#mark burnham

[hrefna-the-raven]

His first

Masterlist - Horror masterlist - Misc.

Kenneth "Leatherface" Slaughter x female reader

Part 1

Summary: You finally confessed and Kenny is torn between sweet memories and self-doubt.

Notes: *sigh* I still just want that old man to be happy...🥹 so here is some smut 😇

Warnings: smut (18+), alcohol

Reader: short female reader, female genitals but no other details mentioned

Part 2

Kenneth groaned, fighting off the harsh awakening by the jackhammer pounding within his skull. His hand darted around frantically until it eventually grasped the edge of the curtains, hastily pulling them shut. He blinked slowly, relieved that the bright morning sun had ceased its invasion of his room with its disgustingly bright rays. His entire body froze as he suddenly grew all too aware of the soft breaths coming from your naked body nestled against his. It almost felt as if...panic clawed violently at his chest, his trembling hand cautiously lifted the blanket, confirming his fears. Both of you were lying in his bed...naked...his lips parted as a silent scream passed them and his breath grew increasingly erratic. His mind was blank, a gaping void instead of whatever happened yesterday. Why couldn't he remember yesterday? Why was he trapped in this situation? Did he...? With you of all people? He gasped at the sudden bits and pieces of memories flooding back into his mind, his gaze falling upon the empty liquor bottle resting on the small table across the room.

He had just draped a blanket over Ma, who had dozed off on the sofa, when he noticed you making your way upstairs with a bottle in hand. The two of you settled on his bed while you talked about your past, how you'd ended up in Harlow and how much he meant to you. Your fingers nervously intertwined with his and he continued to take sips of the bottle, his mind trying to overthrow years of abuse and doubt in favour of the love you were willing to give him, right until he felt the room spinning around him. He got up, almost loosing his balance as he stumbled towards the table to place the bottle on it, unaware of the feeling that would hit him the moment he turned around to face you. The way you looked at him pierced right through his heart, those doe eyes brimming with all the affection and love for him. Fear, sadness and a strangely beautiful happiness waged war within him, a struggle of the heart alone since the alcohol had discarded his brain from the equation. As soon as he sank back onto the bed, you shifted, straddling him while you playfully nudged the tip of his nose with his, inching closer for another kiss. Freed from all his usual reservations, his hands instinctively moved to the small of your back, gently caressing downwards before digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your butt, grinding you against him. A sinful moan rumbled in his chest and his half-hard cock stirred beneath your movements. The twinkle in your eyes changed, replaced by a hint of worry and his stomach churned as fear resurfaced.

"Have you ever...", you shyly asked, pausing mid-sentence as you gestured towards your lips and then his.

He shook his head, pointing towards you before holding up one finger, nodding when you asked if it meant that you were his first.

"Oh", such a simple sound of surprise before you went silent, your gaze drifting over his figure while you hazily unbuttoned his shirt, "so you never had....sex either?"

He shook his head again, embarassed by the blush on his face and sighing slightly frustrated at the many memories of him falling in love, only for them to be running away, screaming in terror, back then at his old home. This town was dead, a forsaken place no woman ever found her way to, except for you. Before he could articulate anything, you pecked his lips and broke the silence.

"Do you...uhm...know how to...I mean....sex...would you know...?", you stuttered, unsure on how to voice this question without hurting him.

A boisterous laugh erupted from Kenneth, and the way your eyes sparkled indicated that it was the most delightful and endearing sound you had ever heard from him. He kicked a dirty and worn cardboard box from underneath the bed before handing it to you, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he waited for you to open it. Eyes wide in disbelief, you pulled out one of the many vintage magazines and as you skimmed through the pages of naked women that weren't glued together, he could observe the slow change of expression upon realising that you currently held his collection of porn rags in your hands. He chuckled as you threw it back into the box and closed it before it disappeared beneath his bed again.

"Alright I get it, you were living in the middle of nowhere, not on the moon", you laughed nervously before kissing him again, teasingly running your tongue over his lower lip, showing him that you simply couldn't get enough of him.

Your body shifting slightly beside him drew his attention back to the present. A soft murmur escaped from your lips as your leg moved up, gradually inching closer to his groin. He shuddred, feeling the precum trickling on his belly at every twitch of his now fully hard cock. Faint whimpers spilled from his lips, one hand moving downwards, stroking himself, carefully slow to not disturb your slumber. Every fibre in his body craved your touch, your love, he wanted to bathe in all of it once more. The bittersweet memories lingered, tormenting him as a constant reminder that you'd surely leave the moment you wake up, naked and sober, next to the ugly old man tipsy you seemed so eager to please the previous night.

"Look at you", you cooed, slowly undoing the buttons and pulling down his pants, "you deserve to be worshipped."

Kenneth's head fell back, eyes shut tight and his mouth hanging open, whimpering at the feeling of your hands on his dick. It was so different, so much better than anything he had ever imagined during all those lonely nights in his room while touching himself. Slow, deliberate strokes, each one pushing him closer to the edge. Your touch brought a pleasure he struggled to contain. His eyes shot open the moment he felt those soft lips wrapped around his leaking tip, sucking it ever so slowly before sinking down. The deep moan coming him resembled more a strangled scream trapped in his throat while he helplessly watched his cock disappear in your mouth. Despite the alcohol coursing through his veins, everything felt so overly sensitive, the way your tongue licked over his length and your teeth gently grazed his tip each time your head moved down. Each moan of his was rewarded by a satisfied hum, its vibrations proving to be the last drop in his bucket full of pent-up tension. Loud groans, which almost sounded like your name, spilled from his lips like a prayer and his cock twitched in your mouth, his salty release running down your throat. His gaze was glued to you, observing how you licked away the last drops of his cum before snuggling up next to him, that loving smile never leaving you.

"I love every part of you, Kenny", you murmured, planting a trail of sweet kisses along his neck, "I hope you enjoyed your birthday."

He huffed, unable to hide his grin until the exhaustion and the liquour finally lulled him to sleep.

One last glance at your sleeping form, assuring himself that you wouldn't notice how he quickened his strokes, he closed his eyes to fully surrender to the pleasure. He was so occupied with chasing his orgasm that he failed to notice that you'd just woken up, licking your lips greedily at the sight of him pleasuring himself beside you. He wasn't sure how long you had been watching him, only becoming aware of what was happening the moment you pounced on him, pressing your dripping entrance against his cock, letting only the tip slide in. The initial shock of his denied orgasm quickly turned into something feral, a primal heat burning between his thighs, urging him to thrust his hips up and he almost bit off his tongue in the desperate attempt to not succumb.

"Kenny", you pleaded when his hands shot up to grasp your hips firmly to hold you in place, "I want you, I need you."

He shook his head frantically, too afraid to surrender to everything your were offering. He couldn't blame this neither on the alcohol nor on it being late after a long day and it terrified him beyond words. Why would a gracious angel such as yourself desire him? The monster, the cannibal, the son, hidden away to not scare anyone, only ever allowed to roam to either work or slaughter. As if you heard his thoughts, you leaned in, cupping his cheeks and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"You have been so kind to me from the very first day, you deserve all the goodness that comes your way", you brushed a few strands of hair from his face, "I might not hear your voice, but I do see and hear your heart. If you want it, I'll be yours for as long as I live. I love you, Kenny."

He growled, his last will to resist fading upon hearing those three little words he had yearned for his entire existence. Sitting up, his lips crashed on yours while his hands guided you down onto him. He bucked his hips up as he continued to push you down, trying to bury himself as deeply within you as possible. The symphony of sinful moans and the creaking of the old bed filled the small bedroom. He'd never forget the way your greedy tight cunt swallowed all of his cock, losing himself within your delicious wetness until he came undone, filling you up with his release. Kenneth continued to move your hips while thrusting up, helping you chase your own high. Right as you were giving in to your orgasm, as your walls clenched around still hard length, he mustered all his courage, longing to give you something precious back for all the kindness you had brought into his life.

"I-I...l-l-l-lov-ve you t-t-t-too", Kenneth stuttered.

He cringed at the sound of his own voice and the Southern drawl he couldn't hide.  It had been nearly fifty years since he last spoke, but Ginny had understood his insecurities and had allowed him to communicate without words. He had found solace in silence, until you entered his life. You had become someone special to him, and he was willing to face his doubts head-on, fighting against the internal struggles that had plagued him for so long. He wanted to give you the gift of spoken words, to confess the emotions that had been burning inside him since the day you first stepped through the doors of the orphanage. You had become his whole world. As you nestled beside him, your fingers tracing gentle patterns across his hairy chest, he couldn't help but wonder if there was some truth to the old saying of "blow out the candles and make a wish." After all these years, it seemed that his wish had finally been granted.

[deathtown]

Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2022)

[thelastfinalgirl]

Leatherface - Bubba Sawyer

Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Directed by David Blue Garcia (2022)

[duranduratulsa]

Now showing on DuranDuranTulsa's Horror Show...Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2022) on Netflix #movie #movies #horror #texaschainsawmassacre #tobehooper #riptobehooper #leatherface #sarahyarkin #elsiefisher #markburnham #olwenfouere #NellHudson #JacobLatimore #moedunford #AliceKrige #JohnLarroquette #2020s #Netflix

[r-e-c-o-g-n-i-z-e-r]

Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2022)

[rookie-critic]

Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2022, dir. David Blue Garcia) - review by Rookie-Critic

Texas Chainsaw Massacre, not to be confused with 1974's The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, was about as unneeded a sequel as any of these new-age "requels" are (except for you, Scream, you're doing great. Just pay Neve Campbell more and get her back on board, like, c'mon guys), but I will admit to having a ton of fun on the back half of it. Discarding all other sequels & prequels and acting as a direct sequel to the first film, which I believe now puts us on timeline #4 for this franchise and perfectly mirroring the trajectory of the Halloween franchise, this edition of Texas Chainsaw sees a group of Gen Z entrepreneurs driving into a Texas ghost town where they're going to flip it for a profit and gentrify the living hell out of it, but, of course, we all know who's been hiding out there since the events of the '74 film.

Cameo by Alice Krige aside, the first half of the film doesn't have much to offer. The setup is pretty innocuous and the dialogue seems like it was written by someone who went on r/GenZ for no more than 30 minutes and said "yeah, I think I got this." Even the first few kills that Leatherface performs feel a little hollow. After my experience with 2017's Leatherface, I was already rolling my eyes and ready to write this off as another completely failed entry, and that's about the moment that a leg gets inverted with a sledgehammer. The kills in this movie are genuinely pretty sick, and I mean that in a genuine, complimentary way. There is, quite frankly, an amazing amount of "holy shit" moments in this, including one gonzo gnarly sequence involving a party bus. Sadly, that party bus sequence also happens to include what is possibly the worst piece of humor in the entire franchise, but we'll give it a slight pass because everything immediately following that atrocious joke is pure Chainsaw gold. There are a lot of examples of bad horror tropes being used even in the moments of this film that are good, including a gotcha moment that you can see coming from a mile away and a particular final girl-adjacent trope that I have always hated in horror sequels of the past. This is a frustrating one, because there is, undoubtedly, so much potential here for something that could have been good. If the writing had just been better (or a little bit worse, honestly), we could have had a Texas Chainsaw entry that was just a fun time, but instead we got an entry that is fun at times and hard to watch at most other times. While I did find myself having fun for a decent chunk of the film, I can't in good conscience give it a good score. Just know that if you're a genre fan, there is, at the very least, a little to latch onto here.

Score: 4/10

Currently streaming on Netflix.

[flawlessassholes]

do you have any seb and mark in mother carva thoughts you’d like to share 👁️👁️

no actually i don’t! thanks for asking! ignore the 630 words of absolute disgusting filth under the cut! also bye i’m going into the witness protection program!

Sometimes, as Mark watches Sebastian interact with the Carva, he thinks: Oedipus was the first motherfucker.

Until now, every time Mark has been inside the Carva, it was all… square jaws, stiff upper lips, think of England. It was a mutual jerking off where you made a few wry jokes to ‘bond’ like the engineers went on about, and then a mutual agreement to never speak of it again. 

So he wasn’t expecting to arrive in the factory on a cold December day in 2008 and to have a tiny cue ball-headed twink bound up to him and chirp, “I didn’t know how big you are, so I used a midsized plug, but you might have to stretch me a little more when we’re inside Mother.” 

And Mark laughed at first, instinctual and disbelieving. He would learn quickly that Seb didn’t like being laughed at when he was dead serious. 

“Why are you laughing.” 

“Mate, I don’t know what you got up to in Faenza, but it doesn’t work like that.”

“Séb and I got each other off,” he said, and Mark blinked before he remembered that Bourdais was also a Seb because Marko clearly has a type.

“Well, that’s not how we do things here,” Mark had said. “We go in, I do my business, you your business, and that’s it.”

“That’s no way to make a winning car,” Seb said, haughty and annoyed. And Mark was still feeling magnanimous and mature about this whole new kid situation, so he didn’t make a crack at that or say that he got lucky because Kovalainen is shit in the rain, and Mark got fucked over by him in qualifying. 

So he didn’t respond, and then Newey appeared, and it was lights out.

That feeling of magnanimous maturity lasted all of five milliseconds once they were naked and once they entered the warm, damp, dimly lit cavern of the Mother Carva.

He couldn’t even exhale before something like fire ants started crawling under his skin, and nimble fingers wrapped around his cock. 

He felt a brush of prickly, short hair, and as his eyes adjusted, he realized that Seb was on his knees. 

And then the warm and damp enveloped him as Seb swallowed him whole.

It devolved quickly from there, and in his worst moments, he still remembers the way he came on Seb’s tongue, and how Seb showed it off like it was a trophy, how Seb didn’t spit it on the Carva, he kissed it, slathering his come on the membrane as he humped his hips like a bitch in heat until he came too, and afterward how he smiled like he won Monza all over again.

He remembers the glow he carried with him as he held the still-growing specimen, and how he glowed, hard on the podium when he won in China, how he specifically made sure to save his champagne to bring back to Milton Keynes, to crawl back inside the mother and share the drink. 

And Mark would’ve thought they were equal—he won that season, too—but Seb kept winning. And he kept getting hard. And he kept worshiping the Carva; there was no other word for it when he thanked her and visited her and called her Mother with all the reverence of royalty in every fucking interview.

And then, in 2010, he won the championship that should’ve been Mark’s. 

So when they stripped naked, and he noticed there was no plug in Seb’s ass this year—that he finally got the hint after a repeat of their activities in 2009–Mark no longer felt magnanimous or mature. 

“Hope you prepared yourself,” he says, fire ants already crawling under his skin even though they weren’t inside. “Because if you want to get fucked, you’ll get fucked.”

[ravenbeakx]

bo burnham as markiplier, pt.3

[faecaribou]

Don’t Wanna Know by Bo Burnham- In Space With Markiplier

just thinking about engineer Mark

[sunshinymystique]

how the world works by bo Burnham is just a mark and friends song right

[idk3ither]

I hate that markiplier and bo burnham say room the exact same way

[hrefna-the-raven]

His first

Masterlist - Horror masterlist - Misc.

Kenneth "Leatherface" Slaughter x female reader

Summary: You moved to Harlow around a year before the events of the movie and started to befriend the nice old lady who lived with her son in the old orphanage.

Notes: *sigh* I just want that old man to be happy...🥹 I took this to describe his scars, I like the idea of this concept art of Leatherface for the 2022 movie 😍

Reader: short female reader, no specific descriptions used

Part 1

You happily hummed a cheerful melody as you closed the lids of the numerous boxes filled with different fingersfoods and salads before finally packing up the large chocolate cake and a handful of candles. With a sigh of relief, you made your way up the road to the old orphanage, struggling to carry the heavy bags without throwing their contents around too much. You barely knocked at the door before it swung open, revealing a hulk of man, standing there in silence staring you down.

"Happy birthday, Kenny", you exclaimed with delight, unable to contain your giggles as you flashed him a warm smile and tenderly brushed your hand against his arm.

Kenneth froze for a moment, unsure how to react to the surprise. You had been visiting them every evening for the last year but this was the first time you were around for his birthday. For nearly fifty years, it had always just been him and Ma since he found himself stranded here. He stepped aside, gesturing for you to come inside, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. You headed straight for the kitchen where Ginny awaited your arrival while he almost ran up the stairs, the door of his room slamming shut.

"Let me help you set the table", Ginny offered, wincing slightly while she fell back unto the chair she tried to get up from.

"No, no, no, please, save your strength", you interjected, continuing to arrange plates and food on the table, "I promised to organise everything this year, so no worries."

"You're the sweetest! We were truly blessed when you moved to our lost little town and with all the things you've done for me and my Kenny."

Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around her, embracing her tightly and Ginny began to sob, motherly patting your back.

"It's only normal, you've been like a family to me, I care a lot for you both."

"Kenny feels the same way about you, you know. In fact, he's quite taken with you."

She pulled away, a suggestive smile playing on her lips, and you felt a rush of warmth spreading across your cheeks. You've grown rather fond of Kenneth, enjoying him being this silent yet gentle presence and, over time, you also learned how to interpret his different grunts and huffs, sharing precious moments together. Today, you had planned to finally confess your feelings to him but a sudden fear loomed over you like a bleak shadow. He was much older than you and had been living on his own all this time. Would he even feel the same for you? You noticed his uneasiness whenever he was around you, but that didn't necessarily mean that he shared the same feelings. It could as well mean the exact opposite and you'd ridicule yourself tonight in laying your heart out.

"I'll put the candles on, go and get the birthday boy", Ginny's voice interrupted your trail of thoughts and doubts, "I'm sure he will be all dressed up for you by now."

You nodded and made your way upstairs, taking a deep breath before knocking at the door at the end of the hallway. You heard a grumble and opened the door, smiling as you entered. Kenneth was sitting on the bed, buttoning up his shirt. You paused in your tracks, your eyes scanning his tall figure, basked in the gentle golden hue of the setting sun that shone through the window. He was truly a captivating sight, now even more so as he was dressed all in black, with a pair of finest pants held up by crimson suspenders, a fitting striped shirt with rolled-up sleeves, his long dark grey mane tamed for once and neatly bound together at the back of his head, and, the final touch, his neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard.

He glanced up, his eyes holding a tenderness while the rest of his body betrayed the anxiety coursing through him. You had shown him kindness and affection, yet the self-doubt would never cease to plague him. Every woman he ever met ran from him in terror and despite you having proven to be different and him being all dressed up, he could never hide his ugly. The hideous thick scar stretching across his left cheek, the permanent disfigurement of his nose after it had been broken many years ago, the crooked yellowed teeth and the fact that old age had finally caught up with him, unable to hide behind a mask, it all gnawed at him. No matter what Ma told to others, no amount of elegant clothes or sweetly spoken words could truly hide the ugliness he believed himself to possess.

Your lips parted as you drank in the image of the man before you, determined to etch it forever into your memory and, before you knew it, your body betrayed your own hesitations and stumbled forward, your hands reaching out to gently cup his cheeks while your lips pressed against his, swallowing the startled gasp that had escaped him. Kenneth found himself nearly drawning in the sea of his selfdoubt when a wave of the impossible suddenly drifted him away, carrying him to shores he'd always thought never to set foot on. He truly wanted to hold back, give you time to realise the mistake you had stumbled into, but his own body betrayed him too, acting on its own will as his arms wrapped around your waist and he finally kissed back. It was sloppy, teeth nibbling too hard at your lips before his tongue pushed past, whirling in your mouth without purpose. You were his very first, the first to not scream or run, to share kindness, and to kiss him. As you pulled away, a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you tried to regain your breath, wiping away the lingering wetness of the kiss.

Kenneth's gaze was fixed on your face, carefully observing for any indication to validate his fears but you simply smiled at him, still leaning in so closely that he could feel the heat radiating from your face while your fingertips traced the scar on his cheek.

"Shall we go down and celebrate?", you whispered, "this day...evening belongs all to you, after all."

With a quick peck on his lips, you held his hand, your fingers intertwining with his as you guided him downstairs.

The soft flickering of the candles on the cake cast a soft glow throughout the kitchen and you lead Kenneth towards the table.

"Happy birthday!", you and Ginny shouted at the same time, "make a wish!"

While Ma and you were cheering, he pulled you into a hug before kneeling next to you to rest his forehead against yours, humming softly. He knew exactly what he'd wish for this time and so he took a deep breath and blew out the candles while desperately holding back the tears that formed in the corner of his eyes.

Part 2 (18+)

[deathtown]

Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2022)

[scaredy-katts]

MUST BE THIS TALL TO RIDE !

" Not that he could reach it anyway, but I'll hand it to him - he ate me the fuck up. He stooped lower than the 5'5 mark he keeps on his door frame even though he's 5'4. "

pairing : yaku morisuke x f!reader

content : comedian reader (think a mix of *inside* bo burnham and craig conant), journalist yaku, smau/some written parts, thank you @sandwhitches for this cracked ass idea, enemies to lovers, timeskipped characters

series content warning : MDNI, NSFW, some parts include smut, hate fucking, so much hate fucking, smoking/drugs, drinking/alcohol, crude/sexual humor, language, I will beat these short jokes to death, lev haiba [more will be added, check each chapter for warnings]

taglist : open, send an ask

extras ! playlist : this is when you laugh moodboards : series | yn | yaku

did you hear this shit? read this from the chopping block!! is it possible to die from laughing? I think it is at the red nose

green room : professional clown and her groupies | d1 haters set one : cracking up set two : stand up set three : disgusting set four : bleach more to come. . .

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x reader: Milestones

A/N: I was listening to FaceTime with my Mom (Tonight) by Bo Burnham for the entire time while writing this :’)

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 2,255

Visual Prompt here!

You’re so screwed.

So, so, so screwed.

Check the second hand on your watch, dodging out the way of passersby, feet practically dancing over the cobbles as you speed-walk toward the restaurant. There’s no way you’re going to make it. Absolutely no way. Gods, you were already marked late last week. One more strike and the consequences will be inflicted on your salary. You really don’t want to have to rely on Azriel to get food in again.

Eyes flit through shop windows mindlessly, hoping the weather will still be relatively temperate after your shift—your hopes are pretty high. The afternoons have been fairly mild recently, the smallest crispness only just beginning to creep in. Frost dusting the leaves, diamond dew-drops glittering in finely spun web.

A flash of white causes you to come to an abrupt halt, backtracking a few steps to peer through the large expanse of glass, the shop name typed out in bold letters across the pane. Contained within the front display are three dresses: pale yellow, white and pale orange, from left to right. Each is held upon a female mannequin torso, the fabric swishing as customers pass by in the background.

The centre dress. It’s lovely. The stitching, the length…the fabric looks like it wouldn’t itch, either.

Shuffle around some mental calculations…size, width, length. All good.

Damn. It looks like it would fit you.

Your watch practically burns into your wrist, searing your skin, urging you to move forward, time ticking away as you stare and stare. Looking at it alone, you know it’ll be pricey…possibly unaffordable, if you get a portion of your wages spliced off. You just have to try it on. Even if it’s utterly out of your price range, you can get to wear it, just to see if it really is as lovely as it looks.

But for now, you’ve got to sprint to work. You’ll just stop by later. Have something to look forward to.

————

You’re in absolutely no condition to try on that dress.

One slightly too-loud word away from crumpling into a pile of tears and washing down a drain, never to be seen again. Left to wallow beneath the city, dissolving into the Sidra.

Velaris is a lovely place to live, but it’s not perfect. Well, its citizens aren’t perfect. Between the male who had insisted his steak wasn’t properly cooked, to the female who sent her food back seven times, to the group of fae who were short on their bill by five gold pieces… Tears well at the memories alone. You got stuck on cleaning up, anyway—punishment for being late. At least your salary will remain untouched for now. The dress still stands a chance.

However, it will have to wait for tomorrow. Cleaning up takes long enough as it is, but having to do it on your own is a whole new level of misery. By the time the chairs are up on the tables, the floor’s been swept and the remaining utensils washed and returned to their rightful places, you’re on the verge of collapsing. Feet aching, wrists aching, head aching. The moment you get home, you’re going to pass out on the welcome mat.

The key clicks in the restaurant lock, finally done with the horrifically long day, and your back slumps, spine aching. What a miserable day.

Footsteps sound behind you, closer than any of those passing by, and you turn. Only to be overshadowed by—

You nearly burst into tears. “Az…” Lips tilt down in the corners, vision blurring as your voice wobbles.

“You were supposed to be home three hours ago,” he says gently, stepping closer, wings flaring to shield you from the partygoers and other currently unwelcome folk. “I thought you might’ve been hit with a long day,” he sighs, arms reaching out, tucking you against him, wings curving round, swallowing you whole.

You whimper as you fall into him, a few tears slipping out as you grip him, pressing into his leathers as his scent encompasses you. Heat warms your bones, sinking into your skin, slowly encouraging your light to start up again. Tears begin to slow, eyes drying as his comfort soothes you out, calming you down from the utterly hellish day. His hand strokes patterns down your back, pressing kisses to the crown of your head, making you want to melt like butter. Melt and splash onto him, soak into his skin so you can always be together.

Sniffing, you step back, wiping your cheeks; drying your eyes as you manage to get a hold of yourself. Azriel’s hands rest atop your shoulders, holding you together while you gather up the strength to do it yourself. “Feeling better now?” He asks, attention solely on you. Head dips in confirmation, though he waits a moment longer before stepping away. “Let’s get home. Then we can get into bed and forget today ever happened.” A sad smile lifts your lips as you look up at him gratefully. “Thanks, Az.”

He shrugs it off, hand swallowing yours as you begin the darkened walk back, faelight illuminating the way. You don’t miss how his shadows dart around you when you reach a slightly unstable part of the cobbles, how his hand tightens on your own. “Want to talk about all the shitty people?” He offers, a laugh bubbling from your chest. “Not really,” you mumble, “I don’t want to give attention to their shittiness.” He nods in the low light, going quiet.

“You know,” he starts slowly, “I think you’re pretty strong for going back there day after day.” You snort. Hand squeezes you, “I’m not joking. Having to interact with that many people, put up with so much bullshit, and keep going back?” He hums quietly, and the tears well again—you turn your head slightly. “Says the Spymaster,” you mumble, “you’re one of the strongest people I know.”

“And you don’t see me waitressing,” he counters.

Laughter bursts suddenly from your lungs, blaring through the night air. Tears spill as you laugh, squeezing closer to him, feeling how his wing wraps around you affectionately. “I really love you sometimes, Az,” you half cry, half laugh. You can feel the grin on his mouth as he peers at you, a single brow quirked. “Only sometimes?” You sniff again, praying your nose won’t start running this time. “Okay…all the time,” you relent, “but particularly now. I extra-specially love you.”

He replies with a laugh of his own, making you go all soft and fuzzy inside, heat warming your breastbone as your temperature spikes with pleasure. Hearing him laugh…it makes you happy. Especially when he’s happy from you. That’s the Special Happy—only his kind.

————

“Oh…”

You blink a few times, comprehending the words. It was sold a few days ago.

“Do you know…I mean, will there be another?” You ask, trying not to sound as crestfallen as you feel. The shop assistant shakes her head, curls bouncing as she does so, “I’m afraid not. At least, not that I know of. It was a one-off from the seamstress—she generally doesn’t do dresses like that.”

“Oh…” You repeat.

“I’m sorry you missed it,” she tries to console. “If it helps at all, the male who bought it mentioned it was for his wife—it’ll have a loved home.” You nod weakly. It helps a little. You press your lips together in a tight smile, “thank you anyway, for being so kind about it. You probably didn’t want to have to comfort a moping customer today when you clocked in.”

She smiles gently, “it’s no skin of my back. I hope you’ll find something else at some point.” You nod your head dutifully, then turn, glumly padding out of the shop. Azriel remains where you left him, stood just to the side of the entrance—worried about knocking a mannequin over in the compact shop. “They didn’t have it?” He asks, noting your expression. Shake your head dismally, sighing. “Gods, if I’d been earlier that day I could’ve gone in after work. It might’ve still been there.”

His arm wraps over your shoulders, pulling you into his side while you fall into step beside him. “Oh well,” you murmur, “the female was very nice about it, so that’s something, I suppose. Not a totally awful experience.” Azriel hums in response, squeezing gently. Puff air out from your lips, “anywhere you’d like to go, then?” He thinks for a little, pausing to contemplate the question. As if he hasn’t already made a list ranging from highest to lowest priority of places he’s like to visit today. You know his games quite well.

“What about food? A hungry stomach won’t help with your mood.”

“I asked where you’d like to go. Not where my stomach does,” you reply grumpily. He gives you a pointed look and you sigh. A reluctant smile raising your lips. He’s right.

“Will you at least pick a place you like?” You sigh, leaning into him, taking in his scent. He chuckles at that, already leading you away from the shop, distraction having succeeded.

————

A week later, and the dress still glimmers in the backstreets of your memory.

Eyes have begun checking the store front day after day, just to see if another similar one has been sent over, but—nothing. So far.

So far, you remind yourself. There’ll be other dresses. Other nice things to look forward to. Other things to be happy about. Like your husband having been completely free today. A smile curves you lips as you shuffle through your wardrobe, searching for something nice to wear for him.

Neither of you particularly fancied going out to eat—despite it probably having been easier to do so. But you spend so much time around other people eating, and you’d just be habitually tense the entire evening. Not to mention Azriel wouldn’t find it fun, either. So you’re having a quiet night in, after a loud day out, shared with friends and family alike.

He knocks on your door, stepping in soon after. “Looking for something to wear?” He asks, a lilt to his voice. You roll your eyes, smiling none the less, “how’d you know? And you didn’t wait for my answer. I could’ve been changing.” Tongue flicks out to wet his lips, eyes latched upon your own. Heat warms your cheeks, shaking your head, grinning to yourself.

Azriel walks over, large hands settling at your waist, gently turning you to face him. Lowers his mouth over yours, lips slanting together. You’re surprised at first, caught off guard by the soft display of affection, but then you melt into it, hands cupping his jaw, his own keeping you close against his chest. Pull away to look at one another. “What was that for?” You whisper hoarsely, peering up into gentle hazel eyes.

Lips curve, turning you around to face the bed. A cream box laying atop the neatly made duvet, pretty bow tied atop it. “For me?” You ask, looking up at him, head tilting back against his chest. He nods, gentle pushing you forward, “have a look.”

Smiling, you raise the lid from the box, feeling his gaze warming your skin.

Blink.

White fabric…

Eyes lock on hazel, mischievous and adoring.

Turn back to the gift.

Swallowing, shaky fingers dip into the box, latching on the familiar fabric. Stand from the bed, allowing the dress to unfold in front of you, held up by the seams atop the sleeves. It’s the dress.

Your dress.

Lower it slowly, eyes heating as they connect with his, softened with affection. “You…” Azriel nods gently, expression shifting to something a little vulnerable. “I hope you like it.”

The tears start before you have the chance to even try to stop them, lip wobbling as you set the dress down on the bed, hurrying over. Arms wrap around him, burying your head in his chest, willing your eyes to dry. Hands settle against you, stroking your hair, tracing circles over your back, laughing quietly. Keeping you safe in the quiet of your bedroom.

“You like it?” He asks, making sure he’s gotten it right. He could never get it wrong, but you nod anyway. “I love you and hate you so much right now,” you mumble, sniffing. Pulling away a little—enough to peer up at him. “What have I done to earn your hate?” He smiles, hand still stroking your hair. “How am I ever supposed to top this for you?” You murmur, fingers gripping him tighter. “You’ve set the standard so high, how am I ever supposed to match it?”

Azriel laughs, shaking his head, “go put it on for me, and you’ll have done so.”

You doubt it, but follow his instructions anyway, changing out of your day clothes, shifting into the dress. Soft and gentle on your skin, fitting comfortably, not too heavy; not too light. Utterly perfect. Lip wobbles again as you arrange the fabric to sit how you want, turning to look at him, waiting his opinion. “What do you think?”

“I think I pity everyone who’ll never get to see you like this,” he murmurs, silently walking forward, stopping when his feet are either side your own. “And I think I’m the luckiest male alive because I’m the first you chose to show.” Cups your jaw, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Pulls away to look at you, smiling adoringly.

“Happy Birthday.”

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[todaysdocument]

Circular Letter from the Woman's Protest Committee on the Statehood Bill

Record Group 46: Records of the U.S. SenateSeries: Petitions and Related Documents That Were Presented, Read, or TabledFile Unit: Petitions and Memorials, Resolutions of State Legislatures, and Related Documents Which Were Tabled

WOMAN'S PROTEST COMMITTEE.

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"The Status of Woman Marks the Degree of a Nation's Civilization."

OCTOBER 22nd, 1904.

DEAR MADAM:-A bill is now pending in Congress which so vitally affects the interests of women in the great South-

West that we believe you and your organization would like to protest against the injustice therein threatened our sisters.

The bill proposes to unite Oklahoma and Indian Territories into one State under the name of Oklahoma, and to com-

bine New Mexico and Arizona Territories into a State under the name of Arizona. This measure has passed the Lower House

of Congress, has been read twice in the Senate and is now before the Senate Committee on Territories, of which Senator Al-

bert J Beveridge is Chairman, and the following named Senators are also members: William P. Dillingham, Knute Nelson,

Thomas R. Bard, Henry E. Burnham, John Kean, William B. Bate, Thomas M. Patterson, James P. Clarke and Francis G.

Newlands. Now is the time to amend, while the bill is in Committee.

The portion of the bill threatening injustice to the women in the proposed new States is found in Paragraph 5 of Sec-

tions 3 and 21, which would allow these States, when organized, to disfranchise minors, criminals, lunatics, non-residents,

ignoramuses and [italic] women. This part of the bill reads as follows:

"Fifth-That said State shall never enact any law restricting or abridging the right of suffrage on account

"of race, color, or previous condition of servitude, or on account of any other conditions or qualificartions, save

"and except on account of illiteracy, minority, [italic] sex, conviction of felony, mental condition, or residence; pro-

vided, however, that any such restrictions shall be made uniform and applicable alike to all citizens."

There may be other objections to this part of the bill, that Congress gratuitously interferes to forbid negro disfranchise-

ment, or disfranchisement "for any other conditions or qualifications," which latter will prevent disfranchisement for lack of

United States citizenship, a prohibition never before laid on a State. This wording will be interpreted by some as even pro-

hibiting the future enfranchisement of women in these new States. These paragraphs might well be omitted.

But the injustice to women might be averted if only the word "sex" were stricken from the paragraphs. The pioneer

women of the West, who have labored and suffered by their husbands' sides to advance civilization, ought not to be so unjustly

classed with felons, lunatics and children, while their own husbands, equals in other respects, are enfranchised. The Congress

of the United States ought not to set its seal upon the possibility of the perpetual disfranchisement of these women, an un-

merited disgrace and punishment. It is true that in many States women have been tacitly ranked with these defective delin-

quent and dependent classes, but never before has the insult been so open and flagrant, nor has it been in an Act of Congress.

The representative of the United States Government, the Territorial Governor of Arizona, once before interfered in

Arizona legislation to the defeat of women, by vetoing the woman suffrage bill passed by the Legislature of Arizona.

The women of all our great country should now protest against the women of the Southwest being ranked with the

classed justly disfranchised, any other member of which may be effort, behavior, or lapse of time, achieve enfranchisement.

Will you not ask your organization to write to the two Senators from your own State, to Senator Beveridge, the Chair-

man of the Committee on Territories, and to the rest of the Committee, asking each to work for the omission of the word

"sex" from the two paragraphs quoted above, or for the omission of the entire paragraphs.

There is need of haste in this matter and we urge action by your organization at the earliest possible date.

The sending out of this letter is authorized by the following named women, who, as individuals, urge you to take

speedy action:

Mrs. Ellen M. Henrotin, Honorary President General Federation of Women's Clubs; Miss Susan B. Anthony, Honorary

President National American Woman Suffrage Association; Mrs. Mary Wood Swift, President National Council of Women;

Mrs. Hannah G. Solomon, President National Council Jewish Women; Rev. Anna H. Shaw, President National American

Woman Suffrage Association; Mrs. Mary A. Livermore; Mrs. Fanny Garrison Villard; Miss Laura Clay; Miss Margaret Haley,

President National Teachers' Federation; Mrs. Ella S. Stewart, Franchise Superintendent of National Women's Temperance

Union; Mrs. Emily W. Thorndyke, President National Catholic Woman's League; Mrs. Lida P. Robinson, President Arizona

Woman Suffrage Association; Mrs. Elizabeth M. Gilmer, (Dorothy Dix); Mrs. Mary T. Hagar, President National Ladies of

the Grand Army of the Republic; Mrs. Ellen C. Sargent, Honorary President of California Woman's Suffrage Association; Mres.

Mary S. Sperry, President California Woman Suffrage Association; Mrs. Catharine Waugh McCulloch, Legal Advisor National

American Woman Suffrage Association; Miss Clara Barton; Mrs. May Wright Sewall, Honorary President International Coun-

cil of Women; Mrs. Elmina Springer, of the Woman's Relief Corps and Eastern Star; Mrs. Florence Kelley; Mrs. Emmy C.

Evald, President National Lutheran Woman's League; Mrs. Frederick Schoff, President National Congress of Mothers; Mrs.

Leonora M. Lake; Mrs. Margaret Dye Ellis, Legislative Superintendent of National Woman's Christian Temperance Union, and

Mrs. Lilian M. N. Stevens, President National Woman's Christian Temperance Union.

Will you notify your local press as to your action, and also notify Mrs. Harriet Taylor Upton, of Warren, Ohio.