#there would be more scenes with the two of them but it’s 6am so I had to wrap it up quickly

[anarchypumpkincowboy]

Okok so like first off, I need y’all to know that this idea only came to me because I’d been watching ballets and the Indian movie I’d mentioned earlier Natyam (which is really really good I really do recommend it) but anyways one of those ballets was Swan Lake. Where the prince looks like this

Let us all take a moment to imagine this being Jace… okay moment over onto the au

So Jace multiclassed into bard in secret like when he was in college. His parents wanted him to become a wizard, and he tried he really did, but he failed and dropped wizard courses right after the second semester. He’s always enjoyed dancing, and he’s very skilled, but he’s always known that he could never view dance as any sort of viable life path. His parents would disown him. Not because they necessarily dislike dance or him dancing; they just believe he could do better, more important, things in his life.

He obviously goes to every recital he can, and damned if he doesn’t want to be up on stage with them. He goes back to his apartment after the performances and practices the moves as best he can. Sometimes when at night the moon is bright he’ll go to the spot he found by the lake nearby that’s slightly hidden from view, and get lost dancing to nothing but the music of nature. He’s not really religious, not like his mother, but he does find that dancing under the light of the moon helps to calm his mind and magic.

When he fails out of wizard classes he decides that maybe it’s a sign to go for something he’s passionate in. But he CANNOT let his parents find out that he’s switched from wizard to bard classes. They’re the ones paying for the university, his apartment, and they control his trust fund. If they find out he’s pretty sure they’ll disown him unless he goes back to wizard classes.

So he signs up for them in secret. He gets Corvin, a rogue and one of his best friends/fuck buddies, to sneak into the offices and make sure that there is no way his parents could find out.

And Jace fucking loves his dance classes. His teacher tells him he’s a natural, a prodigy, it’s still hard work and he’s sore and exhausted both physically and mentally at the end of every class. But it’s more than worth it. He’s never been so happy and at peace than he is when he’s dancing and performing.

As time passes it gets harder and harder to hide that he’s not learning wizardry from his parents. He just barely makes it out of having to go back home in the summer break, tells them that he’s still struggling so he decided to take up summer lessons this year. His parents are proud that he’s putting in the effort. And he is taking summer lessons, just for his dance class instead.

This pattern continues for another year. He’s slowly been working his way into more important roles, he’s even had a few solos this year. His teacher tells him that if he keeps this pace then by the fall semester he should start auditioning for some lead roles, that he’s near guaranteed the lead in a most.

Unfortunately that summer his parents decide they’ve missed him, and to surprise him with a visit. Three guesses as to what they end up discovering when they go to wait for his summer “wizard” lessons to get out for the day… They are of course furious. And when they see his name on a poster about a recital happening the next day, well, they decide to surprise him there.

Jace is the lead, and he’s incredible, and it’s so clear how much he belongs on the stage. His mother is almost moved by his performance, almost, and his father is thinking they should’ve stamped this out of him as a child.

By the time the performance ends, Jace is exhausted and riding an after performance high. His plans are to go out and have a few drinks with some of the other dancers before going home and crashing. That is of course immediately thrown off course when he leaves the building and sees his parents waiting for him. They don’t exactly give him a choice but to get into their car and ride in a painfully uncomfortable silence all the way back to his apartment. Where his parents make it very clear that he’s had his fun but it’s time start being serious. And that they aren’t accepting no for an answer.

But he is serious about dance, he shows them articles written about his latest performances, tells them about how his teacher calls him a prodigy, how he’s guaranteed the next couple lead roles. They don’t care. His father tells him if he doesn’t give up these ridiculous dreams they’re pulling away all his funding and taking him back home. Jace just barely manages to hold his tears back till they leave.

Okay, okay so he has till the end of the summer to figure out how to pay for his apartment, his schooling, and everything else. Not too hard right? Except that he can’t get a job that’ll pay enough for everything. And he already devotes almost all his time practicing. So he asks around his group if anyone has any advice.

One of his friends brings up how he could probably get a few scholarships. Another tells him that he should definitely apply for the House Sunstone Arts Foundation. It’s a pretty prestigious program, but even his teacher tells him he’s got a great chance at getting it.

About 2 weeks after he’s sent in his application he gets a response asking for a meeting with one of the members of the Sunstone family for an interview. The letter has the date, time, and address. It’s at a pretty fancy restaurant. One of those places with a dress code. And it’s only 2 days away.

He gets there. He’s nervous as hell. And as he’s led to the table he gets even more nervous because fuck he was not expecting the person he was meeting with to be so hot. Porter stands up to greet him, they introduce themselves, and Porter pulls out the chair for Jace. They both sit down, Jace apologizes for being late (he wasn’t, Porter had just shown up early). Porter says it’s fine, that he’d only just gotten there himself. They order food, Porter orders a bottle of wine for the table, and they begin talking.

Jace tells Porter about his accomplishments, his goals, his dreams, anything and everything he can think of to get him this scholarship. Porter nods and hums along before eventually asking why he’s applying for it. Jace tells him about how dancing has always been his passion, but that his parents envision a different life for him and cut off his funding. Porter tells him that he’s seen the videos Jace had sent in, that he can see the passion and talent Jace has, that he’s in the final list of applicants.

They finish dinner. And when they shake hands Jace tells himself he just imagined the caress of Porter’s thumb on his hand. He goes back home, tells his friends he’s made it to the final list. And life continues on for another 2 weeks before Jace gets 2 letters. One, from the foundation giving him another date, time, and address for a final interview in 3 days at the same restaurant. And the other from Jace’s parents stating they’ve cancelled his lease and he’s expected back home by the end of the month. He’s got three weeks of freedom left.

He goes to the interview. Once again Porter pulls out his chair. The conversation isn’t too much different from the last interview, but this time Porter’s asking him more questions. Mostly about his personal life unrelated to dance. And he keeps filling up Jace’s drink. And Jace keeps drinking. He knows he should stop, he’s already had a truly unprofessional amount, but Porter keeps filling it up. And Jace thinks it’d be rude to deny more, plus it’s good wine.

Jace knocks over his glass at some point, spilling it all over himself. He curses and grabs a napkin to try to dab it out but Porter’s leaning closer having already grabbed it and starting to dab Jace’s shirt. Jace is definitely not imagining how the dabs feel like caresses. And he’s definitely not imagining the look in Porter’s eye when Jace shivers from the touch.

They end dinner not too long afterwards, Jace can barely sit still in his seat now that he’s clocked Porter’s attraction. Jace is also far too gone to drive himself back home. So Porter offers him a ride. They go outside and Porter’s driver pulls up near immediately. Porter opens the door and gestures Jace into it. The back has plenty of space, but as soon as Jace has slid over to the other window seat Porter’s sidled up right next to him, draping his arm across Jace’s headrest.

Jace thinks he might actually explode. He knows there is no hiding how he’s practically vibrating out of his seat the whole drive. Especially when they come across a particularly sharp turn and Porter curls his arm around Jace to keep him from slamming into the window. And then just doesn’t move his arm back. Not until they pull up to Jace’s apartment building and Porter tells him to expect another letter soon. And asks for his crystal number. Jace gives it to him, obviously, and just barely refrains from inviting him upstairs.

More time passes with only the occasional texts between the two, and about 4 days before he’s due back home with his parents he gets the acceptance letter. Apparently not only will it be funding his schooling and dance specific items, it’ll also provide housing. Which is such a relief given he can’t renew the lease. Jace gets a text from Porter telling him congratulations, and that he can come by in a few days to take Jace to his new apartment.

Rumors spread eventually that Jace only got the scholarship because he seduced Cliffbreaker. But after he finishes his last performance before he graduates and gets scouted by 7 different companies those rumors start to die off.

[prapais]

when they were getting their braincells, rain and pai were too busy arguing in the queue, so only payu and sky got theirs

[writingforfishes]

suspending the fact that i should be asleep right now

filler episode scene type shit

one day atty is just playing around with otto's torso during a case, gently poking and squishing him to see what happens (either getting them hot asf or they're on hiatus and doing it nonchalantly)

otto being ballsy one day and kinda like interviewing atty on what exactly it is about those things that they like so much, nitty gritty stuff idk

I'm not sure if this is even a question idk what this could be asking but these things appeared in my brain and I felt compelled to tell you. am too eeby to figure out how i wanna format this bleh have my 6am crack thoughts

-🪱💤

Otto was reclined on the bed. His body was angled on a wedge pillow wide enough to fit both him and Atticus.

His partner had their head rested against his chest. Their small hand played along his belly. Their fingers sunk into the softness of the paunch Atticus seemed to covet and find comfort in. The writer watched as Otto's stomach popped out every second or two.

Otto's hiccups had returned after they had showered and gotten ready for bed. Both of them had been satiated by the case that had shown up when they first crawled into bed. Now, after Atticus checked Otto didn't need to get rid of the residual case, the writer asked if they could not only massage but play with Otto's belly.

Otto acquiesced easily. He had never realized how much he enjoyed having his stomach played with until Atticus came into his life.

He had once felt shame about his belly. The paunch, which was a body attribute he was self-conscious of but never motivated to change, was something that brought Atty comfort. Atticus' comfort, in turn, brought him comfort. Feeling his own belly became a positive and pleasant experience, not the exasperated grab he did in the past out of embarrassed disappointment at his lack of self-control or holding up some model of what he should look like.

He continued to observe his partner as they raked their fingers through the hair trailing up and around his bellybutton and into the small divot at his sternum and back down.

His vision was disturbed momentarily every time he hiccuped. Atticus' hand would stop momentarily too, holding flat to the movement his body made before continuing its journey, warm flesh of their palm stimulating the sensitive skin of his belly.

HI'UCK!

Atticus would cuddle a little more into him when he had what they called 'doubles'. The sharp double-syllable hiccups seemed to make his body jerk all the more and he felt his partner sigh as if contented.

"Can I HUP! Can I ask you some-MP!-thing?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," Atticus replied in a low soft voice.

Otto could feel the edge of their mustache brushing his ribcage as they spoke.

"If you need to cure them..." they said tilting their head back so they could see his face.

"No! No-no HI'UMP! I just wondered HIP! if I could ask you ab-MP!-about what you l--like when I hic-HUP!-hiccup!" Otto said. "I know yo--you've sort of HMP! explained it to me in the p-HNK'P!-past. What you like. What HU'UP! What things arouse yo-UP!-you," he said, and cleared his throat enticing another silent hiccup to pop his belly up against Atticus' palm. "But if you're comf-HMP!-ortable, why um...HU'UCK!...well, I mean, what is i-HIP!-it about them that...HNK!...ugh, I don't even r--really know what I'm HUCK!HUP! ask-HUCK'L!HIP!-asking. HUCK'M!HILK!HI'IP!"

Otto startled at the sudden clusters in the middle of a case of hiccups that had otherwise been calm and evenly paced. He'd felt deliberate pressure before each one.

"Are you HU'UP!-Are you doing that?" he asked as little bewildered by the possibility.

"Yeaaaah," Atticus said sheepishly. "I think I accidentally found your hiccup-button."

Experimentally they pressed into his solar plexus again around where his diaphragm might sit underneath and was rewarded with another cluster as they released the pressure: HMP!HU'UCK!HULP!HU'UH!

Otto found himself chuckling with a HIP!

"I didn't th-IP!-think that was a th-HIMP!-ing!" he remarked.

"Me neither," Atticus admitted. "I thought it was made up from kink fics!"

Out of an abundance of curiosity, they softly pushed the spot again.

"HU'UUP!HIP!HUP!HILP!HEEP! Oof! Okay. Can we n-HUP!-not do that again? HILP! Starting to kind of HULP! kind of hurt a little. HMK!" Otto requested starting to feel soreness where his abdomen had been pressed.

"Oh! Yeah. Shit, sorry!" Atticus apologized. They rubbed his belly gently over the area and focused on being less aggressive with their exploration.

"Thanks. You're for-HERP!-given. It was am-HMK-amusing the first HMP couple of time th--ough!" he admitted.

Atticus gave a nervous chuckle.

"About your question though..." they started.

"It's okay. I know it's aw-HUCK!-awkward. You don't HMP! have to talking about MK! about it if you don't want," he said.

"No, it's okay. I...I think I want to talk about it. Share it with you. Maybe...it would help me process it, too. Understand it more. Cause, you know, essentially, I think you were asking why? Like, why am I aroused or what about the whole thing arouses me?" they said.

Otto took a moment to process that and nodded. Then, realizing Atticus was still facing his stomach and not him he spoke.

"Yeah, I gue-HEH! I guess so," he replied.

"Yeah. Sure. Okay. So...so, you already know what things arouse me. Like...like the movements is one, right?" Atty paused not expecting an answer to the rhetorical question.

They moved their hand up and down Otto's abdomen as it jerked again. Their fingers paused at his sternum.

"You know, it kind of starts here. When you hiccup...when you hiccup it starts here, and it dips inward 'cause those intercostal muscles at your ribs and back are trying to breath in really quick. So, this, yeah, like that," Atty said as his chest dipped inward subtly with another hiccup. "This happens and it sort of chain-reacts to go all the way down here."

Atticus' hand landed at his bellybutton and a little below. They let another hiccup happen and felt and watched their hand jump in response.

"It's like a wave, Otto. Sort of...like a buoy on the water. Your chest bobs down in the middle and it pops up at your belly. See?" Atticus said as another hiccup demonstrated.

"Yeah," Otto said bemused. It was accurate. He'd never realized the motion his body made was less of a whole-body jerk and more of a chain-reaction. "But it's qui-HIP! quicker!"

"Yeah! Exactly. It's like a pop! Like a snap or something. Unexpected. And even if you know you have the hiccups, every one of them is like that. It's a...it's a shock. Like a little surprise each time. But-but it's more than that. The movement is one thing, right? And really it starts in your neck. And, gawd, Otto your neck is amazing, you know that? Like, a lot of the times when people hiccup it's only right above their clavicle in that little hollow where those bones meet? But yours, man, yours is just your whole bottom of your neck. It just punches in and it's no wonder your neck and throat hurts like it does when they go on for a while 'cause you do that thing where your head jerks back and your chin tucks in. I know that's weird to find attractive, but damn," Atticus said as they squirmed a little.

Otto couldn't help but notice Atticus pointedly not looking at him while they spoke. Even while they mentioned his neck they stayed with their face pressed against the side of his chest.

Otto found himself rubbing Atticus' back in kind as they spoke. At the pause he gave a moment of thought and was hyperaware when the next hiccup hit, and his head was pushed firmly into the pillow behind it.

"I don't thi-HIGGUP!-think it's weird necessarily," he said. He let another silent hiccup charge through his body as he felt the movements of his body more acutely with Atticus' description of them. "Hm. It's not common. HUP! But I don't think rarity equ--equals weirdness."

"Maybe," Atticus relented cautiously, but they continued. "But it's not just the movements. It's the sounds, too. But-but not just that. It's the...it's the fact that you can't help it? Like, whenever anyone has them, they can't help it. It's...it's sort of hot to see that low-key frustration. They have no control. So, they struggle just a little. It's not-I guess it's a little sadistic. In a way. But when they have them, you just see them so vulnerable? It's sort of like you can get a peek into who a person is when they hiccup, y'know? Who are they when they're thrown off their game? When they don't have control over their bodies because of what they think is a childish condition. Or-or when they're trying to talk, and they get interrupted.

"And there's something arousing about watching a person try to...I dunno...go on with their day with their body defying them over and over again. Again, it's vulnerability. And the worst their hiccups get the more vulnerable they become. But it's not something that is bad, generally. It's something that is an annoyance unless it's, like, medically bad. I don't like that," Atticus said as they fought to contain their scattered thoughts.

"I never HU'UP! never thought about it that w-UP!-way," Otto admitted. "If it's sadi--sadistic it's probably the mo-HMP!-most gentle sort of sa-HUU'UP!-uh, sadistic you can be."

Atticus chuckled.

"I guess," they said. "That little grunt, also? After that harder hiccup that you just did? I like that, too."

"Huh," Otto said, thinking. "I do that somti-HIMK!-times, don't I?"

"Yeah, after harder ones. I don't even think you notice is mostly. Um. Yeah, the sounds though. I could honestly just get off on the sounds," they said.

"What's your favor-HRMP!-vorite sound?" he asked.

"Ooh, that's a hard one," Atty admitted. They focused on capturing a couple more of Otto's hiccups with their hand before they answered, pushing their fingers along the curled hair on the soft surface of his belly. They could tell his hiccups were nearing an end. It was good, though, as they had gone on for a while.

"I like when people try to muffle them. That sound of them thumping in the back of their throat or in their nose. Or sometimes I like when they're silent if I can see the movements. Like, sharp, or those double hiccups you do sometimes. I don't know why that happens, actually. Maybe air slips through that glottal flap right before it closes so you get, like, two hiccups? I dunno.

"When they get a little squeaky, so you know it's a pretty powerful case. And when they go really fast, hardly leaving enough time to breathe or speak. I feel guilty about that. Because I know it's not pleasant. And I used to hate really fast hiccups. But now? They get me going more than most," Atticus said softly. "Is that bad? That I like them when they get violent like that?"

"Nah," Otto said after a beat. He felt his head push into the pillow behind him again with another hiccup. "You always check in with me. hip! And you know I get them pretty fast. Ba-ad, I guess. mk! And if it bothered me, you know I'd tell you. HUP! mm."

Otto continued to give encouraging rubs to their shoulders and into their hair as he scratched lightly at their scalp to their hums of contentment.

"It's kind of poetic," he continued.

"Hm?" Atticus said fading i\nto the sensations of his fingers in the buzzed hair on the sides of their head.

"The way you see mp! hiccups. Or maybe just hiccups in general. huh!" he explained. "I mean, if you think about it hiccups are kind of a poem i--in and of themselves. HUCK!"

He laughed at the unexpectedness of the louder hiccup when the case had gotten so soft. But he continued.

"Each hiccup is like a line or a stanza. hup! Each one a surprise. A note of vuln--erability. Expression of...um...sorta...truth in a way? Something genuine. mk! But also, something inherently human. Just a-uh-a fact of life. Relatable. Kinda?" he said.

"Wow..." Atticus said after a pause. "That's good, actually."

"Hey, what can I sa--say? You're rubbing off on me," he said.

"I do, do that, don't I?" Atty said mirthfully.

Otto guffawed with a sudden HUCKAH!

"Oh! Jeez!" he said, patting his chest. "HUCK!"

"Laughing yourself into more stanzas, huh?" Atticus snarked.

"Ugh, I think I-HUCK'L!-I'm in iambic penta-UCK!-pentameter!" Otto said, chuckling.

"Oof! Gone Chaucer on me! Can't help ya there, bud! English poetry is not my thing!" Atticus exclaimed.

"Heh," Otto said weakly. "It's okay. huck! I think they're calming back hnk! back down."

"Poor guy," they muttered as they gave Otto's stomach a soothing caress. "Diaphragm tried to force structured poetry on him."

"Shh! Stop sto-hup!-stop! I'm trying not to laugh again. hngk!" he said. The last hiccup hit the back of his throat in a near snort. He sighed and swallowed. He felt Atticus squirm a little and push their hand into his stomach in a deeper massage. He sighed again.

"Did any of that make sense?" they asked. "I don't think I've ever said it all out loud before. I feel like I sounded a little manic, honestly."

"No, it did. It does. mk!" he said. "I think you're right. Hiccups make people feel vulnerable. hm! And...vulnerability is a big part of relationships, honestly. If you think about it. It takes a lot of trust to be yourself around someone. And to let someone see you when you can't control what's happening to your body? And you're maybe embarrassed? I mean, aside from the arousal thing, even just that is a kind of a big deal.

"And, listen, I'm lying here on my back and letting you touch one of the most vulnerable parts of my body. That's kind of a big deal, right? If you think about it. And-and loss of control being hot isn't anything new. Shit, why do you think I find people struggling with or succumbing to arousal so attractive? And there's definitely, I mean I think there's an embarrassment factor to that, too. Even if I don't experience the same thing you do when someone hiccups, I can understand it. And even if I didn't understand it, I could respect it. It's just, y'know, we all have our things," he said.

Otto waited a bit, but Atticus' deep breathing was the only response.

"I accept your hiccup fetish and..." he sighed, "...you accept that I am apparently so boring that I can lull you to sleep with the sound of my voice."

Still no response. A curious sensation tickled his chest, and he released a long-suffering sigh to it.

"...And I also accept that you are drooling on my chest. Because I love you. And I'm very patient." A beat. "And I'm talking to myself. Goodnight, my little freak."

Atticus gave a small snort in a huffy snore and Otto turned off the bedside lamp.

[oqmemphis]

Simulating Tag Across Europe: The Marne Valley Gambit

Sometimes I play simulated versions of Jet Lag: The Game over Google Maps and Discord with a few friends — usually existing formats with some tinkering to make them work on a new map. This is a story from one of those games, about the greatest gambit I ever pulled.

Let's set the scene. We're playing a version of Tag Across Europe. It is the start of my run, and I am in Clermont-Ferrand, France. My endpoint, the place I'm trying to reach without getting caught, is in Sweden.

This is a slight problem.

A much larger problem is that my run started at exactly 7:16pm, local time — 44 minutes before the game pauses for a rest period. Theoretically, I have a 45-minute head start on the chasers, but since there are no useful trains out of Clermont-Ferrand before 8pm, nearly all of that head start is wiped out. The game restarts at 6am the next morning, and the chasers can start running after me at 6:01.

I spend 44 minutes doing challenges, and then walk back to the station.

In recent games, we've started rolling dice every time we board a train to see if it's delayed, and by how much. This game was played before we started doing that, for which I am very grateful, because my plan involved getting a train to Lyon leaving at 6am on the dot.

To explain what happens next, I need to explain a notable rules difference between the real Jet Lag and this simulation: in our game, the chasers are not a team. They move independently, and they do not know where each other are. Roles do not rotate — you become the runner by personally tagging the current runner.

This is relevant, because it means that one of the chasers is not starting the day in Clermont-Ferrand with me. I have made an educated guess that they are instead waiting at a minor station en-route to Lyon called Vichy, and so as I board the train I post the following message in the chat:

okay so first of all, y'all can tell me if i'm allowed to do this: on the train i'm about to take, i would like to be looking out of the train window at every stop to see if i can spot [Chaser] waiting on the platform can i do that?

There is brief befuddlement from the other players before they eventually agree that this is allowed under the rules. The chaser confirms that they are indeed waiting on the platform at Vichy.

I immediately use the budget I accumulated the previous evening in Clermont to drop a freeze powerup, forcing them to stay on the platform for ten minutes rather than board my train and tag me.

I make it to Lyon unscathed.

Somehow, this is only part one of the gambit.

I have time to do one challenge in Lyon and earn some more budget. Because our map is quite large compared to the ones used on the actual show, transit costs about half as much, so this one challenge could get me all the way to Paris on a high-speed train, but no further. I know that I cannot get out of central Paris without being caught.

Some trains do a weird thing where they split partway through the journey — so all passengers in the front half of the train go to one city, and all passengers in the back half go to another. (This can occasionally cause logistical problems, especially when Deutsche Bahn is involved.) My ride north out of Lyon is one such train: one half goes to Gare de Lyon in central Paris, while the other half - the half I board - goes to a station about twenty miles away called Marne-la-Vallée–Chessy TGV.

This train takes about two and a half hours, and it only switches tracks at the last second, which means the chasers don't realise what I'm doing by the time they get to Lyon, and decide to get on the next train to central Paris, one hour after me...

...which does not split like mine does.

Nor does it make any stops between Lyon and Paris.

The chasers are now stuck one hour behind me, on a train they cannot get off, which is going in the wrong direction.

This is the view outside Marne-la-Vallée–Chessy TGV station:

I have roughly an hour and a half to do challenges at Disneyland Paris.

This accumulates a lot of budget — enough to buy a very expensive powerup and still make it onto another high-speed train that goes all the way to Strasbourg, on the French-German border.

In this time, I realise that the train to Strasbourg I want to take out of Marne-la-Vallée leaves twelve minutes after the chasers could theoretically get here. Luckily, one of the challenges I pull is "get 300m from the nearest building", which a) has a very high reward, b) is possible within walking distance because Disneyland Paris is basically sat in the middle of the French countryside, and c) gives me an excuse to be some distance away from the train station.

Specifically, I position myself to be about nine minutes' walk from it.

As I walk past the very grumpy-looking chaser, who will remain stuck on the platform at Marne-la-Vallée–Chessy TGV while my train to Strasbourg barrels away, I hand them a piece of merch I picked up during my stay:

And that is the story of the single best eight-hour period of any Jet Lag sim I've ever played.

[crashing-all-modes]

UPDATE ON THE RAVEN CYCLE SCULPTURE!!

Sorry for such a long wait for the update. It was my last two weeks of school, and MAN, OH MAN, was it stressful for homework!!

Okay, so first of all, this is a long update with lots of pictures!!! (I’m going to make a TLDR version for anybody who doesn’t want to hear me yap, LOL)!

Once again, no spoilers if you have thoughts please!

As some of you may know, I had a project for my 3D design class where we had to pick a book and then create a sculpture out of the book (it can be anything, a scene from the book, a feeling you got while reading it, symbolism and so on). The one rule of the assignment is the pages of the book have to be the most prominent part of the design. So I was allowed to paint it, draw on it, and use whatever I saw fit as long as the pages of the book were included and the most prominent!!

For my project I decided to do the raven boys as tarot cards using the major arcana.

I’m gonna break this up into sections so it's easy to navigate!

Making the Hand

So funny story, I thought this project was due two weeks ago and spent all night (stayed up till 6am) working on it, only to wake up at 8am to find out it was due the following week. AH. So here’s what I did that night:

Dw, the hand looks way better after I had more time to work on it; I used about… 4 jumbo sticks of hot glue to attach it to the board? You can pick this up by the hand and use it as a weapon, and it will stay attached.

Building The Base Tarot Card

I made all 5 cards with 2 pieces: one large piece, which would be the back of the card, and another smaller piece, which would act as the part for the character to be on. I made them out of cardboard, so there’s definition.

Back Piece

I carved into the cardboard these small little triangles which was for the gold foil I planned on using! To cover the back pieces, I ripped up pages into uneven pieces and mod-podged them on there (because glue itself made the pages translucent).

Front Piece

The smaller pieces were very important when creating the cards because I used full pages from the book. I picked very specific moments in the book that helped to relate both the character and their card!

Ronan

This is the page where Ronan first "finds" Chainsaw. His card is The Moon, which deals with supernatural elements and visions, so I figured it would be a perfect page to use. Plus, it was one of my favourite Ronan moments!

Gansey

Originally, I wanted to use the page where Gansey recounted his near-death experience with the bees, but I must've used the page by accident because I couldn't find it ANYWHERE?? I opted for this page instead, because this is another instance where Gansey looked death in the eye and scared it off (his card is The Hanged Man).

Blue

I decided to use Blue for The Lovers card because I felt the irony of it was too fitting. I used the page where the reader learns about Blue's fate to kill her true love just by kissing him. The design for her card is so evil (if you keep reading, you'll see it), but it's good.

Noah

(Spoilers) If you've gotten this far, I'm hoping you've at least read the first book. Noah's card is Death, which is... very fitting for obvious reasons AND for the context of the card!! I decided to go with one of the craziest moments in the book when they find out Noah's a ghost. It's perfect for the Death card... and IT EVEN MENTIONS THE DEATH CARD ON THIS PAGE, WHICH I DIDN'T REALIZE UNTIL I WAS GLUING IT ONTO THE CARDBOARD!!

Adam

Adam is my favourite in the book and I had so many moments to pick from for his tarot card. Ultimately, I picked the scene where he and Whelk are having a face-off, and all MAGIC IS BREAKING LOSE BECAUSE HE'S THE MAGICIAN (as I've been told by many sources, I still have only read the first book)!!

After I glued all of the pages onto the smaller pieces of cardboard, I dyed them with food coloring!! I had no idea this would work, but thanks to YouTube, it worked so much better than trying to paint, and the colours turned out amazing!!

From left to right on the top row: Ronan, Noah (before tea wash), Adam, Gansey and the bottom one is Blue's!

Here's Noah's after being tea stained, I wanted his to look like it was old and worn, like it was lost in the earth. To make it blotchy, I used the actual tea bag and blotted it on the card like crazy.

I then went on to dye WAY MORE PAGES. It's surprisingly fun.

The Tarot Cards (Roughs)

So, for each tarot card, I created designs, trying to implement the original while making it my own in relation to the character. All of these are sketches, and I honestly might make them real pieces in the future!!

Blue

UGH. I think hers and Noah's might be my favourite designs (I'm very biased tho because I love skulls lol). Each card has an earthy theme, I included lots of flowers and branches!

Adam

Adam's is the closest to the OG tarot card, because I felt like it was so iconic I couldn't change much to the design. That's probably why his is my least favourite design LOL.

Gansey

Ngl, I really like the symbolism on this one. If you were to pull it in reverse it would be Gansey with the crown floating above his head, like it's his and he's close to reaching his goal.

Noah

OKAY, BUT LIKE GUYS, THIS IS AHGSSGSGHSH. Like???? I love him so much. I put him in a saint pose, like those you see sculptures in churches posing in or paintings of saints. But I love him so much.

Ronan

I love the vibe his card gives off. It's very contemplative and moody, just like him.

I love how all of the designs turned out, but I unfortunately only had time to make one, Ronan's!

Ronan's Card

To make Ronan's cutout, I cut pieces of different stained pages into the shapes I needed (like his shirt and his head), and I then drew on it with an ink pen. It was really difficult to make everything the correct size because of the way I did his card, so this alone took me an hour to do. Think of him like a paper dress-up doll, LOL.

THE FINAL

FINALLY HOLY CRAP. I'm running out of photo room for the post, so I'll make it brief here but post more on a different thread!!

Anyway, I'm going to make all of them into cards now that school's over, and I'll update y'all when I'm done!!

I just wanna give a really big shoutout to everyone who helped me decide which tarot cards to give to each character, especially @screechin-outloud! They went into so much depth without spoiling the book, and I APPRECIATE YOU!! I APPRECIATE ALL OF YOU!!!

And if you made it down this far, thank you for reading all of this!! :)

[bp-zb1fics]

which zb1 member would be which Disney prince,, I'm curious 🎤

Not cherrie giving me the best questions to answer 💜💜💜 when it’s literally 6am and my insomnia won’t leave me alone 😭

On principle, I find Disney’s portrayal of the princes as very shallow and gender-norm enforcing (i’m sorry I feel very strongly abt this😅) we are not fans so instead I’d probably go for what Disney princess movie fits the vibe of which member when I assign them to princes. I’m also going to be rewriting that movie as I go, sorry in advance to the purists

Pls note I’ve not great at headcanons and indecisive as hell so here we go ~

Jiwoong: The Beast/Prince Adam

If this man could play a Prince in a drama, this is the kind of content I’d pay for

Just like my hogwarts headcanon, man probably invited the sorceress to dinner and asked to be turned into a beast because everyone just liked his face

And he thought he’d be better off if someone liked his personality

Yes he asks for his servants to be turned into furniture for shit and giggles but not like permanently, maybe they all go back to normal at night

reader wonders why he always insist not that they don’t go to the west wing at night. It’s not just the rose but that’s where he and the servants go to like chill and be their human selves (this is getting a little Cupid and psyche lol)

Hao: Prince Eric (The Little Mermaid)

Just the scene of him playing his violin and mer reader listening from a distance

Sometimes they sing along while Hao is playing and Hao is like woah who dat

They probably met as kids and he gave mer reader his old violin because they were curious

Definitely have it displayed in the center of their collection

Wants to be human to hear Hao play more

Hanbin: Prince Charming (Cinderella)

If this man isn’t Prince Charming, idk who is, do not argue with me

Does not have a shoe fetish

Definitely remembers reader’s face, he just wants to return their shoe bruh

And maybe ask reader out idk, not marry them right away

Just imagine dancing with Hanbin to “So this is love” and tell me u aren’t soft

Matthew: Aladdin

For the record, the genie in that lamp would probably be Keita bc he’s been training for 10,000 years (jk)

Watch me cast the whole KTL team (except Hao idk unless we want crossover)

There’s Matthew and there’s Seok Woohyun, don’t tell me he doesn’t think those are two diff people

Just…Matthew singing a Whole New World is a song cover I didn’t think I needed until now pls and thanks

Taerae: Snow White’s Prince

For all the OG Disney fans, you know that one scene where Snow White’s singing by the well and the Prince fucking jump scares her by singing back

Yes that’s Taerae, man will take the opportunity and he has a guitar

yes he will bring the guitar

Once again watch me cast all the Wake One trainees (K+ G) and Junhyeon as the seven dwarves friends who help reader out

Ricky: Prince Naveen (Princess and the Frog)

I’m sorry my eternal headcanon is spoiled Prince Ricky and reader who puts him in his place

Would probably be a bit more sus of this voodoo man turning him into a frog

It’s probably not even a villain, it’s one of the Yuehuaz who happens to know voodoo being like oh you know what would be rlly fucking funny

He gets his whole character development arc and becomes a better young and rich, tall and handsome Prince that’s totally down bad for reader

Gyuvin: Flynn Rider (Rapunzel’s Tangled)

This man steals hearts everywhere he goes (I mean he won every challenge yo)

A lot goofy like they told him during the sleepover, he’s lucky he’s got a nice face

I haven’t got that much for this one

But energy is the same

Gunwook: Captain Shang (Mulan)

He is a leader (class pres/vice pres every year anyone?)

Dude literally takes forever to realize that reader isn’t supposed to be there (literally the en garde hidden cam)

Casting the three other Jellyfish trainees as the soldiers yo

He’s slay “Be a Man” even if I dislike the title of that song, it’s hella catchy

Yujin: Prince Philip (Sleeping Beauty)

He’s a baby YALL pls

Shy, literally just watching reader do their thing in the forest like how this boi literally watched taerae the whole signal song filming (pls see zb1’s bp commentary for red)

He’s not slaying dragons just yet but he be slaying my heart with Noona saranghaeyo

Gives reader an innocent lil peck and they wake up

Maybe it isn’t true loves kiss just yet, more like boy with pure intentions bc literally that’s equally hard to find

Ok thanks for coming to my TED talk and thanks cherrie for this very lovely question. Y’all need to keep asking me more stuff like that very much please and thanks in advance 💜💜💜

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Les troubles civils révèlent les fractures profondes d'une nation.

André Gide

Well, living in Paris is never boring. It's been a wild few days. And who knows what the weekend will bring. Where I live in Paris is untouched (so far). But people are rightfully scared as the unfolding violence and chaos spreads across Paris and beyond.

Nanterre, the suburb of Paris where the murder victim, 17 year old Nahel lived - and died - has once again become the scene of unrest. Hours after a peaceful march in his honour ended violence broke out. Office buildings were vandalised and a bank was set on fire. As the evening drew on police officers arrived in large numbers, in vans and on bikes.

Around five thousand officers were sent to Paris suburbs after some 170 police were injured and 180 people arrested overnight on Wednesday, when Mr Macron was at an Elton John concert - the optics of which have just reinforced the view that this is a President who is very much out of touch with his own country.

At a crisis cabinet meeting on Thursday, Mr Macron called the violence “unjustifiable” as scores of cars were set ablaze and police were attacked with fireworks and in some cases firearms. Shops were looted and state buildings, police stations and schools set on fire.

In Montreuil, in the north, some young people armed with batons have destroyed a pharmacy, McDonalds, ATM and other shops. Police have responded with tear gas. The entrance to the town hall of Clichy-sous-Bois, in the eastern suburbs of Paris, was set alight by protesters, according to videos shared online.

Buses and trams in Paris were stopped at 9pm in and around Paris and a curfew from 9pm to 6am was imposed in the Parisian suburb of Clamart until Monday as authorities struggled to keep control. In Nanterre’s Avenue Pablo Picasso, dozens of vehicles burned as fireworks were fired at police lines, along with stones and Molotov cocktails.

According to text messages sent between officers and seen by BFM TV, police said they were totally swamped, had run out of rubber bullets and were forced to withdraw from various districts after being personally targeted.

Conservative politicians have been screaming at Macron’s government to call a state of emergency and send in the armed forces. But so far both Macron and his Prime Minister Elisabeth Borne have ruled it for fear of escalating the situation.

A state of emergency was called by then-president Jacques Chirac during the 2005 banlieue riots. That was the first time the measure had been taken in 50 years. Ten years later, the French government declared a state of emergency following the 2015 Paris terrorist attacks. The measure lasted two years. Thursday night, various government ministers said a state of emergency was not being considered. Whether this is still their position as the unrest persists and intensifies remains to be seen.

I suspect the Macron government is haunted by the possibility of a repeat of the weeks of sustained violent protest sparked by the death of two young boys of African origin during a police chase in 2005. That incident, in Clichy-sous-Bois outside Paris, triggered weeks of unrest with France declaring a state of national emergency as more than 9,000 vehicles and dozens of public buildings and businesses were set on fire.

The government seems to be caught flat footed. The riots have spread way beyond Paris and some its poorer and more multi-cultural suburbs to other cities such as Lille, Bordeaux, Nantes, Lyon, Toulouse, and Marseille. It’s a shit show.

The heart of this civil strife is the age old issue of the role of the police in society. It would be a grave misunderstanding to see the French police and all that ails them through an English or especially an American lens. France is not America. This has nothing to do with race or even systemic racism (whatever the lazy way of thinking that is). The police officers in Paris and other major cities are multi-ethnic and many are married with partners across ethnic lines. To think this is white on black is incredibly dumb.

This isn't even about class. The British Met police are now mostly recruited from university graduate class when before they were blue collar. Unlike the British Met, the police in France is overwhelmingly blue collar and live in the same social locales as they ones they police. It's one reason why they don't take any shit when they stop someone. They can be brusque and yes even borderline brutal. But to wrap this all in a bundle and a bow and call it racism is simplistic bullshit.

As one of my French colleagues - who managed to make it out of the banlieues (poor social housing suburbs of Paris) and managed to get good schooling and make a decent life for herself - put it well: the problem with the police is they are meant to protect citizens but they really serve the state. This is the fracture between state and society.

Some say sending more police in is like pouring gasoline on a fire - but what else can a responsible government do to avert chaos and further civil unrest? They have to be seen to act.

And yet that mistrustful relationship is many have with the police which has prompted the anger. People in ethnically diverse neighbourhoods such as Nanterre say officers aren’t working to protect them - it’s a common refrain one hears. However true it may be it doesn’t absolve the rioters themselves - many of who are just looting for the fun of it or are far left agitators - in these areas who have gone beyond protesting a tragic murder of a young man to openly looting and destroying cars, family owned stores, commercial stores, schools, and businesses.

Pauvre France.

[update-blog-bp9]

I know a lot of People will judge me for saying it BUT!

Small rant! Has BIG SPOILERS, so if you don't wanna be spoiled yet, DON'T READ!

The FNaF Movie was AWESOME! Why was it awesome? LET ME EXPLAIN!

First off, I'm sorry to all the other FNaF Fans that will read this, but it HAS to be done. (I am a fan myself but yeah, been a fan since FNaF 4 came out, which has been a while ago. TvT) It was clear that the Movie will be NOTHING like the Games. I mean yeah, it could have given you more spooks (*Cough* even though I was satisfied with what I got as spooks and murders *Cough*), BUT first off, it would have been nothing more but a filmed version of what we played and nothing interesting would have happened.

Mike would have sat in the office, watched Cams, closed doors and shit, until he burned the place down or something. It was clear, from the trailers, that the Movie might NOT be ANYTHING like the Games.

For an alternate universe of FNaF, I found it awesome. You saw two sides of the coin, from the missing Children too. They can act like kids, they can have humanity still, they are still just children, but they can also get VERY deadly and dangerous (Proven in the scenes where Max and the others died brutally).

Also let us not forget that the Movie was for people of 16 years of age and that into the FNaF Fandom a lot of Teenagers and children joined (and probably still do). It was not rated R and not for 18 year olds only, so even Teenagers can watch it and not just barely legally turned grown ups. Not everyone with 18 also can take a lot of blood, so I found the Movie pretty nice, it showed both sides and it showed pretty much that the Animatronics CAN be very murderous if they WANT to be.

I know some or maybe even many of you were disappointed, but why film a Movie about something, we already KNOW? We know about the Afton Family (At least everyone who played the Games and watched Matpad), we know about the missing children and their names, who died first, who William shouldn't have killed, etc. Literally a lot of Gacha Tubers MAKE Movies about all that already, of course they change it to make it an AU, but still! Heck other fans made small FANMOVIES about FNaF, it wouldn't have been as original anymore, as you would have thought, so the changes in the Movie were awesome in my eyes.

It was something new, it was a bit more unpredictable, it had some shockers and it had blood and some gore in there too, everything I would WANT from a Movie. Why have a Movie about something, you already know and can predict everything of, that got pretty much solved so far? (I mean it isn't entirely solved yet, not all of it, but I have a feeling we are getting close)

A new thing, a new Storyline and a few unexpected events. I mean, WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT THAT VANESSA IS WILLIAM'S DAUGHTER IN THE MOVIE?! I only realized it after she started to talk about him and that he was a VERY BAD man. I was like: "Eyoooo, WAIT A FUCKIN' MINUTE! NO WAY! I THOUGHT HE DIDN'T PULL BITCHES AND WAS LEFT CHILDLESS!" (Not that I hated Steve Raglan/William Afton. He was awesome, wish I saw more of him. Mathew really played William well. Respect.)

Or WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT, that these kids still had some humanity left and just wanted to play, until Willy Wonka told them to kill someone for him, or someone broke in and decided to trash the place? I wouldn't have! AND THEY WERE DAY ACTIVE TOO!!! No 6AM clock chime and everything is over! No! They were active and moving ALL THE TIME! MAJOR UPGRADE! You were NEVER safe from them. AND THEY COULD ALSO LEAVE THE BUILDING! Also something that in the Games NEVER was possible! I mean yeah, only GF (Golden Freddy) was out, but if he can leave the Pizzeria, so can the others, right?

So my point: Movie was AWESOME, the people put a lot of thought and care into it, the Storyline was amazing and not the same shit we already knew and predicted, it had a good balance of things (Blood x gore x humor and all that), the Characters were amazing and honetly I am proud. WE EVEN GOT A SPRINGLOCK FAILURE! EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! QWQ

This was the first Movie of FNaF,(I hope Dawko is right and we get a trilogy) which means that in the next Movie (If it comes out), we could get more of the new Storyline AND there could be more horror and if it will be a TRILOGY, then we will get WILLY WONKA IN FNAF THREE, BABYYYYYYYY!!! And THAT WILL be EPIC! After all, Springtrap might be the most BRUTAL and AGGRESSIVE Animatronic in FNaF, because of the Serial Killer traits, his hatred for Mike and Abby, he will still have the urge to kill them, so buckle the fuck up and maybe he will either also try and kill Vanessa (If she survives the Hospital and got out until then), or he will try and apologize.

Why would he apologize? Everyone who saw him stab his own daughter and paid close attention, saw that he instantly regretted it. He actually felt genuinely bad. But he had to get himself together, because of Mike and Abby. I think, if he would have had the time and chance, he would have brought her, himself, to the hospital too. It didn't seem like, he didn't care anymore, but he was in deep shit himself and had to take care of that first, to get away alive. Which, sadly for him, backfired. (Yes, I said it, William Afton showed some heart and I take full advantage of that.)

With all that said, HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT!!!

[helaenalyst]

me when theres a war in the war show: guys im so fucking sad about the war

episode 4 reactions

fun note: i saw someone who knew either from the books or from leaks who died in the episode but described them as "the most annoying character in the show" and i loved that because depending on who you ask that couldve been literally anyone

anyway

SIGHS

aemond. aemond. what a character. ewan really squeezed his three milliseconds of screentime this season to provide a buildup for what happened today. aemond's inner emotional wound that he's carried all his life is so strong that he chose to take his revenge rather than seize an easy bloodless victory for his team. aegon's intervention even played in their favor, since meleys locked into battle with sunfyre was the easiest of targets for a melee attack. but he straight up chose to burn aegon, and later was seen trying to finish the job? hundreds if not thousands died needlessly, and among the ones that could have easily died as well was cole, who raised aemond like a father and who trusted him blindly with his life and with the life of his men. and for what? i can imagine this is going to be a divisive topic because i think this isn't how it goes in the books but personally i see it as a logical development of what we've seen of show!aemond so far. he's a deeply wounded individual who cannot see past his wound and an embodiment of what the targaryens are (and of the pain and damage that they cause to everyone who has the misfortune to interact). even in a gray morality context such as the one in this show, i feel that aemond earns the title of villain from me because he fights only for himself and does not care even for the lives of those who have been actively kind and loving to him

and i know a lot of people will likely disagree with that. personally i think in a show like this where all the big players in the war have done terrible things it is quite the fun introspection tool to see who we may consider the "worst" of them all and why. for me i think that the way that aemond toyed with the lives of hundreds today for his own personal gain is what takes the cake. i think the only other main character off the top of my head for whom "nothing is sacred" in pursuit of personal gain would be larys and i'm not sure what that says about the show's relationship to depictions of disability but that's a topic for another day. what i am trying to say is that it is fun to see what each fan considers the "worst sin" committed in a show that is basically a sin feast. hypocrisy? being a bad mother? being a bad father? kinslaying? we each feel our heart and our own wounds stir at ones and not others, i believe

daemon in harrenhall continues to be an A+ storyline, alys rivers is fantastic and i loved the little interaction between aegon and larys where aegon said "dude? you don't care? it's your fucking castle!!" and larys replied uhhhh yeah but it's haunted milord. i eat that shit up i love that kind of fantasy storyline. cursed castles, witches, battling your own mind, i eat it up. i loved one little shot where we could see daemon's bloodied hands from where the camera was but it disappeared as he turned his hands. i know he'll be okay but i just love descent into madness storylines

i loved jace and baela in the council btw they are so adorable if the shows turns them into bad parents or evil rulers i am going to jump off a cliff you cannot grow attached to any innocent kid / young adult on this show fr but i do think those two have a heart of gold and if not then i guess i will eat my words

so much more to say but its almost 6am i hope everyone enjoyed the episode i know i did except for all the scenes where i felt like there was no point to go on living. the fact that criston chose to hang out with gwayne despite being one of the few people he doesn't closely know in the entire fucking army has my approval and i hope gwayne didn't die so they can eventually kiss that's all

[honestmouse20]

I am Back from vacation! Thought on new ninjago season under the cut :)

First off, I just wanna say that I watched it at 6am in my hotel room with headphones while my friend slept next to me lol. So I watched it all again yesterday too. Turns out I'd missed a Lot.

I really loved the pacing in this! Each character to me felt like they all had something to do and it all went towards the plot. Wildfyre learned to slow down and let herself heal, Kai and Nya both learned the paitence and tecnique to do Rising Dragon. Lloyd OFC got a Lot to do with his visions and panic attacks! I really liked how they handled his mental health in this one. Cole being back didn't feel forced! he was there bc Bonzal was essential to Ras' plan. Sora got a ton of development and I do wonder if they'll have her learn spinjitzu in part 2. And of course, Arin. Boy is Going Through it. It's a nice parallel to Lloyd also having a rough time. While Lloyd is haunted by possible futures, Arin is terrified of not being Good Enough to contribute to the team Or to make his parents proud.

This post would be hella long if i rambled about everything i loved in this season But I wanna highlight Some of my favs!

Cole and Geo Constantly holding hands and leaning on eachother (and geo's flashback to s1 being changed so they're holidng hands More)

Bonzle's whole arc and how she's a person now! Hella trans implications and also just a really sweet story when they show that she Does have agency and her creator Does recongnize and care for her

Sora and Arin's dymanic continues to be Really Good! I like how the initial excitement for being a ninja has worn off and they're starting to struggle.

Speaking of Arin, I stg that scene of him and Ras fighitng in the last couple episodes makes me think we're gonna get a dark Arin arc. Maybe he won't Stay evil (I don't want him to be a villan but they Could go that way if they want) but seeing Lloyd's reaction to his student turning sides would be very angsty and Very good

Also Lloyd in this was So good! Even tho he's trying very hard to be a Master and the keeper of the monastary, he's struggling and these visions are only making it harder on him. I'm sure we havn't seen the end of these visions and I'm sorta hoping they'll come to some big breaking point for him in part 2. Where he'll have to drag himself back up and Never Quit despite everything falling apart just like the visions said it would

Once again this show made me like kai again lol. HIs relationship with Nya and Wildfyre is So good and you really can see the similarities in how he interacts with them!

lloyd's power confirmed to be life????

why is no one talking abobut that ? did i read it wrong???

Onto some things i didn't Quite like but definatly didn't hate!

Ras' master is like 90 percent gonna be the Overlord. I'm aprehensive on this bc he's not really my favorite villan. Plus like he was Just the villan in crystalized so i feel like it's too soon for him to come back. once again gonna give this show the benefit of the doubt bc they've done a lto of stuff Really Really well. I'm just sorta hoping it's Not the overlord. Plus the powers were golden and that's Not the overlord's colors

what is timeline?????

i thought the shorts were two years after s1 and that s2 was gonna be between the shorts and s1???? but now the shorts are at the Beginning of the season and ryu is a teenage dragon? how long has passed? If it's been a couple years since season 1, it's a little less believable that arin and sora havn't progressed much fruther in their training. also no one Acts like it's been years?? But if it's Not a couple of years and Ryu just Grew up like that it's still a bit iffy. Ik they probably won't tell us exact times but I hope it's implied or Something bc im hella confused

so, tldr: This half of the season was Fantastic! From the animation being Incredible and the relationships between the characters being super interesting and realistic, this season was a ride from start to finish! I'm excited, and a bit scared, to see what part 2 brings!

[ahundredtimesover]

Chapter 10; mended my heart and broke it right at the end. The angst and softness in the next chapter will be so beautiful. You write so well Mimi!

It took me close to an hour to read the chapter( I woke myself up at 6am on a Saturday to read it and soooooo worth it) and I imagine all scenes, each character has a face in my mind, for that one hour it was like I was watching a k-drama.

I feel like OC kinda started to accept what Mr.Ri told her, like accept it right at the end of the chapter, she was getting there to let her truly immerse into the feeling:

"You do," he insists. "Maybe you're just scared of what chasing it would mean. But if you allow yourself to truly feel what you feel, then it would be clear what you'd need to do. Just remember that whatever decision you make, you're gonna have to stand by it, okay? You can't regret any of it."

Only for Jungkook to react the way he did. We don’t know yet what truly went through his head, he’s not ready to start accepting it, I think we have more to know about him first, about his heartbreak.

I am sooo excited to read their journey from here but nervous for them.

Mimi, you and your ability to write such beautifully ; both- Godsend

More power to you ♥️

Hmmm it’s what I hoped 😌 I loved writing this chapter! There was so much softness in all the conversations but then of course, that happened. It was actually supposed to be for next chapter but I thought, that wouldn’t be fun hahahaha

But oh WOW you’re a fast reader! And not you waking up early for this 😩😩 glad it was worth it as you got to “watch” a drama haha but if you think this felt like that, wait til the next one!

Definitely agree that she was already starting to accept it. And she thought it was all okay. But remember that these two have their baggage and their issues and whatnot. So let’s see how they’ll handle the aftermath. Nervous and excited for you guys, too! We’re close to the end 🤩

[babysharl]

Okay, so since it's taking my an eternity to update Permanent Mark (I'm writing and rewriting one scene over and over cause I never quite am happy with it) I'm posting here a little snippet of the 4th chapter (it's the start of it). The chapter is currently sitting at 10k words and I estimate it would take around 2-3k more to finish 😅. Anyway, the snippet's under the cut 🙃

--

The photograph sat at the bottom of both his chat with Pierre and his chat with Joris. Their last messages to him. Charles had yet to answer them. A full day later. Arthur had asked too, but he hadn't sent the picture and Charles had had the chance to talk to him in person yesterday at dinner. Charles was just glad his mum didn't like to gossip online. Else, he would have had to explain it to her too. And see the look in her eyes.

He was lying down on a couch in a random break room in Maranello he had found unoccupied after finishing his workout. He probably should’ve already gone home, started packing, and had a light dinner. There was a car coming to pick him up at his apartment tomorrow morning at 6am. He wasn’t even going to have time to sleep even the 6 hours and a half or so that he was used to unless he left right now. If Alessia knew he was still in the same place he laid down after their workout post sim work, she would scold him. After all, Charles knew he was going to be making her job harder when he turned up tomorrow with a bunch of knots on his back, a crick on his neck from the position. He still didn’t move. 

The hangover yesterday had only reminded him that he wasn’t as young anymore, and he definitely couldn’t drink like that and expect his body to deal well enough with it so that he could be functioning at 100% for the next race. He still had a lingering headache that the hours at the sim had done nothing to help with. And despite everything that followed, Charles had still pretty much enjoyed himself. Would do it all again. Even now, at the factory, he could feel the residual of the happiness brought by their result two days ago bouncing off the walls. It was in the way he could still see most of the lights turned on through the windows in the buildings on the other side of the complex, in the way he could hear chatter in the offices next door, laughter. People pulled off extra hours because they felt energised by their good result. 

Too bad it wouldn’t help much. 

Charles had a feeling his hours on the sim hadn’t really done much to fix their setup for Turkey, which their car just wasn't  suited to, and on top of that he wasn’t comfortable with the way the car felt. And if he wasn’t comfortable in the sim, he could already anticipate the car being a legitimate nightmare on the actual track. Hence why he was still lying down. It wouldn’t even matter if Charles turned his performance down on Friday because he fucked up his back here, the general pace of the car would mask it. He could pick it back up for Qualifying. 

Hence why he didn’t really care if he stayed there, becoming one with the couch, for longer than he should’ve. So Charles had kept scrolling down social media, catching up on his friends’ lives through small captions and pictures of their kids growing up. Trying not to think about Joris’ and Pierre’s texts, about the pictures, about the headlines. Trying not to think about Max. Max, who wanted the kind of life —sans the constant exposure— that Charles’ friends were constantly sharing on their socials. Max, who heavily implied he wanted a family with him. Charles didn’t know why he kept coming back to that fact, instead of the other two big headlines of Max’s first approach to him after almost eight years. He was retiring. He wanted to come out. Both facts still managed to be obscured by the other thing. Even if Charles just wanted him back in his life as a friend. It was a tough pill of information to digest. That after eight years, when it came the time that Max wanted to walk away from the sport and settle down, his thoughts had still gone to Charles. Charles had been trying to digest it for a month already. 

The clock marked 9 pm by the time he closed Instagram and went back to Whatsapp, sending a quick text to check if Arthur was still around and wanted to have a late dinner. Although Charles would’ve gone straight to bed if he could, too. He was still tired from Sunday, and from the workouts Alessia had put him through to burn the alcohol away. While he waited, Charles felt unable not to go into Joris’ chat, staring at the pictures from the tabloid once again. To an outsider, it would just look like two coworkers waiting for a cab. But Charles knew exactly what both his friends were thinking when they saw the picture they sent him. 

There were only two pictures. In the first one Max was on the phone, Charles was standing a few feet away with his eyes closed. He and Max weren't even standing close. Charles was clearly drunk. The look in his eyes, his stance, the flushed face. That was what the article was honing in on. A drunken Charles Leclerc, celebrating a measly P4. How low he had fallen. A drunken Charles Leclerc being 'helped to a cab' by Max Verstappen. 

In the second one, the one both Pierre and Joris had sent him with a few '??????', Charles was getting into the cab while Max held the door open for him. And it wasn't the gesture itself that made them send it, though, no. Charles was sure that was not the reason why both of his best friends had texted him. It was the way he was looking at Charles, the way he placed his hand on the edge of the car door frame so that Charles’ wouldn’t hurt his head going in. It was the fond expression on Max's face that did it, clear as day even in the blurry picture. 

Yes, they were fond of each other. But the general public, their fans, didn't know that. They had never really been too close during the weekends back when they were together. Kept their distance for most of the time they were actively working. Back when they were dating, spending time together during the weekend had been times they could count on one hand and reserved for when they knew there were no journalists hanging around, only team personnel that already knew about them and knew to keep their mouths shut. 

Charles didn't want to know what they were talking about on social media after that tabloid released the pictures. It hadn't even been a day when Mia came to find him at the gym to yell at him, Charles only halfway through his workout under the attentive gaze of Alessia. It was Tuesday afternoon now, two more meetings with Mia, countless hours on the simulator, and Charles knew he couldn't leave his friends’ messages sitting unanswered any longer. 

Probably because they would think —if they didn't already— that the silence or lack of an immediate answer was enough of a confirmation. In reality, Charles hadn't even texted Max after he boarded the plane. Hadn't even had time to do so. 

[dokidokitsuna]

Dream Journal #04: How to kill kids from across dimensions

...I think I have my weirdest dreams after I’ve been insomniac. Last night I was up until almost 6AM, and a similar thing happened with Journal #02, so I’m thinking there’s a pattern here...

Anywhom, I don’t really wanna talk too much about this weird dream; it was pretty all over the place. But in between learning a cheerleading-style yoga routine led by Michelle Obama and going to Party City to find Halloween pumpkins with real human eyes...there was a little story-dream that had a pretty interesting plot. ^^

It begins with this cute little girl who was apparently walking on a frozen lake or something, and the ice breaks and she falls in and almost drowns. And it’s like, this has got to be the unluckiest girl in the world, because every time she comes close to pulling herself out, another chunk of ice breaks and she falls back into the water. She knows how to swim, she’s strong enough to get out, but it’s like the universe insists on making sure she wears herself out and/or succumbs to hypothermia before she gets a chance.

We cut to a group of adults sitting in a dark room, watching this sad scene on a screen, as if they’re all patiently waiting for the girl to die. A heavyset older man with a big white beard stands in front of the group, staring intently, as if he in particular is invested in the outcome.

Then, all of a sudden, a short-haired woman sitting in the background very sternly tells him to “stop it”, as if he’s responsible for tormenting this poor girl...which we soon find out is the case, through their ensuing discussion (which I don’t remember). In the background, we can see the girl finally dragging herself to safety, coughing and sobbing, as the adults are distracted by their talk.

As I said, I don’t really remember how, but it’s somewhere around this point that we learn that these people in the dark room are basically gods, or at least in control of the universe that the little girl is living in. And that little girl is the daughter of bearded man and the short-haired woman.

She used to live on the same plane of existence as the two of them, but for some reason they couldn’t keep her there. And instead of destroying her completely, they decided to sort of ‘reincarnate’ her into the mortal world, to start over with a new family and new life. However...over time, her father in particular started to dislike the idea of her living out there away from them, for reasons we aren’t privy to (yet). So he started making these traumatic accidents happen to her, in the hopes that one of them would put an end to her. Her mother seemed to be against this, but not completely...like, although she was opposed to this particular murderous plot, she didn’t seem to care about the girl that much otherwise. The parents’ motivations were left pretty nebulous, but I have a feeling my dream-brain intended do some more work on them, based on this next (and last) act of the story.

Part 2 begins, and there’s been a timeskip: instead of winter, it’s now summer in the place the girl lives, and the girl is no longer a little girl, but an older boy.

He’s been having some weird dreams lately about things happening in the world that he shouldn’t know about, and childhood memories from strange places that shouldn’t exist. He knows they’re his because he’s in them as the little girl he used to be, but his home looks different and his parents look different...everything is dark and scary, and he has this strange feeling that these memories are somehow from before he was born.

He decides to put it out of his mind, and instead goes around town asking people questions, to at least confirm his apparent clairvoyant abilities. And suddenly he remembers one odd childhood memory that does take place in the real world, where he somehow made a gift for his parents (some chocolate cookies, I think) appear out of thin air.

And then out of nowhere, his little brother (???) appears and claims that he baked those cookies, “don’t you remember?” And he goes into a whole story about how he and his mother made them and tied them up in a bow and tricked the boy into thinking that they just spontaneously appeared, and they explained it later on and they all had a good laugh about it.

And the boy seems to accept this, and finds that he can now recall the memories his little brother is suggesting. But it’s all very hazy, and he’s secretly not sure if he actually remembers that it was all a funny little game, or if he just thinks he remembers. And he’s also secretly not sure if he remembers having a little brother at all before 2 seconds ago. o_O

We cut again to the adults in the dark room, where it’s revealed that (surprise surprise) this ‘little brother’ is not a real person, just a meat-puppet created by them to start covering their tracks and explain away their son’s growing suspicions about who he really is. And his real mother and father are arguing again, something along the lines of “you should’ve just let me kill him in the first place” or something like that. ^^ Parents, amirite?

And unfortunately, that’s where the dream ends, just as the plot would probably start to get rolling...it’s a cool premise for a story, but I dunno if I would want to write it. Although, I do have a prospective novel in the works where something like this could happen, including a pair of god-adjacent parents who might just be callous enough to go “our daughter is too much of a security risk, let’s murder her and/or gaslight her while we attempt to rewrite her brain”...maybe I can save the idea for a future plot point...

[ereardon]

I screeched like a banshee at 6AM when I saw that you had posted. Screeched because I was excited and because I was moments away from clocking into work and would HAVE TO WAIT TO READ. It was torture.

Let me share some of my favourite parts of this chapter! I could cite the entire chapter because it was absolutely beautiful but we gotta shorten it down!

“Hey.” Bradley wrapped his arms around you from behind, his lips pressing a small kiss onto your temple. You started to cry, softly, as Bradley held you in his arms. “You’re doing so good, Nat. You’re a fucking superstar.” You sagged in Bradley’s arms. He was the best replacement for Jake that you could think of, but he wasn’t the real thing. Once your tears dried, Bradley pulled away and sat back down on the chair. “If he couldn’t be here for this part,” Bradley said softly. “I’m really glad I get to be.”

Jake looked down at you, wiping his eyes. Then he looked across the bed at Bob. “Bob,” he said, walking around the edge of the bed and pulling the other man into a tight hug. You watched as Jake shook as he teared up in the embrace and when they pulled apart you thought you saw tears in Bob’s eyes as well. “Thank you, for everything,” he said softly. “It’s more than I should have ever asked.”

Jake had taught Ellie how to hold Henry as the two sat on the couch across the room. She treated him like a porcelain doll, and you thought you might never get tired of watching the way she gazed at him. Or the way Jake looked at the both of them.

So when Jake and Ellie fell asleep on the couch, Ellie curled into her father’s chest, one of his large hands wrapped around her back, holding her close, you couldn’t help but stare at them. How perfect they looked.

Words cannot describe how much I love this fic. To have been a part of the journey has been an absolute pleasure and the highest honour 💕

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart ♥️

FE!!! You picked some of the scenes I loved the absolute most so we are on one wavelength! I just loved having Bradley and Bob step in for Jake because for Bradley it was such a redemption arc from the previous doubt he had expressed about Nat, and for Bob well he's just a sweetie pie and the best godfather ever!

You know I freaking love cat memes also messages like this!! When people pick out specific passages they love from my fics and quote them? SWOON BABY.

Thank you for always listening and letting me bounce ideas about My Girl off of you — this fic wouldn't be where it is without you! xx

[imperatorium]

what inspired you to try and write the jukebox musical

While I had been ambiently listening to Ghost (and always enjoying it) since Prequelle came out in 2018, I first started concentratedly listening later that December, after I took my partner to see them in concert. Before that, I'd kind of felt like...I want to listen to this, but it's his thing and I don't want to co-opt His Thing, so I'll just continue to express excitement when he puts this playlist on, etc. But after the concert, I already felt so incredibly moved by what I'd seen and he'd introduced more of the story (read: Sister & Nihil) to me, so I was like...okay, you sonuffabitch, I'm in.

And this was an unprecedented moment in history because typically, you cannot get me to listen to anything else but holiday music in December. I am very strict with myself about only listening to holiday music from like November - the beginning of January, so I don't usually like to waste any time. But then one day while taking the long way home from a coffee date with my (for all intents and purposes) brother-in-law, I put on Prequelle and listened to it by myself. And kind of from that point forward, during my long drives to work (almost two hours each way, the return home trip being typically from 2-4AM/4-6AM), I just kept playing Prequelle over and over again.

I was struck pretty early on with how theatrical/cinematic some of the songs felt, especially as I started to learn more and more of the story. I honestly don't remember which was the first song that stood out to me as something I could clearly envision as as being staged for a musical number - it was either "Life Eternal", "Faith", or "Pro Memoria". Maybe "Witch Image", too, because I'd already been introduced to the idea that it could be from Sister's POV re: Copia. But all of a sudden, I had like four or five scenes in my head that would play out every single time I heard these songs and I couldn't stop thinking about it. "Faith" was now Sister's angry second act solo, yelling at all her dissenters in a way reminiscent of "J'accuse mon père" from Mozart l'opera rock. "Pro Memoria" is now performed as a choral hymn at the end of the second act to show the passage of time before we enter the Ghost era. And so on.

Then, of course, there was an early-on place for "Cirice", since the music video was (to me) clearly about Sister & Nihil meeting. At some point, "Absolution" also jumped out as very clearly being about Sister's trials and tribulations to gain power as a child/young woman. "Year Zero" was the incredibly clever second half of the "Dance Macabre" video's events.

I got a new job in 2019 that involved a lot of out of state travel, so I had a ton of time to sit on a plane and listen through a playlist I was puzzling together to see what sounded right where and what was missing. I spent a lot of weekends sitting at a merch table completely by myself, so I started making notes. Winter through summer of 2019 was when I did most of my work on the outline, but I knew it wasn't finished yet because there were very specific things that were missing from the catalogue for story moments. Seven Inches dropped and filled some of those gaps. And after that, I knew there'd eventually be a new album to fill the rest of them.

And I was right!! The first time I heard "Kaisarion", the first night of the Pre-Imperatour, before I even knew the words, I was like oh, this is the first song in the musical. (Well, technically, the second. "Miasma" is the first, as a staged overture.)

So, I don't know. The tl;dr answer, I guess, is overinvestment in what quickly became my new favourite thing of all time, the fact that I had a lot of time to myself due to both work travel and some negative upheavals in my relationships with the people I was closest to at the time, and sweet, sweet autism baybeeee. It also didn't help that around the same time, I was shown Smash for the first time and had a lot of input on the process of writing/creating a musical from what quickly became one of my favourite TV shows.

(And also Megan Hilty would be a perfect young Sister.)

[milla-frenchy]

Bb, I was hooked after part 1, I told you that this one would be perfect, and of course it is, holy shit?!!

First of all, I wasn't prepared to sob when I read this flashback at 6am, so thank you I guess? 😭

But then.... then?!

He jiggles the door handle again, as if he can convince the metal to bend and unlatch itself with just his sexiness alone. “You like rules, don’t ya?”

This sentence? Yes Joel, I like rules, teach me how to behave, please 😏

“Unlock the door, please,” his voice has changed, he’s being more commanding now. A deeper, huskier sound leaving his lips. The sound seems to latch onto something deep in your mind, strong fingers wrapping around the control center of your brain, guiding you to do his bidding. You blink the feeling away. 

I feel you girl. I read this and I'm already begging for more

Great, you’re jealous of a spoon. 

🤣 I loved it 😁

For the first time in almost thirty years he wished he still had the calming comfort of that black felt cowboy hat. But that soft Stetson went with her because she loved it so much. 

Stop hurting me 😭

As he caught his breath and looked at you from his garage, he was overcome with an urge to bruise and corrupt you. He’s a bad man for the thoughts he's been having about you. He can’t help himself, but even in his most twisted of fantasies, he’d never do anything you didn’t want him to. But, fuck, he’s sure he could mold you into exactly what he wants in a submissive.  Joel isn’t new to the world of kink; he’s had many subs, all of whom have referred to him as Mister Miller. However, his name has never sounded so fucking sweet as it did coming off your lips. Those two little words leaving your pouty, pink lips feel like that first sip of whiskey after a long day, and it might kill him if he doesn’t make you his. 

JFC. You have no idea how I can't wait to read them, doing... things. I love the slow burn 🙏🙏🙏 BUT I think I can already say that the smut will kill me. The tension between these two, holy fuck

“Did you know this is a sex club?” She laughs, “Ya, it’s like an exclusive kink club apparently. Laren said it’s owned by two brothers who are insanely hot.

OMG the Miller bros 😍

You place the whiskey on your tray and spin cautiously to the right, stopping dead in your tracks when you lock eyes with Joel Miller. He looks dangerous, sitting at a low table along the wall, his face just barely illuminated by a single candle on the dark wooden table top. His fingers are laced together, forearms of his black dress shirt resting on the knees of his black dress pants. His lips are pressed in a thin, disapproving line. 

OMG OMG OMG (he's so into her, mouahahaha 😈😈😈)

His hand circles your bicep and you twist out of his grasp. “You’re makin’ a scene, darlin’.” 

Mmmm excuse me sir but wtf??? "SHE'S" making a scene?

“I just need you not to be here. Please.” 

😭😭😭

JMKink is written in shiny metallic black on the door and all the information of the evening hits you at once. JMK. Joel Miller Kink. Joel Miller, insanely handsome millionaire, owns a sex club.

Hell yeah he does!!!

Aaaawww this chapter was so good!!!!

BDSMaid - Chapter 2

Masterlist || AO3

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.  Chapter Summary: Try as he might, Joel just can’t shake the memory of you. Try as you might, you can’t stop thinking of the woman tied to his desk. CW: The slow burn is burning. Mentions of death and underage drinking. Topless in public, this is a love story about BDSM after all. Reader does have some physical descriptions, so maybe more of an OFC, or just pretend you have pouty lips and a slightly upturned nose. Double POV (reader and Joel). AN: Thank you SO FUCKING MUCH for all the love on chapter one of this story. I literally cannot believe it surpasses 1000 notes in just a month, you're all insane and I love you. Dividers by @saradika-graphics. Biiiig shout outs to the bb's who have been so supportive of me spiralling and panicking this last month over the next chapter. I'd be in a deep dark cave without you @mermaidgirl30 @littlevenicebitch69 @lotusbxtch @evolnoomym @joelmillerisapunk and @milla-frenchy . Thank you! I feel like I'm giving some sort of Oscars speech and if you're still reading this, you're the real MVP. XO Word Count: 8.5k

~ Joel - 27 Years Ago ~

Joel’s stands in the garage of someone he barely knows, surrounded by drunk and rowdy classmates from his high school. He’s a senior, graduating in just a few weeks and moments like this are one of the perks of being the star designated hitter and first baseman, everyone wants you at their party. Someone hands him a warm, flat beer that was pumped poorly from a keg as they pat his back roughly in congratulations. Joel’s not sure how a bunch of seventeen year olds managed to get a keg, most likely an older brother, but he drinks the shitty beer all the same. Speaking of brothers, he hasn’t seen Tommy in a while. He’s only fifteen and he promised their mom he’d keep an eye on him. The younger Miller shouldn’t be at a seniors party, but that's where those perks come in again, because if Joel was good, Tommy was better. In fact, he was so much better that he’s played up a whole age group his entire life, always right beside Joel. Tommy was the back catcher, and tonight he got the eleventh inning game winning out at home for them to win the state championship. 

He finds Tommy chatting with a group of girls, all of whom are incredibly beautiful. They’re going to be very disappointed when they find out how much younger he is than them. Joel smiles into his red solo cup as he takes a sip of stale beer. He tucks his free hand into the pocket of his light blue wranglers and walks over to the wall of the garage. He leans back and crosses one cowboy booted foot over the other. The brim of his cowboy hat grazes the unpainted drywall behind him. Texas, and the country, in the late nineties was where everyone wanted to be, and Joel Miller could have been the poster boys for teenage country boys in 1997.

Brooks & Dunn plays on someone's CD player in the corner, laughter and people talking overlaps until it’s just noise to Joel. He stands back, watching his younger brother effortlessly charm the five pretty girls around him. All of them in tight blue jeans, lacy white tops, denim vests and cowboy boots. He grabs one by the hand and Joel overhears, “I’ll teach ya how to two step, shame to not know in a place like this.” Then the motherfucker winks at her like he’s some sort of cowboy Casanova. Joel lets out a silent laugh through his nose and sips the beer again shaking his head. 

Just as Tommy pulls the pretty little blonde over towards the unmarked and unofficial dance floor in the corner of the garage the song changes. Slow guitar, followed by the unmistakable twang of Tim Magraw’s voice. Joel didn’t know it then, but that song would change the course of his life and intertwine itself in the very fabric of his being.

‘Dancin’ in the dark, Middle of the night’

That’s when he sees her, tall and slender, deep olive toned skin and pale green eyes. Her dark curly hair cascades over one of her shoulders. She’s laughing with another classmate, and even though he can’t hear the sound of it over the noise of the party, he can tell it’s a light and melodic sound, and he wants to spend the rest of his life drawing that out of her. 

‘Takin’ your heart, An holdin’ it tight’

He puts his warm beer on the work bench beside him and takes off his black felt Stetson, placing it over his broad chest, hoping the comfort of his favourite hat would slow the rate at which his heart is beating. 

‘Emotional touch, Touchin’ my skin, And askin’ you to do, What you’ve been doin’ all over again’

She looks over at him, smiling shyly, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s walking over to her. His legs move on their own accord, knees shaking as he approaches the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

‘Oh, it’s a beautiful thing, Don’t think I can keep it all in, I just gotta let you know, What is that won’t let me go’

Everything in the room fades as she fully comes into view. Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe the girl in front of him. She radiates a warmth that he’s only ever known his mother to radiate. It’s the first time he’s ever seen this girl, but she feels like home. This is it, that one thing that everyone says you’re supposed to feel. The thing his grandpa told him when he was younger, “Son, you’ll just know. It sounds ridiculous, but when I saw your grandma it was like a pull behind my belly button. I just knew, and I’ve known everyday since then.”

“Howdy, ma’am,” Joel says, tipping his hat to her before placing it back on his head. 

She giggles, confirming his earlier thoughts. It really is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard. “Hi.”

He holds out a hand to her and she takes it, her skin is so warm and smooth. In that moment he knows that hers will be the last hand he ever holds. Fire flushes through his veins as he continues, “I’m Joel, what’s your name?”

“Oh, I know who you are Joel Miller,” she flirts, not letting go of his hand. “I’m Tiffany.”

“Tiffany,” he repeats, his voice going deeper as he says it. It’s egotistical but he loves the way girls shiver just a little when he lowers his register. “And how is it that you know who I am?”

She slides her hand from his and reaches up to grab his cowboy hat, plopping it onto her head. “Star first baseman and designated hitter, everyone knows Joel Miller. Look around, look at all these girls lookin’ at you, cowboy.”

For the first time in his life Joel finds himself blushing, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Tiffany. 

“I only see one girl.” She rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep at the cheesy line, but that was it for both of them. From that point they were inseparable. 

They both turned eighteen a few months later, and just ten months, and a thirty two hour labour after Tiff turned eighteen, a tiny little Sarah came into the world all pink and screaming. Joel hears that song again as he watches Tiffany hold that little bundle of blankets, ‘Better than I was, More than I am, And all of this happened, By taking your hand.’

They get married when Sarah is just a few months old. Both his beautiful curly haired girls in white dresses, Tiffany grabbing that same black Stetson off his head during their first dance. He holds them both, swaying from side to side, a hot tear rolling down his cheek at how goddamn happy he is. ‘And who I am now, Is who I wanted to be, And now that we’re together, I’m stronger than ever, I’m happy and free’.

Things for their little family of three are perfect. They buy the house with the white picket fence and the wrap around porch. Joel gets a job working construction and enjoys a nightcap with his beautiful young wife on their front porch every night. They make love often, slow and sweaty, Joel worshiping her soft copper toned skin inch by glorious inch. Tiffany wraps every minute of her day around Sarah and being a sweet, devoted housewife. Nothing seems to stand in their way. Until the diagnosis shortly before Sarah starts Kindergarten. 

Tiffany is too young, they’re all too young. This isn’t something that happens to people their age, they haven’t had enough time. Joel spends the next few months in a haze, it has to be a bad dream. The appointments, the treatments, the call to 911 when the illness starts to win. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. 

He holds Tiffany until the very end. Sponging a soft kiss to her forehead, whispering his goodbyes as they shut off the machines keeping her here. “You’ve been so strong, my love. You fought so hard. I know you’re scared to go, I’m scared too, but we’ll do it like we do everything else. Together. I’ll be ok, Sarah will be ok. Just rest now. I love you.” 

As she takes her last shaky and shallow breath, a sound will live with him until he takes a breath that matches hers, that song echoes through his hollow chest. ‘It’s your love, It does something to me, It sends a shock right through me, I can’t get enough’.

You - Present Day

You roll to a stop outside Mister Miller’s house for your second day of cleaning. As you look towards the impressive house your pussy flutters at the memories of yesterday - the almost pornographic noises that were made in that office, his soft and kind eyes as he apologized profusely in the kitchen. You were supposed to go to a study group last night, but instead you got lost in a rabbit hole of porn where women are tied up and fingered. You got yourself off four times thinking about a man you’re not even supposed to know, wishing it was his thick fingers hitting that spot inside of you that you can’t reach on your own. You felt guilty about it last night and now being back in his home you have that same sinking feeling again. 

Stupid. Sacrificing my future for a fantasy. Never again. 

You let yourself in the house and look at the list in your cleaning app. You pop in your AirPods and start listening to your favourite true crime podcast; thankful for the new episode, a gruesome distraction as you scrub baseboards and lightswitches. The episode ends and in an attempt to not let your mind wander to the gorgeous man that lives here, and the depraved new things you’ve discovered about yourself, you start an educational audiobook about civil rights law. You might want Joel Miller to strap you down and whisper filth in your ears, but you are a good person, and your aspiration in life is to help people who face discrimination on a daily basis. 

You breeze around his home, checking off each task and before you know it it’s almost one in the afternoon. You have almost your whole list complete, his soft sheets are in the dryer (and yes, you are incredibly proud of yourself for only putting the luxurious white fabric to your face twice on the way to the washer). You only have the patio furniture to spray down and the kitchen counters to wipe. That’s when your stomach growls, almost as if to remind you that it’s the perfect time to take a break while the dryer finishes. You haul all your stuff out to your car and lock up, sitting in your front seat as you take out your lunch container.

An engine revs in the distance and your heart skips in your chest. Before you even have time to wonder if it’s Joel’s car, one of the black garage doors slides open and Joel’s obsidian coloured Aston Martin rolls by you, stopping with precision on the shiny cement floor of the garage. You avert your eyes, focused on your container of chicken noodle soup. The left side of your face feels the warmth of his gaze fixed on you. Without looking over you can tell he is studying you and it takes everything you have to keep your eyes on your measly lunch. 

The afternoon sun is blocked as Joel raps his knuckles on your window. You glance over at him, looking up through your lashes. He’s looking at you intensely but you can’t quite place his expression. As always, his deep brown eyes are locked on yours, he could either be happy to see you or incredibly disappointed in you. But one thing is for sure, he’s calculating your every need with those warm and inviting eyes. He knocks again so you crank the handle to roll your window down a crack.

He raises one eyebrow at you, both hands rest on the roof of your SUV as he leans forward to speak to you through the small opening in the window. “Seriously?” His voice is laced with sarcasm. 

“What?” You say, “Can’t be too safe.”

He blinks at you before continuing, “What'd ya doin’ out here?”

You lift your tupperware container a little, willing the tingles between your thighs to stop, “Eating my lunch.”

He rolls his eyes, running his hand along his greying scruff. “You’re eatin’ lukewarm soup in your car in the middle of February.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, but his voice is warm and curious, and you start to realize that the look on his face isn’t happiness or disappointment, but concern. 

You nod, “Yes.” His eyes dance around your face and you swear your heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Fluttering so fast that it’s traveling up your throat and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. 

“Get out of the car. Come warm that up and eat inside.” His voice is thick with concern, entire face soft as he looks at you. 

You swallow your heart back down to where it belongs, “I’m not allowed to do that, Mister Miller.”

His cheeks redden a little and some of the softness in him disappears, “Don’t call me that, it’s jus’ Joel to you.”

“I’m not even supposed to know your name, Mister Miller. I can’t call you by your first name.”

He shifts his weight onto one foot and points a thick finger at you through your window, “Don’t. Either you call me Joel or nothin’ at all. Come inside,” he drops his pointer finger to the door handle. He pulls on it to find it locked. “Seriously?”

“I told you, I can’t be too safe!” You can help but think how cute he looks all flustered - shaking his head at you for being cautious in a neighborhood where you could probably scream your credit card number and no one would use it. If anything, the wealthy homeowners on this street might transfer you money when they see the state of your vehicle. 

“You’re eatin’ inside.” He says flatly. 

“I told you, I can’t. We aren’t allowed to do that. You’re a client, Mist - I mean. Sorry, I just can’t. We aren’t allowed.” You glance towards the clock on your dash. At this rate your break is going to be over before you finish eating. 

He jiggles the door handle again, as if he can convince the metal to bend and unlatch itself with just his sexiness alone. “You like rules, don’t ya?”

He’s got you there, you do enjoy following the rules. You nod and hum a noise in agreement. 

“Unlock the door, please,” his voice has changed, he’s being more commanding now. A deeper, huskier sound leaving his lips. The sound seems to latch onto something deep in your mind, strong fingers wrapping around the control center of your brain, guiding you to do his bidding. You blink the feeling away. 

“Mister-,” his eyes flash with darkness, “Sorry. I can’t. It wouldn’t be right to eat in your house, plus my break is almost over.”

Joel releases your door handle, raising his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and lets out a breath, as he drops his hand back to the top of your vehicle an amused smirk flashes across his face. “Do you consider yourself to work in customer service?”

“Yes,” you say nervously.

“And isn’t the main rule of customer service that the customer is always right?” His lips form a tight line and a deep dimple carves into one of his tanned cheeks. Your brain flashes back to one of the videos you watched last night, a man sucking on a woman's nipples as he rubbed her clit, her arms and legs strapped to a padded table. He had a dimple, but he had nothing on Joel. 

“Yes,” you croak and then clear your throat gently, shifting in your seat at the fire building behind that bundle of nerves between your thighs. 

“Then unlock the door, darlin’ and eat inside.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, turning and walking towards the house. He stops on the front step, opening the large glass front door. You follow, flip flops slapping on the concrete, carrying your powdered chicken noodle soup and plastic spoon up towards his fancy home. When you reach the threshold, he holds out his large hand palm up and you place the old, stained tupperware with your half eaten soup into it. He looks down at it and then back at you, eyes trailing along your body and it feels like he’s running a torch over you. “Is this all you have to eat?”

You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile. 

He cocks his head towards the kitchen and one pushed back curl that’s laced with a few greys falls into his eyes with the movement. In order to stop from pushing his loose curl back you squeeze your fists gently and head towards the stool you sat on yesterday. As your flip flop hits the tile you stop and look back towards your car nervously. “I, umm, I forgot my shoes.”

His large, warm palm comes to your lower back and he pushes you gently towards the kitchen. You sit as he transfers your soup into a matte black bowl and places it in the microwave. He opens a cupboard and pulls out a loaf of fresh bread, as you go to protest he flicks his eyes up to yours and something about the expression on his face tells you not to argue with him. He pops the two carefully cut pieces into the toaster. He breezes effortlessly around the kitchen for someone so broad and masculine. You didn’t realize someone making toast could be so sexy. The microwave beeps and he grabs a gold spoon from a drawer before wandering around the island, placing them both in front of you. His arm brushes yours as he pulls away and your heart flutters at his touch. He walks back around the kitchen island and grabs a glass. 

“Still or sparkling?” He says as if that’s just a normal question to ask when you get someone a glass of water. Just another thing that proves you don’t belong here. The toaster pops and you jump a little. He chuckles as he grabs the toast, slathering it with butter. “Still or sparkling, darlin’?” 

You breath hitches, he’s called you darlin’ twice now. Is that just that southern charm you hear about so often, or is it more? You shake the thought from your head, there’s no way someone like him is interested in someone like you. “Still is fine, you don’t have to trouble yourself.” 

You take a spoonful of soup, blowing on it gently before putting the spoon in your mouth. Joel is watching you in the same way he was yesterday. Assessing. Observing. Calculating. It feels like he’s looking into your very soul. He slides the plate of toast and then a glass of sparkling water over to you from across the island.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “You didn’t -”

He holds his hand up, stopping you in the same way he did yesterday. “I wanted to.”

You feel your cheeks redden and you have to look away as you take a bite of toast. He’s too handsome standing in the kitchen with the afternoon sun highlighting his features. He’s wearing a black dress shirt today, the top few buttons undone, accentuating the perfectly groomed salt and pepper hair on his chest. You swallow your bite of warm, salty, buttery toast, allowing your eyes to flutter closed at the delectable flavour, holding back a moan. 

Joel clears his throat and crosses his arms across his broad chest, “So how did ya get into cleanin’ houses?”

You look up at him through your lashes. Why is he being so nice to you and taking care of you? He apologized yesterday. And after you told him it was fine he left you a massive tip. He said he wants to do this, but why? He’s rich and handsome and you can probably safely assume that that icy blonde from yesterday was his girlfriend. Unless…could she possibly be a mistress? You decide that that must be it. She’s his mistress. He has a wife. He’s just like every other rich man, cheating on his beautiful and age appropriate wife with someone much much younger than him. He’s probably terrified that you might find out who his wife is and tell her. That tip was hush money.

“I’m saving money,” you say and then shake your head, willing the thoughts in your mind to calm down. “For law school.”

“That right?” He says, raising an eyebrow at you as you take another spoonful of soup.

“Yes, I want to be a lawyer. I graduated a semester early and needed some money before going back to university. Assuming I even get accepted. This job meant I could work part time so I could study to take the LSAT again and also make good money.” You take another bite of the toast, mainly to make yourself shut up. 

He watches you the entire time, nodding along, his eyes constantly assessing. “Take the LSAT again?” he asks.

“I passed it already and applied to schools but I haven’t heard back yet. Law school is pretty competitive, so I’m going to take it again and hopefully have a better mark for the next round of college applications.” You’re talking too much, you need to shut up and just eat, but Joel doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. No one has ever listened to you like that, not even your parents.

“Next round?” He asks curiously. 

You feel your cheeks redden. You don’t want to admit to this obviously successful man in front of you that you probably won’t get accepted to any of the eight universities you applied to. “Yes. It’s competitive, and I probably won’t get in. So I’m preparing to be better the second time.”

“Where did you apply? If that’s not too forward of a question.”

“No, not too forward. Umm, a few places. Strength in numbers, I guess. Harvard, Yale, Columbia, Berkeley, Duke, University of Toronto, but I don’t think I’d survive a Canadian winter. I also applied at Notre Dame and University of Texas here in Austin.”

Joel laughs at you mentioning the Canadian winter and once you’re quiet, he looks down at his expensive dress shoes, “I, umm, I know some higher ups at UT Austin if you need me to put in a good word.”

You smile at him when he looks back up at you, “I don’t think that’s quite how it works, Joel. But thank you.”

The two of you are silent for a moment while you finish your first piece of toast. You glance up at him and he’s looking at you with that same hint of pride he had yesterday while you drank your water. He’s making you feel like eating toast is something to be proud of. You can’t explain it but his facial expression wraps around like a corset. Pulling its metaphoric laces and making you sit up taller, holding your head up higher. With just the shimmer in his deep brown eyes you feel like you could take on the world. You need to break the silence so you say, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he says, leaning back to rest on the countertop behind him. His arms uncross, his strong hands wrapping around the countertop on each side of his body. 

“What do you do for a living? To have all this?” You gesture around the house as you sip your sparkling water.

“A few things. I used to own a construction company, sold it a few years ago to retire but I got bored pretty quickly. Now I own a few properties, I rent them out.” You nod as you listen to him, eating your lunch. One hand rubs at his patchy, salt and pepper beard nervously before saying, “I also own a club.”

You let out a little giggle into your water glass, immediately praying that he doesn’t think that was you being rude. Of all the professions that could have come out of his mouth, owning a nightclub was the last thing you expected. Joel smiles at the sweet melodic sound leaving your lips and relief washes over you. “Why’s that so funny?” His voice is light at his inquiry. 

“It’s not,” you say after swallowing your water. He furrows his brows at you. “You just - I mean, I guess I don’t know you, but don’t seem like the nightclub type.”

“You’re right, you don’t know me. But you’re also right that I am not a nightclub type,” he states. Something about the way he says it makes you sense that that’s as far as you’re going to get with it, but you also realize that the club is probably how this man meets young women to bring home.

You put your spoon down and place your hands in your lap. “Can I umm, ask you something else?”

“Of course,” he repeats. 

“What’s with that little dinosaur toy on your coffee maker?”

He smiles and reaches over to grab it, rubbing his thumb along the faded and scuffed brown paint of the little toy. He looks down at it and a hint of sadness seems to fill his coffee and amber eyes as he looks at you. “My daughter, she umm, she got it for me from the prize box in Kindergarten after her mom -” he stops mid sentence, sadness lining his features. Joel’s not married, you roll your eyes at yourself internally for thinking the worst of him. And truthfully, you of all people know he’s not married. You clean his house, you’ve been in his bedroom, and there are no women's clothes. You’ve also been in all the spare bedrooms and there’s no chance another person lives here with him. He continues, choosing his words almost carefully, “Well, just after she was gone.”

“I’m sorry, Mister,” his eyes flash onyx for just a second, he looks lethally sexy and you swallow your words before starting again. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“It was a long time ago,” he says, placing the dinosaur back. He runs his fingers through his salt and pepper curls, letting out a little sigh. There’s a shift in him, like suddenly the world is heavier. He tries not to let it show, and maybe most people wouldn’t notice, but you see it. The slight fall in his face, a little slump in the shoulders, a breath held for just a second too long. He clears his throat gently and says, “I’ll be in my office. Eat your lunch for me, please.”

Joel

Joel closes the door of his office and rests his forehead against the smooth wooden surface. He can’t remember how much he spent on these doors when he built the house, but he would set any door that separated him from you on fire if he had to. 

Get it together, Joel.

He closes his eyes and only sees you. The way your glossy, pink lips formed a little O as you blew on your soup. The way the gold plated metal spoon slid softly along your tongue. His cock twitches in his pants and he feels the urge to throw all the spoons in his house away. 

Great, you’re jealous of a spoon. 

He shouldn’t be home. He signed a contract, and more importantly, you signed a contract. In order to protect him and you there is to be no contact between the cleaner and the client. That’s what you consented to when you took your job at Maid Discreetly, and now he’s caused you to break that contract not once, but twice. But he cannot seem to get you out of his mind, and as he sat in a meeting at his club he couldn’t focus. You were here, cleaning his home in that form fitting white polo shirt and those black pants that hugged at your hips in all the right places, and he just had to know if you were as beautiful as he remembered. Just a quick peek, he convinced himself as he made up some bullshit excuse to leave. 

When he saw you sitting in your rusty SUV you looked so innocent and pure, you were more than beautiful. The afternoon sun lighting up your high cheekbones and slender, slightly upturned nose, it gave you an almost angelic glow that temporarily took his breath away. If he had to describe you in two words he would say that you were simply ravishing. For the first time in almost thirty years he wished he still had the calming comfort of that black felt cowboy hat. But that soft Stetson went with her because she loved it so much. 

As he caught his breath and looked at you from his garage, he was overcome with an urge to bruise and corrupt you. He’s a bad man for the thoughts he's been having about you. He can’t help himself, but even in his most twisted of fantasies, he’d never do anything you didn’t want him to. But, fuck, he’s sure he could mold you into exactly what he wants in a submissive. 

Joel isn’t new to the world of kink; he’s had many subs, all of whom have referred to him as Mister Miller. However, his name has never sounded so fucking sweet as it did coming off your lips. Those two little words leaving your pouty, pink lips feel like that first sip of whiskey after a long day, and it might kill him if he doesn’t make you his. 

He sighs into the white wood of the door before standing and walking to sit behind his desk. He drops into the soft leather chair and lets his head fall back onto the headrest and closes his eyes. What is it about you? Why can’t he stop thinking about you? You’re way too young. Way too sweet. Way too…sinless. And even though he can’t explain it, and he knows you don’t know it, you’re way too “exactly-what-is-going-to-ruin-his-entire-life”. 

You’re not someone he can just play with. No, he’s good at reading people, and you’re the kind of person that deserves being invested into. You’re also not someone who is going to stick around. You have dreams and well laid out plans on how you’re going to achieve them. He can’t cage you in, he’ll have to let you spread your wings and fly no matter how much he sees himself as the man he used to be reflected back in your eyes.  

He opens his eyes and pictures you kneeling in the corner, perfectly manicured hands that he pays for you to have done weekly folded on your lap as he works. He imagines calling you over with a curl of his fingers, you crawling across the plush carpet and resting your head on his lap as he responds to emails, takes calls, or plans events. He could reach down and run his fingers through your soft, silky hair as you nuzzled deeper into his lap with your cheek. “My perfect, sweet girl,” he’d hum.  

His body falls forward, forehead hitting the sturdy wooden desk with a thump. Jesus Christ, Joel. 

It was one thing when he only found you beautiful - he could live with being attracted to you, he could find a way around it or stuff that attraction down, maybe he’d find a new sub to distract himself with. That would be easy for him, but then you had to open your mouth, you had to speak so passionately about your future. Why couldn’t you just be pretty like all the other women he plays with? You might be one of the most driven people he knows: the way you push yourself, already planning for the next “no”. And that kills him, ruins him really that you are programmed to think there will automatically be a “no” and that you’ll have to endure another round of LSAT’s and college applications. You’re smart, and he wants to kill whoever made you feel like you need to push yourself this hard. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket; annoyance courses through his body until he sees his brother's name across the pristine screen of his newest iPhone Max. 

“Ya?” He says harshly. 

“Everything ok with the alarm?” 

Joel’s mind goes blank, “What?” 

Tommy is silent for a second before he responds slowly, “The alarm? You left in the middle of a meeting because of an alarm.” 

Joel shakes his head. Right, the alarm. The bullshit excuse he made up so he could leave to see you. “Ya, right. Ya, it’s fine. Got it all, umm, all fixed up. Should be back soon.”

“You ok, brother?” Tommy asks suspiciously. “You seemed, I dunno, distracted today.” 

“I’m fine,” Joel snaps. 

“Alright. Well, come back soon, pretty big night here and we need ya.” 

Joel hangs up without saying goodbye. He’s the owner, he knows it’s a big night, but he’s sort of busy having an existential crisis over possibly being in love with his house cleaner. Whoa, in love? Pump the fucking brakes. Joel’s heart stops beating for a second at the thought of it. He can’t possibly be in love; he doesn’t fall in love. No, he decides, it’s just because she’s new, and exactly my type, and it’s been a long time since I found someone that’s my type.

Just as he stands from his desk, he hears the hose outside turn on. You must be at the pool furniture part of your list. He takes this moment to sneak out of his own house, because he’s a weak man when it comes to you, apparently. He slips into the Italian leather front seat and lets the new car smell waft over him; he loves the smells of a new sports car and has never owned one long enough for it to stop smelling that way. It’s a matter of status to him. He takes a good hard look at himself in the rear view mirror. That’s enough now. For both of your sakes. Leave her alone. 

You 

After spraying down the pool furniture you rush inside to warm up. Seriously, who needs their pool stuff cleaned in the fucking winter? As you jog up the stairs to grab Joel’s freshly laundered sheets, you blow into your cupped palms. The warmth spreads from your frozen fingertips to your palms. Joel’s office is empty; he must have left while you were outside. Your brain swirls with unanswered questions as you pull the fitted sheet back onto his king size bed. Why would he come home? First of all, he knows you’re here this time and second of all, he knows he’s not supposed to be here. So why? And then there’s his calculating stare, always watching and usually with a flash of pride in his features. Did he come back here just to talk to you? Maybe even to get to know you? 

It’s safe to say that you’re more confused than ever, and you make a mental schedule of studying and reading to keep you busy later tonight so you won’t spend hours trying to google him again.

It takes way too much effort, and a silent promise to yourself to get back to the gym, but you manage to wrestle the oversized duvet back into its cover just as three o’clock rolls around. You jog down the wide, open staircase and your phone bings in your back pocket. Jamie’s name is splayed across your cracked screen, the sunset from your last trip to California shining back at you. 

What are you doing tonight? Want to make a bunch of money serving drinks topless?

You laugh to yourself. Truthfully, nothing Jamie asks you seems to surprise you, and some sort of odd job where you’re topless or in a sexy outfit is practically a guarantee as a condition of your friendship. As you reach for the black envelope on the kitchen island you text back. 

What?

You barely have the thick parchment of the envelope open when she responds, like she already had the text locked and loaded and was just waiting for you to try to fight her on it.  

Remember Laren? My cousin? She has a topless catering company and needs help tonight. It’s at some exclusive VIP poker game downtown. 4 hours, $300 + tips.

You respond as a thousand dollars falls out of the tip envelope. 

I’m in.

Jamie picks you up a few hours later and parks her blacked out Range Rover in the alleyway behind a shiny black building in the heart of downtown. You’re once again surrounded by wealth and success thanks to Jamie. The dress code tonight is a black pencil skirt, black heels, your tits, and a bow tie that Laren will give you. Speaking of whom, Laren is holding open a staff door for you and Jamie with her hip, waving the two of you into the warmth of the building. She pulls you both into a big hug, “Thank fuck! You two saved my ass tonight. Gotta love having friends and family with great tits!”

“You’re so weird,” Jamie says, brushing past her and into the building. You follow her in before Laren ushers you towards a service elevator. 

“They’ve already started, you’re part of the second shift. I think the first set of girls made about four hundred each in tips, helps if you serve the guys that are winning though. The first round of games is almost over, winners move on soon.”

“How were their tits though? As great as ours?” You joke. Underneath the calm and collected mask you’re wearing you are definitely nervous. All these strange men are going to see you half naked, you know nothing about poker or serving drinks. Your two friends laugh as the elevator opens to a small changing room. Girls from the first shift are putting their tops back on, handing the bow ties back to Laren who gives them to you and Jamie. 

She cocks her head towards a swinging door, “Just through there when you’re done. Go to the bartender for a tray and table assignment. Two girls per table and only six seats so it should be pretty easy. Make sure you smile!”

“Yes, ma’am,” you and Jamie say teasingly as you strip off your tops and bras. She flips you the middle finger as she heads back out to the poker game to supervise. The cool air of the room stiffens your nipples, nerves fluttering behind your navel as you put the bow tie on.

You overhear the girls that are leaving talking about the men, “Did you see the one with the curly hair at the table by the bar?”, one says. 

The other responds, “He was so fucking hot. Total daddy, I think he owns this place.” 

A third pipes up with, “Fuck, I should have flirted more. I could use a sugar daddy.” 

As they walk towards the elevator the first girl says, “Did you know that this is a sex club? Too bad we can’t go explore the rest.” They giggle as they leave and you take a steadying breath. You’re going to be topless, in a sex club. 

“Ready?” Jamie asks, adjusting her bowtie around her slender neck. 

“Did you know this is a sex club?”

She laughs, “Ya, it’s like an exclusive kink club apparently. Laren said it’s owned by two brothers who are insanely hot. Maybe I should see if they need a maid.” She winks at you as you both walk towards the swinging door. 

You step into the dimly lit room and find the bar directly across from you. After rolling your shoulders back and down, you cross the dark hardwood floor to the bar. Everything in the room is black or deep forest green. Black paint covers the walls, your heels click against the sturdy black wooden floors, even the poker tables and chairs are black. A pop of deep green velvet only along the seats and table tops. It looks soft, like one of those fuzzy blankets you have on your couch and you fight the urge to run your hand across one of the empty tables as you pass. 

The bartender hands Jamie a tray first and then quietly tells her to go to the table in the far right corner. She sways her hips like the sultry goddess she is as she walks to the table. Relief floods through you when you notice that none of the men have raised their eyes, they’re focused intently on the card game. This isn’t some sleazy club like you initially thought when you heard ‘sex club’ leave the lips of the other servers. You relax a little at being able to just be yourself tonight, maybe a bit more naked than you’d usually be but yourself nonetheless. 

You take the black marble serving tray as the bartender points to the table closest to the bar. The curly hair man that the women were talking about in the change room faces away from you. Your heart leaps in your chest. Joel. As you approach the other server standing behind the table, he starts to turn his head. Time stops, your heart speeds up, and it starts to feel simultaneously too hot and too cold in the room all at the same time. It’s almost as if he’s turning his head in slow motion. As you catch his side profile he has the same hooked nose, in the dim light of the room you can’t see any greys along his temples and he doesn’t appear to have a beard. After what feels like an hour, his eyes finally meet yours and you let out a breath, although you aren’t sure if it’s disappointment or relief leaving your lungs. It’s not Joel Miller.

“Mind bringin’ me another Macallan neat, sweetheart?” His eyes stay locked on yours as he smiles at you sweetly. He holds the crystal glass out for you and you take it with a soft ‘yes, sir.’

Something about those eyes, and the way they flash darkly at being called sir, feels all too familiar. In the time it takes for you to take the six or seven steps to the bar you convince yourself that it’s just your brain seeing him everywhere. You tell yourself that when you bring this drink back he’ll look nothing like the man you caught knuckles deep in a woman as she cried out, nothing like the man who was so gentle and sweet, yet slightly bossy and commanding with you this afternoon. 

That’s definitely it, you say to yourself with finality. You’re just cock drunk over a cock you’ll never have. 

The bartender pops the whiskey open and the hair on the back of your neck stands up, you can feel someone looking at you. Almost feel their stare heating the right side of your body. It feels as if all of your exposed skin is being covered by the gaze of whomever is looking at you, shielding you protectively from the view of the other men. The bartender's eyes flick to the corner of the room and then back to you while he hands you the drink. The shift of his gaze confirms that you weren’t imagining it, there is someone looking at you. You place the whiskey on your tray and spin cautiously to the right, stopping dead in your tracks when you lock eyes with Joel Miller. He looks dangerous, sitting at a low table along the wall, his face just barely illuminated by a single candle on the dark wooden table top. His fingers are laced together, forearms of his black dress shirt resting on the knees of his black dress pants. His lips are pressed in a thin, disapproving line. 

He stalks over to you and you wish your tray was empty so you could shield your tits from him. The way he moves is almost menacing, like a jaguar stalking his prey, his eyes are almost black in the low light of the room. Your nipples stiffen under his intense gaze, your mouth fills with saliva and you gulp loudly. You stand frozen, the whiskey for that man you had convinced yourself isn’t related to Joel forgotten about on your tray. He plucks the drink off the marble slab, the glass looking like one of those disposable paper cups you have in your bathroom in his hand. He takes two long strides and drops the glass beside the man. 

“Thanks,” he starts to coo, a ten dollar bill clasped between two fingers. After realizing it’s not you, he adds a confused, “Brother?” 

He tries to pull the money back, but Joel is quicker. Snatching it from his brother's grasp and tucking it into the breast pocket of his dress shirt. Joel turns back to you and steps in closely, your lower back hitting the cold marble bartop and you gasp, arching your back and naked breasts towards Joel. His jaw flexes as he fights to keep his eyes level with yours. 

“What are you doin’ here?” he says in a harsh whisper. 

“I’m working,” it comes out a lot more bratty and defiant than you intend it to. 

“Not here you ain’t.”

You take a small step forward, your hard nipples lightly grazing the soft fabric of his black dress shirt. “I’m not leaving.” 

His hand circles your bicep and you twist out of his grasp. “You’re makin’ a scene, darlin’.” 

“You are, Joel. I’m just trying to make money.” He grabs you more firmly this time, not tight enough to hurt you but enough for you to know he means business. 

What’s his problem anyway? He doesn’t own you. What you do outside his home is none of his business. He can boss you around via an app every other week, but that’s it. That’s where it ends. You glance desperately over at Jamie to find her back to you as she speaks softly with a man who’s waiting for the next round of poker. Her hand grazes his bicep flirtatiously, she makes it look too easy to get what she wants from men. Joel guides you towards the staff changing room, keeping your body in the dark edges of the room. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, like an angry dragon and you’re honestly surprised smoke isn’t billowing out of his nostrils. 

In the bright lights of the changing room you feel more exposed than ever. You want to lift your tray, but in order to prove to him that you don’t care what he or anyone thinks you don’t. In fact, you stand up taller, holding your head high and pushing your chest out. It’s infinitesimal but he looks down just for a nano second. You smirk when his eyes come back to you. 

“Put a shirt on.” 

“If none of the other girls have to put a shirt on then neither do I.” You pop your hip out and pull your arm free from his large calloused hand and rest it on your hip. 

“Don’t fight me on this.” 

“I’m not fighting. You are. So all those other girls are fine, but I’m not? Why? My tits aren’t big enough for you?” 

“That’s not,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath with his eyes closed. When he reopens them his eyes land softly on yours. “I just need you not to be here. Please.” 

Bright red anger sparks along the sides of your eyes. Seriously, who does he think he is? “You aren’t the boss here, Mister Miller.” 

“Do NOT call me that.” His neck flushes the same colour as your vision. You stand your ground, eyes narrowing into glaring slits. What is his aversion to being called Mister Miller, and why does it turn you on a little bit to rile him up when you use it?

“You aren’t my boss or my dad, Joel. You can’t make me leave or tell me what jobs I can or can’t take.” You’ve figuratively dug your heels in, you aren’t leaving. He can’t make you. Only Laren or whoever owns this sex club can ask that of you. “You can’t kick me out like you own the place.” 

“Actually,” he says darkly, “I can.” 

“What?” You say through a nervous breath, eyes widening. 

“I own the place. So I can kick you out, and I am kicking you out. Get your shirt.” 

Your shoulders fall slightly. You feel about two feet tall with the realization that he doesn’t want you here. This afternoon you thought that maybe he cared, he seemed like he cared, and now you’re half naked and he wants you to leave. He watches as you unclasp your bow tie and slide on your bra and shirt. 

You look over at Jamie’s clothes and it dawns on you that you didn’t drive here. Your face falls as you blink around the room and then towards Joel. 

“What’s wrong?” he says through thick concern.

“Nothing. I just…” 

He steps towards you, he’s so broad, his presence so large that you start to feel almost claustrophobic when he’s this close, but you never want him to step away. You’d happily let him smother you with his innate Joel-ness. “You just what?”

“I didn’t drive here,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands. Your left thumb nail immediately finds purchase along the cuticle of your right thumb. 

His strong palm cups your chin, lifting until he’s looking at you again. You’re becoming more and more used to the amount of eye contact Joel seems to make. He seems constantly dialed in on you when you’re in the same room.

Yes, I would be very happy to let him smother me. 

The harsh lines of his face soften, “I can get you a car. They’ll meet you at the staff door.” 

You nod into his hand and find it exceedingly hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you that way. He drops your chin and turns his large, broad body back towards the swinging door. He looks over his shoulder and says, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” His voice is soft and sad, almost as if he’s full of remorse and just hoping you won’t hate him before heading back into the poker game. Any bit of anger is flushed from your system, replaced with the disappointment of having to leave wherever Joel is.  

You drag your feet to the elevator and then towards the staff exit. You let the heavy door close behind you with a loud bang as a blacked out SUV pulls up. The driver says your first and last name as he opens the back door for you. You look towards the black building one last time. 

“I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” 

JMKink is written in shiny metallic black on the door and all the information of the evening hits you at once. JMK. Joel Miller Kink. Joel Miller, insanely handsome millionaire, owns a sex club.

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