#laurence joy

[omegas-reincarnation]

Laurence: I am an extremely law-abiding and naturally obedient person who would never challenge authority except in the most extreme and desperate circumstances. Tragically, these have occured every single day of my life.

[chantssecrets]

mural in the Northside neighborhood of Cincinnati, "Standing on the Shoulders of Giants," features Amanda Gorman, Nikki Giovanni, Sandra Cisneros, Mary Oliver, Joy Harjo, James Baldwin, Paul Laurence Dunbar

[therealmrpositive]

The Goldfinch (2019)

In today's review I find that a good adaptation may be in the eye of the beholder. As I attempt a #positive review of the 2019 film The Goldfinch #AnselElgort #OakesFegley #AneurinBarnard #FinnWolfhard #AshleighCummings #AimeeLaurence #WillaFitzgerald

I am not going to go on about the greatness of art and its effect on people, that feels redundant to anybody reading this article. Yet sometimes, it is hard to articulate just how a good piece of work can move somebody, how it can inspire them, or drive them to do things that even they didn’t think were possible. In 2019, a famed book about grief, art and so much more, was given the big screen…

[commanderfloppy]

Wakeland is examining Laurence with curiosity! "You know I never asked..." he pauses, pointing over at the the violin. "How'd you start with all of that? I mean, you play excellently, but we all have to start somewhere. I'm guessing it was...?"

They make 'The Look'. It's a bit obvious as to what they're referring to.

(( SORRY IM SO LATE FOR THAT IN CHARACTER OC ASK GAME BUT I NEEDED A LITTLE LAURENCE AND WAKELAND!!!! ))

(YOU ARE NOT LATE AT ALL THANK YOU) 

“Actually I started violin when I was a lot younger, probably around…6? Because a violin was given to me by my grandmother. I definitely wasn’t very good, but it was fun..”

His expression becomes a bit pained, “Once I…became the successor of the family I was made to perfect any possible skills I had. The tutors were strict, and I was only allowed to play what I was told, I think it stopped being fun then.”

He suddenly looks up, falsely brightening his expression. “But that doesn't really matter now, I have the freedom to play whatever I want, as well as the skills to do so.” 

He smiles though his eyes are unfocused, it is obvious this is still something he is trying to reclaim.

[willstafford]

Mean Girls

HEATHERS – The Musical The Alexandra Theatre, Birmingham, Tuesday 16th May 2023 Based on the cult 1989 film starring Christian Slater and Wynona Rider, this high school musical is named after the mean girls who rule the school.  Three girls named Heather, far from the nicest kids in town, form an unholy trio into which loner Veronica is inducted after she does them a favour.  Veronica’s life is…

[backstreetsbackalright]

Some Memorable Reading from 2024

Thomas Hardy, Tess of the d'Urbervilles (1891)

Margaret Laurence, A Jest of God (1966)

Susie Boyt, Loved and Missed (2021)

Willa Cather, My Ántonia (1918)

Dave Lapp, The Field (2024)

Dorothy Baker, Cassandra at the Wedding (1962)

Mia Oberländer, Anna (2021/2024)

Joy Williams, Concerning the Future of Souls (2024)

Dolly Alderton, Good Material (2024)

Robert “Mack” McCormick, Biography of a Phantom (2023)

[spilladabalia]

Moss Icon - Guatemala

[hotvintagepoll]

Congrats to the ultimate winner of the Hot & Vintage Movie Men Tournament, Mr. Toshiro Mifune! May he live happily and well where the sun always shines, enjoying the glories of a battle hard fought.

A loving farewell to all of our previous contestants, who are now banished to the shadow realm and all its dark joys and whispered horrors—I hear there's a picnic on the village green today. If you want to remember the fallen heroes, you can find them all beneath the cut.

What happens next? I'll be taking a break of two weeks to rest from this and prep for the Hot & Vintage Ladies Tournament. I'll still be around but only minimally, posting a few last odes to the hot men before transitioning into a little early ladies content, just like I did with this last tournament. The submission form for the Hot & Vintage Ladies tournament will remain up for one more week (closing February 21st), so get your submissions in for that asap! Once the form closes, there will be one more week of break. The first round of the Hot & Vintage Ladies Tournament will be posted on February 29th, as Leap Year Day seems like a fitting allusion to leaping into these ladies' arms.

Thanks for being here! Enjoy the two weeks off, and send me some great propaganda.

In order of the last round they survived—

ROUND ONE HOTTIES:

Richard Burton

Tony Curtis

Red Skelton

Keir Dullea

Jack Lemmon

Kirk Douglas

Marcello Mastroianni

Jean-Pierre Cassel

Robert Wagner

James Garner

James Coburn

Rex Harrison

George Chakiris

Dean Martin

Sean Connery

Tab Hunter

Howard Keel

James Mason

Steve McQueen

George Peppard

Elvis Presley

Rudolph Valentino

Joseph Schildkraut

Ray Milland

Claude Rains

John Wayne

William Holden

Douglas Fairbanks Sr.

Harold Lloyd

Charlie Chaplin

John Gilbert

Ramon Novarro

Slim Thompson

John Barrymore

Edward G. Robinson

William Powell

Leslie Howard

Peter Lawford

Mel Ferrer

Joseph Cotten

Keye Luke

Ivan Mosjoukine

Spencer Tracy

Felix Bressart

Ronald Reagan (here to be dunked on)

Peter Lorre

Bob Hope

Paul Muni

Cornel Wilde

John Garfield

Cantinflas

Henry Fonda

Robert Mitchum

Van Johnson

José Ferrer

Robert Preston

Jack Benny

Fredric March

Gene Autry

Alec Guinness

Fayard Nicholas

Ray Bolger

Orson Welles

Mickey Rooney

Glenn Ford

James Cagney

ROUND TWO SWOONERS:

Dick Van Dyke

James Edwards

Sammy Davis Jr.

Alain Delon

Peter O'Toole

Robert Redford

Charlton Heston

Cesar Romero

Noble Johnson

Lex Barker

David Niven

Robert Earl Jones

Turhan Bey

Bela Lugosi

Donald O'Connor

Carman Newsome

Oscar Micheaux

Benson Fong

Clint Eastwood

Sabu Dastagir

Rex Ingram

Burt Lancaster

Paul Newman

Montgomery Clift

Fred Astaire

Boris Karloff

Gilbert Roland

Peter Cushing

Frank Sinatra

Harold Nicholas

Guy Madison

Danny Kaye

John Carradine

Ricardo Montalbán

Bing Crosby

ROUND THREE SMOKESHOWS:

Marlon Brando

Anthony Perkins

Michael Redgrave

Gary Cooper

Conrad Veidt

Ronald Colman

Rock Hudson

Basil Rathbone

Laurence Olivier

Christopher Plummer

Johnny Weismuller

Clark Gable

Fernando Lamas

Errol Flynn

Tyrone Power

Humphrey Bogart

ROUND 4 STUNGUNS:

James Dean

Cary Grant

Gregory Peck

Sessue Hayakawa

Harry Belafonte

James Stewart

Gene Kelly

Peter Falk

QUARTERFINALIST VOLCANIC TOWERS OF LUST:

Jeremy Brett

Vincent Price

James Shigeta

Buster Keaton

SEMIFINALIST SUPERMEN:

Omar Sharif

Paul Robeson

FINALIST FANTASIES:

Sidney Poitier

Toshiro Mifune

and ok, sure, here's the shadow-bracket-style winner's portrait of Toshiro Mifune.

[synthwayve]

GOING INSANE. Going insane actually these are so GOOD. OH MY GOD. I love that hc 👀 oh to trust your acolyte with your ministration…he’s medical and he’s malpractice and together they are terrible :,)

New headcanon dropped: Laurence is bad with needles so Choir-era Micolash takes care of his blood ministrations for him.

The medical malpractice power couple ever.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart (Chapter 23) (Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

Chapter Trigger Warnings: Kissing, rice cooking unrealistically fast... oh and external sexual stimulation to the female genitals

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

You smiled as the door clicked shut behind Laurence, silence falling over the house. The prospect of a whole night without him had your heart so light, it made you giddy. He’d be home for dinner tomorrow, once again. You had hated these business trips, once upon a time, though they had rarely come this close together.

Now, a little voice in the back of your head whispered that it wasn’t business he was leaving to do. Maybe he was actually going to see her, his other woman. It made you feel better about the fact that you had hoped to see him, your other man, while he was gone. 

That was presumptuous, to think of Alastor in any way that gave you ownership of him. You were married to another and there was no commitment between you. All there was between you was that unspoken thing and the kiss. Or was it kisses? Where did one kiss begin and the other end in such a situation?

Thinking about Alastor kept you from thinking about the feeling of Laurence’s hands on you. He chased away the thoughts of the pain in your core. It wasn’t as bad last night as it had been in the past, but you still ached in the aftermath. 

You simply had to lay down and let him have his way with you. Your body was for your husband’s pleasure. It was a sin to deny him, to resist. You were a weak woman and sometimes you failed to submit to him, to allow him to take from your body. 

It was better when you submitted, letting the tears slip down your face as he moved above you instead of fighting him. You knew it was your wifely duty. He had to do it if you were to have children, but you never could find yourself comfortable with the feelings of him against you, on you, in you. Even when he wasn’t hurting you, the idea of him touching you in the way a man touches a wife made your stomach roll. 

At least with Alastor, you didn’t have to be subjected to that. Alastor wasn’t your husband. He didn’t seek to sin with you. There was no danger with him. He would never hurt you. 

It was just after lunch when the knock came at the back door, a soft tap that you had been listening for all morning to hear. He waited on the back step, neatly dressed, smile growing all the wider as you opened the door. The sight of him had your heart leaping into your throat. 

“I was hoping to collect the lady of the house for a lovely evening, if she would be agreeable?” Alastor bowed at the waist as he spoke, offering you the utmost respect as a suitor would when asking to court a lady of standing. 

“She is,” you said, smile bright and a giggle slipping free from your lips as you gave him your hand. He made you feel young again. With Alastor, you felt the hope and giddy joy over the attentions of a handsome young man. By marrying so young, you had missed out on the magic and butterflies that were courting. “Should I grab the cape and hat?” 

“It’s not needed today,” Alastor said, tugging you through the door and onto the step with him. “It’s a simple evening in. Unless you would prefer a night out?” 

“An evening in sounds wonderful,” you said, face hot with the implications. If he was taking you for an evening in, would he spirit you away, back to his home? 

“Lovely,” he said, voice dropping the accent he wore for the single word. 

Your heart beat in your chest as you walked hand in hand through the yard as that single naked word ran circles through your mind. It was risky, walking hand in hand through the backyard like you were. There was a chance, ever so slight, that a neighbor could look over into your yard from one of their upper floors and see the two of you. It wasn’t enough of a risk to cause you to pull your hand from his. 

He had made it just past the apple tree before he turned on you, looming over you as you stood trapped between him and the tree, held in place by nothing but his eyes. 

“Would it be too forward for me to tell you I missed you?” Alastor spoke softly, his natural speech pattern slipping out at moments. “Or how delighted I was to find a response from you so soon?” 

“I missed you too,” you braved saying as his free hand reached up, tracing your jaw as he stepped closer. “Are you going to kiss me again?” you whispered timidly, afraid that you’d ruin the moment. 

“Would you like me to?” You could feel his breath wash over you with each word he spoke. 

Words failed you, locked in your throat as you nodded ever so slightly. It was selfish. It was risky. It was too close to home, but none of that stopped you from melting into his touch as he leaned in, closing this distance between you. His lips touched yours, soft caresses as he lightly kissed you. 

You sighed into the kiss as the contact between your lips became firmer as you leaned into him. How could a kiss feel so good? How could the touch of another’s lips on yours feel so different from what you had known? What else could feel better than you had known?

“We should get going,” Alastor whispered, voice rich, deep and naked before he cleared his throat and spoke again with, accent once again perfectly in place. “We don’t want to be seen.” 

Fresh nerves danced under your skin as you sat in the car, the world passing by as Alastor navigated down streets you had seen before. What a strange thought, that the way to Alastor’s home would become familiar to you. The nerves bunching in your stomach didn’t stop the easy conversation between you as Alastor asked your opinions on foods and different lunch options. 

Was it terrible that as you closed your eyes and relaxed into the seat, you imagined he was your husband? Was it wrong to imagine there was nothing horrible about this thing you two were doing? Was it horrible that you pretended it was your shared home you were on your way to? Perhaps it was, but that did nothing to stop the small smile from creeping up your lips as those thoughts ran circles through your mind. 

“You alright, darling?” Alastor asked, looking over to see the peaceful smile pulled across your lips.

“I am,” you whispered, eyes opening slowly to look at him. “Thank you.”

Alastor chuckled as he turned down the road you now knew lead to his home, tucked away from the city. Private. Alone. “Whatever for? I’ve not don’e anything yet.” 

“For bringing me out,” you said, eyes bouncing between him and the house, drawing closer. “And for passing the time with me.” 

“I’m just doing what I want to do,” Alastor shrugged as he parked the car, treating the statement as if it was nothing. For you, it was everything. He wanted to spend time with you, getting nothing but your time in return. 

He was out of his seat and around the car, opening your door for you before you opened it yourself. Ever the perfect gentleman, he held his hand out for you and waited for you to take it before stepping back and giving you room to exit the car. 

Without the rain and fog, you could see more of the area around Alastor’s home. Your eyes roamed the landscape, realizing how close to the swampy bayou you were for the first time. Tall trees reached toward the sky and swampy grass in the distance gave way to shorter wild grasses. It was a far cry from the neat and manicured properties found within the city. 

“Something on your mind?” Alastor asked as he slowly led you to the porch. 

“I like it out here,” you said after a moment of thought. 

“Do you, now?” You loved the softness in his face as he led you to the door. 

“I do. It’s peaceful out here.” 

The door opened with a soft click that felt somehow just as peaceful as the land around Alastor’s home. The afternoon sun illuminated the front room, bathing it in a warm light that made the space more inviting, not that it hadn’t been when you had first been here. Just inside the door, Alastor toed off his shoes again and you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“What?” The single worded question came out naked of the accent he wore so much of the time and made him all the harder to resist. 

“You had said it was because of the rain.” You hid your giggles behind your hand as he stood tall in his socks, a few stray threads of fuzz giving away thier well worn state.

The giggles died as he stepped closer to where you had leaned against a bookshelf, having intended to support yourself with it while you unbuckled your simple heels. Instead, you could do nothing as Alastor invaded your space, your mind struggling to put thoughts in order as you looked up at him with wide eyes. 

Now that you’ve crossed the line, that you’ve kissed him not once but twice, you struggled to know what the rules of your friendship were, what you could expect. It wasn’t a friendship; you reminded yourself. This was a tender flame of love and desire, an affair. 

He leaned down, placing a chaste kiss on your lips before sinking to his knee in front of you. Your heart beat loud in your ears as his fingers easily worked the buckles free. Feather light touches of his fingers ghosted over your ankle as he worked.

He reverently lifted your foot, slipping your shoe off your foot with a quiet intensity the action had no business holding. After removing your shoe, he set it neatly by the wall, tucked right next to his. 

You watched, eyes wide, as he repeated the action with the other foot. 

Alastor’s attention left your foot as he guided it to the floor. His neck angled as he looked up at you. Your eyes met his as he took in the sight of you standing barefoot in his home. Your face was flushed as your fingertips rested against your lips as if they could steady your shaky breaths. 

Oh, what a sight you made! 

The pride that swirled in his stomach over the fact that he was responsible for the pretty look on your face. He was the reason you were flushed. It was his fault there was that soft affection in your eyes. 

“Did I overstep?” he asked as he rose to his feet again, sure he did not but offering you the chance to protest just the same. He needed you to want his touch, to want his time as much as he wanted to give it. It was a need he couldn’t begin to understand but a need just the same. 

More so, he needed you to be aware of your need.

“No, I…” You were not sure what to say exactly as Alastor took your hand in his. It was large and warm, the grip strong as he wrapped his fingers around yours. 

“You?” he asked as he led you through the living space and into his small, simple kitchen. You tried to gather your thoughts with each timid step you took. “Talk to me. There is nothing if we cannot talk to eachother.” 

“And if we do?” you asked, voice so soft you were sure he didn’t hear the question you dared to ask. “What is there if we do?”

“And if we do, it’s everything,” he said confidently, though you didn’t know what exactly that meant. “So tell me, my dear, what is on your mind, no matter how trivial?” 

“Why do you keep doing that?” 

“Doing what?” Alastor spoke with his back to you, picking up a few splintered logs into the stove in his small kitchen. They caught quickly, landing on the bed of coals that had been sitting hot and waiting for more fuel. The kitchen was small and cramped but reminded you so much of the kitchen you had grown up in. “I figured we’d make something simple.” 

“Kissing me?” You finally spat the question out. 

Alastor looked over at you, eyebrow raised as he scooped rice out of a bin. “Because I only have so much time to do so. Would you like me to stop?”

“No!” you answered too quickly, slapping your hands over your lips as if you could shove the word back into your mouth. 

“Wonderful!” Alastor all but cheered as he grabbed a few peppers from a basket. 

“I’m just not used to it, is all.” Your words came hesitantly as you opened the icebox, needing to look anywhere but at Alastor. 

There were packages wrapped in butcher’s paper sitting on the shelf, unmarked but neatly stored. You grabbed the first one and unwrapped it, peeling the paper back from the meat carefully, not wanting to touch the meat itself. The slab of meat was not something you recognized, though it looked somewhat like pork. While you didn’t know what the meat was, you knew it was not sausage. 

“This one, darling.” Alastor came behind you, plucking the package from your hand and re-wrapping it after pointing to a package tucked close to the side. “That’s for tomorrow’s roast.” 

“What is it?” you asked as you pulled out the package of sausages. 

“I figured you’d be far accustomed to little kisses,” Alastor said, instead of answering your question. He worked while chatting, rinsing rice, then put the pot on the stove. The heavy lid clattered loudly as he set it atop the pot. “Does he not kiss you?” 

“Not like that.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched Alastor set to work cutting an onion. Joining him at his side, you sliced the sausage into bite size bits to match. 

“Like what?” Alastor hummed as he worked, arm brushing against yours as he dumped the vegetables into the bowl sitting on the back of the small workspace. 

“Pleasantly?” You answered after a moment, unsure what the correct words to explain something that felt so private within your marriage were. “Softly?” 

“My dear?” Alastor asked softly, scooping sausage into the bowl as you finished cutting it. “I’m not sure I understand. Do you mean to tell me you no longer enjoy it when he kisses you?” 

His eyes were locked on you as you pulled your lip between your teeth. Talk. Tell eachother things. He said that was what made the things between you what it was… whatever it was. 

“I never did,” you whispered, tears gathering in your eyes as you confessed your secrets. “I didn’t know it could feel good.” 

“You didn’t know?” Alastor chuckled at you before realizing you were serious. “Darling?” 

You watched as Alastor put a pan on the stove to heat, pouring a dash of oil in before turning for the bowl. He poured the contents and a selection of seasonings into the pan and quickly set to stirring the contents. Rich aromas quickly poured into the kitchen.

Alastor had to ask his question a second time to get you to answer. 

“No,” you finally said. 

“Forgive me for prying,” Alastor said carefully as he watched you. “But have you ever enjoyed your marriage?” 

“No.” You looked away from him as you answered. He focused his attention on the tasks at hand, putting the pot of rice on a trivet. He hummed as he returned to the stove to continue stirring the pan. “It’s not a wife’s duty to enjoy marriage, her joy comes from motherhood.”

It was the same thing you had been told all your life by your mother. It was something you had believed whole-heartedly. 

“What about courting?” Alastor asked as he pulled the pan from the stove. “Did you at least get to enjoy your courting?”

He didn’t want you to have. It would have pleased Alastor to know that you had found every moment with Laurence torturous. He wanted to be the first touch you enjoyed, the first man who’s hand you wanted to reach out for. It would please him to know you had never wanted another before him. 

“No, I-” You sighed as you grabbed two bowls out of the cabinet and set them next to the pans. You continued speaking as Alastor grabbed the wine glasses. “Courting was quick. My parents arranged it and I hardly knew Laurence before we… you know.” 

Alastor was quiet as he dished food up. It felt strange and domestic and you wanted it to be your life so much. It hurt that it wasn’t. Every time you realized this could never be yours was physically painful. 

Alastor poured wine and let the topic of conversation return to lighter things, resisting the urge to pry deeper. You had given him enough, for now, to allow him to suspect things were just as he wished. He didn’t want to risk pushing more and having that illusion shattered. 

Jokes and witty remarks filled the space. Each laugh and smile soothed nerves that had been feeling rather raw in the prior conversation. Slowly, you fell back into the relaxed ease that came with being with Alastor. 

You didn’t know what it was you were doing with Alastor, not exactly. You knew you cared for him deeply, and thought maybe he cared for you deeply. As the first glass of wine became the second and he spun you around his living room, cast in the warm glow of the setting sun and gas lights, you were more and more sure that he felt the same. 

You should get going, you knew that. It was getting late and staying later would look bad. But you wanted to. Each sip of wine had you longing for the sound of his laugh and the way his hands ran over you as he spun you around the floor. The last thing you wanted was to leave. 

“Are you having a good night in, ma cherie?” Alastor leaned down and whispered in your ear as he caught you in his arms again, though he had no reason to whisper. 

“I am, yes.” You laughed, “I have the best times with you,” you confessed before you thought twice. 

“Good,” Alastor said, nose running up the side of your neck, coming so close to kissing it. Panic flashed to life in you as you squeaked away from him. “Is something wrong?” 

“I just-” Your face felt far too hot as you looked everywhere but at Alastor.

“Talk freely, my dear.” His voice was naked again, arms still wrapped around your waist. He had to allow some distance between your back and his chest so that he could look at you better. “Remember? What is it? If I overstep, darling, you need to tell me. I’ve never done this before.” 

You chuckled, the sound felt dry in your throat. “I’ve never been a part of… of an affair, either.” 

Alastor’s thumb ran along your jaw, “That too,” He chuckled, “But I meant, care. Felt this way. Wanted this. Wanted to do these things.” 

“I don’t-” Alastor spun you around the floor of his small living room. 

“I’m not inexperienced in anything but care. I care for you, deeply. Because I care for you deeply, I never wish to hurt you.”

“How does that work?” You asked, head tilted. The wine had made it easier to talk, to be open, but you hadn’t drunk enough to keep your mind from overthinking things. 

“I love you,” he said simply, as if the simple confession did not send a bolt of lightning down your spine. “And so I do not wish to cause you pain. It’s just that simple.” 

“Love is just pain, isn’t it?” you asked as you returned to the security of his arms. 

“No, I think not.” Alastor hummed a few beats of the music before continuing. “Often marriage is but love? Love is pleasure.” 

“Is that what I taste when you kiss me?” You knew what you felt for him but dared not say it, not when you struggled to wrap your mind around the idea that you could have love without pain. Loving Alastor was painful. It was the stabbing knowledge of the fact that he wasn’t yours and the fact that if he was yours, he would hurt you. “Is that what I feel when you touch me? Your- your love for me?” 

“Let me show you, Cher, how love can feel.” Alastor knew he was likely bending the truth. He didn’t know if it felt different for you when he kissed you than it had when he had kissed any of the other women he’d passed his time with. 

What he knew was it felt different for him. It was something he desired to do, that he had time and time again caught himself longing to do, instead pressing his lips to your hair as he got a grip on himself. He knew now what that feeling women were chasing when they clung to his coattails and fluttered their eyelashes at him. 

“I don’t,” you stumbled over your words as he danced you toward the couch tucked against the wall below the stairs. “I don’t know what that means.” 

Alastor sat down on the couch, pulling you near him “Do you trust me?” He asked as he held your hand, looking up at you as you stood in front of him. 

You hesitated as you looked down at him. This thing between the two of you was terrifying. It terrified you that it was turning more physical. You didn’t want to deny Alastor, but that was also not a pain you wanted to associate with him. The Alastor in your mind had nothing to do with the pain of the intimacy between men and women. 

“Trust me,” Alastor urged instead of asking again. You wanted to trust him. Alastor had never hurt you before. 

When you nodded, Alastor spread his legs wide, scooting back on the couch. You couldn’t fight the heat that rose in your face as he tugged you to him. 

“Sit,” he said, voice unadulterated and deep. 

You did, sitting stiffly, trying to ignore the way his legs felt pressing against your hips and the warmth of his crotch behind you. His hands brushed up your arms as his breath washed over your neck. A large hand snaked around your waist, pulling your back against his hard chest, causing you to let out a squeak. 

“Relax,” Alastor murmured, voice coming softly against your ear. “If you want me to stop, tell me. I won’t hurt you. I won’t force you.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, not really knowing what was going to happen. 

How you were sitting was improper. You had sat in Laurence’s lap more than once, never by your own choice, but your heart had never beat as hard as it did now. Never did you gasp the way you did when Alastor’s lips touched your neck, just where your collar gave way to skin. 

He placed soft, small kisses along the skin as he worked his way up your neck. There was nothing you could do to stop yourself from tilting your head to the side, giving him more room for his trail of fire. 

“Does that feel good?” Alastor asked in a husky whisper. You whimpered your agreement as his hand reached up, snagging your jaw and twisting so that you could meet him as he leaned around your shoulder. “Better than when he does it?” 

“Yes,” you admitted, “I didn’t know it could feel good.” You struggled to form a thought as his lips kissed along your jaw before finding your mouth. 

“It can feel good to be touched,” Alastor whispered, hand wrapping around the hand you had placed on his chest to brace yourself with. “It should only feel good. Let me show you?” 

You whimpered his name, torn between kissing him again and fleeing. It was so much, so fast. The world was spinning as you sat, wrapped up in his arms, twisted between his legs. 

“A taste?” Alastor offered. “Let me show you a taste of what he’s depriving you of.” 

“I don’t understand.”

Alastor chuckled softly as he shifted, leaning back against the arm of the couch and draping a leg across the cushions, pulling you against him. You didn’t know what to do with your hands or your body as he held you. Never had you lain with a man that was not your husband. 

“Lean against me, Cher and trust me.” He ran his hand up and down your side and your arms. “Remember, you can tell me to stop.” 

“Okay,” your voice trembled as much as the rest of you as he pulled your skirt to bunch around your thighs. 

Alastor’s other hand pulled your jaw up and back so that he could kiss you again. He shifted, rising on his side some, pinning you between him and the back of the couch to a degree. He kissed you with a hunger that you recognized and yet it made you feel hot all over in a way such a hungry kiss never had before. 

His lips matched yours, working with you, pushing and pulling. You wrapped your arms around his neck, dissolving into the kiss as fire caressed your body. Gripping your ribs, firmly but not painfully, his thumb caressed the side of your breast, earning a gasp from you. 

His lips parted to swallow that sound, his tongue darting out to taste you. It was a feeling you had never thought could be so intoxicating. Your mind swirled with the thoughts of what else could feel so different if Alastor did it. Fear lingered in the back of your mind that not everything would feel different. 

“I’m scared,” you whispered into the kiss.

“I will do nothing that will hurt you.” Alastor assured, kissing along your jaw as he ran his hand down your side, grabbing at your skirt and pulling it higher. “I’m going to make you feel good, that’s all,” he said as he took your earlobe between his lips. “You can trust me with that, right?”

“Okay,” you gasped as his fingers caressed your bare thigh, skin that none had touched other than you and your husband in so many years. 

Grabbing your leg, he pulled it up and hooked it over his knee, pinning it between his leg and the couch. You clutched his arm, one hand resting against his chest as you laid more on your back against him. Hot breath caressed your neck as he kissed the exposed skin while he held you tightly to him. 

His thumb brushed against your panties as he caressed higher. A squeak of embarrassment spilled from your lips before you could muffle it. 

“That’s alright,” he whispered, kissing your neck just below your ear. “It’s new and you’re shy. It feels good though, doesn’t it? My hand here?” 

“Yes, Alastor,” you whimpered. 

“Is that how you answer him?” he asked, voice hard in your ear. 

“I- yes.” 

“You don’t have to answer me like that.” His lips moved against your ear, pinching softly with each word they formed. “I’m not him. I’m not goin to hurt you.” 

“Oh,” you gasped as his hand gripped your hip, under your skirt before smoothing over the soft simple fabric of your panties, feeling the curve of your mound before running his hand down, between your legs and to the place that God had given women to share only with their husbands. 

“You feeling good?” he whispered between kisses.

You gasped as his fingers ran along your clothed slit, caressing over your hidden opening in a way that felt so foreign. It felt like your body was going to overheat as his hand ran up and down your core. 

“Can I feel you?” he asked as his hand ran up your core again, over your mound. His fingers caressed the edge of your panties. “Will you let me?” 

“Will it hurt?” you whimpered, longing for the way he had caressed you and yet terrified of the desire. 

“Was that painful?” he asked instead. 

“No,” you admitted. “Felt nice.” 

You gasped Alastor’s name as his hand slipped under your panties. They felt wet as he peeled them from your heated flesh. It made no sense to you. You’d not laid with Laurence recently enough for him to be spilling from you and you were not bleeding this time of month. 

“You’re so wet for me,” Alastor murmured in approval, fingers sliding along your slick folds. 

“I don’t-” you gasped as his fingers caressed the nub at the head of your folds, unleashing a pleasure you hadn’t felt before. It was wrong to touch yourself and so you had hardly touched yourself, only quickly for cleaning. You did not know that it could provide these feelings to be touched. 

“This is how it should be,” Alastor said, fingers working over you as he catalogued every gasping breath. “Have you truly never felt this?” 

“No, I-” You tried to squirm away as he ran his fingers over your clit again and gain, “Too much,” you pleased.

“Does it hurt?” he asked as he pulled his fingers from your folds, letting them rest against your mound. 

“No,” you gasped, body instantly craving the feeling of his touch. “Too much.” You said even as you tried to close your legs to get some friction somehow. 

“Do you want more?” Alastor asked, and you nodded, timidly.

His fingers slipped down along the trail of slick he had left, caressing down your slit as the pad of his finger caressed your opening. This was not for tonight, though he was confident that you would enjoy that as well. It was best to start small. His poor dear may as well be virginal for all the care and attention Laurence had provided you. 

He worked your body until your chest was heaving, a pressure building as he whispered praises and sweet words in your ear. How honored was he to give you your first orgasm, though you didn’t know what that meant until the waves crashed over you. 

When you came undone in his arms, you were ill prepared for the feeling. You twitched and shifted in his arms as the unfamiliar feeling washed over you, sending your muscles clenching and releasing as you cried out. His fingers slowed to a stop as your body relaxed, lessening the stimulation as you were left gasping against his chest. 

“What happened?” you asked, blinking your eyes as you tried to bring the room into focus. 

“You came,” Alastor said simply. “I’m honored to have been the first to bring you to completion.” 

“I thought,” heat rose in your cheeks though you struggled to feel shame in the afterglow of what happened. 

“That it was reserved for men?” Alastor chucked as he tugged your skirt down. “Hardly. A man who cares will see to it his lover sees her completion before he takes his own.” 

“That happened because you- you love me?” you asked, turning in his arms to face him as you knelt between his spread legs. 

“It happened because I know how to touch a woman,” Alastor admitted, cradling your face in the hand he had left clean of your juices. “But I did it for you because I care.” 

“Alastor, I-” You wanted to ask him why your husband never did that for you. Alastor acted as if it was normal for your body to make itself so, how did he call it, wet, but that had never happened before. Your body failed to respond that way to Laurence’s touches. 

You didn’t get to finish your question as Alastor leaned forward and kissed you softly. “That’s all for now, darling. I won’t ask for any more from you tonight.” 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

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[yandereworlds]

I can't remember if I already sent you this ask but can I ask for each of your yans' reactions to a darling that loves sitting in their lap?

<3

Dae-hyun; Oh, he'd love you to sit with him! While you being on his lap would surely make him flustered, he doesn't mind anything you'd prefer. Though, due to him being so deprived of human touch for so long, maybe don't jump into it right away and scare him off, allow him some time to get accustomed to the feeling of simple hand-holding, kisses and so on, but after the curve he'd love to hold you in his lap while you watch his favorite movies, or taking a break in the shop.

Lukas; He'd be very confused at first, also within the touch-starved boat. It would make him uncomfortable at first, he was practically told his whole life that affection like this was frowned upon. But, he can't deny that he liked it, and would try to grow used to the feeling. And once he does, you practically can't get off the man. He'll force you to sit with him as he does his boring paperwork, during casual nights in, and so on. He feels a lot more in control of you this way.

Dr. Laurence; Oh, he'd be buzzing with joy the moment his sweetheart plops down on his lap for the first time, especially if it's unprompted. He would be subtly nudging his darling to sit on his lap before, but they probably just brushed him off. But when you actually go for it, man, he's gonna be all kinds of red-faced and awkward. He already turns into a tomato when you grab his hand or give him a kiss, so you claiming a seat on his lap? That's a huge deal—like, he might just faint from the thrill of it all!

Demetrius; At first, Demetrius probably wouldn't be all for it. The couple of times his sweetheart took a seat on his lap, he probably gave them an earful. It's not that he hates getting some love from his darling, but it's more like it throws him off his game. Most of the time, he just can't focus when they're perched on his knees—for a bunch of reasons. But, if his darling keeps on trying, he'd probably cave after a bit of grumbling—then he'd pull you in tight, even if he's still muttering under his breath. While he wouldn’t admit it, he loves it.

Dantae; He'd be on cloud 9 if his sweetheart plopped down on his lap on their own accord. No way he'd let that moment slide, and as soon as you're there, he'd probably go all in, murmuring all sorts of romantic stuff to you and kneading your shoulders. He's all about treating you like royalty and dishing out the love, doesn't matter if he's swamped. Having his darling chilling on his lap is pretty much the highlight of his day, and chances are, he's the one who's usually trying to get them to sit there from the get-go!

[petalsprompts]

Dame Margaret Natalie Smith, CH, DBE 28th of December, 1934 — 27th of September, 2024

She received  numerous  accolades,  including  two  Academy  Awards,  five  BAFTA  Awards,  four  Emmy  Awards,  three  Golden  Globe  Awards  and  a  Tony  Award,  as  well  as  nominations  for  six  Laurence  Olivier  Awards.  She  was  one  of  the  few  performers  to  earn  the  Triple  Crown  of  Acting.

“ Do  not  be  stilled  by  anger  or  grief.  Burn  them  both  and  use  that  fuel  to  keep  moving.  Look  up  at  the  clouds  and  tip  your  head  way  back  so  the  roofs  of  the  houses  disappear.  Keep  moving. ” — Dame Maggie Smith in her memoir; You Could Make This Place Beautiful (2023)

"My  wife  and  I  were  deeply  saddened  to  learn  of  the  death  of  Dame  Maggie  Smith.  As  the  curtain  comes  down  on  a  national  treasure,  we  join  all  those  around  the  world  in  remembering  with  the  fondest  admiration  and  affection  her  many  great  performances  and  her  warmth  and  wit  that  shone  through  both  on  and  off  the  stage." — King Charles III

"The  end  of  an  era  of  the  sheer  definition  of  what  it  means  to  be  an  actor.  You  created  characters  that  clung  to  us,  moved  us,  entertained  us  ......  made  us  look  within.  You  defied  the  expectations  of  age....  crossed  generations.  You  were  greatness  personified  Dame  Maggie  Smith.  'A  lady  always  knows  when  it's  time  to  leave'  [...]  Godspeed  ♥️"  —  Viola  Davis

"She  was  a  fierce  intellect, a  gloriously  sharp  tongue,  could  intimidate  and  charm  in  the  same  instant  and  was,  as  everyone  will  tell  you,  extremely  funny...  The  word  legend  is  overused  but  if  it  applies  to  anyone  in  our  industry  then  it  applies  to  her."  —  co-star  in  Harry  Potter,  Daniel  Radcliffe

"Maggie  Smith  was  a  truly  great  actress,  and  we  were  more  than  fortunate  to  be  part  of  the  last  act  in  her  stellar  career.  She  was  a  joy  to  write  for,  subtle,  many-layered,  intelligent,  funny  and  heart-breaking.  Working  with  her  has  been  the  greatest  privilege  of  my  career,  and  I  will  never  forget  her."  —  Downton  Abbey  creator,  Julian  Fellowes

"Maggie  Smith  was  a  great  woman  and  a  brilliant  actress.  I  still  can’t  believe  I  was  lucky  enough  to  work  with  the  “one-of-a-kind”.  My  heartfelt  condolences  go  out  to  the  family  …  RIP."  —  co-star  in  Sister  Act & Sister Act 2: Back In The Habit,  Whoopi  Goldberg

"When  I  was  younger  I  had  no  idea  of  Maggie’s  legend  –  the woman  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  share  space  with.  It  is  only  as  I’ve  become  an  adult  that  I’ve  come  to  appreciate  that  I  shared  the  screen  with  a  true  definition  of  greatness."  —  co-star  in the  Harry  Potter film series,  Emma  Watson

"Heartbroken  to  hear  about  Maggie.  She  was  so  special,  always  hilarious  and  always  kind.  I  feel  incredibly  lucky  to  have  shared  a  set  with  her  and  particularly  lucky  to  have  shared  a  dance."  —  co-star  in the  Harry  Potter film series,  Rupert  Grint

"Anyone  who  ever  shared  a  scene  with  Maggie  will  attest  to  her  sharp  eye,  sharp  wit  and  formidable  talent,"  on-screen  son  in  Downton  Abbey,  Hugh  Bonneville

"I  had  the  unforgettable  experience  of  working  with  her;  sharing  a  two-shot  was  like  being  paired  with  a  lion.  She  could  eat  anyone  alive,  and  often  did.  But  funny,  and  great  company.  And  suffered  no  fools.  We  will  never  see  another.  God  speed,  Ms.  Smith!"  —  co-star  in  Suddenly,  Last  Summer,  Rob  Lowe

[synthwayve]

SPITS OUT MY DRINK. I’M GOING INSANE OMG WAIT WAIT WAI-

Oh my god my eyes nearly popped out of my skull THIS IS!! SO COOL!! AND SO KIND 😭WHAT. THIS IS INSANE oh you depict these scenes SO WELL the expressions are absolutely spot on! Long hair Laurence and his mouthful of lies 😭 The eye closeup! Dude! The attention to DETAIL oh my god I’m going insane in the best way. THANK YOU!!

Parts of this awesome fic that did things to my brain by @synthwayve

[riordanness]

i think he knows - [l.laurence]

wordcount: 1.3K

requested: no (but i am working on all my requests)

warnings: maybeee a wonka reference (my bad)

I lay side by side with Jo March, our hands intertwined, staring up at the clouds. 

“You’re kidding, right?” Jo laughs. “That is definitely not a giraffe. It looks like a flamingo.” 

I wrinkle my nose. “No way. It looks closer to a melted chocolate bar than a flamingo.”

She nudges me and laughs again. “Whatever.” 

I sigh and close my eyes, my spare fingers playing with the blades of grass we’re lying on. 

“This is the life,” Jo says quietly, as if she can read my thoughts. 

“Mhm…” I reply, feeling sleepy and sun sick. We’ve been out all morning in the hot summer sun, and the effects are finally catching up on me.

“You know what would make today better, though?” 

“What?” I’m barely paying attention now, my sleepiness wanting to take over. 

“If Laurie was here.” Jo says it like it’s poetry. 

I’m immediately awake. I sit up. “What did you say?” 

Jo looks amused. “I said…that today would have been better if Laurie was here with us.”

I try to downplay my reaction with a shrug. “Yeah, that would have been nice I suppose.” 

“Oh, y/n,” Jo teases. “Don’t try to pretend you aren’t head over heels in love with him.” 

I look at her sharply. “Jo, don’t talk about such things.”

“It's true, though,” Jo insists. “Isn’t it?” 

I look away. Of course it was true. Laurie Laurence was the one person I could never imagine not having in my life. I needed him like I needed air in my lungs. He was my sunlight, my happiness, my joy and my energy and my smile. He was my everything. 

“Maybe it’s true,” I whisper. “But it’s not important. I will never matter to him the way that he matters to me.”

Jo is quiet for a while, her eyes narrowed as she stares into the deep blue nothingness of the sky. 

I lay beside her, in comfortable silence, as my thoughts drift, as always, back to that boy with the laughing green eyes, unruly but beautiful dark hair, and that smile that fills me with everything I need.

I first met Laurie through the others. I’m lifelong friends with all the Marches, and being an only child, my days tend to be lonely. Marmee has me over as much as humanly possible. Sleepovers, performances, club meetings and dinners, walks and piano lessons, days at the beach, sketching in the garden, dances and dumb adventures. I do it all with those four girls. 

Then one day, a boy joined in on our fun. 

At first, it was nerve-wracking, doing all our usual antics in the presence of a boy. But I soon learned that Laurie was anything but judgemental, and better than that–he was amazing fun. 

We became best friends. 

Now, everything I did was with Laurie, or nearly everything. I’d spend every second with him if I could. 

It’s like there’s magic in his smile.

“Laurie!” I shove open his front door, yelling up the stairs. 

His curly head pops over the stairs, grinning down at me. “Hey, you.”

I squint up at him. “What are you doing? I thought we were going out today. You promised we’d go ice skating.” I wave my skates at him to prove my point. 

Laurie winces. “I’m sorry, y/n. I know I did, but–” He makes a face. “I’ve got a cold and Grandfather forbade me to leave my room.” His features turn mischievous. “In fact, I’m risking his wrath just being out here in the hall.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Well, I guess I’ll have to come up there and entertain you then.”

“You’ll get sick!” Laurie shakes his head at me.

“Too late,” I say, as I drop my skates and coat at the door, and dash up the stairs. 

Laurie watches as I hop, skip, and jump at the top stair, as I do every time (because he did it first, and I like to do everything he does). He stares at me with a small smirk on his face.

“What?” I ask, coming to a stop only a metre away from him. “It’s fun doing that at the top of the stairs. Like a little celebratory moment for conquering the staircase once again.”

Laurie laughs under his breath as he shakes his head slightly. “It’s nothing, my dear y/n. Hop at your heart's content.”  

I shrug and head into his room, a lage, ornate chamber full of antique paintings and old books and clothes strewn all over the floor.

“Oh, my,” I say disapprovingly. “Laurie, you really need to tidy this place up a little if you want to get any better, you know.”

“I know,” Laurie sighs, falling sideways onto an armchair. “But I just don’t have your work ethic, y/n. I love being lazy and useless and spending my time doing silly, worthless things.”

I click my tongue. “Don’t be ridiculous, Laurie. I know you. You have it inside you to do great things with your life. You just have to want it enough, and to work hard for it. You can do it. I believe in you.”

I wander around the room busily, picking up dirty laundry and discarded books, and straightening the bedsheets. I can feel Laurie’s eyes on me, but it’s not an awkward feeling. If anything, it’s comforting. Being around him, everything is easier, safer. My words come out of my mouth easily. I don’t worry about saying the wrong thing or coming across as too blunt or anything like that. They can come right from my heart, because I know him better than anyone, and I see what Laurie is capable of. 

“And you know, you can always–”

“Y/n.” Laurie gets to his feet. 

My voice dies, and I frown at him uncertainly and I drop a small stack of books onto his desk.. “Yeah?”

“You know how the other day, um, you and Jo were hanging out in the gardens, watching the clouds?”

My eyes narrow a little, but I nod slowly. “Yes…? How did you know about that?”

Laurie doesn’t meet my eyes, rolling his tongue around in his mouth nervously. “I might’ve been spying on you?” 

My hands are instantly on my hips as I give him a look. “Laurie Laurence.”

“I’m sorry!” he says immediately, holding his hands up like he’s surrendering. “I just… well, I heard what you were talking about.”

I try to think back. What would Jo and I have been talking about that was so important he’s bringing it back up now? I didn’t think we were discussing anything that exciting, except…

Oh.

My face goes slack, and my mouth drops slightly open. “You-you mean–”

Laurie nods and gets to his feet. “So it’s true?”

I want to lie, to shake my head and laugh it away, but my reaction has already made it obvious. I slowly nod my head yes, once, then twice.

Relief floods into Laurie’s features. “Oh, thank goodness.”

“What?” I ask, but my question is lost when Laurie attacks me with a hug. 

“I love you, y/n,” he says softly into my hair. “I’ve loved you ever since Jo first introduced me to you that day in the attic. You might’ve been shy and wearing that silly costume; a battered overcoat and tattered suitcase, but I’d never seen a prettier girl. You help me be a better person, you’re always so encouraging and kind and hard-workig, and I just… I really love you.” 

He pulls away, holding my shoulders and gazing at me. 

I’m in disbelief, staring up into his eyes, my mouth still open. 

He laughs, ducking his head a little. “You don’t have to say anything, y/n. You said enough the other day.” He pauses, licks his lips a little. “Y/n, can I kiss you?”

I can’t help but to smile. “Of course you can.” 

His mouth meets mine, and it’s better than anything else in the world.

[commanderfloppy]

Actual footage of me making Laurence btw