment. With each kiss, you can almost taste the passion and desire in the air. His hands find your waist, and as he grips you firmly, the sensation intensifies. His hands leave vivid marks, and whenever they return to that spot, you feel a rush of arousal and security from his firm hold.

As Hanma presses his body against yours, you feel a rush of heat and anticipation. The sound of your own soft murmurs fills the air as you utter his name, expressing your desire.

Suddenly Hanma stops.  

“Shuji?”

“Mmm….”

You adjust your position, leaning forward to get a closer look at him, and furrow your brows as you observe the perplexed expression etched on his face. The faint sound of a distant car honking reaches your ears. As you ask, “What’s wrong?” your fingertips tingle with anticipation, eager to understand the source of his confusion.

He pauses, his finger gently tracing along your delicate skin, as if lost in thought. The soft sound of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, making your heart race. Slowly, he retreats, pulling away his trousers, and a wave of anticipation washes over you. Your eyes widen, fixated on the sight before you, as your senses heighten. The musky scent of desire fills the air, mingling with the sweet aroma of anticipation. Your mouth becomes dry, a mix of nervousness and desire, as you take in the sight of his long, throbbing member, hanging heavily amidst a tangle of dark hair. A surge of longing courses through you, making your body ache to touch him. A desperate whimper escapes your lips. 

As Hanma positions himself behind you, a gentle smile graces his face, its warmth clear in the crinkles around his eyes. You can almost feel the desperation emanating from your own face, a mix of anticipation and desire. The subtle scent of arousal heightens the senses. As his hand wraps around his own length, you can hear a soft, tantalizing sound of his grip tightening. The brush of his cock against your body sends a shiver down your spine, a teasing sensation that lingers on your skin.

You clench your hands tightly, feeling the pressure in your fingertips as you desperately plead, your shoulders throbbing with an increasing ache. The air is heavy with anticipation, as if it’s holding its breath, waiting for Shuji’s response.

Hanma moves towards you as you cry desperately for him. Initially, only his swollen tip enters, but he soon slides all the way inside you. Your body thrashes as you let out whimpers. You repeatedly whisper the beginning of his name as you gasp for air, and as he goes all the way in, you feel you could orgasm right at that moment.

He remains still, and your impatience grows.

He commanded, “Turn your head so I can hear the sounds you are making,” his voice adopting a far more imperious tone than was typical of him. Before you can ask what he means, his giant hand shoves you back down onto the bed. Adjusting his hips slightly, he carefully removes himself from the position. He pauses, then thrusts himself back in. 

“Shuji, please-“

“Just wait, Kitten.”

You can hear the self-satisfied grin in his voice as he moves his hips forcefully against you, increasing the speed of his movements with no brakes. The sound of skin hitting skin blends with the sound of your pleasure in the room, making you thankful that there are no occupants in the neighboring apartments who might overhear.

Right when you’re about to climax, he pulls out.

Suddenly, you are on your back with your legs over his shoulders as he thrusts back into you. Stars obscure your vision, and a loud cry of his name escapes you as he smiles and whispers your name, moving with an almost violent speed as he engages in an intimate activity with you. You’re especially sore in your body, particularly your wrists and arms.

Hanma’s head lowers to your ankle, his lips brushing the skin in a trail of light kisses before moving upward.

“I can’t-,” you exclaim as his teeth brush against your leg. 

Wordlessly, Hanma’s hand slides between you, finding your weak spot. As his fingers search for your sweet bud, you feel a sudden pressure as he firmly presses against it, causing you to half-scream his name as your hips and back arch off the bed. 

He synchronizes his finger movements with his thrusts, slowing down as he senses you nearing climax.

Within a short period, you experience intense pleasure, your body contracting tightly around him as you reach climax around his manhood. You donned his name, giving you a euphoric sensation and a feeling of weightlessness as he releases himself inside you. He’s smiling sweetly on your chest. 

He expresses his desire to be fuck you once more, flashing a sweet smile as he lays his head back on your chest. “All night long. I won’t let you sleep at all,” he hissed, his voice a low growl in the darkness.

“Shuji….”

Your face reddens, your eyes blink rapidly, and you clear your throat. “If this continues, I won’t be moving tomorrow.”

“In that case, I will have to provide you with care,” he responded with feigned innocence. 

[silvergrapefruits]

Ken Garland - Galt Toys https://rocketlulu.typepad.com/objets-vintage-curiosites/2013/09/ken-garland-designer-galt-toys-jouets-enfant-vintage-kids.html

[thena0315]

Happy Father’s Day to the Dads throughout SVU history

[dog-park-dissidents]

holy shit new music !! may i ask which man the new song is about 👁

Out With A Bang is a work of fiction and any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. On a completely unrelated note, here is a list of interesting actual persons who are alive today and have real names and addresses:

Patrick Pouyanné, Chairman and CEO, TotalEnergies Helge Lund, Chairman, BP Bernard Looney, CEO, BP Amin H. Nasser, CEO, Saudi Aramco Yasir Al-Rumayyan, Chairman, Saudi Aramco Zhang Yuzhuou, Chairman, China Petrochemical Mike Wirth, CEO, Chevron Viktor Zubkov, Chairman, Gazprom Alexey Miller, CEO, Gazprom Javad Owji, Chairman, National Iranian Oil Company Ken Mackenzie, Chairperson, BHP Billiton Mike Henry, CEO, BHP Billiton PM Prasad, Chairman, Coal India Octavio Romero Oropeza, CEO, Pemex Jim Grech, CEO, Peabody Energy Ryan Lance, CEO, ConocoPhillips Sultan Al Jaber, CEO, ADNOC Jean Paul Prates, CEO, Petrobras Nawaf Saud Nasser Al-Sabah, CEO, Kuwait Petroleum Corp. Toufik Hakkar, CEO, Sonatrach John P Surma, CEO, Marathon Petroleum Joseph Gorder, CEO, Valero Greg Garland, CEO, Phillips 66 Basuki Tjahaja Purnama, President, Pertamina

[bibibievansbuckley]

i love you, i hate you

TW: Homophobia/biphobia, homophobic slurs, past child abuse, religious trauma, alcoholism, allusions to PTSD, mentions of depression

--

Colt hates December.

The Decembers of adulthood are a far cry from those of the latter half of his childhood and his teenage years. The harsh, biting Seattle winters meant being handcuffed to intense seasonal depression and anxiety, a toxic current that threatened to sweep him under as the months dragged.

Even living in sunny Los Angeles, depression sometimes wraps its tendrils around him. It's bearable now, but it's a small solace. December still brings horrors he'd rather forget. The phone feels heavy in his hands, and he uses his other hand to brace himself against the counter.

It's almost Christmas, but it's never been the most wonderful time of the year for the Seavers family.

Other families get to sit around a tree, opening presents and laughing together. His father's house looks like any other. It's decked to the nines in garland and wreathes, an extravagant tree and a nativity scene. Colt clenches his fist at the thought. His father, the God-fearing Christian, the preacher, so devoted to his parishioners and their families, the fakest fucking human being that Colt knows. His parishioners don't see the real Benjamin Seavers, the violent alcoholic, the abusive father and useless husband. Christmas doesn't change anything. It's an excuse for him to get sloshed, grumble about Colt never visiting, and inevitably stumble to bed, blacked out in a drunken stupor.

It's so fucking fake, and Colt hates them, yet he returns. Year after year he hops on a plane and spends a week in his childhood home, feeling like a terrified eight year old all over again.

Hands wrap around his waist, and Colt feels feather-light lips press a kiss on his shoulder. He lifts his hand and clings to Ken's arm, subconsciously leaning into the touch.

"You really don't have to go," Colt murmurs. "I know how it'll go. Hi, Dad. Are you drunk already? Why do you always think I'm drunk? And why did you bring your faggot ass partner? Dad, I'm gonna have to ask you not to call Ken a faggot. To quote Taylor Swift, I think I've seen this film before. You don't need to suffer with me."

"That's not even the worst thing I've ever been called," Ken reminds him nonchalantly. Colt rolls his eyes. "And I handled your mother pretty well, didn't I?"

"Yeah, and you looked hot doing it," Colt admits. "But you can't kick Dad out of his own house."

"I always look hot." Colt's shoulders shake with barely suppressed laughter and Ken grins. "And yeah, we can't kick your dad outta his house, but what's stopping us from just leaving? You're a grown man, hon. You don't have to take his bullshit anymore."

"I know. It's just really fucking complicated, and I hate that it is, and I don't want to drag you into it."

"You're not dragging me into anything. Listen, you've put up with my issues and Patrick stalking us and all that. Let me come with you so you don't have to deal with your crazy dad alone."

Colt sighs. Ken's voice leaves no room for argument, and a small part of him is happy that he won't have to be alone.

He just wishes it were different.

--

Colt grips the steering wheel so tightly that it creaks under the force. Ken looks out the window and sings under his breath. There's no place like home for the holidays. But Colt isn't home. He's returning to his personal Hell, the place he's never belonged. Colt's stomach lurches as they pass the church he grew up in. Cars fill the parking lot, and images of his father screaming his Sunday sermons, a wild look in his brown eyes, flash before his eyes.

Ken doesn't speak of his childhood much. Colt knows he and Barb grew up in foster care, and his needs and wants often went unmet. But he knows that Ken has never set foot inside any church. Anytime Colt describes his childhood, Ken looks like a deer in headlights.

It was traumatic, but it was all Colt knew until he escaped. Even now, the pounding of his fathers fists and the sound of his booming voice as he tries to cast the demons out of Colt are so visceral that he debates pulling over and making Ken drive the rest of the way.

A therapist he saw after his accident called it a flashback. He and Ken know how to ground the other one through them. But for Colt, it's easy to ignore them so long as he doesn't entertain thoughts about his parents, or his sister, or the church.

Easier said than done.

--

Colt pulls into the driveway and drums his fingers on the dashboard. He drinks in the sight of the nativity scene, the huge wreath on the front door, the Peace sign on the side of the house. Passerby wouldn't give the house a second glance. It's small and unassuming, perfect for hiding the dirty secrets inside.

Ken takes one of Colt's hands and gives it a squeeze. If his hand is sweaty, his partner doesn't comment. "It's okay, hon," Ken reassures. "I'll be here the whole time."

Colt nods. If he opens his mouth, he might throw up.

He's not sure when he gets out of the car, but suddenly he and Ken are at the front door. Someone must've knocked? Was it him? He doesn't have time to ask himself more questions before someone barrels into him, knocking his breath away.

"Uncle Colt!" Colt immediately relaxes and glances at his niece. Melanie is ten now, and with a smug smirk, thinks that she's starting to look more like him the older she gets. "Mom and Dad told me, Charlotte, and Lydia that you weren't coming!"

Colt barely refrains from rolling his eyes. Of course Natalie and her scumbag husband would have commentary. Don't they know better by now? He's too weak to stay away. But there's some solace in his nieces' eagerness to see him. "Hey, short stuff." Colt ruffles her hair and hugs her tightly. He really should see Mel, Lottie, and Lydia more often, but he'll go to jail if he's around his sister too much.

Melanie pulls back with an affronted gasp. "I'm not short! I - " She cuts herself off and fixes her eyes on something to Colt's left. His heart races. Please take it well, please take it well, please take it well. "Who's this?"

Colt swallows and slips his hand into Ken's. Ken runs his thumb over Colt's knuckles, and some of the tension in his shoulders eases. "Mel, this is Ken. Ken, this is my niece, Melanie. Ken is - "

"Ohhhhh! Lydia!" Melanie turns and eagerly races back to the living room, blonde ponytail swishing behind her. "Lottie! Uncle Colt brought his boyfriend!"

Colt winces and steals a glance at Ken. His partner's eyes dance with mirth, and he guides them into the house. "Come on. She seems excited, at least."

Yeah, but she shouldn't have - Colt quickly halts that train of thought. Melanie is ten, she doesn't know any better, and he's about to introduce Ken as his partner anyway. It doesn't matter. Colt closes the door and hears footsteps trampling down the stairway. He braces himself for the onslaught.

Lottie and Lydia slam into him, but he doesn't fall back this time. He wraps his arms around them both, looking around in amusement as they speak over each other. Lottie's thirteen now, Lydia sixteen. He's missed out on so much time with them, and it hurts.

"Hi, Uncle Colt!" Lydia pulls away first and all but yanks Lottie back. Lottie scowls and swats at her sister, but Lydia hardly pays her attention. "Where have you been?"

"Yeah," Lottie interjects. "Why don't you come visit?"

"Is it 'cause of Mom? She's, like, on one today, so watch out."

"Great," Colt says wryly. "I've been looking forward to that."

Lydia rolls her eyes. "Yeah, she's a bitch. Anyway." She grins cheekily, and Colt narrows his eyes. That's never a good sign. "Is this your boyfriend?" Lydia looks Ken up and down, and Colt swallows.

They've never met any of Colt's previous boyfriends. None of them have ever been serious enough. They know about his bisexuality (thanks, Natalie), but this feels different. "Yeah, Lydia. This is Ken. He's my boyfriend."

"Hi." Ken waves at the girls. His arms are lax at his sides. His lips quirk in amusement, but he allows the girls to size him up.

"Hi." Lottie crosses her arms and taps her feet. "How'd you meet my uncle?"

"Singing karaoke."

Lydia blinks in surprise. "That's kinda cute. Was he any good?"

"I don't know." Ken shoots Colt a smug smirk. "He didn't sing. I did and then he came up to me and talked my ear off."

"And you loved every second of it. You can't fool me."

"Yeah, sounds about right."

"How would you know?" Colt counters, jaw dropped in shock. Sassy. "You're not even old enough to get into a bar!"

Lydia shrugs. "You talk a lot."

Ken laughs and pats his back. "It's okay, babe. I think we're even there."

"I like him," Melanie says. "He seems nice."

Colt's shoulders slump in relief. His nieces mean the entire world to him. He tries so hard to counter the toxicity spewed by their parents, to mold their worldview and teach them how to be accepting. They only speak over text, and sometimes, Colt is never sure if his attempts are successful. But for Melanie to like him, and oh, Lydia and Lottie are nodding in agreement...It's a huge deal. It gives him hope that his nieces will be able to break the cycle. "He's all right," Colt says with a shrug. "I think I'm gonna keep him around."

"Girls!"

Here it comes.

Natalie is an imposing woman. She's tall and dark-haired like their mother, with the same striking green eyes. It's eerie. And somehow, she's somehow more homophobic than Mother Dearest. She locks eyes with Colt and purses her lips. Colt stiffens and keeps his eyes locked on hers, like he's preparing for battle.

"Girls, I thought I told you to get in the kitchen. Run along now." The girls grumble, but do as they're told. Colt knows that feeling all too well. Natalie spent their childhood making snide demands of him and making the consequences very apparent.

Natalie steps closer and wrinkles her nose like she's smelled something particularly unpleasant. Ken squeezes Colt's hand, and Natalie notices the action. "Who's this?"

"You're not dumb. You know who he is."

"Why'd you bring him?"

"Why'd you bring your husband?"

Natalie's lips press into a thin line, and when she speaks next, it's through gritted teeth. "That's different, Colton."

"How?" Ken asks with mock sincerity. "How is it different?"

Natalie sneers at them, and Colt suspects she'd like nothing more than to spit on them both. "Because you're breaking my father's heart - "

Colt barks out a surprised laugh. "His heart? Come on, Nat. You and I both know that Dad doesn't have one of those."

Colt all but drags Ken into the den, away from his sister. Dad's in there. Benjamin Seavers glazes blearily at them over the top of his beer bottle. Colt swallows. It's so fucking hard to be in the same room as him. He's tall and broad, all blond hair and steely blue eyes. Colt despises looking in the mirror sometimes.

"Colt." Dad stumbles over to them and clasps a large hand on Colt's shoulder. Colt doesn't even flinch. He doesn't acknowledge Ken at all. "I thought I told you not to bring that into this house."

"Too bad. He is my partner, his name is Ken, he's staying, and you'll respect him or we're getting on the next flight home."

"I have no problems getting the belt, boy - "

"Oh, you don't? Try me, old man! I'm bigger than you, and I cou -"

"Let's go see what's happening in the kitchen, Colt." Ken all but yanks him away and drags him to a secluded hallway. Colt presses his palms into his eyes so hard that he sees stars. Ken rubs his arms soothingly, and Colt leans into the touch.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he groans. "I'm sorry you had to hear me threaten to beat my dad. We shouldn't have come. He's an asshole and Nat - I don't know what the fuck to call her - "

"Hey, hey, none of that. We don't have to stay, remember? Say the word, and I'll book us a flight home."

"I know. I just don't want to hurt my nieces. They don't really get it."

Ken looks at him sadly, but he doesn't argue. He was in a situation he felt trapped in, too. There's an understanding between them that runs deep, but Colt wishes it didn't exist. For both of their sakes.

--

"And they threw you out a window?" Lottie's so enraptured by Colt's story that she doesn't notice her food sliding off her fork.

"Yeah, and then they - "

"Girls, stop it." Colt's brother-in-law pounds his fist on the table. The girls don't flinch, but Ken does. Colt grabs his hand to ground him. "I don't want you taking life advice from someone like that."

"Like what?" Colt challenges. "Come on, Rick. You got something to say, then say it to my damn face."

"It's obvious, son." Benjamin places his fork on his plate, but it's too loud in the otherwise quiet room. The tension is so thick that Colt could cut it with a knife. He jiggles his leg up and down and clenches a fist around his own fork. The moment is father speaks again, he's taken right back to his childhood, and Dad's about to beat the demons out of him. "The girls shouldn't be taking advice from a faggot who dropped out of high school."

"Don't call him that!" Ken snaps. His face flushes with barely contained rage. Colt almost forgot he was there. "He's your kid, and this is how you talk to him? What's the matter with you?"

Benjamin clenches his jaw and waves a dismissive hand. "You. Why don't you shut the fuck up? This is family business."

"How very Christian of you," Ken retorts. "I bet you're real proud of yourself. And for the record, I am his family."

Colt places a hand on Ken's knee. Is he about to get beaten? No, he can't be, he's an adult, Dad can't - but Dad's fists are raised and is this another exorcism? No, it's two days before Christmas and he doesn't live here -

He doesn't know how he ends up on the sofa in the living room. Ken kneels in front of him. He's saying something, but it's coming out gibberish. He tries to read Ken's lips, but his face crumples and he shakes his head.

"I fucking hate them," Colt whispers. "I really, really fucking hate them."

"I know." The other side of the cheap couch dips as Ken takes a seat next to him. The hand on his back grounds him, if only a little. "Look at me, honey. Watch me, and take a deep breath."

But he can't. He can hear his father and sister scream in the dining room; he thinks one of his nieces is crying. This is all his fault.

"No, it's not," Ken says softly. "It's theirs, Colt. It's not your fault they're bad people."

But it is. He's always been too much. Too hyper, too talkative, too daring, too different.

He wants to go home, but he can't.

The idea of getting off the sofa is too daunting.

[readyforthegarden]

thinking about autumn with danny 🥹 thinking about how all the orange and yellows and browns and black decor would compliment him so well and he’d have no problem helping you hang up your leafy garlands and sneaking in a few early Halloween items 🥹 the way his curls would bounce as he laughs while you ramble on and on and on about all the different cider mills you want to go to, what pumpkin patch is gonna have the best ones and what your Halloween costumes should be (Barbie and Ken is the top pick, but you assure Danny, he could never be just Danny/Ken) and the crinkle of his nose and the freckles and just 😭😭😭😭