#penn time travel

[palaxy27]

Where is she?

(What do you think? )

"And sashi?"

He stops in his tracks

"This is a bad sign" thinks boone as he feels the room become heavier. Seconds pass and nothing, not a muscle moves, no sound comes out of it only the noises produced by the screen in front of them are heard.

"What?" The young adult finally after seconds says something but still without turning to look at the dream team.

"W-where is she?" Penn asks with a slight tone of concern as he senses how the atmosphere was even more tense than before. "She was kidnapped too?"

This time adult penn is quick to respond "No" he says quietly, penn still not turning around and without any hint of any feeling.

Boone from the behavior of the fawning version of his friend knew something wasn't right, he recognized that.same attitude from a while ago....

Ever since his parents had been trapped in-

.

.

.

He understood the situation

(No)

Boone, who was already in sheer terror upon learning of the kidnapping of his future self, feels a pressure in his chest

(No no no no no no no no no no.)

He turned to see his best friend almost next door, who had his worried face on, however he didn't grasp the magnitude of his adult version's attitude, unlike him.

(NO!,she didn't be-)

"Penn."

A firm but calm voice pulls him out of his trance as well as his friend turning to see the owner of the voice, but the young adult did not move from his place still watching the screen showing the dimension map. There was still sashi behind them who most of the time had been more than a spectator of all the information thrown by the adult penn, in her face was a neutral look but somehow at the same time it shows something penetrating, that same look she has when she analyzes the situation before launching into action in a mission or when in the middle of a conflict or serious discussion like now, mostly she stays quiet and neutral (or at least she disguised it) to these situations. this time it was different.

"Penn" she repeats, staring at the man. The two boys look up at him.

No answer

"Where is he?"

The hands make slight movements, but he still says nothing.

Penn was starting to get scared seeing his adult version not saying anything about his girlfriend, Boone could only put his hand on his shoulder as conformation to his friend, he didn't think it would do much for him he was also scared for his friend's fate.

This eternity manages to end with the man's mouth having a trembling sigh come out.

"D-do... (gasp) you..really want t-to kn-know?"

In the girl's mind her answer was a no, but softening her expression slightly with concern and pleads in a soft voice comes out "please".She needed to know, maybe so they would go home or maybe try whatever had happened to her adult self hebitarlo.

The girl's response only make the young adult his hand logero movement spreads to a tremor that he tries to control. He takes another sigh before speaking.

"Sh-e...e (gasp) ..she..."

The broken voice of the adult penn only makes the.situation worse, panicking all the juniors.

"She?" asks their younger version.

S-she...(gasp)...t-t-two years ago she....

w-who (gasp) was ...

(No...) sashi's strong expression slowly changes to shock

...trapped and-and w-w-without... com... communication

(It was... true)boone's fear grows as his suspicions are confirmed

at .... (sniff) w-world's mo..most dangerous un...(sniff) imaginable."

.

.

.

"What?"

Just some practice, I'm trying to improve, what do you think? :)

Full fic idea and/context here

[akozuheiwa]

Do you think Mort knew that Douxie & co. were the same people that helped him as a kid?

So, if he ever figured it out, it would have been shortly before he died. Douxie getting his core could have gotten him to finally put the pieces together, and with everything happened at that time, he wouldn't have managed to mention it before he died.

But I like to joke that Douxie got his obliviousness from Mort so that's a big if. It has been nine hundred years, and those were the most traumatic couple of months of his very long life. It's understandable he'd forget a lot of details, faces, et cetera. Plus, he thought Hisirdoux was an Akiridion, and his adopted son Douxie is totally and completely human. It's also reasonable for him to believe Krel Tarron was named after Krel Akraohm - they'd be family, after all.

So essentially - no, except maybe towards the very very end. If he had known, I don't think he would have been able to bring himself to keep certain things a secret and not try to change them, screw the time-space continuum. Not when it came to his kids.

[enigmatist17]

Rewind (Pt 6)

Part 1 2 3 4 5

---

Penn had been enjoying a nice drink after a successful hunt when the prickle of nearby family trailed up his spine, eyes that had been casually scanning the bar crowd on the floor below him snapping up as someone joined his table.

"Penn." Brilliant blue eyes flecked with gold he hadn't seen in a good century met his gaze as he held Penn's stare.

"Spike." Penn frowned when he took in the others' scent, Spike nearly brimming with a power he should not have at his age, along with something else that set his teeth on edge. "You look good."

"Always do." The Brit purred as a drink was set in front of him, a pale hand grabbing the glass and bringing it to his lips. "How's Chicago treated you?"

"Very well, although I won't be here much longer." The city had been a fun distraction from his usual mission, but he had grown to dislike the winters and how sluggish he felt, so he had been eyeing the West Coast once more. "Hard to hunt when the city can be locked down with ice for days at a time."

"I feel you there." The younger scoffed, eyeing the crowds more in interest than looking for a bite. "Dru got so mad bein' stuck for weeks when we went ta Russia once, never went back."

"How is she? I've heard that she'd with some sort of chaos demon." There was a low growl from the other as Spike took another sip of his drink, blue eyes now entirely gold. "Sore spot?"

"Ask again and yer dust."

Fair enough

"So...why are you here? It's always nice to see family, but I doubt we're crossing paths." Penn knew Spike had always appreciated straightforwardness, and the younger nodded, eyeing Penn with a look the former Puritan couldn't put a description on.

"I 'ad this whole speech planned, you know." Spike ran a finger around the rim of his glass with a hum, his attention on Penn oddly serious for the first time since the older vampire could remember. "Then again, not one for 'em."

"This is true." Penn chuckled, tugging at his collar as he cleared his throat, wondering when the room had grown warmer.

"Man of action I am," Spike chuckled, draining his glass and setting it aside. "Easier ta show you if I'm honest."

"S-Show me what?" Spike said nothing as he watched Penn tug at his collar once again, confusion filtering through cerulean eyes as he watched Spike.

"You'll see." The room spins before Penn can snarl, and soon, he's falling into familiar arms as darkness envelops him.

Rat bastard

"Next time, I double the dosage." No one in the bar bats an eye at the vampire "helping" a drunk friend out the door, dragging him around the side of the building and to the idling car waiting for him.

"I'm almost disappointed he didn't fight." Spike rolled his eyes as he pulled out some rope, tying Penn up before putting him in the backseat, covering him with a blanket, and climbing into the passenger seat.

"Shut your yap and get drivin', I've got to dose 'im before our bloody flight."

"Yes sir." Spike snorted at the one-finger salute he received before kicking back, letting his newly acquired companion take them to the airport. He knew Penn was going to be beyond furious when he woke up, but memories of fighting in a city drawn to hell played in the back of his mind on a constant loop and, as such, overrode his discomfort at dragging a potential unwilling ally to the agony he felt every day in his chest.

"You're touching your chest again." Sighing, Spike looked over at the other vampire in the car, pulling his hand from his chest once again. Despite having snapped Sam Lawson up almost a week ago, he hadn't said much aside from telling Sam about Penn and his desire to grab his wayward family member.

"I am." Spike let his face shift as he focused on Penn, making sure the other man was truly out of it before digging through his duster and pulling out his smokes and lighter. "Soddin' soul burns all the time."

"....your what." If it hadn't been for his training in the military, Sam would have slammed on the brakes in shock, instead gripping the wheel so tight it nearly snapped. "I hear you right?"

"You did." Spike was clearly hesitant to explain, so Sam waited patiently. "Got my soul for someone, and if I 'ave my say, so will Penn. Might be able to help you out as well."

"....oh." He really doesn't have too much more to say, just focusing on driving to the airport in the distance.

---

Two weeks before Spike had dragged Sam all the way to Chicago, he had tracked the sailor down in New Orleans. He wasn't surprised to find that Sam had taken up in an old warehouse by the waterfront, the older vampire taking over a room in a hotel before awaiting the first full night in town. Sam was out hunting as the last shade of daylight faded into night, Spike fairly amused to see the former sailor seemed unable to shake wearing a peacoat reminiscent of the time he'd been born in. He drifted amongst the early bar crowds with practiced ease, Spike surprised he didn't yank drunk girls from the alley for an easy snack. No, Sam drifts until he and Spike hear some muffled pleading down a quiet street, Spike scaling a building to watch from above as Sam heads toward the sound. Two men had cornered a drunk woman and were in the process of tearing her dress apart when Sam seemed to come from nowhere, sending one flying across the alley into a wall while the second man stares, quivering at the sound of bone crunching.

"Best run along now, miss. I'll handle these two." Sam's voice is calm as the woman bolts for it, the vampire striking like a cobra before the second man can do more than take a breath. Spike grins as the struggles cease within a few moments, Sam dropping the body with a noise of disgust before going for his second meal. The elder vampire watched Sam pull out a small vial and sprinkle some dust over the bite wounds once he was done, the familiar wound changing to more of a jagged edge before stalking off into the night in satisfaction. The next night repeats almost similarly, Sam draining a thief who nearly killed a store clerk and a kidnapper who nearly made off with a child before seemingly calling it for the night. Spike decided he'd seen enough when he obviously tailed Sam, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it when he's guided to an alley.

"Judging by the strange sensation on my spine, you're not a normal vampire." Sam turned once they were out of sight, head tilted slightly as he studied Spike while undoubtedly preparing for attack. "Have we met?"

"Sure 'ave son, swam together to escape the soddin' sun once." Hooking his thumbs in his belt loops, Spike saw a flicker of recognition in those dark blue eyes, followed by caution.

"How'd you find me?"

"Know a demon, who knows a demon, who knows a human." An exhale of white smoke trails up into the air as vampire regards vampire. "Got a proposition for ya."

"Oh?" Sam was curious more than he was cautious, guard still up as he waited.

"Heard you've got an issue with your soul and all that, can't be a normal bloke killin' in the night an' all that rot. You 'elp me with...a project o' mine, and I can fix it." Spike had battled with himself on how to approach Sam after he'd left Wesley a few weeks back, and in usual fashion, decided to wing it last second with blunt honesty.

"...how do you know any of that?" Sam's eyes narrowed as he stared at Spike, who didn't seem to give a single crap about his half-a-soul deal.

"Like I said, know a bloke who knows a bloke." Vague answer once more, but it would take an eternity to explain everything, they can do that later. "Think of it as a mission, yea?"

Come on kid, take the bait

"A mission?" For some reason, the word clicked with Sam on some innate level, and his initial distrust fades slightly. "How do I know you won't dust me when my back is turned?"

"If I'm gonna dust ya, it'll be in a fight." Spike growled a little, and Sam nodded his head. "Don't take me for a bleedin' coward, Lawson."

"Fair enough." Sam didn't really know much about Spike, but as long as he was blunt, Sam could handle it. "Count me in, sir."

"Just what I wanted to hear." Spike grinned, eyes glittering as he finished off his smoke.

---

They end up on a flight to New Zealand, of all places, and Sam is more than curious about the country and what it has to offer. He hadn't traveled very far over the years after the War, finding little to no enjoyment in the prospect of seeing cities full of humans who lived their lives with purpose. Apathy had been his friend until Spike showed back up in his unlife, and for the first time since his last mission as a human, Sam was hopeful.

Also nervous.

Spike must have had their flight prepared for a while, the not-entirely-human staff not blinking an eye as a drugged Penn was strapped into a seat in first class. They placed some sort of ward around him after the flight had taken off and begun its long journey across the world, and the older vampire slept peacefully throughout their journey, giving Sam some time to see a proper Aurelian up close since his initial siring. There was a tingle along Sam's spine when he gathered the courage four hours in to move to a closer seat, this one running deeper into his bones than Spike's initial tell did, and he could have sworn there was the taste of magic to his particular scent.

"Angelus didn't care for turning a budding magic user." Spike's voice nearly made Sam jump, the blonde lighting up a smoke as he sprawled out on the seat behind Sam's. "Always found that funny."

"What's the matter with magic users?" Spike's lips twitched in a small smile at the curious look Sam was trying to pass off as blasé, and he took a drag of his cigarette.

"Well, nothin' really," He started, waving at one of the flight attendants for a refill of his drink. "as long as you do it properly. Magic is more dangerous than any demon you've ever seen or will see, because it always takes somethin' in return. Angelus was a right bastard throwin' him out, in my opinion; he always waxed poetic about how Penn was one of his favorites."

"Can anyone learn magic?" Sam looked back over at Penn, curious as he watched the unconscious vampire.

"Depends, couldn't tell you without tastin' your blood." Spike shrugged, eyeing Sam with a neutral expression. "Defensive spells don't need much power, we could always start there if things work out."

"...alright." Sam shrugged, returning to his original seat to wait out the rest of the flight in relative solitude, mulling over their conversation. A woman is waiting for them when their flight arrives in the dead of night, helping to offload Penn into a van once the humans have all departed the plane. The woman who had been waiting drove the three vampires to some sort of ranch that was a few good hours away from the airport; Sam's hackles raised when magic drowned out his senses the moment they drove over the threshold.

"Welcome to yer first coven kid, breathe in and out." Spike seemed at ease while Sam struggled to do as he'd been told, Penn groaning in discomfort from his spot on the floor as the drugs began to slowly wear off. This coven had prepared for them, the van stopping outside a smaller building that dotted the expansive countryside where a few people were waiting. Penn is chained up to a bed while a locket is clasped around his neck, Sam watching with wide eyes as it seems to melt into Penn's body.

"It will prevent him from casting magic to escape." A woman, the word witch crossing his mind, smiled at the younger vampire. "It will not cause him pain."

"I see." The witches who chained him up barely have enough time to get out of biting range when Penn finally fights off the last of the drugs, his demon immediately coming to the forefront as he looks around with a snarl.

"What the hell is this?" Sam felt himself subtly bare his neck to the far more powerful demon in the room, Penn sparing him a confused glance before he was distracted by Spike, whose own demon was out and staring Penn down. "What did you do?"

"I 'aven't done anything yet, but I will soon." Spike tilted his head slightly as he held Penn's gaze, gaze serious as the elder tugged at his chains.

"Awful lot of work to dust me." Penn sneered, his false bravado fooling no one as he finally broke the staring contest with Spike, eyeing the door where he could smell a few witches. "They stink of magic."

"Bloody should, we're in the middle of a coven, you idiot." Spike rolled his eyes as he leaned against the wall behind him, crossing his arms as Penn gave up on trying to rip the chains from the wall. "Not killin' you either, more like...recruitin'."

"Recruiting? You think drugging and kidnapping someone is a great way to recruit them?" Penn wasn't sure how to really process this, so he settled for shifting his face back to its human visage and kneeling on top of the bed he'd been placed on, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why would I help you after this?"

"Because you will, willingly or otherwise." The steel in Spike's words kept both his and Sam's attention as he took a drag from a fresh cigarette, mulling over his next words. "I'd rather you work with me."

"You could have asked, I may not know much about you, but family is family." Penn sounded annoyed as Spike shook his head, casting a glance at the other vampire Penn had never seen before. "Also, who are you?"

"Sam Lawson." The other man seemed a bit hesitant to have attention drawn to his little corner of the room, but otherwise continued to watch in silence.

"Sammy 'ere already plays nice, and you're going to do the same soon." Spike drawled, Penn's attention falling back to him. "See, where you're needed, I can't 'ave you killin' all those lovely little happy meals on legs."

"I don't do mass murders you know." Penn scoffed, almost insulted. "Besides, most vagrants and runaways go unnoticed long enough, so what does it matter?"

"It matters to me." Penn blinks at the edged tone in Spike's words as he pushes up off the wall, whistling to Sam as he motions to the door. "Go and get some sleep, you don't need to be 'ere for this."

"He's going to be alright?" Sam straightened as he looked at Penn with a frown, the elder actually letting some discomfort flash across his face.

"In a way. Now, go."

"Yes sir."

---

Penn wasn't nervous about a lot of things, but being restrained in the middle of a coven was oddly on that short list. Seven witches entered the room he was in after Sam disappeared further into the building he'd awoken in, all of them staring at Penn while the one he figured as the leader stood at the foot of the bed.

"What's all this for?" Penn could have winced at the slight tremble to his words, the lead witch pulling a small orb from inside her robes and cradling it in her hands.

"We do not normally impart a spell this powerful on an unwilling being, but these are unusual circumstances." Her voice seemed to soothe some of Penn's anxiety, the vampire gazing into onyx eyes that warmed his long-dead heart the longer he stared. He should find this stranger irritating, should want to rip her throat out and drain her dry, but those feelings fade as fast as they appear.

"What...what will..."

"This spell will free you, dearest Vincent, but impart upon you pain that will never fade." He doesn't move when she shifts the orb into one hand, reaching out with the other to lay her hand on his cheek without any reaction. "You will be better for it, however, in the end."

"How?" The orb that is placed over his chest doesn't seem so harmless, and Penn struggles to shake off the voice that is turning him to putty. "I don't...how did you...know-"

"A vision unlike any other revealed to me many things, Vincent, from the past to the future." The lead witch soothed as the six behind her began to chant, the orb slowly taking on a brilliant light. "I have seen the horrors you have committed, but the salvation you will help bring in the future."

Penn is confused as he finally looks down, catching sight of the orb as the head witch pulls her hand away, now using both to hold it against his chest.

"It will all make sense."

There's a sudden bright flash, and for a moment, the only noise was the panting of seven exhausted witches, all of them drained by a spell they'd received in their dreams.

Then came the screams.

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

It's my birthday!! For my birthday I would like u to buy my gay books!! (or share this post, that's good too) 🎂

My books are queer, medieval romances about, variously: running away, huddling for warmth, being a lady knight, shitty dads, kissing in the woods, and gay happily ever afters.

More info about One Night Hartswood here (m/m) and All The Painted Stars here (f/f). Blurbs under the cut!

Buy One Night In Hartswood here (UK) and here (US).

Buy All the Painted Stars here (UK) and here (US).

One Night in Hartswood

Oxfordshire, 1360

William de Foucart - known as Penn - is betrothed to a stranger. When he flees his father’s keep on the eve of his wedding, he’s looking only for a final night of freedom in Hartswood Forest, but what he finds is a mysterious man named Raff… and a desperate kiss beneath the trees. As dawn breaks, and Penn sneaks back, he decides that he will not be forced to bend to his father’s will. He’s going to escape both the keep and the marriage, and this time he won’t return.

Raff Barden, the son of an Earl, has been roped into searching for his reluctant sister’s missing groom. Instead, he stumbles across Penn once more, and assuming he’s a servant running from his cruel master he offers his help - hoping he can give Penn the freedom they both crave.

Unaware of their real identities, they begin to travel north, trying to ignore the attraction that still burns between them. But when they finally give in and grow closer, their continued concealment threatens everything they know and trust in each other. When their secrets are finally revealed, and the consequences of their relationship become clear, both must decide what they will risk for the man they love.

~

All The Painted Stars

Oxfordshire 1362

When Lily Barden discovers her best friend Johanna’s hand in marriage is being awarded as the main prize at a tournament, she is determined to stop it. Disguised as a knight, she infiltrates the contest, preparing to fight for Jo’s hand. But her conduct ruffles feathers, and when a dangerous incident escalates out of Lily’s control, Jo must help her escape.

Finding safety with a local brewster, Lily and Jo soon settle into their new freedom, and amongst blackberry bushes and lakeside walks an unexpected relationship blossoms. But when Jo’s past catches up with her and Lily’s reckless behaviour threatens their newfound happiness, both women realise that choices must always come at a cost.

[transit-fag]

Where you can get via public transit within 30 minutes, 45 minute and an hour

New York Penn Station

30th Street Station, Philadelphia

Chicago Union Station

King Street Station, Seattle

Data obtained here:

[istandonsnowpiles]

10 20 Favorite Photos of 2024

For me, in the world of photography, last year was all about growth. I got new gear (mainly my Fujifilm X-T5), expanded my photography to full spectrum, and worked to incorporate photography into my life in new ways.

Looking back, it's hard to believe I took all of these photos in one year. I'll put together some stats in another post.

What's included?

I had to narrow down my selections a lot. Only photos I feel comfortable sharing with everyone are here. I took lots of photos of friends and family this year that are not included. However, those were some of my favorite photos, if I took any of you, you know who you are.

Photos are in roughly chronological order.

Check the Flickr link on each photo for full quality.

1. Out over the Suburbs

Location: Tysons Metro, Tysons, Virginia Camera: Fujifilm X-T2 Lens: Viltrox 27mm f/1.2 Settings: 1/80 sec, f/4, ISO 640

I absolute love the gloomy, dystopian vibe of this blue hour photo. The Tysons metro is such a bustling little outpost in NoVa. This feels a little cyberpunk, a little noir, a little [GX]Ace. I'll absolutely be striving to shoot more like this in 2025.

2. Awe

Location: Penn's Landing, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Camera: Fujifilm X-T2 Lens: Fujifilm 33mm f/1.4 Settings: 1/240 sec, f/1.4, ISO 200

This was such a memorable trip to Philly. @dykedotexe and I got to run around in the fog all night, taking pics, and exploring. The city was beautiful. It was my first time in Philly and I want to go back so bad!

3. Typical Van Life Camping Spot

Location: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Camera: Fujifilm X-T2 Lens: @dykedotexe's Fujifilm 23mm f/2 Settings: 1/80 sec, f/2.8, ISO 5000

Photographers tend to recommend trying to get high up, to find a new perspective on a place. I've taken to going up any parking garage I can get access to. This night in Philly, it was a fantastic strategy. It was hard to pick a favorite photo from this rooftop. This crunchy, silly pic came out on top.

4. Sunsets in Ordinary Places

Location: Springfield, Virginia Camera: Fujifilm X-H1 Lens: Fujifilm 50-140mm f/2.8 Settings: 50mm, 1/240 sec, f/2.8, ISO 200

Again in a parking garage, but a bit more empty than in Philly. I found myself in this weird spot mostly cause I was bored one day. I took the train out to the end of the Blue line and wandered a bit. I ended up here on a cold, blustery day at sunset. And of course, it was a gorgeous one.

5. Winners

Location: PPG Paints Arena, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania Camera: Sony RX100 VII Settings: 72mm, 1/1250 sec, f/4.5, ISO 2500

I can't lie, I'm a Montreal fan. So, when Toronto won this game in the PWHL's on-the-road series in Pittsburgh, I was a bit disappointed. However, seeing Campbell and Carly Jackson was fantastic. This was also my first time renting a camera. I wanted something small that security wouldn't bother me about, the Sony RX100 fit the bill. I didn't love a lot of the photos that came out of that camera. Even this isn't a truly great photo. But, it got the job done and I loved seeing some professional women's hockey with my family.

6. Criss Cross

Location: Southwest, Washington, DC Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 Lens: Fujifilm 70-300mm f/4-5.6 Settings: 300mm, 1/450mm, f/5.6, ISO 2500

The new Frederick Douglass Memorial Bridge in DC is gorgeous. One of my favorite subjects. Here, captured at dusk, it looked truly marvelous. I was trying out a new lens, on a fairly new camera. I was very impressed with the results! The geometry here really works for me.

7. The Great American Eclipse, Cloud Halo

Location: Saint Albans Bay Town Park, Saint Albans, Vermont Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 Lens: Fujifilm 70-300mm f/4-5.6 + Solar Filter made by @lesbianredpanda Settings: 1/25 sec, f/8, ISO 500

This was my first time seeing a total solar eclipse. Four of us travelled up to Vermont to get a good view, scouted out locations, and ended up in a small town park for the day. It lived up to the hype and was absolutely worth the time and the trip. Would 100% do it again. Even with a bit of cloud cover (causing the cloud ring around the outside), the eclipse was stunning.

8. No Trains Today

Location: Harper's Ferry Train Station, Harper's Ferry, West Virginia Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 Lens: Fujifilm 16-55mm f/2.8 Settings: 55mm, 1/75 sec, f/5, ISO 250

Last year I really got into riding my bike. I've ridden it for commuting for years, but last year I got into riding longer distances, road and gravel, for fun. It's been a blast and it's been incredibly difficult. It inspired me to get a gravel bike. My biggest accomplishment for the year was riding from Harper's Ferry, WV along to C&O Canal Trail back to DC over a long weekend. It's the longest ride I've done, and I did it on my trusty Gazelle Arroyo. This year, I'd like to do the same ride on my gravel bike, and hopefully something even longer!

9. Bubble Bike Party

Location: Cardozo, Washington, DC Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 Lens: Fujifilm 56mm f/1.2 Settings: 1/250 sec, f/1.2, ISO 5000

You should check to see if your city has a Bike Party or Critical Mass ride. They're fun, party pace, chill rides. Stops in the middle for a party. This is the pride ride for June & represents so much for me. I got to ride this with everyone that I've convinced to get their own bike. And happened to land this fun photo of the party along the way!

10. The Sears Tower

Location: The Loop, Chicago, Illinois Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 Lens: Fujifilm 16-55mm f/2.8 Settings: 55mm, 1/125 sec, f/2.8, ISO 250

Chicago is awesome. This was my first trip over there, and while I did get sick as soon as I got there, I had an awesome time wandering the city. This rainy night was my favorite. Big towers, quiet streets, it felt like a playground. I can't wait to come back. This moody pic really captures the qualities I love about blue hour in cities.

11. Northern Chicago from 1,000 Feet

Location: Chicago 360, Chicago, Illinois Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 (Full Spectrum Converted) Lens: Fujifilm 16-55mm f/2.8 Settings: IR Chrome Filter, 1/75mm, f/4.5, ISO 320

This photo, taken from the observation level of the mega tourist-y Chicago 360 building, proved to me that digital IR Chrome is super cool and something I should try more. I've loved IR photography for a while. This wasn't my first IR Chrome shot ever, but it's the one I finally started to get the famous red color. It made me want to shoot IR Chrome soooo much more!

12. Big Sky Manhattan

Location: The Edge, Manhattan, New York Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 Lens: Fujifilm 33mm f/1.4 Settings: 1/90 sec, f/5.6, ISO 250

Right after my vacation in Chicago, work sent me to New York. I was still under the weather but after my positive observation deck experience in Chicago, I figured I would try the same in Manhattan. I ended up at the top of the city during a beautiful sunset. It was a fantastic time and truly beautiful.

13. Muffler Max

Location: Penn-Fallsway, Baltimore, Maryland Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 Lens: Fujifilm 56mm f/1.2 Settings: 1/200 sec, f/4, ISO 125

I really need to get to Baltimore more often. It's an easy 1 hour train ride from DC, any day of the week, for under like $30 round trip. I ended up there on a weekend where I was bored. It was raining and overcast all day. But, bad weather usually means good photos. I had a great time walking around. Can't wait to get back and see more of the city.

14. Danger: Chlorine

Location: Sideling Hill Rest Stop, Hancock, Maryland Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 (Full Spectrum Converted) Lens: Fujifilm 33mm f/1.4 Settings: IR Chrome Filter, 1/220 sec, f/2, ISO 125

Took this shot at a rest stop off the highway on the way home from a camping trip. It's the one that convinced me I'm starting to get the editing of IR Chrome photos down. This unremarkable shed nestled in leaves looks truly extraordinary in IR Chrome.

15. Nats Game (Square)

Location: Navy Yard, Washington, DC Camera: Panasonic S5 II Lens: Sigma 50mm f/2 Contemporary Settings: 1/60 sec, f/5, ISO 2000

My second experience renting a camera, I was a little concerned taking gear I didn't own out in the rain. But, it was worth it. The Panasonic S5 II is an excellent camera and there are clear benefits over the Fujifilm X-T5. However, the differences aren't large enough for me to switch systems for them yet. Maybe when Panasonic releases a high resolution version of the S5 II? Either way, I got this excellent street photo at Nats Park!

16. Milky Way & so much more

Location: Sky Meadows State Park, Delaplane, Virginia Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 (Full Spectrum Converted) Lens: Viltrox 13mm f/1.4 Settings: 13 sec, f/2.8, ISO 1600

If I've learned one thing over the years in photography, it's that Astro photography is incredibly difficult. I'm no pro and have difficulty editing these photos each time. I had fun with this full spectrum milky way shot, but I still feel like I have no idea what I'm doing 😅

17. Normal Sunrise

Location: Las Vegas, Nevada Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 (Full Spectrum Converted) Lens: Fujifilm 33mm f/1.4 Settings: Hot Mirror Filter (visible light only), 1/60 sec, f/2, ISO 125

I went to Las Vegas for a work conference. While I was aware of The Sphere, I don't think I had really internalized it as a thing that excited until I saw it in person. It is truly a ridiculous piece of engineering and architecture. It's completely unnecessary, an eye sore, and makes the experience of being in Las Vegas worse. So, it's perfect for Las Vegas. This photo (and its IR Chrome alter ego) have cemented it into me that I truly love to hate The Sphere.

18. Monorail Bends

Location: Las Vegas, Nevada Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 (Full Spectrum Converted) Lens: Fujifilm 33mm f/1.4 Settings: Hot Mirror Filter (visible light only), 1/210 sec, f/5, ISO 125

This monorail in Vegas is not good transit. Yet, it brought me to all the conference locations I needed to get to. It's annoying to ride, out of the way, dark, loud, and slow. But, it works. And it sured looked great at sunrise.

19. Desert Ocean

Location: I-15 outside of Las Vegas, Nevada Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 (Full Spectrum Converted) Lens: Fujifilm 33mm f/1.4 Settings: Hot Mirror Filter (visible light only), 1/3 sec, f/1.4, ISO 6400

Sometimes you take the coolest shots at an empty, desert highway exit, from the roof of a rental car. This funky abstract captures the vibe of the middle of the desert in a fantastic way.

20. River to Watchman

Location: Zion National Park, Utah Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 (Full Spectrum Converted) Lens: Fujifilm 33mm f/1.4 Settings: Hot Mirror Filter (visible light only), 1/110 sec, f/5, ISO 125

Holy cow is Zion National Park beautiful. I'm so happy I got a chance to go here. I only got a few hours in the park, but I was stunned the whole time. It's just unfathomably gorgeous. I have to go back an I think this photo manages to capture my experience of sunset in that park.

I'll be back soon with some more breakdowns of my 2024!

[burdenandacrop]

hiiii mags !!

(anon here b/c i'm not as brave as i thought i was 😅)

first of, i'm sorry to break your chain of silly little goofy prompts, they've all been heartwarming & got me giggling & kicking my feet :D howeveerrr, i know you write more sensitive topics and the big guy™️ is pretty comforting for me. now you can take this in any direction you want— angst, fluff, do whatever your heart desires, girl!— but i was wondering if you could do a gender neutral reader x schlatt who was in a past abusive relationship? maybe the reader has certain quirks like they flinch or overapologize because of past memories.

(is this the most self-indulgent ask in the history of asks?? okay, maaaybe... but like, yolo! right?)

and if you don't mind, if 💌 anon isn't taken, then allow me to fill that spot up for ya!

thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this! MUCHHH love girlie!!

- 💌

˗ˏˋ ❝ these hands can only be gentle. ❞ ˎˊ˗

hi anon !! i apologize for how long this has taken me, but i hope this appeases you. i know how it feels so if i can give just a smidge of comfort, that makes my heart happy :>

summary : with a bruise that still stings, you try to navigate what is supposed to be 'normal'. as does he, with open arms and an open mind.

⋮ ⌗ ┆established relationship, comfort, mentions of abuse, small bit of crying, gender neutral reader.

the soothing voice of chet baker rang through the kitchen, you waved your hands around to the smooth sound. watching as schlatt was attempting to figure out the instructions on the box of penne pasta. his eyes squinting as he tried to rack his head on just how long he really needed to have it boiling in the pot for. you sigh and place a hand on his arm as you leaned in to read the directions with him, he was making it seem a lot harder than it probably was. looking at him, all you could think was 'poor soul'.

"you've got the right times, don't think about it too hard." you softly giggle out, poking his arm before you let go of him. "gonna pop a vein if you keep that face." you added, playfully toying with him. he dropped the box to the countertop, causing a loud clash to be heard, looking over to you with a grin. he wasn't met with a matching smile on your face though, instead he saw for a split moment a genuine look of fear on your face.

you quickly fix your face and cross your hands over one another, knowing you shouldn't have reacted like that to such a small thing. "sorry- it was the box wasn't it?" he muttered, raising his hand up to your shoulder to gently rub his thumb along. you bite on the inside of your cheek and try your best to keep your face fixed, "we need, olive oil. yeah." you stammer out, turning to the stove and grabbing the bottle to gently pour onto the pan. he watched as you desperately tried to distract yourself, his hand dropped back to his side as he watched you.

he looked at you for a moment longer before grabbing the box of penne and looking over the instructions again. he took a few quick glances at you as you evened out the oil onto the pan, he could easily see that he accidentally upset you. even if it was an accident, he desperately wanted to fix it, somehow at least. he looked at the box one more time before quietly placing it back down this time.

he walked behind you and leaned over slightly to gently kiss the temples of your face, letting his hands softly lay upon your shoulders. he could feel how tense you became, it ached at him. "i love you." he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. you slow down your stirring and come to a complete stop to turn your head to face him more, "i love you too." your voice quivering ever so slightly. his kisses traveled down your cheek, moving the hair by your ear to gently kiss the nape of your neck.

"just focus on the pan, sweetheart." he said barely above a whisper as he moved his lips off of you, moving your hair back gently. you let out a deep sigh, the uneasiness slowly going away. moving your hands back to stir the oil, as you seasoned the pan as well. his hands gently massaging your shoulders as he watched you, leaning his cheek against the back of your head. he couldn't comprehend how someone could hurt someone as delicate as you, when he saw you nothing short of a fairytale.

he let his hands slowly move from your shoulders, instead wrapping his arms around your torso with a sigh. "it looks really lovely already, baby." he muttered, kissing the side of your head, in hopes that he was doing something right. you move the pasta mix into the pan, pouring it gently as it sizzled with the oil. you were trying so hard to not mess anything up, especially not with him watching. you felt more on ease as time went on, it did feel nice to have him wrapped around you.

"any seasonings you want?" you speak out of thin air, embracing the warmth from him behind you. you could feel his cheek move along your head, assuming he was shaking his head to the question. "just the usual, i'm not picky." he replied, rocking you slowly as he stood. "anything you make is good, sweetheart." he adds on with a smile, his voice low and soothing. you lean your head against him and weakly grin as you gently stir the pasta mix, maybe it was going to be alright.

there had been other kitchens, other meals, other hands. hands that didn’t hold so gently, voices that didn’t soothe but seared. you thought you’d buried it all, hidden it deep enough that it wouldn’t resurface, but sometimes all it took was the wrong sound at the wrong time. he didn’t say anything as the silence stretched, his chin resting lightly on the crown of your head, waiting. he had learned not to push, not to pry. "just some garlic, never hurt anybody right?" you snicker out, the nervousness still evident in your voice. it was embarrassing for him to see you like this, you only wanted him to see you in your light; not the darkness that someone before created.

he shrugged and squeezed you softly, "i'm not a vampire, so you're safe with that." he started, chuckling to your comment, "for now." he added on jokingly, even letting out the stereotypical 'mwah hua hua' after. you let out a soft laugh, the kind that still felt unusually foreign on your lips, almost like a language you were relearning. the tension in your shoulders eased just a little as you reached for the garlic cloves, their papery skin crackling under your fingers. you glanced back at him, catching the playful glint in his eyes as he leaned into his ridiculous vampire impression, his grin as cheesy as you imagined it.

“for now?” you teased, raising a brow as you placed the garlic on the cutting board. “should i be worried you’re gonna start craving my blood instead of dinner?” you added with a smile. he gasped, a hand flying to his chest as though mortally wounded. “darling, i’d never! though…” his voice dipped theatrically, “if it means i get to bite that lovely neck of yours, i might reconsider.” you rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered this time, small but genuine. “then you’d better help me mince this garlic, dracula, before i revoke your invitation to this kitchen.”

he laughed, moving to your side with ease, his presence steady and warm. “course, course,” he said, grabbing a knife and making a show of twirling it lightly in his hand before chopping the garlic. for a moment, the air felt lighter, the weight on your chest loosening its grip. his effort to make you smile wasn’t lost on you, and you found yourself grateful. not just for his humor, but for the way he didn’t try to fix you. didn't view you as some sort of project that he'd see fit as. instead, he let you exist, fractured edges and all, and somehow that felt more healing than anything else.

“you’re getting better at this, you know,” he said after a beat, nodding toward the stove. the garlic was sizzling now, releasing a rich aroma that mingled with the bubbling oil. “at cooking?” you asked, pretending not to notice the way his hand brushed against yours as he slid the minced garlic into the pan.

“at trusting,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. you froze, the words cutting through you with their quiet truth. it wasn’t the kind of compliment you were used to. there was no flattery, no sugar coating, just a simple acknowledgment of the effort you’d been pouring into rebuilding yourself; and it felt nice. nicer than you imagined it being. he sliced the last bit of garlic and rubbed the excess from his palms, softly grinning as he kept his eyes on you. letting his hand raise up slowly, in fear that it might startle you, so he could gently caress the side of your face.

"just stay like this, okay?" he sighed out, letting his thumb run along your temple. "this is more than enough for me." he added on, before leaning over to kiss you on the forehead. "more than enough." he concluded, looking right into your eyes as he was mere centimeters from your touch. you swallow the lump in your throat as you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but it wasn't sadness. rather relief. relief that you finally felt safe.

"i love you." you shakily state, your lip gently trembling. you could feel the waterworks making their way, and so could he. even making him gear up a few tears of his own, he couldn't help it. knowing just how hard it was for you on a daily basis, but he wouldn't stray from you. he was just fine right here with you, in moments like this. whether it was crying because he accidentally raised his voice, holding you through the shakes when you had a night terror, or just singing you to sleep.

he was fine with all the moments in between the so called 'good', he just wanted to be there period. "i love you too, more than you'll ever know." he replied, trying his best to cut away the tears. grinning softly as he wiped under your eyes, "it's the garlic- swear." he snickers, making you laugh with him and shake your head. "onions are what makes you cry." you reply, feeling the heaviness get lighter in your chest. "shh shh, let me have this one." he defends with a giggle. taking a deep sigh and gently caressing your face.

"you're so- good. i'm so sorry anyone has convinced you otherwise, sweetheart." he stifles out, a tear escaping his eyes as it fell slowly down his cheek. you nod and raise your arms up to pull him into a hug, you needed this more than ever. closing your eyes as the sound of the sizzling pan and chet baker's soothing trumpet soared through the room. schlatt began to slowly sway you to the rhythm, kissing the top of your head softly.

"i just love emotional pasta nights, really do." he jokes, making you swiftly poke your head up and shake your head with a smile. a real smile. "as long as you're there, i love them too." you mutter barely above a whisper. tilting his head down and kissing you, leaning your chin up delicately and basking in every second of it. he knew it'd be a long road, but he knew he had enough love in his heart to withstand it.

author's note : i might've like ?? actually happy teared at this while writing, my apologies ?? i hope this isn't too short for you anon ! i can always write it longer if you'd like, i just hope you love it <3 cause i definitely did.

[therainingkiwi]

Train travel in The Lightning Thief/PJO TV season 1

Oh look, I'm overanalyzing fictional train travel because I'm one of Those neurodivergent people. Let's get into it. Warning for VERY minor book spoilers (just mentioning the names of all the cities our trio travels through).

TL; DR our trio's cross country travel route makes no sense at all.

In the first book/season of the Percy Jackson series, our main trio takes a cross-country trip from Long Island, NY, to Los Angeles, CA. In the beginning, it appears as if they've boarded a cross country bus that will drive them the whole way there (a trip that usually takes ~72 hours). However, they get derailed in rural New Jersey (presumably the northwestern part of the state).

After New Jersey, the action immediately skips ahead, and we next see our trio on an LA-bound train that's about to stop in St. Louis (and in the book, has a later stop in Denver).

So, just off the bat: the train route that the trio are taking doesn't exist IRL (assuming they board a train in Trenton, and that train stops in St. Louis, Denver, and Los Angeles). It's also impossible for a single person to travel that route for $200, much less three people. Chiron needs some up to date information about cross country travel prices.

If they were traveling a reasonable IRL amtrak route, they'd probably take the Cardinal from Trenton to Chicago, and then take the Southwest Chief from Chicago to LA. However, if they can get back to Penn Station from Aunty Em's, they could take the Lake Shore Limited from NYC to Chicago, which would be 7-8 hours shorter than getting to Chicago via the Cardinal.

They could also take a bus from north New Jersey to Chicago.

However, the Southwest Chief (most direct amtrak route to LA) stops at neither St. Louis nor Denver. The most notable cities along the route are Kansas City, Albuquerque, and Flagstaff.

If they wanted to take a route to LA that had them pass thru St. Louis, they could take the Texas Eagle from Chicago to St. Louis to San Antonio, and then take the Sunset Limited from San Antonio to LA. There are 3 trains per week that make this two-leg trip without requiring travelers to transfer at San Antonio, so our trio are probably on one of those. Why they didn't take the (shorter, cheaper, and more frequent) Southwest Chief is a mystery, honestly.

Since Chicago is the USA Amtrak hub, most routes will pass thru that city. The only alternative route is taking the Crescent from Trenton to New Orleans and then taking the Sunset Limited from New Orleans to LA. This would take them nowhere near Denver or St Louis, but probably wouldn't have a significant time/price difference from routing the trip thru Chicago (assuming they travel direct from Chicago to LA rather than taking the Texas Eagle thru San Antonio).

Unfortunately, there are no trains in the USA that travel between St. Louis and Denver (or even between St. Louis and Colorado in general), so that leg of their trip would have been made via bus. Greyhound (the USA's main long-distance bus travel company) has buses directly from St. Louis to Denver that end in California (but in San Francisco rather than LA).

In conclusion, I propose a new Amtrak route called "The Lightning Thief" that travels from New York-Penn Station, down the Northeast corridor thru New Jersey, and then turns west, making major stops in St. Louis, Denver, and Las Vegas, before terminating in LA. It doesn't stop in Amtrak's Chicago hub because all hub-and-spoke transit systems should have rim routes, and because Chicago isn't mentioned in The Lightning Thief.

Also, in conclusion, the USA needs better rail infrastructure and I'm a fucking nerd.

Amtrak map below for reference.

[stylinsoncity]

Hiiii! I know it’s been a while but first! I want to just confirm that I’m definitely alive and well! I’m also back with a new fic, which you might have already seen if you’re subscribed on ao3.

‘Hard times in elmsmere’ is the vampire/witch time travel au I mentioned a while ago and it is now published in its entirety. I hope you enjoy it!

I also want to talk candidly about where I am re: fic writing in general. I’ve been feeling distant for months as I try to focus on my own personal writing and other interests, hence the long hiatus. I hoped that some time away would kind of reboot that part of my brain. But tbh the opposite has happened.

I will absolutely be finishing penn park and an update is coming very soon. by next week, i believe. i also have one more chapter I want to post for notes on oxford and then I’ll likely mark that as completed. i’m not sure what to do with ‘till the end of time’ so I’ll just leave that open for now. but I think by the end of the year, assuming I’ve added one or two more chapters, i’ll likely mark that completed as well. I do still want to publish caya…and once I finish my WIPs, I think I can get back to editing it bit by bit. I’d also love for SEL to be published one day too, but that seems a little out of reach right now.

I really wish I could clone myself and devote my clone to the task of writing all the fics I’ve ever thought about. But sadly it’s just me! D: 

the bottom line is I won’t really be online anymore and the rate I’m able to update my fics will be really slow. I closed my inbox bc I didn’t want asks piling up or for anyone to feel ignored. my messages are still open for now though so if you need to contact me, pls do. but it may take me a while to respond.

since I’ll be away indefinitely and unable to provide permission, i would really appreciate it if my fics were no longer printed or reproduced in any way, this includes translations or reposting.

lastly, I just want to say thank you very very much for the support! it means so much more than i can even express right now. i've enjoyed all the conversations i've had here and all the love that's been shared. this is not quite a goodbye. there are still lots of great chapters to come. But for now I just want to say thank you for understanding and ily!

[gottencents]

010: nobody knows mental illness like a chanel bias

synopsis. SM Entertainment would’ve loved for FALLEN ANGELS and aespa to never share a stage — especially with Chanel possibly "corrupting" their prized “it girl,” Karina.

____________ ____________ ________ ____________

Chanel arrived early again, parked a little ways down from Karina’s place to avoid looking overeager. As she waited, she scrolled through her phone, trying to calm her nerves. Her playlist was blasting, but even the comforting beats of her favorite songs couldn’t drown out the excitement buzzing through her veins.

When Karina walked out of her building, Chanel’s heart practically stopped. She looked effortless, wearing a soft lilac midi dress with sneakers, her hair falling perfectly over her shoulders. Chanel scrambled to get out of the car, nearly dropping her keys in the process.

“You clean up nice,” Karina said, smiling as she approached.

Chanel gestured vaguely at Karina. “I was just about to say the same thing, but you’re making me look underdressed.”

Karina laughed. “I like your style. It’s very ‘cool girl trying not to care but actually caring a lot.’”

“Wow, called out on the spot,” Chanel said, grinning.

They arrived at the cozy Italian restaurant Chanel had picked, and as soon as they sat down, the banter began.

“So, what’s your go-to pasta dish?” Karina asked, her elbow resting lightly on the table.

“Spaghetti,” Chanel said immediately. “But like, with meatballs the size of my fist. What about you?”

“Penne vodka,” Karina replied, glancing at the menu. “But I judge places by their garlic bread.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Chanel said, nodding seriously. “If the garlic bread doesn’t hit, it’s over.”

“Exactly.”

As the waiter brought out their drinks, Karina tilted her head. “So, when did you first realize you wanted to be an idol?”

Chanel took a sip of her water, thinking. “Honestly? When I was like, nine. I saw this performance on TV—it was ridiculous, like all the lights, the outfits, the energy. I thought, ‘I want to make people feel like this.’”

Karina smiled softly. “And now you do.”

Chanel blinked, caught off guard. “Well, yeah, I guess. But what about you? You’re like, the blueprint for idols at this point.”

Karina laughed. “Hardly. But I think I knew around the same age. I always liked performing, but it wasn’t until I got into dance competitions that I thought, ‘Oh, this could be something more.’”

“You’re so good at it,” Chanel said earnestly. “Like, stupidly good. Watching you rehearse last week? Insane.”

“Don’t hype me up too much,” Karina teased, though her cheeks tinted pink.

After dinner, they decided to take a walk along a nearby park trail. The lights from the city reflected off the lake, casting shimmering patterns across the water.

“Okay, real question,” Chanel said, hands stuffed in her jacket pockets. “Do you ever get nervous before performing?”

Karina glanced at her. “All the time. You don’t?”

Chanel snorted. “Girl, I feel like throwing up every time. But it’s like, once I’m out there, it just…fades.”

“Same,” Karina said. “It’s the adrenaline, I think. It takes over.”

“Yeah, and then you’re just vibing,” Chanel said with a laugh. “Unless you trip on stage, which I have. Twice.”

“Twice?” Karina echoed, laughing. “How?”

“The first time, it was my shoelaces. The second time…honestly, I just wasn’t paying attention.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Karina said, shaking her head.

Chanel grinned. “You think I’m cute?”

“Did I stutter?” Karina replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Wow, okay,” Chanel said, pretending to fan herself. “I wasn’t ready for that.”

As they continued walking, the conversation turned more personal.

“What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t yet?” Karina asked.

Chanel thought for a moment. “Travel more. Like, really travel. Not just for work.”

“Where to?”

“Everywhere,” Chanel said, spreading her arms dramatically. “Europe, South America, maybe even Antarctica. You?”

“Honestly? I want to try surfing,” Karina admitted.

“Surfing?” Chanel repeated, laughing. “You’re full of surprises.”

“Why? You don’t think I could do it?”

“Oh, I think you’d crush it. I just didn’t expect it.”

When they returned to Karina’s building, Chanel hesitated outside the door.

“So, this was fun,” Chanel said, scratching the back of her neck.

“It was,” Karina agreed, her voice soft.

“I, uh…I was thinking…” Chanel trailed off, suddenly nervous.

Karina tilted her head. “Thinking what?”

“That I really want to do this again,” Chanel said quickly, her words tumbling out.

Karina stepped closer, a small smile playing on her lips. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

“I try,” Chanel said, grinning despite herself.

Before she could overthink it, Karina leaned in and kissed her. It was gentle, sweet, and completely disarming. When they pulled apart, Chanel blinked rapidly.

“Did that…just happen?” she asked.

Karina laughed. “Yes, it did.”

“Cool, cool,” Chanel said, her voice higher than usual. “No big deal or anything.”

Karina smiled. “Goodnight, dork.”

“Goodnight, pretty,” Chanel replied, her cheeks hurting from how much she was smiling.

As she walked back to her car, Chanel couldn’t stop replaying the kiss in her mind, already counting down the days until their next date.

____________ ____________ ________ ____________

A/N: texts made to all be incoming on purpose for u to know who talking better <333

Taglist ( closed ) : @saysirhc @awkwardtoafault @yjiminswallet @gtfoiydlyj @1luvkarina @womanl0ver @hazel-tanthamore22 @deuxae @arihiu

[transfemininomenon]

nearly a decade later and im still so right to get mad about this what were you guys Thinking

me aged 21 traveling by train to new york alone for the first time with nothing but verbal instructions from my sister on the transfers and stops and final station knowing i had to get off as New York Penn Station and learning there's also a Newark Penn Station like two stops before it and only narrowly avoiding getting off at the wrong station. my phone was dead. what would i had done if i ended up in newark with no idea of what to do next

[artphotocollector]

© All Images: The George Hoyningen-Huene Estate Archives

"Texture, line, simplicity--these were the things he liked--the classic truth." Katharine Hepburn

As time goes past, and the history of photography becomes deeper, photographers such as George Hoyningen-Huene (b.1900-d.1968) remind us how rich that legacy grows. What is now more than 100 years ago, Huene (hoo-Nay), while standing on the shoulders of previous giants like Edward Steichen (who encouraged a young Huene in Paris in the early 1920's to pursue fashion photography), created timeless work that has helped to shape later generations' understanding of photography, fashion, film and Beauty.

A new book--the first publication in 40 years--on Huene is now out from Thames & Hudson. It is a timely reminder for us to rediscover Huene. In many ways the arc of his life as a Baron and Russian-born aristocrat in St. Petersburg in 1900, as well as being the son of an American mother, mirror the major events of the 20th Century. From WWI, to fleeing the Bolshevik Revolution, to life in bohemian Paris in the 1920's, to Golden Age Hollywood in the 1940's--Huene was a part of it all. His collaborations with the leading artistic and celebrity lights of the day and his relationship with the photographer Horst P. Horst only make his history richer.

This new publication from Thames & Hudson provides a generous overview of his life, including unpublished correspondence, and for me, a whole new appreciation of Huene's travel photography. When we delve back into the history of photography, and see the work of Avedon, Penn, Ritts, DeMarchelier and others, we can appreciate the foundations that Huene laid earlier with elegance, simplicity and a reverence for Beauty: the classic truth. --Lane Nevares

[deluxewhump]

Carlo’s Letters: Suzerain (unsent)

(from a collection of letters in Carlo’s handwriting. This one has no addressee or formal greeting, but the intended recipient is easily inferred)

CW: slave/pet whump, at times ambiguous master/pet relationship, Carlo is 20 writing this but referencing a time he was a minor (17), hand feeding, mention of violence and acid burning in the context of a movie, sexually charged looks in public from men, overall a reflective and tame piece)

April

Someone mentioned the tax season deadline and it brought up a memory I have of you, in that funny, mostly unrelated way memories have of coming up. Years ago, I think I was seventeen, we were trying to re-enter the country after a short trip. Something had gone wrong with our tickets. They were flagged, and we had to visit the consulate before flying.

The girl at the counter had hair the color of fake buttercups in a ponytail tied with a navy ribbon. She looked like an old-timey stewardess I’d seen in magazine illustrations. She said you had to pay a new fee to bring back a pet. No, not a new pet, just any pet. A one-time re-entry fee for those traveling internationally with their pets. You checked the time on your watch and asked when this came about. I got a chill from the subdued, civil curiosity you possess that makes people more nervous than a raised voice. The girl winced when she said last week, like she’d been getting pushback on it since then.

I glanced from her face to yours. The set of your mouth is easier to read than your eyes sometimes, especially when you’re talking to strangers. My eyes drifted down the pressed lines of your sleeve, the neat black lines of the coat folded over your arm. She turned her screen toward you, the policy pulled up and ready. I noticed the official US seal on the top, that sharp eyed, pitiless eagle and borders of navy blue. Knowing this was about me made me lightheaded, and I ran my pinky along the scratchy fabric of your coat like I could tether myself to you that way, focusing on the friction of fabric and skin. I took a deep breath slowly, so no one would notice.

You read her screen and hummed in amusement. The girl laughed nervously with you, unsure if you were about to give her a hard time. But you just paid the fee for my re-entry, and we went back to the taxi and rode to the airport. It was four thousand dollars. My stomach churned at the number.

The security checkpoint was busy. I stayed close to you amidst the throngs of people winding through the stanchions. They had dogs out today, and made us walk past them two by two. An agent with a belt full of gear and black boots made eye contact with me. His eyes were a transparent blue. I looked at the dog instead, its tail wagging softly and his head bent low, sniffing for contraband, thrilled to serve its master.

With two hours until our flight we sat in a dimly lit restaurant booth, all dark wood and polished brass rails at the bar that gave the impression we had stepped out of the sterile, white halls of the airport into another decade. The wall behind the bartender was mirrored. I watched us in the reflection as you ordered two waters and a caprese salad. I said I wasn’t hungry, though when the server brought your penne primavera it smelled so good I had a brief pang of regret.

I drank the water you ordered for me, imagining it cooling me from the inside out and bringing back my equilibrium. How many Italian dinners would four thousand dollars buy? Why did you have to pay such a jaw-dropping fee to bring your own property back into your own home country?

You ate at a pace slower than leisurely and ordered dessert, which was unlike you. I realized it was for me when you scooped the first bite of chocolate mousse cake on a fresh fork and put it in front of my mouth. I must’ve looked miserable because you pulled it away.

“What?” you said gently.

“Why was it so much?”

“Why was what so much, angel?” There was no warning in your tone. Only patience.

“To bring me back?”

You sighed through your nose, finished your demitasse of espresso. “That was a King’s ransom, wasn't it? Just a clever way to drum up some extra revenue. They know most of us won't leave our pets at a consulate over four grand. Well. Some will."

"Can you get it back?"

"I need you to stop wringing your hands over a luxury tax, Carlo." You sounded amused now, which was better than annoyed but not a distant land to it, either. "What did you bring to read on the plane?"

"The Idiot?"

"That won't help,” you said.

I didn't know what you meant by that, but I was alright with being in the dark, or the butt of a joke, if gave you a moment of genuine pleasure. "...It just seems unfair," I shrugged.

You lowered your voice. “It’s got nothing to do with you, sweetheart. It’s no matter. I’d have paid whatever I needed to. It’s a mosquito bite.”

I dropped my eyes. You’d gone out of your way to reassure me, and it had made my face warm. Back then, if I could have changed anything about myself, it would have been the way I blush so easily, making every emotion visible and ten times more humiliating. You offered the fork again and I leaned forward to take the bite of rich, sweet cake. It was good. I was hungry. I wanted another bite. But I’d sit there with my mouth watering for another five minutes while you took a phone call rather than reach for something I hadn’t been handed.

My attention slid off to a woman who’d dropped her purse in her rush to her terminal. Her phone skittered all the way to the drinking fountain by the wall like a rock skipped on water. It seemed to me the real world was inside the restaurant, its fresh bread smells and dark polished wood, and the ant-like rush outside in the airport was an illusion, a large TV screen.

You scooped another bite onto the fork and fed it to me with your cellphone to your ear, looking at me absently as you did. “I thought that’s what you said,” you said to whoever was on the other line. “I agree. They need to vet these guys. The new software makes it a step by step process.” You fed me yet another bite. My teeth hurt from the sweetness, but I took it. Chewed, swallowed. “There shouldn’t be any more mistakes like that. They need to be held responsible.”

You weren’t talking to me, or about me, but your matter-of-fact, stern tone made my spine tingle anyway.

I noticed a broad-shouldered black man with a close, well oiled beard watching my master hand feed me. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, had only a carry on briefcase with him. His watch and cufflinks looked expensive. His leather shoes gleamed. He saw me return his gaze and looked away with profound disinterest.

Strange men in public often had that reaction. Either that, or they would smile at me. It was almost always men. Women sometimes looked, but I couldn’t read their intent as easily. The men who grinned and leered always felt like a violation. I knew most would be a hot breath on my neck and the smell of some grotesque cologne, but at least they were displaying interest. I knew they could not actually touch me. Being an object of envy or desire still made me feel safe in those days, even if I knew the desire was destructive.

If strangers with a penchant for youngish boys would look at me with such open interest in an airport, a cafe, a crowded street, then I must possess something that has value to my master, even though he doesn’t use me in that way. Beauty alone must be enough for him, and that must be the essence of his attachment to me. It was my currency and I knew it.

Once (not with you) I saw a movie in which pets often had their faces burned with acid either as a last-ditch kind of punishment or a form of vandalism by their master’s enemies. I had bad dreams about it for months afterward. I don’t think I had ever imagined violence with any kind of permanence or real malice behind it until that moment. Why would I have?

Men like this one, who looked away as if even curiosity about me was beneath them were harder to be sure of than ones who stared. Were they too polite for that? Were they abolitionists who imagined I’d like to be free of this man I was with? Or did they find me, my submission, my mouth on the proffered fork of man who was so clearly my master repulsive? Was it hate or indifference?

I don't receive those looks anymore. I don't look like a pet. I don't sit like one at the side man who looks like no relation to me, and like he'd own a pet. Max thinks I'm oblivious to the way girls look at me sometimes. I probably am. Sometimes when I look in the mirror I still imagine myself though your eyes. I don't cut my hair too short or let it grow too long. I wear things you taught me to like. I don't have to do any of this. Someone else might shave his head, wear things he knows you'd dislike.

Do I still not possess an ounce of rebellion when it comes to you? I'm like that dog at the airport. I don't understand emancipation or retirement. I am waiting for you to tell me to come home, or else give me permission to become someone else.

You're in prison. I imagine you like some incarcerated mob guy in the thirties, with your own dinner menu and LL Bean slippers and guys who respect a gun runner nodding at you in the yard and calling you boss. What's it really like?

If I send this, will you write me back? Would you write to Max instead, telling him to keep a better eye on my mental state because I'm writing to you in prison? That would be worse than no reply, I think. A hand-slap and a reprimand.

The possibility might keep me from sending it.

Not Yours,

Carlo Svenson

[nandorslonelyheartsclub]

I FUCKING LOVE the choice to let us see Nandor trying to make new friends just one week ago because we actually saw how easily people run way from him even when he’s not being a bad person or a prick (the whole penis stuff and harassment in the changing room happened AFTER ALEX STARTED TO AVOID HIM), people run away as fast as they can when he’s just being himself and yes he’s dumb and all but Alexander said it himself Nandor is harmless and lonely and people see that but THEY DECIDED HE ISN’T WORTH THEIR TIME

TRULY NOBODY WANTS TO STAY WITH HIM it takes a few hours for Alexander to decide to not see him again and just look at the whole Gail thing, she comes back from time to time for the sex but wants nothing to do with Nandor in the long term and then there is it.

There is Guillermo.

His closest companion for 13 years, the one who’s always been there, always by his side. Guillermo has been with Nandor for 13 years, has seen his bad days, his crisis, has seen the monster and all his flaws and. he . decided. to stay. Guillermo was the one who made Nandor feel seen, maybe even worthy. Until Guillermo wasn’t there anymore. Until he left Nandor waiting for him at Penn Station.

Guillermo didn’t show up and Nandor had to travel alone, heartbroken. And a year later at the first crisis in the house Nandor’s back again looking for him, for the one that has always saved the day, the one who has always saved Nandor and was there for him when he needed and Guillermo. is . not. there. Again. It’s all coming back. Guillermo is not here. Guillermo is slipping away from him. Guillermo is leaving him, he’s running away as everyone did at last. Guillermo was supposed to be the one. And man if Nandor is about to fucking explode is really this close all the “we’re (‘im) doing fine without you” ALL THE FUCKING BITTERNESS. It’s all coming back to him, all the time spent alone, all the sadness, all the frustation.

Guillermo was supposed to be The One but Guillermo has already betrayed him. He didn’t know yet but Guillermo has betrayed him in the worst way and Laszlo was so right Guillermo’s secret is going to destroy Nandor we’re not fucking ready this is getting real 

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

KNEEL

Some of you may remember that ages ago, I posted some Hartswood short stories & snippets which were then deleted. Good news... they're back 👀

2.7k words, Rated E, contains semi-public blowjobs.

***

The inn was teeming with people, unusually busy for the season. Raff eyed the finer horses being led into the stables, and the carts outside the stone building. It appeared they had arrived at the same time as a retinue, a crowd of people no doubt following some lord in a long, slow march across the country.

He knew from experience that these sorts of parties would likely have sent scouts ahead to secure rooms for as many people as possible. The inn was only a mid-sized building, which meant a pair of travellers like them would be low on the list of people deemed worthy of a bed under the roof this evening. Even the shared quarters in the attic would be packed with servants, battling for space out of the snow.

They’d arrived with the setting sun and had both hesitated as they’d spotted the sizable crowd lingering outside the inn. They were far enough north now that recognition was almost entirely impossible, but a travelling southron lord could put them both at risk. For once, it was Penn who had hesitated on the threshold while Raff had shouldered his way in through the crowd, swallowing back the building anxiety and keeping his eyes ahead, focusing on what needed to be done.

They were in luck, even if his heart was pounding and his head throbbing when he finally made it back out to the courtyard where Penn was attempting to blend into the shadows. The retinue was travelling with a lord from the north eastern coast, a stranger to the county. The inn was indeed completely full, with every bed already claimed, but the owner of the establishment had listened to Raff’s nervous rambling and had offered them space in the hayloft above the stable for a handful of pennies and the promise to keep an eye on the horses.

That, too, was a stroke of luck. The stable was big enough for a dozen horses, but the loft above was tiny. It granted them a place to sleep and a little respite from the freezing weather, but more compelling was the chance for true privacy; a night undisturbed by the presence of strangers.

Penn visibly relaxed when Raff told him of the lord’s travels, uncrossing his arms and loosening his shoulders.

“They’ve no spare beds, though,” Raff added, as Penn bent to grab his pack.

“Typical,” he scowled, straightening. “He brings his entire household staff with him and leaves the rest of us to—”

“The owner offered us the loft above the stables.”

Penn fell silent immediately. “Did he, now?”

“He did.”

There was a brief, loaded pause. “Us and the rest of those dispossessed thanks to his lordship, I presume?”

“No,” Raff tugged his cloak tighter, and began to stride towards the barn. “Just us.”

After a moment, Penn hurried after.

~

The loft was mostly given over to the supplies needed to keep both the inn and stables below running and well-stocked; hay, oats and feed, a handful of crates, barrels containing what Raff assumed was ale. A slightly rickety wooden railing ran from wall to wall, the only thing stopping anyone working on the platform tumbling to the messy straw below, broken only for the space where the ladder rested against the high platform. The free space amounted to little more than a few square yards, but it was more than enough for two bodies sleeping pressed together.

Raff fettled about in the tiny space, throwing down their rolls and cloaks across the scattered hay to make a reasonably comfortable bed on which they could sleep, while Penn headed back to the inn, looking for something to eat. By the time he returned with a linen-wrapped bundle containing half a loaf of bread, a couple of meat tarts and a hunk of cheese, the space wasn’t cosy, but certainly better than remaining outside, and far preferable to the crush of people in the inn.

They leant against the far wall of the barn, the stone cold beneath their backs as they ate. Penn shivered a little as he wiped the crumbs from his hands, pressing to Raff’s side, stealing his warmth. Raff tossed aside the spent scrap of linen before wrapping his arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. This alone was worth the night in the cold, musty-smelling space; such closeness would have been harder to indulge if they were sharing the room with twenty other people.

Penn was very close. When Raff finally forced himself to stand, Penn followed, wrapping his arms around Raff’s middle from behind and resting his chin on Raff’s shoulder, dancing his lips close to his neck. Raff stilled, leaning into the touch, feeling Penn’s breath tickle across his skin and his fingers sliding across his stomach to tangle in the fabric of his overshirt.

“I should find that lord and thank him,” he muttered, “for so rudely occupying the entire inn.”

“Would he deign to talk to a runaway servant?”

Raff could feel Penn smile against his neck. “I doubt it,” he breathed. “I suppose I shall have to give my thanks to someone more deserving.”

“And who would that be?”

Penn nuzzled closer against him, his lips brushing carelessly against Raff’s earlobe as he let out a shallow laugh. “One of the other servants, perhaps? Or the owner?”

Raff turned in Penn’s arms, tipping his head back to catch Penn’s mouth before he could say anything else. Penn sighed, tugging him closer, humming against his lips. In the cool, quiet space all Raff could hear was the gentle movements of the horses below and the sweetly tempting sounds that escaped Penn’s mouth when he kissed him harder, when he embraced him, dropping his hands to squeeze Penn’s backside through the fabric of his breeches.

"Raff…" 

It was only a whisper, almost entirely lost to the air, but it ignited Raff’s skin, curling heat in his chest, flooding his belly. He gripped Penn tighter, intending to fling them down onto the makeshift bed he'd prepared on the straw, but Penn acted first, pushing against him and guiding him backwards till Raff’s back collided with the far wall.

Penn pinned him there, one hand coming up to cup Raff’s jaw and the other snaking beneath his shirt as he pulled back to look at him in the darkness. This close, Penn's height was even more apparent, and even though Raff knew from firsthand experience that he could overpower him, it was easy to forget that when Penn was pressed against him, crowding him against the wall, looking down at him with that hungry expression. 

Penn kissed him again, deepening the movement, dragging the tip of his tongue across Raff’s lips, into his mouth. Raff made a low noise as he kissed him back, eager for more, his cock already filling as Penn cupped the back of his head, fingers digging into his scalp.

The moan echoed in the ringing space of the barn, and Penn smiled, finally dragging his hand away from Raff’s chest and lower. When his palm came to rest gently against Raff’s crotch, he found him hard in his breeches, and Raff couldn't help but thrust into the touch, desperate for more. Penn pushed harder, squeezing, flattening him against the wall with a smug chuckle.

And then - quite suddenly - the touch was gone and Penn was sliding down onto his knees. He knelt before him, his hands clinging to Raff’s hips and his lips pressed feather-light to the keen bulge of Raff’s prick.

Raff cursed, loud enough to elicit a series of nervous huffs from the horses below.

"May I?"

"Ah—" Raff could barely speak, "Penn, please…"

Penn made quick work of the ties, tugging down the woollen breeches and the thin underclothes beneath, releasing Raff’s cock, throbbing in the cool air. Now he had access, Penn seemed keen to slow, to linger, placing a string of light, dancing kisses up the underside of Raff’s shaft, his breath coming in hot gasps against his over-sensitive skin.

His eyes sliding shut, Raff placed his hand loosely to Penn's head, pillowed against the soft cloud of curls, fingertips twitching. Penn opened his lips against him, tonguing him in a single, slow sweep upwards, then - without a word - took Raff fully in his mouth. 

God. Raff swore again, lost to the hot, consuming feeling of Penn's mouth stretched around him. It hadn't been that long since they were last together like this - less than two days, in fact - but just being near Penn made him desperate, every tiny touch sending him closer to the edge of his tightly held control. 

Like this he had no control at all as Penn worked him, drawing him out, tugging him along a turbulent current that could only end in one way.

He gasped as Penn pressed his tongue harder against him with a stifled murmur, gripping his hair a little tighter, letting his own head knock back against the stone wall.

And then - ruinously - a sound. A sudden noise from below; the slide of the stable doors opening, the muffled thud of hoofbeats against the straw. Raff froze. Penn released his cock, but didn't move away.

"Penn—" Raff breathed, "We should—"

He felt Penn smile against him. He still didn't pull back, instead placing a soft, short kiss to the tip of his prick. His mouth was warm and wet.

"Shh," he whispered. “Wait…”

The hoofbeats were joined by voices, perhaps two or three people finding space for the animals. A stiff breeze blew up from the open door. Someone down there held a torch, but in their position pressed against the far upper wall the sparse light couldn’t reach them.

At least, Raff hoped it couldn’t reach them.

They were hidden: barely. It would only take a sudden noise - a choked gasp or even the creak of the wood beneath Penn’s knees - to startle the intruders and make them look up. The shadows should conceal them, the angle too sharp for them to be seen, but there was no guarantee, especially if someone below decided to climb the ladder to investigate.

That thought wasn’t as concerning as it should have been. It was late, and cold, and no doubt the people below were hurrying to stable their horses and return to the warmth of the inn as soon as possible. They wouldn’t even look up. They wouldn’t even know he was there, with Penn kneeling in front of him, his hands digging into his hips, his mouth - even now - moving slowly up and down his cock in a trail of maddeningly tight-lipped kisses.

Oh. They wouldn’t know, and that thought was more than a little thrilling. He pressed harder against the wall, feeling himself twitch against Penn’s willing lips. Penn seemed to know what he was thinking.

“Do you want me to stop?” 

It was a near-silent whisper, almost entirely obscured by the noise of the men and horses below. Raff peered down, and in the gloom he could see Penn’s dark eyes shining as he looked up at him, but very little else. There was a clatter from beneath the platform. Mumbling voices.

“No.”

A soft noise - somewhere between a hum and a laugh - and then Penn took him in his mouth once more, lapping keenly against his prick, squeezing with his lips. Raff gasped, then realised what he’d done and flung his hand up, biting down against his knuckles to stop himself from making any further noise.

Penn swallowed him down further with a self-satisfied sounding hum that vibrated through his throat, enthusiastically working Raff with his mouth and tongue. He moved swiftly and rhythmically, one hand tightly gripping Raff’s hip while the other danced lower, cupping at his balls, twisting around the base of his cock in tandem with the bobbing of his head. Raff squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on keeping silent, on not crying out Penn’s name.

There was a noise from directly beneath them. A voice. The stamp of hooves. Below, an unknowable number of people were readying their horses for the night, preparing to return to the inn, unwitting invaders to the tight, private cell of pleasure that Raff and Penn had built around themselves. Soon they would be gone, returned to the dull crush of strangers while Raff stayed behind, floating in this feeling, knowing that as the moon glimmered in through the cracks in the thatched roof he would remain, wrapped in Penn’s arms; the only place worth being.

It was a thrill - one he’d never purposefully chased before, although knew he had often courted - the danger mingling with the pleasure, with the tightening pressure in his core. They could get caught. He didn’t care. He spent so much time stepping around the feelings and wants of others, but this time he didn’t have to, hidden as they were. 

His fingers carded through Penn’s hair, careful not to pull too hard, not to push. Penn eagerly took him, a soft moan crawling up his throat, muffled by Raff’s cock between his lips. Somehow, he took him even deeper, repeating the noise, his hand gripping Raff’s hip tight enough to bruise. He was moving surely, confidently sucking and squeezing and - occasionally - lightly scraping with the very edge of his teeth in a way that shouldn’t have been good but sent shivers shooting down Raff’s spine regardless. Raff stuttered out a quiet noise - nothing more than an intake of breath - but Penn continued, either ignoring the sudden risk or—

Or encouraging it. He was challenging him, Raff suddenly realised, playing with him, pushing him closer towards crying out while forcing Raff to rein himself in, blind to everything but the building pleasure and the tight, iron control he was having to wield over his own body; his own instincts. 

It was too much. The pressure spilled over, and he came into Penn’s mouth in a rush, hand clamped over his mouth, lungs burning, head reeling. Penn worked him until he was entirely spent and shuddering against the wall, one hand pressed to his face and the other loosely tangled in Penn’s hair. When Penn finally moved away, Raff’s cock was slick and softening, his legs weak. Below, he heard the mumble of voices again - the whinny of horses - and, finally, the heavy thud of the stable door shutting, a bolt closing.

With a moan, he allowed himself to slide down, finally able to breathe again. Penn shuffled up beside him, looping an arm around his stomach, pressing his head against his shoulder. Even that touch was too much, overwhelming him, making his breath catch.

“Raff?” Penn’s voice was quiet, slightly slurred. 

Raff pulled him closer, burying his head in Penn’s hair with a bitten-off curse that made Penn laugh against his chest. He took a breath, calming himself, willing his heart to stop thundering so he could better appreciate the feeling of Penn laying in his arms.

His head was still spinning, full of chatter. We could have been caught. They could have seen us. I want - God - I want to do that again.

He kissed the crown of Penn’s head, breathing him in.

"You must do something for me," he said, ignoring the rest.

Penn shifted against him. "Oh?"

"When you seek out the north-eastern lord, you must give him my thanks, too."

"And does anyone else deserve such exalted gratitude?" Penn laughed.

Raff tugged him closer, dragging his hand down Penn's back, careful not to dislodge his tunic. 

"Perhaps," he said. "But I intend to pay him back with more than pretty words."

Penn heaved himself up to better look at him. His eyes were sparkling. Even in the darkness, Raff could see that his lips were swollen, still a little shiny. He couldn't resist: he kissed him again, drinking in the soft little noise of surprise that Penn made.

When he pulled away, Penn was grinning. "And how do you intend to pay him back?" He asked.

Another kiss - brief, a promise of more.

"The evening is long," Raff said. "The straw is soft. And we are alone." He glanced over the railing of the loft into the darkness. "Finally.” He squeezed Penn tighter. “I am sure I will be able to think of something."