#laine-o writes

[lxinesux]

2 seconds away from rewriting an old band au

two. seconds.

bc blonde andrew garfield has entered the chat and looks douchey enough with his farmer’s tan tht i i feel it is my duty to have a reader peg him

good afternoon

[javier-pena]

in plain sight, chapter i

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader | Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Word Count: 6.2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You’re back home in Austin for the summer and you start dating Tommy Miller, a boy you know from high school, a boy you had a crush on when you were a teenager. All you’re looking for is an uncomplicated summer fling, just some fun, until you have to go back to college in the fall. What you didn’t know is that Tommy has an older brother. And that older brother can’t keep his eyes off you right from the start …

Warnings: mentions of food and alcohol | smoking | reader has hair that can be grabbed | car sex | semi-public sex | a little bit of dirty talk | reader is a tiny bit bratty (in a blink and you’ll miss it kind of way) | two (2) pussy slaps | a tiny, tiny bit of degradation | oral (m and f receiving) | p in v sex | voyeurism | exhibitionism

Notes: The story of how I came up with the idea for this fic is actually very silly, so I'll spare you the details, but I will say it had something to do with a certain movie from 1978. Anyway, I'm so so excited to finally be able to share the first chapter of this!! I can't remember the last time I was this excited about a story, so that's a good sign I'll manage some semi-regular updates. I want to thank Angela @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for answering some of my questions about Austin, and, of course, Dani @alexturner who said it'll be good for me to write a story like that 🤭

[Masterlist] [Chapter 2]

***

“Back for the summer, eh?” was the first thing Tommy said to you after the both of you hadn’t spoken in seven years.

You were standing in line at the ice cream truck, holding your niece’s hand who was jumping up and down, giddy with excitement. Tommy was driving past in his red pick-up truck, a car you’d seen around the neighborhood, unaware it was his. Hell, there wasn’t a lot of awareness where it came to Tommy Miller in the first place. You almost didn’t recognize him that early June day leaning out of the window of his truck, elbow propped up against the door, a bright smile on his face. The boy you remembered from high school, the boy you had a crush on all those years ago, looked so different. Scrawny, lanky, greasy hair, a face full of spots. Sometimes you scrolled through old photos, laughed at yourself because you had lain awake for nights, imagining how he would confess his love for you, ask you to run away with him. The man in the truck that sunny afternoon was just that … a man. His tight, stained shirt was clinging to his arms and chest, grown big with muscles over the years. His hair that used to fall into his eyes, obscuring half his face, had been cut short. His tight curls were hidden underneath a baseball cap that had the logo of a local brewery on it. His face was tan, a dark golden color; it made you do a double take, made your palm grow sweaty against your niece’s hand, embarrassed by his attention. Because surely, he had mistaken you for someone.

“Tommy?” you asked, stumbling forward a few steps when your niece yanked on your arm. “Tommy Miller?”

He laughed so hard his chest heaved. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Then he ran a hand across his sweaty brow, his dirty cheeks. “Don’t tell me I’ve aged that badly.”

Of course he asked you for your number that afternoon, and of course you gave it to him while your niece was busy with her ice cream. You scribbled it onto the palm of his hand, thinking it was a quirky, romantic gesture. It had nothing to do with the fact that you wanted to touch him. The heat of a Texan June afternoon smudged the pen so badly before he got home that evening he couldn’t decipher your number. Luckily, he knew where you lived and came by the next day with a bouquet of flowers to ask you out on a date – officially.

That date went well – more than well. He took you to the movies, to a steakhouse, to a new bar in town. He was so different from the boys you met at college; he had been to war, he had his own company that he was running with his brother, he wanted to know about you and didn’t use your time together to talk about himself and his grand plans for his professional future. You hadn’t laughed that much in a long time, hadn’t enjoyed a guy’s company that much in … well, if you were honest with yourself, you couldn’t remember ever having had that much fun with anyone. You didn’t want the night to end, and when Tommy dropped you off back home afterwards, he kissed you in his truck, then said, “Tomorrow’s my day off. Let me take you somewhere.”

You had skipped up the stairs to your parents’ porch while his truck had idled at the side of the road until you were safely inside.

What followed the next day left you hungry for more. Tommy took you hiking, then he took you to a small ranch outside Austin because you had mentioned you’d never been on a horse before, but would like to try. You stayed there until the sun had sunk beneath the horizon and a bonfire was blazing next to the barn. You drank beers and watched the stars come out. Then someone pulled out a guitar and Tommy asked you to dance. That night, you got home well past midnight, feeling like you’d been somewhere very far away.

You didn’t see Tommy for a week after that. He was busy at work. You were busy telling your friends from college about him. “Just a bit of fun for the summer,” you said. They either cheered you on, asking for the saucy details, or reacted with, “That’s so typical. Anywhere you go, men fall for you.” You didn’t let that bother you because it wasn’t true. Besides, if anyone was turning heads it was Tommy.

The next Friday, he picked you up later than usual and a broad grin spread across your face when you saw him. He had decided to grow a mustache after you’d admitted to him that you used to have a crush on this handsome teacher in college who happened to have a mustache. Tommy handled your laughter well, said, “Get in the truck, college girl,” and sped off toward an unknown destination. You felt excitement wash over you whenever you glanced over at him. Because you hadn’t been idle that week either. You were wearing a matching set of underwear, a deep red color, delicate, hiding only what was necessary. Because Tommy had admitted to you that he had a thing for women wearing nothing but high heels and lingerie. You hoped just one of those would do the trick too.

That night he took you to a small concert, just a guy with his guitar and a cream-colored cowboy hat up on a brightly lit stage. He sang about the open plains, proposing to his wife, about how women don’t want a man in a suit, they all want a cowboy. And he had a point, you thought, after Tommy dragged you off into a dark corner during a brief break and kissed you until you could hardly breathe. None of the boys at college had ever kissed you like that. For the rest of the night, Tommy was hovering by your side, finding excuses to touch you. And when the concert was over, he led you back to his truck, opened the door for you and said, “Listen, my brother is out of town this weekend. Would you like to come back to my place?”

You didn’t even make it to the bedroom. You made it to the couch in the living room where you sat pretending to be interested in polite conversation while your heart hammered against your ribcage and Tommy kept shifting, trying to hide a growing bulge in his pants. Your friends had warned you, “Don’t sleep with him before the 4th of July. The summer is still so long and he’ll lose interest.” Yeah, there was no way you’d be waiting for almost another month for this.

Tommy made the first move but only because you waited for him to make it. His hand was high up on your thigh when he leaned over you to kiss your neck, and you quickly pushed him back against the couch, straddling him, taking off your shirt. His appreciative gaze told you you had gotten it right. That he later took your panties off with his teeth was just the cherry on top.

He made you come four times that night, twice on the couch (first with his tongue, then with his cock buried deep inside of you), one time in his bed (you rode him until he pushed you off and took you from behind), and one time very softly (with his finger, just before you fell asleep). It was obvious the next morning – he wouldn’t lose interest in you and you would have the best summer of your life.

*******

A week later, you’re putting the finishing touches on your makeup when you hear the doorbell ring. This is only your third weekend going out with Tommy, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t recognized the sound of his pick-up pulling up in front of your house. The memories from last weekend are still fresh on your mind and it makes you giddy with excitement to wonder about what he might have planned for tonight.

When you come downstairs, Tommy is sitting on the living room floor, cross-legged, while your niece is introducing him to all her toy horses. Your sister is leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, shooting you a knowing look. You ignore her. Because no matter how much fun you’re having, you’re lightyears away from thinking about Tommy as anything more than a summer fling.

“Ready?” you ask, and when he looks up at you there’s that hunger in his gaze. Self-consciously, you tug at the hem of your very short dress.

“You’re really going out in that?” your sister asks you, and you can hear the thinly veiled jealousy in her voice.

Tommy gets up, slings his arm around your waist, and places a soft kiss on your cheek. “I know I’m supposed to call you beautiful,” he mumbles into your hair, “but you look so fuckin’ hot, darlin’.”

Your face heats up at hearing that pet name. To hide how flustered you are, you tousle your niece’s hair and say, “Don’t wait up for me,” to your sister without looking at her.

The smell of Tommy’s truck engulfs you when you climb inside, and you relax against the seat. It’s funny, really, how a scent you were unfamiliar with just two weeks ago can make you feel so much at ease now. In the driver’s seat, Tommy rolls down the window and lights a cigarette before he looks back toward your house.

“Your sister, is she divorced?” he asks, fidgeting with the lighter.

“Why? You interested?” you tease.

He pulls a face. “She needs to loosen up. Maybe a good fuck would help with that.”

You playfully slap his arm. “You’re impossible,” you laugh. “My brother-in-law takes good care of her.”

He shoots you a doubtful glance, then starts the truck.

The suburbs of Austin are quiet this evening. People are staying inside to escape the lingering heat of the day or they are already in town. You hardly see anyone, hardly pass any other cars as Tommy drives slowly, an old country song playing on the radio.

“You were on my mind all week,” he finally admits, pretending to keep his eyes on the road, but you notice how he glances at you.

You touch your neck, surprised by how hot your skin feels. “Nothing bad I hope.”

He chuckles. “Depends on your definition of bad.”

You briefly close your eyes and let your memory take you back to last Friday, to the image of him kneeling before you while he spread you open on the couch, tongue buried deep inside of you.

“Well.” You clear your throat. “I’m not usually like …” You trail off, suddenly worried you gave him the wrong impression, your head buzzing with your friends’ advice on how to keep him interested in you.

“You don’t usually sleep with a guy after the third date?” Tommy inquires.

“I don’t usually come more than twice in one night.” You whisper the offensive word.

“That’s hardly your fault,” Tommy replies with a shrug. “Those college boys are dull.”

“Who says I’m sleeping with college boys?” you ask.

He glances at you, the words, “oh come on,” written all over his face. “You don’t seem like the type of girl who would go after their dads.”

That comment sparks something in you. “Who says I’m not going after their moms?”

He laughs, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Now that’s a sight I’d love to see.”

“Do you think those college boys taught me all those things we did last week?”

Tommy clears his throat. “I think there’s a couple of things I’d like to teach you. Just as long as you promise not to use them on any college boys.”

A brief silence settles over you. Then, “Who taught you how to do all that, by the way?” you ask.

“All what?” Tommy teases.

“You know …” You shrug, but shift excitedly when he puts his warm hand on your naked thigh. His fingers are rough from his daily work, but his touch his so gentle that something melts inside of you.

“I’m afraid I don’t know.”

You sigh and glance up at the roof of the cabin. “Now don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re … what we did last week was the best sex of my life.”

Tommy squeezes your thigh. “There’s a wrong way to take this?”

“Don’t let it go to your head is what I’m saying.”

“It’s too late for that.” He pulls a grimace, brings the car to a stop in front of a red light. “Tell me more.”

“I’m not telling you anything until you tell me where you learned all that.”

“What? Eating pussy?”

“Oh my God.” Your face heats up because of him for the second time that evening. “Yes, that, but also … I’ve never been with a man who was so concerned about my … my pleasure.”

“I was in the Army,” Tommy answers.

“And they teach you that there?” You can’t quite tell if he’s being serious.

“If you’re on leave in some Godforsaken place, and there’s fifty other strappin’ young men you’ll learn fast enough how to please women. Or you’ll spend every night alone.”

You nod slowly. “Where are we going?”

“Oh no, missy, you’re not changing the subject.” Tommy’s hand climbs higher on your thigh; he’s almost touching the hem of your dress now.

You shrug. “You’re right; those college boys are boring. You’re … you know what you’re doing.”

“You’re just sayin’ that because you have no one to compare me to.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh. “No, I’m saying that because it’s the truth.”

Tommy glances at you again. “I don’t like that laughter.”

“Jealous?”

“A bit, yeah,” he admits.

“Don’t be,” you tell him, your voice suddenly soft. “There’s no reason to.”

Tommy pulls off the main road then and onto a dark parking lot. You’re about to make a teasing remark when he turns the car and suddenly the glistening Austin skyline is sitting right there in front of you, like a mirage in the desert.

“Wow,” you breathe and sit up straight.

“Did I promise too much?” Tommy wants to know.

“You didn’t promise me anything,” you remind him.

Your gaze wanders to take in everything, the dark trees shielding you from the road, the city that sits right there as if it wants to tempt you to reach out and touch it, the nearby bridge where a car passes in your direction.

“Wait a minute,” you say slowly. “I know exactly where we are.”

“And where’s that?” Tommy asks, a barely concealed smile on his face.

“I’ve heard stories about you and this place.”

“What kind of stories?” Tommy grabs a can of beer from a cooler on the backseat and opens it with a sharp hiss. “Only good ones, I should hope.” He hands you the can and you take it, but pull a grimace at him at the same time.

“What?” he asks.

“You used to take girls here when we were in high school,” you answer after taking a sip from the beer. “Lots of girls.”

“A handful, at most,” Tommy corrects you.

“More like a handful at the same time,” you mumble.

Now it is Tommy’s turn to ask, “Jealous?”

You take another sip before you answer. “I was back then. I had the biggest crush on you.”

“I’m flattered.” It sounds as if he’s mocking you but the flush on his cheeks tells a different tale.

“You never noticed me, of course,” you go on.

“You were a bit young,” Tommy points out.

“And now I’m not?”

“Now you’re a well-traveled woman who’s back in her little town for summer.” You open your mouth but he goes on. “Now you can tell when a man is takin’ you for a ride and when he’s serious about you. Do you still have a crush on me then?”

You shrug. “A different kind, maybe. I definitely don’t fantasize about you confessing your love for me anymore. Or about us running away together.”

“Why not?” Tommy takes a big swig from the can. “I think you should start doin’ that again.”

“Or I could fantasize about other things, less innocent things.”

Tommy shifts and clears his throat. You can’t help but smile at how little it takes to shift the mood.

“Like what?” he asks, and the beer can cracks in his grip.

“Like how you held me down last week,” you answer, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Or how softly you touched me afterwards.”

“You don’t have to fantasize about those things. Give me somethin’ new.” The slightly commanding edge to his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

“Well … when we were in high school, I used to wonder what it would be like to be taken here by you. What did you do with the girls you drove out here?”

In the distance, you can hear the sound of another car gliding across the bridge.

“Can’t you guess?”

“I was very innocent back then,” you remind him. “My thoughts never went past a small kiss on the lips.”

Tommy licks his. “Yeah, but now? What would you like me to do with a woman I take here?”

The tension has become unbearable and you giggle, searching to relieve it. It doesn’t work. Tommy’s hungry gaze wanders down to where your dress has ridden up your thighs and you inhale sharply.

“I still think a kiss would be nice,” you answer finally, your voice no longer steady at all. “But it doesn’t have to be all that innocent.”

Tommy puts one of his warm hands on your naked thigh, then leans in closer until he can hear your breath hitch. “Where would you like that kiss, darlin’?”

“How about you figure that out for yourself?” you tease him.

His lips are firm against yours, the pressure insistent until you open up for him. He tastes like the beer he just downed, the cigarette he just smoked. He also tastes like Tommy, and you relish how familiar you are with it after just two weeks. You sigh into the kiss, feeling all the tension leave your body. His teasing remarks and slight bravado are backed up by his skills, and you shudder remembering what else he can do with that tongue. You bite his lip to draw it out of him, but he only huffs and pulls back.

“Careful, darlin’,” he warns, his voice deeper now.

“What? Too wild for you?” you ask with a small laugh.

“Don’t get into somethin’ you can’t handle.” The tips of his fingers are under the hem of your dress now and you squirm, but he digs his nails into the soft skin. “See? I haven’t even touched you yet and it’s already too much for you.”

You raise your chin. “It’s not.”

“Have you ever fucked someone in a car?” Tommy asks, his hungry gaze fixed onto your face.

“No,” you reply slowly.

It’s not as if you didn’t know this was where the evening was going. It’s not as if you didn’t want it to go there. But now you’re here, you’re very aware of how exposed you are, even inside Tommy’s truck, and how many laws you would be breaking if you took this any further.

“Relax,” Tommy chuckles. His dark eyes are glistening in the lights of Austin. “You said it yourself: This isn’t my first time doin’ this. I’ve never been caught.”

“Oh, so I’m just another one of your conquests.”

“You can be anythin’ you want to be.” With that, he pushes his hand between your legs and places the tips of two of his fingers straight against your clit.

It’s as if your legs follow their own will when they spread open to give Tommy more room. He doesn’t need it, moving his fingers in a small circle, not breaking eye contact once. When he increases the pressure, one of your hands flies up to grab his shoulder, the other finds purchase against your seat.

“You like that, huh?” Tommy teases.

You nod, pushing your hips forward into his touch.

“Is it worth the risk?” His touch is lighter again, his fingers move slower.

Now it’s your turn to warn him with a, “Careful, Tommy.”

“Why?” His touch is feather-light now.

You move your hand that’s on his shoulder up to his jaw, cupping it. “You don’t want to turn me into a bad girl, do you?” You feel silly when you say it out loud like this, but his eyes light up.

“As I said, you can be anythin’ you want.” The tremor in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“How about we start by turning me into someone who gets fucked in a car?”

Suddenly, he turns his head, biting into the heel of your palm, making you squeal. When your laughter dies down, you notice how his fingers are moving faster again, accompanied by a wet sound.

“God,” Tommy groans. “Look at you. I’ve barely touched you.”

Something tells you that you should be embarrassed by how little it took for him to turn you on, but then he increases the pressure on your clit, and your eyes flutter shut with a moan.

“I can see you overthinkin’ this,” Tommy whispers, so close you can feel his warm breath on your neck and ear. “Don’t. You’re fuckin’ perfect.”

“Tommy …,” you groan, and you don’t quite know why. Do you want him to go faster? Slower? Do you want him to make you come?”

He doesn’t allow you a single second to find answers to those questions. “I love it when you say my name like that.”

You roll your hips into his touch, and his other hand grabs your thigh with a firm grasp. “Don’t. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

You open your eyes to find his gaze fixed on your face, eagerly licking his lips. In that moment, you don’t remember ever wanting anyone as much as you want him. Out of curiosity, you try to roll your hips again, and he lands a soft slap against your pussy in retribution, one that makes you groan with pleasure.

“Do that again,” you pant.

He hesitates for the briefest of moments, then does as you ask, a little harder this time. You fold, your upper body bending toward your knees, your head fuzzy with pleasure.

“I need you … inside of … of me, Tommy, please,” you stammer. You feel yourself clench around nothing at the thought of him filling you up. He only rolls your clit between his fingers, making your hips jerk involuntarily. “Please, Tommy, please.”

“Shhh,” he makes, and kisses your temple. “Later, darlin’. I want to see you come in your panties first.”

You grab his shoulder, feeling yourself tumble toward the edge. His fingers are moving fast enough to drive you insane with pleasure but it’s not quite enough to get you there. And he must know that, judging by the smug look on his face.

“Please,” you whimper.

“What do you need?” he asks, his voice thick with arousal.

You risk a glance down between his legs, the obvious bulge in his jeans making you clench again. Then you press your hand against his moving between your legs, just so the pressure becomes a bit more …

Tommy slaps your hand away. “Harder, Tommy,” he says in a voice mocking yours. “Come on, say it.”

“Harder, Tommy,” you moan immediately.

And you’re rewarded with an orgasm so intense you see stars dance in front of your eyes. Your moans make your ears ring, and when Tommy doesn’t stop, they turn into desperate whimpers. It’s only when you grab his wrist that he stops and you try to catch your breath with a shuddering sob.

“Fuck,” you groan and close your eyes.

“Yeah,” Tommy agrees. “Can’t believe you really just came in your panties for me.”

You laugh, your voice breaking when you can’t get enough air into your lungs.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful right after an orgasm, you know that?” Tommy goes on, and you want him to keep talking like that more than anything.

“Why?” you ask, then gasp, when he presses his fingers against your clit before removing his hand.

“You’re so perfect,” he answers without hesitation. “I guess I like seein’ you come undone.”

You straighten your dress and look at the glistening Austin skyline in front of you. “You bring out the worst in me, Tommy Miller.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s almost impossible to take the good out of the girl.”

You glance down at his bulge again, lick your lips at the thought that it’s just sitting there, waiting for you. “It’s much easier than you think,” you reply, then begin to unbuckle his belt.

His hips jerk in response. “Careful, darlin’.”

“What? Can’t handle it when the tables are turned?” you tease.

He shoots you a crooked smile. “Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

“Oh, I intend to.” You grip his hard cock and pull it out of his jeans, relishing how his hips jerk again. Your mouth waters when you run your thumb over the glistening tip and hear Tommy inhale sharply. Your short, tight dress makes it hard for you to climb up onto the seat while still preserving some of your dignity, but one glance at Tommy tells you he couldn’t care less. His pupils are dilated and his mouth hangs slightly open while his chest rises and falls rapidly. All that just because you’re holding his cock in your hand. You stroke across the tip again, then move your hand down toward the base and lock your lips to his, capturing a deep groan. Tommy’s eyes flutter shut and you lower your head, closing your lips around his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, one hand immediately tangling in your hair.

You shift, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it’s hard, even if the bench of the pick-up is bigger than most car seats you’re used to. Tommy doesn’t care. He pushes himself deeper into your mouth and you swallow around him, his sharp taste overwhelming. It’s hot in the truck, and you can smell his sweat, smell your own arousal on his hand resting on his thigh. You pull off him until only his tip is still between your lips, then move down again, while he pushes, almost impatiently. Your neck strains uncomfortably, but you want to make this work. For him.

“Stop,” he says after his tip hits the back of your throat and you gag. “I want to be inside of you.”

You straighten your back and smile at him. Your lips feel swollen. “You are, Tommy.”

With his thumb, he swipes away saliva and pre-cum from your bottom lip. “Not like that.”

The way he looks at you, heated, yes, but also with an unguarded softness in his eyes, makes something flutter inside your chest. “What did you have in mind?” you ask.

He leans forward, his mouth so close to your ear his breath tickles your skin. The presumed forbiddenness of what he’s about to tell you makes you hold your breath. “I want you on top of me,” he whispers in your ear, voice low. “Use me however you want.”

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine and you nod, cheeks burning up. What have you done to deserve a man like him in your life?

You move to climb on top of him, but he stops you, his hand spread across your chest. “I think we’d be more comfortable on the backseat. Don’t you?”

You glance over the front seats at the dark space beyond and nod again. It’s also harder to spot you back there should someone decide to drive into the parking lot.

With practiced movements, Tommy tilts his seat, then climbs over it, briefly struggling with his loose jeans. You grin and follow him, body humming with pleasant anticipation. Tommy pulls his shirt over his head and kicks off his shoes and jeans, but when you start to take off your dress, he stops you.

“No. Just your panties.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

You can’t really tell in the dim light but he looks flushed when he searches his trouser pockets for a condom.

When you finally lower yourself onto him, you can feel his chest vibrate with a deep groan under your palms. He jerks and shifts trying to adjust himself, but you hold him down and roll your hips from side to side until he nods. For a while, you both just sit there and look at each other, his hands stroking your sides, your fingers playing with the coarse hairs on his chest. To you, this is the definition of paradise.

You roll your hips in small, slow circles at first, so imperceptible it takes him a while to notice. But when he does, he jerks his hips upwards, urging you to go faster, so you press your knees into his sides.

“No,” you tell him, and when he opens his mouth to protest, you put a raised finger against his lips. “Let me take care of you.” For a second, you think he’ll reject you; but then he nods. “Good,” you say, brushing your thumb across his bottom lip before pulling your hand back. His chest and neck are a deep red now.

It’s not like you’re planning on torturing him forever. You roll your hips a little faster, and with every deliciously lewd sound he makes for you, a little faster still. Soon, your resolve crumbles, and you allow him to stroke your naked thighs, to squeeze your clothed breasts, even to play with your clit. The humid air in the truck clings to your skin, and to Tommy’s, and you’re transfixed by a bead of sweat making its way down his cheek. You capture it with a kiss, then throw back your head with a moan when he rolls your clit under his thumb just so.

That’s when you notice it – the other truck parked next to yours. Was it already there when Tommy pulled into the parking lot? Did it pull up afterwards and you just didn’t notice because you were occupied with other things at the time? Whatever the answer might be, it’s not important right now, not when you notice the other truck isn’t empty.

A man is staring at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. He looks older than Tommy, but not by much, maybe a few years. His face is framed by dark hair and a dark beard, very prominent on his upper lip, less so on his cheeks and chin. His eyes are dark too, hidden in the shadows of the driver’s cabin, but you can feel them on you, watching every twitch of your hips with intent. And he definitely isn’t alone.

You can’t see the person he’s with; she’s kneeling in front of him, hands and knees on the backseat, and he’s holding down her head with his outstretched arm. All you can see is that she has dark auburn hair that the man uses to hold her in place. The back of your own scalp prickles at that sight and you wish someone would hold onto you like that.

You should stop and tell Tommy about the stranger in the car next to yours who is fucking a woman you can’t see while watching you fuck a man he can’t see. Or you should move to the other side of the car where he won’t be able to see you. The least you should do is look away. But you don’t do any of these things. Later, when you’re alone, you’ll ask yourself why, but there is no answer other than not wanting to break the connection you feel to that stranger at this very moment. You’ll think it a weak excuse then, but right here, in Tommy’s truck, it feels like the most sensual experience of your life. You’re both fucking other people and yet it feels like you’re fucking each other.

Beneath you, Tommy groans deeply, and he twitches inside of you. “Keep goin’, darlin’,” he mumbles.

You don’t know if Tommy is watching you or if his eyes are closed, you don’t know if his mouth hangs open, you couldn’t name the shade of red coating his neck. Instead, you watch as the stranger bites his lip, watch as his eyes flutter shut after a particularly deep thrust, watch how he presses the woman’s head down further. You can almost hear his pants and growls, and in turn your breath comes in short bursts. Why doesn’t he look away? And why don’t you?

His thrusts come faster now, and it’s not as if you’re consciously changing your pace too, but suddenly you catch yourself matching the roll of your hips to his. You groan when you see the smirk on his face, and your upper body falls forward, forcing you to brace yourself against Tommy’s chest. Why did that stranger’s smirk set the base of your spine on fire and why did your small moment of weakness make his face darken with resolve?

When you look up again, he has his eyes closed, so you close yours too, and for an instant, just one brief moment, you imagine it’s him thrusting up into you. That vision is so powerful you half expect it to be him below you when you open your eyes again, but it’s Tommy, and he’s watching you.

“Feel so good,” he mumbles. “So, so good.”

A twinge of guilt gets mixed in with that already explosive cocktail of feelings brewing inside of you, and you’re not sure what to do about it. Are you crossing a line with this? You don’t know; you’ve never heard about anyone in a situation like this. All you know is that when you lift your head, the stranger’s gaze hits you like a bolt of lightning. You feel it tingle in your fingers, up and down your legs, on the tip of your nose, and at the back of your neck. But most importantly, you feel it deep in your core that clenches with desperation. He lifts his chin and rolls his shoulders, pushing his chest forward, like he’s showing off to you, and you can’t help it – you dig your nails into Tommy’s skin and he groans with pleasure.

The air in the truck is so heavy it is becoming hard to breathe. You only realize that when you would need it most desperately. Over there, in the other car, the man’s hips suddenly still and you watch as he throws back his head, as a deep, dark flush climbs up his chest and neck. You can almost feel it, how he empties himself into that woman he’s fucking, how he empties himself into you. And before you can fully grasp what is happening, you’re clenching around Tommy hard and fast, making him snap his hips up into you.

“Fuck, fuck! Fuck!” he swears, holding you in place with two hot hands on your sides.

Your orgasm is still making your entire body shake, but it also feels like it doesn’t belong to you at all. You’re praying for the stranger to look at you again, one final time, but he has disappeared. All you can see is his back from time to time, and the woman’s knees that look like they’re trembling, as he goes down on her. You can’t help the jealousy that is clawing at the inside of your stomach.

Tommy pulls you down and gives you a searing kiss. “You’re fuckin’ amazin’, you know that?” You giggle and bury your face against his neck, trying to shake off that strange feeling of desire and yearning. “I’m very sorry I doubted you,” Tommy goes on. “No college boy could’ve taught you that.”

“That good, huh?” you ask, running your hand through his curls.

“Good’s an understatement,” he mumbles.

Carefully, he lifts you off him and takes off the condom. You’re on the other side of the truck now and can barely see the top of the other one. That loss is strangely irritating.

“Take off your dress,” Tommy orders.

You look at him, at his flushed cheeks, at the drunk desire in his gaze. “Ready for round two already?” you tease.

He shakes his head. “No, but I won’t make you wait for me.”

His mouth is hot against your sensitive clit, and you roll your hips up against his tongue eagerly. Above you, the roof of the truck is cast in shadows. You stare up at the boring gray, eyes wide open, because as soon as you close them, you see the stranger, as clear as if he was still right in front of you. And you refuse to give him that kind of power over you.

***

joel miller taglist: @almodovarispunk | @chippedowlmug | @daimyosprincess | @giggly-otter | @girlbossnancy | @hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmsstuff | @jennaispunk | @lexloon | @mandalaur | @mandinlore | @n7cje | @sin-djarin | @swimmjacket

in plain sight taglist: @shellshocklove

permanent taglist: @alexturner | @amneris21 | @din-jarhead | @harriedandharassed | @martellthemandalor | nyfeeer | @nobodys-baby-now | @od-ends | @pedrorascal | @pedrostories | @radiowallet-writes | @xoxabs88xox

[anincompletelist]

[ vol i | vol ii | vol iii | vol iv ]

happy january friends! :D

there have been a crazy number of wonderful fics that I have had time to catch up on this month, and I've saved a few for next month's rec as well!

as always, please remember to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed the fic or show support in other ways, and be kind! mind the tags and if you come across something you dislike, please kindly (and quietly) move on.

this turned out to be a bit of a long one! I hope everyone has had a wonderful start to the new year so far, and happy reading y'all! <3

+

it's a kind of magic | Jaistiel | E | 82k

Henry, the man who had asked if Alex's magic hurt him before asking if he used it for evil things. Henry, the man who seemed terrified of his magic, but also held a level of awe and wonder about it. Henry, the man who was likely scared out of his mind to share a tent with someone capable of the things Alex could do, but was offering anyway. "Alex." He watched as Henry's eyes widened with shock, his jaw dropping open just enough for his full lips to form a small, perfect 'o' shape. "If you're asking me to share your tent and your blankets, I guess you should at least know my name."

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you can see it with the lights out | weathersriley | G | 3k

"Alex thinks of the water. Of feeling like he might never reach the surface, might never reach Henry. But Henry is here; Alex remembers falling asleep in the glow of his presence, and beneath his shaking fingers, Henry’s chest is warm and his heart is beating steadily and Henry is here. Alex is afraid, but Henry is here."

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Dream A Little Dream Of Me | @affectionatelyrs | T+ | 9k

They’re no longer in the garden. There’s no grass, no flowers, no fireflies. Only stars—hundreds upon hundreds of them in an otherwise vast sea of darkness, dazzling and twinkling and here. “How—” “They came here for you,” Alex says, his voice light. “It’s what you desired. So, I asked them to come and shine. Just for you.” “But won’t the world need them?” Alex shrugs and simply says, “You need them more.” [Or, Five times Alex visits Henry in his dreams during his dark days, and one time he does so in the real world (and stays)]

+

if I do not have (your) love, I am nothing | @read-and-write- | M | 9k

The church says that sin keeps you away from God. Your disobedience is to remain hidden and only admitted during confession. The greater the sin, the greater your penance should be, and God, as the loving God he is, will forgive you. Because God is love, and he’s the greatest expression of it. Love thy neighbor is the greatest mandate of all. Yet, when Alex loves, his love is seen as perverse, impure. The greatest sin he has committed was to fall in love with another man, who has lain by his side during countless nights. But when Alex looks at Henry, he finds nothing reprehensible, nothing unclean. Instead, he finds the truest form of worship held between his arms, trailing fingertips that climb up Henry’s spine as a litany of words spill out from his mouth. A room consecrated by each whisper of God’s name, said so reverently that no one would dare say they have taken His name in vain. [A character study of Alex, religion, divinity and love.]

+

sea of endless hope | acastle | E | 65k+

Henry watches Alex, the man he adores and loves so ardently, and the moment is palpable, delicate, and yet too large for even the sky to contain. He watches Alex, and in that moment, he wants to be his husband, the ache and urge of it almost unbearable. “Daddy!” Nena takes Henry’s hands, and he looks down at her, the angel who had saved him, and he smiles at her, quiet with emotion, letting her lead him into place. He would follow her, follow Alex, anywhere. (Henry, Alex, and their daughter, and the first years of coming home, forever.)

+

I wake up with your memory over me (and that's a real fucking legacy) | @coffeecatsme | E | 21k

The ski instructor stops in front of him, takes off his goggles, and Henry about stops breathing for another reason. “Hey,” Alexander says with a grin, his face distinctly lacking in wrinkles Henry was expecting from a renowned instructor. There’s a bright grin on his face that rivals the sun, rich brown curls spilling out of a red beanie, and Henry realizes he’s absolutely fucked for a whole other reason than his inability to figure out how to stay upright in skis.  [Or, the one in which Henry is hopeless at skiing despite his family's aspirations, and Mary hires Alex as an instructor to amend that.]

+

Praise and Supplication | @nocoastposts | E | 3k

Alex is always moving, always going, always seeking. He is defiance and brashness tinged with anxiety, but not in these moments. Henry pins him down with a gaze as heavy as his touch, and all of Alex’s motions cease. He is calm, he is obedient, he is pliable. He knows he’ll be broken apart piece by piece, sending waves of heat deep into his core. [When Alex gets stuck in his head, Henry helps him let go.]

+

Room for Rent (Sex Dungeon Not Included) | @everwitch-magiks | E | 19k

When Alex comes, he only knows two things: that he’s good, and that he’s Henry’s. And that’s all he needs to know. Alex’s housemate has a sex dungeon. It’s pretty much exactly what you’d expect; whips and bondage gear and a chair that looks like something a gynecologist would have use for. Alex, being the chill, sex-positive guy he is, is of course extremely cool with this. Totally normal about it. Enthusiastically supportive, even. But as Alex watches Henry invite a steady stream of men into his dungeon, he develops one tiny little issue with the arrangement: he desperately wants to take their place.

+

stolen glances with a string attached | @wordsofhoneydew | T+ | 6k

Henry’s eyes widen, his body tensing up in sheer humiliation. That’s when he sees a sly smirk make its way to the man’s lips, and it only makes the embarrassment course through his body more rapidly, feeling all the blood rush to his cheeks. The man then spins around in his office chair, reaching for what looks to be a piece of paper and a pen. He scribbles on it for a swift moment before pressing the paper up against his office window. The paper reads, “TAKE A PIC,” written in sloppy, bubble-like handwriting just barely legible enough for Henry to read. The man grabs another paper and writes for a moment longer, this time reading, “JK” with a winky face. Henry cocks an inquisitive eyebrow in his direction, the embarrassment slowly morphing into curiosity as the man turns the paper over for Henry to read the other side. “ALEX.” [An AU in which two men fall in love through their office windows]

+

two is better than one | @bigassbowlingballhead | E | 8k

“You’ve thought about being with two of me, baby?” Alex teases, “Are you sure you can handle that?” he smirks. “I can’t say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind.” Henry says matter of factly. “Not that it’s even fathomable.” “What if it could be…”

+

love left a permanent mark | @hypnostheory | E | 10k

Henry clears his throat and answers again. “I’m a bit nervous. About the needles.” “Thank you for telling me,” Alex says, voice dipping low. Henry wouldn’t move from his spot on the couch if the apartment was on fire. “People aren’t afraid of the needle. They’re afraid of the pain. But you’re not scared of that, right?” [Henry decides to get a tattoo. It comes with more than one kind of aftercare.]

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Grounded In Fact | @england-would-fall | E | 5k

When Georgetown grad student Henry's and Alex's flights home are cancelled for bad weather, they secure the last room at a nearby hotel. Henry Fox, facing the prospect of sharing a bed with his roommate/love of his life/friend he has never confessed his feelings to, enters into an epic state of Gay Panic (tm). Come on in and watch as Henry Who Is Experiencing The Greatest Tragedy Since The Burning Of Alexandria navigates this very real and not at all in-his-head crisis.

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kitchen confidential | @dumbpeachjuice | T+ | 4k

The NDA is approximately a mile long. “Jesus fuck,” Alex splutters. “What, is their favourite film The Menu or something? Am I gonna come out of this one alive?” [Or, the one where Alex is hired to cater a private dinner party for Prince Henry and his friends, and it does not go as he expects.]

+

Newton's Fourth Law | dilfpickles | E | 26k

In which Alex meets his new very attractive roommate through Reddit, downloads Grindr, and discovers some things about himself and his roommate in the process.

+

Knowing me, knowing you | phlebotinxm | E | 8k

It wasn’t like the thought crept up on him by surprise. It had come in waves, like white salty water spread upon the shore and leaving little bits of foam and dust for people to see, like an idea Henry couldn’t quite shake that seemed to bleed into every era of their lives. It stayed at the back of his mind as he got up in the morning, and pulsed against his temple when he fell asleep. [In which, upon discovering something he’d never imagined about his father, Henry realizes that he is ready to take the next big step in his and Alex’s relationship.]

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All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers | @kiwiana-writes | E | 5k

“That floor doesn’t look like it’s very comfortable on your knees, is all.” Henry leans forward, scooping out a piece of brownie that got under the counter, somehow. “I wouldn’t worry about that—my knees are quite used to it, I assure you.” A ringing silence follows this pronouncement, during which Henry focuses very hard on opening a trap door directly into hell with the power of his mind. [Or, five times Henry puts his foot in his mouth in front of his customer crush, and one time he puts his dick in his customer crush's mouth instead doesn't.]

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The Consequences (Of Our Actions) series | @anchoredarchangel | E | 78k+

"I sort of came out as bisexual to both Nora and myself when we were watching that fucking snoozefest of a Royal Wedding years ago, and I told her with no hesitation that you were on my list.” Suddenly, Henry looks very present in this previously one-sided conversation, eyes boring into him even if he sounds a little choked as he clarifies, “I was on-” “My No Consequences sex list,” Alex confirms brazenly, “Yeah." [Or: During an inadvisable spot of dating years back, Alex and Nora made a game out of making extensive lists of celebrities they could hook up with without it being cheating. One breakup and several years later, Alex meets someone on his list for the very first time at a charity gala and decides it's appropriate to tell him all about it.]

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Burnt Offering | justice fortheJ14magazine | G | 9k

He just needs to get through washing his hair. Simple. Except washing his hair has never been simple. It’s the polar opposite, actually. The more he thinks about the task set out in front of him, the more daunting and impossible it feels. His limbs feel like lead and the weight of the hot water pouring over him makes his head buzz. But Alex can do this. He’s done it before. A shower after a long lacrosse game or that one time he had the flu and had to stop three times to sit under the water and collect himself. He can handle a little finals week exhaustion. He has to. [Or, Alex’s hair care routine is elaborate, he struggles to let Henry help him, and he learns some important things about receiving love through service.]

+

Ho for the Holidays | @whimsymanaged | E | 6k

“Listen, don’t worry about this,” Henry says quickly, already mentally crafting the passive-aggressive text he’s going to send Pez. “Better luck next year. I’ll just be off—“ “Hold your damn horses.” Alex stops Henry with a fast, surprisingly gentle hand to his wrist. His eyebrows furrow. “What did you put on your questionnaire?” Henry’s ears go hot. “That’s none of your business.” Alex scoffs and leans in closer. “Baby, we matched. It’s safe to say we have at least some interests in common. Be honest—was it because you confessed to having a secret desire to slap me?” [Or, Pez organizes an event called Ho for the Holidays, and these two idiots get paired up.]

--

see you all soon! :D

sarah / anincompletelist xx

[theodorevg923]

Hello, I was wondering if you could write Withered/Glamrock Bonnie helping his S/o with period cramps??? Mine have been hell and I just want my bun bun

Sorry took so long to get this out - an Tumblr was being an ass while editing so no proof read w/ quick edits.

A/N: this was in the works before Ruin was released so just old SB decommissioned Glam Bon

Withered Bonnie + Glamrock Bonnie x AFAB Reader on Period

Bonus!: Decommissioned Bonnie

Headcanon Master List

Warnings: possible yandere behavior, possible kidnapping, menstrual blood, possible involuntary drugging

Glamrock Bonnie

Retired from the band Glamrock Bonnie has taken to bowling, along with running his own bowling alley, but don't think he doesn't keep an ear on his cottontails.

You, in particular, have become rather dear to Bonnie, a master of manipulation, and he already knows everything about you; and yes, that's including your menstrual cycle.

So when you come in for your evening shift on this late afternoon, Bonnie noticed right away a shift in your mood and body language: dark, puffy eyes from crying, wincing from the cramps, and drained of all energy.

You dreaded coming into work, but you had no choice for you needed to keep up your income for the never ending stack of bills, left on the bedside table in your nearly empty apartment.

But this shift is about to take a rather interesting turn as Bonnie stepped up to you, ignoring that it was his turn to bowl in a game with Freddy.

Bonnie reached his hands out to you, caressing your cheeks gently as the soft violet fur rubs against your skin. You can't see the rabbit's thoughts, but you can see the warm smile he carries as he speaks to you, offering to rest in his room for a while.

The invitation is intriguing as no one is allowed in Bonnie's room except the band members, your head nodding into the rabbit's hands as your heart deafens to a soft, calm beat.

Your mind should be reeling from the thought of going to Bonnie's room, but you are too focused on his calming voice as he continued to speak, gently leading you to his room hidden within the bar.

But the dream doesn't last forever, wincing as the cramps worsen to a near unbearable level of pain and staggering into a wall, tears once again streaming down your face.

You don't notice Bonnie's grin shift to a grimace, kneeling at your side without a word before he stands up, you in his arms.

Another wave of pains wracks your body, sobbing from it before you feel your body being lain upon something soft, quick to shift to a more comfortable to relieve the suffering.

Through your tear soaked eyes, you can see Bonnie knelt down before you once again, something blue held in his fingers that he presses against your lips. The object is sweet, like blueberry candy, quick to dissolve in your mouth.

Time appears to pass quickly as Bonnie hums a song to you, wrapping you in one of his merch blankets before your mind drifts into the darkness where the pain can not follow.

Hours pass, gently stirring awake to have yet another cold object pressed against your lips, which you allow to pass through eager to keep the pain at bay.

Through the void of sleep, you can still hear Bonnie singing to you or gently strum his old bass, time passed soothingly soon with it the pain of your cramps.

Unaware of the days that passed, you stir awake, noting that no candy was pressed against your lips and the lack of suffering your body usually caused you. Bonnie is at your side a moment later, his red bass still in hand as he kneels beside you.

Bonnie is quick to use his mastery of manipulation to soothe your worries about what he had done, and no consequences will happen from your absence.

Something about the close connection forged between you and Bonnie has you quick to return to his side and his room the following months when the suffering arises once again.

Bonnie continues his care for his sweet clover, eager to keep you at his side for as long as you need him and never judging you for the weakness you show to him alone.

Withered Bonnie

Withered Bonnie is different from the upgraded Toy version, lost to the time long since past but don't think this old rabbit doesn't care for you.

Constantly in and out of the backroom for various parts, scraps, and upgrades for the newest members, Bonnie has kept his red eyes on you and curiosity of you keeps him going.

Bonnie is especially fond intrigued by the times you come in upset or frustrated, slamming parts on the table, throwing tools into boxes and listen to them clash, yells of pain ripped from your throat as tears soak your soft skin.

As time passes, Bonnie keeps tabs on the cycle his favorite time happens, which is roughly every 28-32 night shifts, and he is quite invested in such a precise cycle by a mere human.

The first scrap of information Bonnie received on what could be the cause is from your own voice, cussing out your body as you throw yet another broken part onto the table before you sink to the floor. The biggest mistake you made came not from overworking yourself while on your period, but your time blindness for you has stayed way too late.

This old rabbit may have been forgotten, but Bonnie has not forgotten himself, quick to move to your side as one hand rests upon yours to keep you from swinging. Bonnie knelt down, still looming over you from his sheer size before he rested the top of his jaw gently on your head, free arm moving to wrap you in an embrace, albeit just as cold and hard like his hand. Time passed before your eyes, counting down the seconds alongside the thump of your heart, unable to move out of fear of Bonnie's embrace; you weren't entirely sure which. Seconds turn into minutes, nearly an hour before your heart drops its walls, tears quick to spill from your terrified eyes. Your hand, long since numb, slowly releases the part to rest upon the table as a Bonnie releases your hand in turn. Now, with his other arm free, Bonnie's embrace warmed by your own body heat, you shiver from the sudden cold metal against your torso but soon sank into it. The night passes in silence, your face buried into the rough fur that coated Bonnie's chest, ignoring the sounds that surround you to focus on the ticks and whirs that emanate soothingly Soon, dawn breaks, and Bonnie's embrace goes limp around you, freeing you to leave the diner before you could be seen by the morning crew. But time and time again, you return to the withered Bonnie's embrace, whether in pain or just need someone to hold you.

Decommissioned Bonnie

This old rabbit has been gone for a few years at this point, lost to the underground tunnels beneath the pizzaplex. As for how Bonnie found you...

Your period always brings a lot of unwanted pain and conflicting, ever-shifting emotions you can't control and this time it forced you to run, throwing yourself into the deep, foreboding darkness of the basement.

Now Bonnie has seen you many times, hiding in the basement after that escape, and all the tears to follow but could not understand why.

Though it doesn't take him long to see the signs: curled up and holding your lower belly, sobbing from the pain and frustration that your body forces you through on a timely cycle. And yes, Bonnie counted the days to learn when he may begin to expect you, being decommissioned did not destroy his patience.

Unbeknownst to you during your escape you had accidentally locked yourself into a dangerous part of the basement, and finally within Bonnie's reach. His approach is silent, blood pounding in your ears as they ring from your shouts, and cries of frustration cover a few sounds he does make. A sudden cold, metal presence resting upon your shoulder cuts everything but fear from your heart and mind. Bonnie is a smart rabbit and managed to find bits of pieces he needed for both himself and you for this encounter: a voice box from an older model Bonnie, and a tattered Freddy Fazbear backpack filled with various items he remembered other employees using during similar times, or overheard in conversations. There may not be much left of this decommissioned rabbit, barely an endo, but Bonnie's fushia eyes makes the fear slowly ebb away - whether from seeing posters or in person before he was lost your mind recognizes who is before you, a tattered backpack offered to you without a word. At first, things seem comforting as the old, broken voice speaks to you, offering Bonnie's companionship while you hide from the world above - but not all as it seems... Years of being broken, discarded, and cast aside from the world above has thrown a glitch into Bonnie's, a being created to appease and entertain humans, programming as for what it is you'll soon find out. Before long, the pain ebbs slightly as the medication from the bag kicked in, along with a few snacks and a can of Fizzy Fazz. You managed to choke it down, talking with Bonnie about the world above. Bonnie has few words himself, his voice box rough from years of being unused, but not long into the conversation what words he does relent form a strange feeling of trust with the endo. Before long you're following him deeper into the basement, the medication having eased even more of the pain to a tolerable level, soon lost to its maze as Bonnie's fushia eyes guide the way. Yet you know nothing will harm you, your hand wrapped tight and gently warming the metal as the journey continues, or so you think. Alarms go off in your head, but it's too late, you have become lost in Bonnie's burrow with no escape route clear to you, terrified of the fushia eyes in the darkness. "Don't worry, sweet clover, I will never abandon you or let you feel the suffering caused by your human body ever again...."

*falls down the stairs* Again sorry this took so long...

Stay cruel until the end!

Posted Sept 7, 2023

[landmineloli]

GUYS I HAVE TO WRITE AN ESSAY ON SMTH WHATS THE THEME???

[scotianostra]

Happy Birthday Bernard Joseph "Benny" Gallagher born June 10th 1945 in Largs.

There's very little about Benny online, his working life started in the Glasgow shipyards as a marine electrician and in his spare time played bass guitar in local semi-professional beat group The Bluefrets, which featured Graham Lyle on lead guitar.

Gallagher's first published song was "Mr Heartbreak's Here Instead", which he co-wrote with Andrew Galt. This was recorded as a single for EMI-Columbia in 1964 by Dean Ford and the Gaylords,the bulk of which later became chart-topping outfit Marmalade.

In 1966, Gallagher and Lyle – who by now had forged a songwriting partnership – moved to London in search of a publishing deal. Both continued to hold down day jobs, Gallagher as an electrician and Lyle as a shipping clerk, while waiting for their big break. After an abortive contract with Polydor, which yielded one unsuccessful single, the pair joined the Apple record label of Beatles fame, writing songs for Mary Hopkin.

Gallagher and Lyle first saw success as members of McGuinness Flint, a vehicle for ex Manfred Man member Tom McGuinness. Gallagher and Lyle left to work as a duo. Gallagher was credited as Bernard Gallagher on sheet music copies of early songs such as these, but later shortened his forename to avoid confusion with golfer of the same name. Although now playig as duo the pair also spent a short time in Ronnie Laine's band Slim Chance, making several TV appearances on a couple of songs.

In 1976 Gallagher and Lyle finally hit the big time with the help of US producer David Kershenbaum who has worked with Cat Stevens, Joan Baez Elkie Brookes and Supertramp, his work Brookes and has yielded multiple Grammys and an Oscar nomination.

The stand out singles from their album Breakaway, , "I Wanna Stay With You" and "Heart on My Sleeve" both hit the top ten and made the charts in the US. Two more songs from the album spawned big hits in the States for Don Williams, Stay Young,and Art Garfunkel with the title track Breakaway. The duo's next album, Love on the Airwaves, also produced by Kershenbaum, went silver in the UK but yielded only one minor hit single, "Every Little Teardrop". Their final two albums, Showdown and Lonesome No More – the latter issued on Mercury – failed to chart.

Gallagher and Lyle split in 1980, leaving behind an unreleased ninth album, Living on the Breadline. A song recorded for this set, "A Heart in New York", subsequently became another hit for Garfunkel.

Gallagher kept a low profile for much of the 1980s, but re-emerged in 1992 as bassist with The Manfreds, a mixture of ex members of Manfred Man, although not enjoying chart success they toured the world for several years before Benny left in 1999. . During his tenure in the band, he co-founded and served as chairman of the royalties campaigning body PAMRA, which was set up to ensure that musicians received a fair share of royalties from recordings and performances. He then spent a year or so with one of my favourite groups Dr Hook before he embarked on a solo career as a singer-songwriter, touring the folk club and festival circuits.

In 2010, Gallagher reunited with Lyle for two concerts in their former hometown of Largs in aid of Haylie House, a residential care home in the town. They then did a couple of gigs "The Big Gig" at Glasgow's Barrowland nightclub, alongside Marti Pellow, Jim Diamond and Midge Ure and and the MOARE Festival in Faversham, Kent, which was headlined by former Average White Band man Hamish Stuart.

In 2012, Gallagher and Lyle undertook a sell-out tour of Scottish venues, under the banner of "The Homecoming Tour"; their 22-song set included all their British chart entries and both their US chart-toppers, since then they seemed o have been popping up all over place at Festivals and on tour.

Gallagher has lso released two solo albums on his own OnSong label: On Stage and At The Edge Of The Wave. The latter set includes "Tusitala", a tribute to Robert Louis Stevenson, the name coms from RLS's time in Samoa, meaning "teller of tales" - by the local villagers. Journalist and writer Tam Cowan has also used Tusitala as tribute, naming his house at Swanston on the outskirts of Edinburgh Tusitala.

Gallagher and his wife Diane have four children: Dillon, and Paul (twins) and Julian and and Claire (twins). Both Dillon and Julian work in the Music industry, Julian has written songs for the band Five, Kylie Minogue and a couple of The Spice Girls solo songs.

There's nothing really new to say about Benny, I don't know if he has maybe retired, he did give an interview to the local newspaer in Largs, the Largs & Millport Weekly News where he said how he is indebted to Sir Paul McCartney for his musical career. He dd however play a gig last year with Ted Christopher for the Guardians of Scotland Trust His Facebook page hasn't been updated since January this year.

[cursediary]

COMMISSION INFO (UPDATED).

hello, this is celine. jadi di sini aku sedang open writings commission. barangkali kamu punya ide tapi bingung cara mengeksekusinya, kamu bisa pakai jasa aku untuk merealisasikan idemu itu ke dalam bentuk tulisan. dan hasil commission hanya untuk kamu pribadi. caranya kamu tinggal DM dan sertakan nama pairing, genre, prompt, dan jumlah kata. aku memohon agar prompt yang ingin dituliskan bisa dijelaskan secara detail dan spesifik, ya. aku menerima semua jenis pair (bxb, bxg, dan gxg) dan nggak ada batasan mau itu idol x idol, idol x oc, idol x reader. aku familiar dengan pair dari ketiga grup ini dan yang sudah pernah aku tulis, yaitu:

• RIIZE: syongsok, seungnen, seoknen, dan syongnen. aku terbuka dengan semua pair.

• NCT: jaeyong, johnten, jaemren, syoniku/syonrik.

• AESPA: kariselle.

jika kamu berkeinginan untuk commiss di luar dari grup yang aku sebutkan di atas, tolong dijelaskan secara detail mulai dari nama, dari grup mana, dan nama pairingnya. kebetulan aku mengikuti grup lain juga (yang sedang aktif aku ikuti sekarang) seperti enhypen, txt, bnd, itzy, newjeans.

forteku ada di narasi, jadi aku hanya menerima commission dalam bentuk narasi. aku akan menulis ide kamu sesuai dengan gaya tulisanku sendiri yang sering aku post di akun artepiles dan lostinasa. commiss di aku tulisannya akan diketik dalam huruf lowercase karena memang sudah kebiasaan, tapi kalau sekiranya mau ditulis dalam bentuk propercase, bisa beritahu aku, ya.

genre.

aku terbiasa menulis angst (happy ending or sad ending are ok), hurt romance, slice of life, young adult, coming of age, drama, tragedy, fluff, romcom, hurt/comfort, nsfw (smut, dead dove), psychological, crime fiction (suspense), horror mystery, thriller/gore, action (slight).

beberapa genre yang belum terbiasa/nggak terlalu percaya diri ketika menulis/dan nggak bisa aku tulis yaitu mpreg/aboverse, boypussy, historical, politics, fantasy, war themes, love triangle, threesome, harem, poliamori.

mungkin ada genre yang nggak aku sebutkan, kamu bisa langsung tanyakan nanti, ya, supaya lebih jelas.

“bisa commiss menggunakan pairing dari universe kamu, nggak?”

bisa banget! kamu bisa commis menggunakan pairing dari universe-ku dengan catatan tidak merusak dan tidak keluar dari cerita aslinya.

“apa boleh commiss menggunakan prompt yang sudah pernah kamu post tapi mengganti pairingnya?”

bisa! kamu bisa commis menggunakan prompt yang aku punya/sudah pernah aku post sebelumnya (semacam orek-orek) dengan catatan bukan prompt yang berasal dari universe manapun. untuk detailnya bisa kita diskusikan nanti.

price.

untuk tarif harga 50 rupiah/kata (SFW) dan 60 rupiah/kata (NSFW). catatan tambahan, untuk wordcount di atas 10k words harus melakukan down payment terlebih dahulu sebesar 50% dari total.

wordcount.

aku nggak punya limit kata, kalian bisa commiss melebihi dari seribu kata. dan kalau sekiranya jumlah kata yang aku tulis melebihi dari jumlah yang sudah kamu tentukan dan kita sepakati, kamu nggak perlu bayar lebih ya.

payment.

pembayaran dilakukan diakhir via DANA ketika hasil narasi sudah seratus persen jadi dan kamu sudah puas dengan hasilnya.

dan kalau sekiranya kamu mau post hasil commiss di akun kamu, mohon untuk mencantumkan disclaimer kalau kamu commiss di aku. dilarang keras mengkomersialkan/memperdagangkan ulang hasil commission atau mengubah nama pair yang sudah ditulis.

pengerjaan bisa dilakukan selama 7-14 hari atau mungkin bisa lebih tergantung jumlah kata, kondisi, dan situasi di rl. kalau seandainya nanti ada beberapa kendala yang membuat hasil pengerjaan terlambat dikirim, aku akan menginformasikannya langsung. hasil commiss akan dikirim dalam bentuk PDF dan akan diunggah di akun aku hanya dengan persetujuan kedua belah pihak.

kamu bisa lihat-lihat hasil tulisanku di sini:

atau lewat kumpulan-kumpulan tulisanku lainnya yang bisa kamu search di akun artepiles dan lostinasa.

kalau sekiranya tertarik, bisa langsung DM lewat akun artepiles. thank you!

[ghostboyx]

Hi, welcome to my little blog. X3

CASPER, Lain, or GHOST ! ｡ ｡ ｡ he / they / doll / ghost pronouns ▞▞▞▞▞ queer, osdd, polyam, mentally ill && 22 Y/O ★

im hoping to make some fandom friends and ppl to write with !! my main fandoms currently are serial experiments lain + Hannibal but I have tons of others that will probably pop up soon. since a lot of the stuff i like is horror, i prefer if my followers are 18+.

if ur interested, pls check out my carrd!

[boowoomuu]

url song game

Tagged by the genius @heatherz-trash

so the rules of the game are to write one song for every letter in your url, and then tag as many people as there are letters in your url. okay? okay.

B - Beijinho no Ombro by Valesca Popozuda (I haven't heard this song in years and somehow it was the first one that came to mind KAJSKSJ)

O - Olivia by Natalia Lacunza

O - On s'habitue by Angèle

W - Weißt du wer ich bin? by badmómzjay

O - Olhos Vermelhos by Jão

O - O Meu Amor by Maria Bethânia and Alcione

M - Madeleine by Backstreet Boys

U - Universe by MAMAMOO

U - Un Pull de Laine by Cécile Corbel

Only if you wanna🤗

@boy-so-pale @once-an-anime-blog @oliviajoytaylor @warandpeas @ohfuckthissss @onde-for-seja-luz @maravilhanaervilha @unspokendarknessinside @uma-semideusa-brasileira

[just-a-funny-little-brain]

Transitions

Inn Between, Meltyre-centric, 9.5k words

Summary: Meltyre's mother had talked to him a little bit about getting older and what happens to your body. But it hadn’t really occurred to him that those things would happen to him. He knew he was a boy, but his body still thought he was a girl and was getting older like a girl’s body would.

tw: panic attacks, thought spirals/negative self-talk, internalized transphobia, referenced canonical character death

Read it on Ao3!

-----------

Baby Myrtle was the talk of the village when the plum farmer and her husband announced the birth of a healthy baby girl with the ears of her mother and the nose of her father. She cried, as all babies do, when she took her first breath, and the new parents smiled.

Toddler Myrtle was a menace, her father would tell you with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his lips. “Enough of a handful on her own, that one,” he would say with a laugh when Old Sir Lirion asked about more on the way. 

Child Myrtle though... Well. She became a person all her own.

——

“Mommy! Can we do more words?”

Gallea smiled and shifted the infant in her arms. “I’m sorry, honey, I can’t right now. I need to feed Lydda soon and dinner is almost ready. Daddy should be home soon and can do more words with you then.”

The door creaked open and a taller man entered. “Daddy can do more words with you right now, Squirt,” Laine said with a smile. He crossed to the cooking pot to kiss Gallea, then placed a gentle kiss on Lydda’s forehead. She stirred slightly before falling back asleep. Laine smiled then turned back to Myrtle. “What words do you want to do today?”

Myrtle scrunched her face up, thinking hard. “Um... Can we do my name and Lydda’s name and your name and mommy’s name?”

Laine smiled. “Sure can! Go grab the charcoal and we can do a few before dinner is ready.”

“Yay!” Myrtle hopped up and darted into the adjoining bedroom, grabbing the wooden holder and the piece of charcoal from where it had been placed yesterday. Carefully she wedged the charcoal into the wood as her dad had showed her until it was solidly stuck inside. She skipped back into the main room. “I made the coal-stick!” she said, handing it to her dad.

He took it and smiled. “So you did!” Grabbing a stool, he joined Myrtle in the corner of the room by a particularly smooth, flat stone with faint charcoal smudges still visible.

Carefully, he sketched out some words on the stone. “Alright, Squirt, let’s start with this one. Can you read the letters for me?”

“Oh! ‘L’-‘Y’— that’s in my name!”

Laine nodded. “They both are! Do you know what’s next?”

“Um… ‘O’?”

“Close,” her dad said, writing another letter on the stone. “This is ‘O’. See how it’s round all the way around?”

“Like the moon!”

“Exactly,” he said with a smile. “This one is ‘D’. It has a straight back and a round front.”

“Like the maji… majikstate?”

Gallea stifled a laugh from across the room, and Laine tussled Myrtle’s hair. “Magistrate. And don’t let him hear you say that, or you’ll be in bi-ig trouble!” Peals of laughter filled the room as he tickled her sides in emphasis.

“Shh!” Gallea chided through her own laughter. “You’ll wake the baby!”

“Oh no!” Laine stage-whispered. “We’re already in trouble!”

Myrtle curled in against him as she continued to giggle.

“Okay, okay! Do you know the next letters now?”

“‘D’-‘D’! ‘L-Y-D-D’! And um… ‘A’?”

“Very good job! Can you put it all together?”

With a furrowed brow, Myrtle traced below each letter as she sounded it out. “L…ee…d-d….ay?”

“That’s a good try! ‘Y’ and ‘A’ are tricky because they can make a few different sounds. In your name we don’t even hear it, but for Lydda, it makes an ‘ih’ sound.”

Myrtle traced over the letters again. “Lydda… Lydda!”

“I think she can hear you,” Gallea said, “because she just woke up. Why don’t you two come eat and I’ll feed her?”

“Okay! Thank you, mommy!” Myrtle wrapped her arms around Laine’s neck. “Thank you, daddy!”

“Anytime, Squirt, anytime.”

——

Myrtle was 8 when Baby Min was born. 

“Mommy?” she asked from the floor where she was keeping Lydda out of trouble.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“What would you and daddy have called me if I was a boy?”

Gallea paused. “You know, I don’t think we ever talked about names much. We just waited for you to come out and then went with what felt right.”

“Like with the kittens?”

“I don’t think your father named the kittens, but if you did, then I’m sure it was exactly like that,” she said with a smile. 

Myrtle thought for a moment. “Could you give me a boy name?”

Gallea looked over, then set down the bread she was kneading. Wiping her hands on her apron, she stepped towards Myrtle and knelt. “Where’s this coming from, sweetheart? Is everything alright?”

Myrtle looked up at her. “I think I might be a boy. Is that okay?”

A gentle smile crossed Gallea’s face. “Of course it is, honey. We’ll always love you, no matter what. You know that, right?”

Myrtle nodded. “Can you and daddy give me a boy name?”

“Getting to name you twice? We would be honored,” she said with a smile, and she pulled her new son into a hug.

---------

Read the rest on Ao3!

[edupunkn00b]

French Kiss: Tale of the Revolution, Ch. 12: Au Milieu de la Nuit

Prev - Au Milieu de la Nuit - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Rated: M - WC: 1760

The oversized, over-posh chamber had grown steadily colder as Janus prepared for bed. Its high ceilings and the stone walls and floors rapidly bled away all the residual warmth of the day, first from the heat of the sun, then from the collective body heat of the small army of servants who toiled to prepare this private chamber. The bed alone was likely too large to fit in the room he shared with Logan, and that space managed to hold their cots, two writing desks, coal stove, tiny wardrobe and dresser.

The enormous gossamer-curtained bed had been piled high with now-chilled satin pillows and bunting, and a plush but cold satin duvet. He shivered in his nest of blankets, longing for the insulating power of rough-woven wool or even linen. He’d spent several minutes fumbling in the near dark for a tinderbox, but the room appeared to have been summer-ized, with mosquito netting at the ready for the windows and the flue clamped shut. Any tinderbox once supplied to the room had either been nicked by a guest looking for a souvenir or hidden away to prevent such pilferage. 

And so, he’d lain awake for a long time, shivering under the summer-weight satin sheets and bed coverings, cursing his tendency to run cold. And trying not to think about how warm the Prince’s skin might feel pressed against his under those chilled sheets. It wouldn’t be cold for long…

Rolling over, he squeezed his eyes shut and recited part of Logan’s latest pamphlet to himself to lull himself to sleep.

He must have eventually drifted off, because his eyes snapped open, heart pounding in his chest. The stars outside the window were different, but only the echo of whatever noise had roused him was left in the room. A fire log snapped in the fireplace and he relaxed back into the bed, some half-aware part of his mind recognizing the sound.

Fire log? Still fuzzy with sleep, Janus finally registered the room had grown much warmer and the bedding in front of him was cast in dancing light and shadows. He pushed aside a pillow and saw roaring flames in the fireplace, and a tall man crouched in front of it, quietly tending the flames with an iron poker. The Prince.

Janus began to sit up, but slid back down, pulling the blanket closer. With the scarred side of his face pressed firmly against the pillow, he called out in a quiet voice. “Your Royal Highness?” Remus stood and smiled at him. Even in the shadows, though, Janus couldn't miss the sadness in his eyes. “Remus,” he amended, and the prince's face bloomed.  

“I did not intend to disturb your sleep, mon douceur.” He opened a hidden compartment in the wall, retrieved more wood and placed it on the fire. Before he closed it, Janus spotted a half dozen cords of wood opposite long shelves filled with linens and toiletries. “I merely wanted to ensure you would be warm." Remus bowed his head. "We had quite a temperature drop tonight.”

“It’s difficult to remember the heat of the day,” he smiled and began to sit up. Janus stopped himself before lifting his face from the pillow with a little sigh. The prince had a way of making him feel safe, comfortable. So comfortable he nearly forgot himself. “It was very kind of you to think of me,” he finally said.

Remus remained near the fireplace but turned to face him completely. “Ah, mon douceur, you could not leave my thoughts if I tried,” he smiled. Janus shivered again, the room was warmer but now that he was awake, his body wasted no time informing him just how cold it had gotten. It seemed the prince noticed. “There’s another blanket there, if you—” He took a half step forward and bit his lip.

It was then that his face left the shadows cast by the mantle and Janus finally could see his hair and his face clearly. The prince’s skin was smooth and little tanned at his forehead and cheeks and nose, his lips full and thick even without the aid of rouge. His hair was dark and wavy and looked softer than the satin sheets Janus clung to.

“Would you like me to help?” Remus finally asked as he stepped closer.

“Ah, no, thank you…” Janus tried to reach for the blanket without lifting up from the pillow.

Remus’ voice was soft. “Mon douceur?” He smiled and approached the bed even as Janus pressed deeper into the pillow. “You needn’t hide yourself, mon douceur.” He was still smiling when Janus looked up from the corner of his eye. Janus could live in the shelter of his smile. “You were facing the other direction when I first came in. Forgive me, I saw your scar.” He knelt on the floor next to the bed. “You needn’t hide from me.”

Mortified the Crown Prince, the Dauphin himself, knelt on the floor at his bedside, Janus stammered and shifted over on the bed. “Y—your Highness, you shouldn’t—” He patted the wide expanse next to him. “Sit, please, your—Remus.”

Chuckling quietly, Remus sat down facing him. “I believe I am your Remus.” He offered his hand and when Janus reached for him with his unblemished one. Remus lifted his hand, bowing low to brush a kiss against his knuckles. “Mon douceur, you are breathtaking without your makeup.”

Janus met his eyes. Whether or not his scar could ever be seen as anything other than a disfigurement, Remus believed he spoke the truth. Swallowing hard, he slowly sat up and turned to face Remus completely.

“Now I can see all of you,” Remus smiled and slid closer, both feet still touching the floor. “You are breathtakingly beautiful, mon douceur. You need not hide.” He held Janus’ gaze and reached out to stroke the scarred side of his face. Before he touched him, though, he asked, brow furrowed in concern. “Does it hurt?” Janus thought of the dozens of times the prince had stroked his face powder-concealed cheeks and he guessed Remus was, as well.

“No,” Janus answered his hidden question. “You haven’t hurt me.” His hands were still folded in his lap, but this close, he could see the true color in Remus’ cheeks, his skin that looked so touchably soft. “May I?” he whispered, raising his own hand closer to the prince’s face.

He nodded rapidly and leaned closer. Remus’ eyes fluttered shut when Janus stroked his cheek, fingertips following the curve of his jaw and his cheekbone. The sensation traveled up Janus’ arm and he drew his hand down over Remus’ neck, across the collarbone until it rested, palm flat and fingers splayed against Remus' chest. The scars on the back of Janus' hand were clearly visible.

“Your hands are beautiful,” Remus whispered and moved closer, a breath away. “All of you is beautiful,” he murmured as he nuzzled gently against his forehead and gently kissed the top edge of his scar. He pulled back until their eyes could meet. “You never have to hide from me, mon douceur.”

Janus kept his hand pressed against Remus’ chest, the steady thrum beating a rhythm through his body. He felt like Remus was waiting for him to say something, but after a long moment, the prince simply smiled and kissed his lips.

“Tell me, mon douceur, whatever happened to the little Parisian boy whose father died in the war?” He turned and sat up next to Janus, back leaning against the plush headboard. His arm lifted, an invitation for Janus to curl against his side. Janus quickly complied and pulled the covers up over Remus’ lap. “The one who tried to steal from the church? Can you tell me more?”

Remus smiled down at him, and stroked his scarred cheek. “I want to learn all about him.”

~~~

Thin yellow light flickered from the lamp on Logan’s tiny writing desk. The oil was low. In reality, all that burned was the last bit soaked into the wick, the lamp well nearly dry. Hunched over the repurposed play bills a patched wool blanket drawn tight around his shoulders, Logan wrote in hurried, cramped script, fitting as many words as he could in the small amount of lamp oil and rationed paper and ink he had left.

Tomorrow, he might be able to purchase a bit more ink and… once he finished this draft, he could safely take a fresh sheet. Lamp oil? That would have to wait another two days until he received his paltry stipend from the Church. When word reached the Diocese he was writing again, the Bishop was quick to offer him a few francs a month. All to take care of their own, he’d murmured, the implicit threat clear. Preach again, and he’d lose everything.

Ignoring the chill in the room and the stiffness in his hand, Logan lost himself in the flow of words. He scratched out a sentence, his mind already forming his next argument. How to phrase that? “Janus?” he said aloud, “What is a better word for forl—” His voice fell away. Janus was not there. His neatly made bed was cold and empty.

Were this an ordinary evening, by this hour, Janus would have complained that Logan’s light was keeping him awake. And Logan would have sighed and grumbled that if he had any hope of finishing this treatise, this pamphlet, this speech in time, he must continue writing. In truth, they both knew Janus’ complaints were solely meant to cajole Logan to sleep at a reasonable hour. Janus would insist. And Logan would comply. He'd put a few more coals in the tiny stove to warm their shared space, then retire to his bed.

It was remarkable how much colder the small stonewalled room was when he was the only occupant.

The lamp flickered out and Logan sat in the darkness for a long while, watching the coal stove’s faint red glow fade. Finally, he felt for the ink bottle and secured its stopper. He left his treatise where it was on the desk. It would be smart to let the ink dry, anyway.

He stood and tucked his chair under the desk, found his bed in the dark, then peeled back the icy sheets and lay down. “Good ni—” Logan’s habits betrayed him for a second time that night. With a disgusted huff, he rolled over and recited 1 Corinthians 13 until the horizon bloomed with a narrow slice of pink and sleep finally took him.

[yasmijn]

Day 17-25

Part dua dari rekap pertulisan Ramadan duniawi ini:

Day 17 - Write a reflection on the value of mindfulness during Ramadan

Ter-mindful itu pas lagi mau belanja buat buka puasa kali ya. Biarpun ada banyak tukang makanan dan minuman yang enak-enak, tetap harus sadar diri bahwa perut ini ada kapasitas maksimumnya, dan bahwa kalau perut yang kenyang maksa diisi ini dan itu ya ujung-ujungnya malah begah dan jadi nggak enak. Jadi jauh lebih mindful sih, bener-bener milih makanan yang pengen banget dimakan di hari itu aja. 

Day 18 - Share your experience of breaking your fast with a stranger and the lessons learned from the encounter

Minggu lalu pas janjian buka puasa sama temen-temen Delft, tiba-tiba ada orang dateng untuk meeting dan meetingnya baru beres jam setengah enam HIKS sedih banget. Begitu bubar langsung pesen gojek dan tentu saja di tengah jalan azan magrib pun berkumandang. W minta masnya berentiin tu gojek untuk batalin dulu puasanya. Alhamdulillah emang dikasih snack box gitu dari si meeting tadi, jadi aku kasih lah sekotak Teh Botol untuk doi buka puasa. Padahal sebenernya aku juga pengen minum teh botol karena udah lama hahahhaha tapi yaudah di detik itu mencoba menjadi lebih dermawan dan memikirkan orang lain aja daripada diri sendiri. 

Day 19 - Describe the experience of fasting during a pandemic and the changes it has brought to Ramadan

Ramadan 2020 tuh udah pandemi ya, mana w masih di Belanda lagi karena masih kuliah. Agak surem karena lebih sering confined at home, dan waktu itu lagi sering-seringnya main ke rumah Prinka. Cuma emang karena mobilitas super terbatas, jadinya 2020 tuh Ramadanku jauh lebih berkualitas sih hehe. Pertama kalinya hatam Quran dalam sebulan, karena ngikutin Wida yang ngaji 2 lembar tiap habis solat. I was pretty satisfied with my 2020 Ramadan. 

Day 20 - Write about your experience fasting and what it means to you

Pas puasa di Belanda tuh rasanya sepi banget sih apalagi pas tahun 2020. Udah mana w lagi dapet pas Lebaran jadi nggak ikut orang-orang solat Ied. Masih inget banget itu nonton streaming ustaz ngasih ceramah dari Den Haag sambil w nangis mayan drama di kasur haha. Gajelas asli tapi rasanya waktu itu bener-bener kesepian banget. Abis itu lanjut Zoom sama teman-teman (terus langsung caw ke Prinka supaya ngga sendirian banget di hari raya yang fitri). 

Day 21 - Discuss the health benefits of fasting and how it affects your body

Lebih ringan aja kali ya? Perut kosong jadi nggak begah aja gitu terutama during the day. 

Day 22 - Write a reflection on how fasting impacts your spiritual life

Emang jadi lebih aware aja sih tentang apa yang boleh dan apa yang tidak boleh, berusaha untuk menghindari dosa-dosa kecil yang udah jadi keseharian banget terutama ngomongin orang HAHA. Salah satu measures yang kulakukan pre-Ramadan adalah nge-mute akun orang-orang yang sering w gibahin sama temen :”( selain itu sekarang kalo nemu netizen ngasih komen sampah atau opini jelek, w bener-bener langsung block aja. Yang terbaru, sekarang aku juga udah mulai nge-block-block-in para TS ‘Twitter do your magic’ yang isinya mereka membagi pengalaman ditipu duit ini itu, diporotin pacar lah, minjemin akun pinjol lah, ditipu kpop lah - w kalo baca kaya gituan gabisa simpati euy, malah ingin memaki korban karena kok bodoh banget sih? Jadi lebih baik aku block aja thread-thread cem itu. 

Day 23 - Create a recipe for a delicious iftar meal

Takjil pake bubur pacar, lanjut gorengan jangan lupa, buka puasa pake nasi + ayam + tahu + sambel + kol goreng kalo ada. Terus dessert pake cendol Elizabeth. 

Day 24 - Share you thoughts on how to maintain good habits after Ramadan

To constantly revisit how we behave during Ramadan and try to at least match that energy? Terparah tuh emang masalah ngaji-mengaji sih haha...... w cuma pegang Quran kalau lagi ada jadwal ngaji bersama guru ngaji :( selain itu gapernah :( Dulu pernah pas lagi galau di Belanda coba randomly buka satu ayat Quran terus w o w pas banget. Lumayan drama. How to maintain good habits? To tell yourself that you aspire to be a better muslim. 

Day 25 - Write about the challenges of fasting and how to overcome them

Kok ini prompt mirip2 sih?? ChatGPT kamu bingung ya mau kasih prompt apa. Challenges-nya ya... haus aja? Terutama kalau lagi bablas sahur (tipikal manusia yang tinggal sendiri). How to overcome them? Tidur lebih cepet, pasang alarm sahur berlapis-lapis (02:45, 03:00, 03:15, 03:30 etc), atau ya preventifnya bisa makan banyak banget aja sebelum tidur biar gausah bangun sahur sekalian. 

[k4tisblog]

09 DIGITAL DIARY: LAIN

Pictured above is actually me right now writing this blog post. You may have noticed the rearrangements I've made with my theme. I care to offer a bit of an explanation.

Serial Experiments: Lain. An anime released in 1998, created and co-produced by Yasuyuki Ueda, written by Chiaki J. Konaka, and directed by Ryūtarō Nakamura.

A psychological thriller with themes of identity, the series follows a young girl, Lain Iwakura, and her relationship with "the Wired" - the Internet. But, who is Lain? Who is she really? This is explored over the 13 episodes as she exhibits behaviors that suggest something else is at play.

This series predicted how we see the world today - how normalized the digital world is in our day-to-day life. (Perhaps the one thing they got wrong are the wires. Bluetooth's all the rage now! I will forever mourn headphone jacks.) It showcases multiple extremes: Lain's initial lack of digital literacy, multiple accounts of complete escapism, to consequences in children's access to online spaces. Lain dives into what it means to be posthuman; breaking the divide between real and virtual existence. No matter where you go, everyone's connected.

Serial Experiments is not conventional in terms of storytelling; it refuses to be linear, nor does it hold your hand to help you understand it. Some love it, some hate it. However, it is undeniable that this level of abstraction means discussion around the show remains active decades later. Personally, I love the feeling of piecing together the story at the end of it. Lain is a mindfuck!!! It overwhelms you with a sense of quiet dread in the best possible sense. Despite being released 25 years ago, it’s relevancy progresses alongside technology. Lain can even be seen as a cautionary tale on our relationship with the internet, where we are headed, and even where we are now. (Think: AI, Metaverse, Neuralink...) In conclusions, I changed my theme because I like Lain. That's the gist. Oh, and also the readability of my last theme was questionable.

ps. I may or may not have accidentally stayed up until unholy hours of the night finding a template for this theme and customizing it. (I got Disqus to work! Now there are actual real comments on my blog :O??????) pps. Often, I find that the more artistic, "deep", and insane a piece of media, the more lighthearted the fan-content is. Signing off with "Lain at the Gay Bar" (2008) and "lain can skate" (2023).

[ariel-seagull-wings]

JANINE AND EGON'S WEDDING QUESTIONS (MOVIE, NOVELIZATION AND COMICS VERSE)

@spengnitzed @bixiebeet @professorlehnsherr-almashy @angelixgutz

Imagine what music they'd have? What food? Would it be outside? What kind of theme, if any, would they have?

Jazz and jewish folk music. The ceremony would be outside in the garden, while the dinner reception, with Ashkenazi jewish food from Poland, Russia and Ukraine and the dancing party would be inside the house of their friend, Ray. The theme would be woodlands and mycology. 

Who would they invite? 

Ray (who is Egon's best man and provider of the house where the wedding is celebrated), Winston, Peter, Dana, Egon's mother, brother, sister-in-law and baby nephew, Janine's parents, sister, grandmother and maternal uncles and cousins. 

What season is it? Day or night? What colors do people wear?

Autumn, evening till night, starting at 15:00 pm. While the decoration is green and brown, the guests are left free to choose the colors of their clothes.

Is it traditional or do they do something wild?

The ceremony follows traditional jewish marriage rituals, along with including a justice of peace to assist the civil legalization and documentation of the wedding. 

Did they write their own vows? Who is the priest/priestess/minister marrying you? Or is it a family member or other platonic F/O?

They do write their own vows, taking some inspiration from literature. Janine's family rabbi and a paid justice of peace marries her and Egon. 

Are they wearing suits? Dresses? Something else entirely?

Janine wears a tea-length dress with a lace top and puffy skirt.

Egon wears a black suit and bowtie. 

What is their cake like if they have one?

Is a cake decorated with candy mushrooms and sugar leafs, topped with two snails representing the couple. 

Do they throw the bouquet for someone to catch or do they pass out one flower to everyone so they let everyone know they are worthy of love?

Janine appears like she will throw one bouquet to one person, then surprises everyone when the flowers are untied and everybody catches a flower. 

Do they have a party afterwards? What music?

A dancing party with the music of Cleo Laine, Harry Belafonte, Ofra Haza and The Parvarim. 

What is their honeymoon like? Is it a stay at home one? Do they go somewhere exciting? How long is their trip?

A three week vacation to San Diego, California.

How many kids do they have? What are their names?

Three kids: Noemi, Tobin and Batya.

NICKNAME(S): Baby Smurf, Sugar Plum.

FACECLAIM: Violet Ramis (child), Jenny Slate (adult).

BIRTH: August 25th 1984.

ZODIAC SIGN: Virgo.

SEXUALITY: Bissexual.

GENDER: Female.

ORIGIN: Forest Hills, Queens, New York City.

NATIONALITY: US American.

CHARACTERISTICS:

+ Curious, inquisitive, creative, extroverted, with a fascination for gallows humor;

+ Loves colorful clothes, cartoons and comic books;

+ Has a strong temper and rarely disguises when she has either contempt or desire to kill someone she perceives as an enemy;

WEAPON OF CHOICE:

+ P.K.E Meter

+ Proton Pack

+ Ghost Trap

OTHER PERSONAL INFO: 

+ While she inherited the academic talent of her father, she has the more outgoing and bold approach to social interactions of her mother;

+ Considers the other Ghostbusters her uncles, with Ray and Winston being her favorites;

+ Is a huge fan of the Smurfs and Asterix comics and cartoons and a cosplayer;

+ Before deciding to pursue a career in STEM and Parapsychology, for a while she considered taking religious studies to become a rabbi. While she didn't went through with that, she still became and expert in Jewish Mythology and Folklore;

+ Besides being a Ghostbuster, Noemi also teaches about the paranormal at Columbia University.

NICKNAME(S): Bean Bunny.

FACECLAIM: Anton Yelchin (child and adult).

BIRTH: June 23th 1989.

ZODIAC SIGN: Cancer.

SEXUALITY: Asexual.

GENDER: Male.

ORIGIN: Forest Hills, Queens, New York City.

NATIONALITY: US American.

CHARACTERISTICS:

+ Calm, caring, empathetic, studious, who enjoys safety and tranquility;

+ Loves cooking, gardening and drawing;

+ Is anxious and gets stuck in a place when frightened;

WEAPON OF CHOICE:

+ P.K.E Meter

+ Ghost Trap

OTHER PERSONAL INFO:

+ Has the more quiet temperament of his father, and the belief in intuition from his mother, wich is formative of his view of science mainly as an instrument of nurturing;

+ Collects mold, spores and fungus, and also enjoys botanics, specially harvesting the mushrooms, fruits and vegetables to use in dishes he cooks for his friends and family;

+ Loves the Pogo comic strips, Fraggle Rock and the Dave the Gnome cartoon;

+ Studies to become a Landscape Architect, Environmental Engineer and Manager;

+ When reluctantly involved in Ghostbusting by his older sister, he only uses the P.K.E Meter and the Ghost Trap, seeing these instruments as something to try to communicate with the ghosts and help them get shelter and defend humans from harm, but he doesn’t handle the Proton Pack because is heavy and because he sees it as a intimidating gun.

NICKNAME(S): Ladybug.

FACECLAIM: Flora Guiet (child), Alexandra Socha (adult).

BIRTH: September 29th 1991.

ZODIAC SIGN: Libra.

SEXUALITY: Biromantic and demisexual.

GENDER: Female.

ORIGIN: Forest Hills, Queens, New York City.

NATIONALITY: US American.

CHARACTERISTICS: 

+ Likes to keep things well organized to facilitate the work and everyday life of other people;

+ Physically agile;

+ In a conversation, can see connections between topics that the other person listening her would never imagine being related;

WEAPON OF CHOICE:

+Walkie-talkie

+Proton Pack

+Ghost Trap

+ Ecto Goggles

OTHER PERSONAL INFO: 

+ Inherited her mother’s taste for racquetball, and also plays tennis;

+ Loves RPG, be they tabletop or video games, eventually getting a Masters Degree in Game Theory and Game Design;

+ Is fascinated with prehistoric animals, studying History, Biology, Zoology, Archeology and Paleontology, the area where she intends to become a Doctor;

+ Also enjoys photography;

+ Is a mix between a Explorer Historian, whose greatest pleasure is delving into the new world that they are exploring in search of knowledge as the greatest reward, and a Socializer Strategist, happy to collaborate in order to achieve bigger and better things than she could on her own, while having no problems assuming leadership if it means keeping the group safe and sound when the situation becomes especially dangerous.

Where do they live?

In an old two storey boarding house in Forest Hills, Queens, chosen because it looked similar to a drawing that Janine made in her childhood of her dream house, which should be old and covered with vines like the house that served as Madeline's boarding school. 

[youhideastar]

(Yet Another) Fanfic Writer Ask Game!

9, 10 & 15 please 🙂

Yay, thank you for playing! Such fun questions to think about. 🥰 These questions are about favorite lines/scenes, most-read or most-kudos'ed fics, and word or phrases I use a lot. The ask game post is here!

9. What’s your favorite line(s) or scene(s) that you have written?

Oof, this is probably the hardest question on the list. The scene that immediately comes to mind is the parking garage scene from To Be Seen Aright, which I did a commentary on here. It's one of only two scenes I've ever cried while writing (the other is the lotus scene from Dangerous) and I think it succeeds in capturing something very deeply felt and visceral.

Honorable mentions for favorite lines go to:

"There's no dark place where forgiveness can't find you."/"That's what I'm afraid of," from Summer to Your Heart.

"That man is no family of mine," and "I thought my children would be Wens, once," from Familial Harmony.

"It knows its master," from A Sword With No Hilt.

The exchange where Nile asks Nicky if Andy met Jesus from World's Greatest Dad.

"All these would have lain, stiff and bloated, in a field, if not for Wei Ying’s terrible courage," from Tender.

Trying to pick one line from The Words in Your Head was so hard. I put my best writing of all time in that fic and then didn't finish it - what's wrong with you, Dea?! 🤣 I guess it's a tie between “I think you and I took different lessons from history,” and “Is it better?” Erik asks, staring him down. “To die by incompetence, or indifference, rather than malice? Or are you just as dead?”

10. What are your top five fics by kudos or by reads?

By reads, it's: So Wise We Grow, its short sequel it may be that the gulfs will wash us down, my two Hockey RPF Sid/Geno longfics, They Say Love Heals All Wounds and To Be Seen Aright, and my longest White Collar fic, Living Proof.

By kudos, it's: So Wise We Grow, it may be that the gulfs will wash us down, the Supernatural/White Collar crossover Unorthodox Methods, Living Proof, and They Say Love Heals All Wounds.

This is info that anyone could find by sorting my works page, so I assume the question is also asking how I feel about the results lol. I feel okay about them! Inevitably, if you've been writing for a long time, your most-read or most-kudos'ed work is unlikely to be your best work, because you get better over time (so your newest work is best) but your oldest work has had more time to accumulate hits and kudos. Plus, longfics and fics in juggernaut fandoms will do better (that Supernatural crossover has a wild number of kudos for a fic that's only 3,000 words!). So I'm at peace with the fact that these are not lists of my five best fics or my five favorite fics.

(For the CQL folks, my CQL work doesn't show up until #8 in kudos (Concord, as I expected), and #17 in hits (River-to-the-Sea Sure, which I did not expect, given its "Abortion" tag and Concord's popularity - despite my banging the drum for other A/B/O configurations, though, the people love an alpha LWJ/omega WWX fic, I guess!).

15. Are there words, phrases, mannerisms or scenes you tend to use a lot?

Oh, boy, are there ever. Is there any fanfic writer who has not been tormented by the paucity of ways to describe how people's eyes move when they smile?? I wouldn't say there are scenes I tend to use a lot, and for mannerisms, I try to stick to "canonical" mannerisms (Wei Wuxian's slouching and nose-rubbing, e.g., or Jin Ling's stubborn chin-thrust). But I find the metaphor of a dislocated joint being reduced so useful that I allow myself to use it once per fic if I want. 😂 After 132 fics, total originality of language is just not a feasible goal. And I have noticed that when describing a physical place, I tend to default to describing the lighting, and when describing a character's actions, I tend to default to describing where they are looking (down, away, making eye contact, etc.). There are also repetition concerns related to specific characters: for example, when writing Jin Ling or Jiang Cheng, I have to be careful or I'll use the word "scowl" five times per scene. 🤣 (I have given myself a pass for writing multiple fics where Wei Wuxian thinks about how good Lan Wangji looks in moonlight because I'm pretty sure that is a 100% accurate depiction of Wei Wuxian's internal monologue. 🤣)

[hell-on-lain]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 hell_.on_.lain blog

" 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆,

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐘 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊_. "

♢ I N T R O ♢

Remy, She/He/They, Multifandom, 18.

Your local Shoko Leiri and Nana Osaki kinnie.

" what is your account about? "

This is a 18+ account. I reblog and post nsfw contents (along with dark content like yandere and stuff) if you are uncomfortable with my account or the content i will post, please do block me.

" can I interact even tho im a minor/below 18? "

Im just going to be honest here, Im not responsibly for you to interact or reading my nsfw post so it's up to you if you want to follow my account.

Dni

Homophobic, racist, albesit, if you're a mlm and wlw fetizher, basic cristism etc etc.

𝐈 𝐌 𝐏 𝐎 𝐑 𝐓 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓, dni with me if you write nsfw/smut about twisted wonderland characters (unless its malleus, leona or any legal age cast).