#this took place in the 60s and 70s

[ninjastormhawkkat]

When Best Friends Meet - Part 1

8 year old Rebecca Fuller pouted angrily as she sat on a chair outside the principal's office. "It wasn't my fault that stupid brat got her nose broken. She shouldn't have been so mean in the first place." Rebecca grumbled under her breath. She knew she would get some trouble with her parents for breaking a kid's nose and nearly exposing her powers, but they wouldn't be as mad when they learned why their daughter did it. "Rebecca honey, people only get respect from you when they give it. There are times when violence is about the only solution you can give." Rebecca smiled at what her mother always told her. She was a good kind hearted woman but knew how to dish out a mean left hook herself when defending herself or others. Rebecca was brought out of her thoughts when she saw a boy with a bloody mouth walk to the chair next to her and sat down with it. He had a paper towel in his hand that was already becoming covered with blood as well. Rebecca winced in sympathy. 'Poor kid probably fell or got pummeled by a bully.' She usually didn't judge people by their appearances, but this kid was the definition of scrawny. He didn't' have any muscles and was only a few inches taller than Rebecca. He was wear brown shorts and a button up blue shirt coupled with a bow tie. This kid didn't look intimidating at all and couldn't even hurt a fly. Rebecca noticed to her surprise the boy wasn't crying or had any other bruises on his face nor arms. He was just sitting their patiently, minding his own business as he stared at his shoes. Rebecca's curiosity soon got the better of her so she decided to talk to the kid. "So did you already go to the nurse's office yet?" Rebecca asked. The boy seemed startled by Rebecca's voice and turned to face his seatmate with a confused expression. "What?" The boy asked. "I said, did you already go to the nurse's office before you came here?" Rebecca asked again. The boy just blinked at her, still looking confused. "I never went to the nurse's office. I'm not sick or hurt." The boy explained. This time it was Rebecca's turn to be confused. "Huh? The how did you get all that blood on your mouth?" Rebecca inquired. The boy seemed to hesitate before he responded. "I bit a kid's finger off and their blood squirted on my mouth." The kid explained in a low tone. Rebecca's eyes widened. "What? There is no way you were able to bite kid's finger off." Rebecca exclaimed, very doubtful of what she was hearing. Before the boy could respond, he began to cough violently. Rebecca began to panic as the boy seemed to be trying to hack something up, as if he was choking on something. Quickly, Rebecca hit the boy on his back not too hard, but hard enough to help him spit out whatever he was choking on. It worked as the boy spit something out mid-cough which landed on the floor near their feet. Rebecca's eyes now became wide as saucers as she saw a severed finger covered with saliva lying flat on the ground. The boy turned to look at Rebecca with an unbothered expression. He shrugged as if saying "I told you." There was a tense moment of silence before Rebecca found her voice. "Holy cow you really bit off someone's finger!" She whispered in stunned amazement. The boy just gave a slight nod. "Yep." He casually replied. Rebecca looked at the boy with a determined expression. "How in the world did you bite someone's finger off?" She demanded wanting answers. The boy fidgeted a bit, he had a slight stormy look as he recalled the incident. "I didn't mean to bite the kid's finger off. They were being a bully, making fun of my appearance. I tried ignoring them. They then called me a bad word. They said I was this bad word because I had two dads. That their own parents said my dads and I were this bad word as well as disgusting. I got so angry I bit there finger. I think I bit too hard." The boy grumbled with an angry expression. "I only bite people that make me mad and that kid really made mad. The teacher didn't see what happened just heard the kid screaming his head off." @melodythebunny @erraticeris

[sh4gadel1c]

Kinky pinky photo dump part: Idk???

Rog looks like garlic bread

[velvetjune]

One thing I hope control 2 does is lean even more into different mediums of art. The side missions for the jukebox or shum arcade machines are good for fighting practice and mods, but I wish they incorporated the altered item more, like how the ashtray maze replicates a specific aesthetic for a shifting hotel or all of langston’s runaways change their surroundings. Maybe make the arcade game all pixelated or add more music. Remedy has only gotten better and better with experimenting in their games, so I trust whatever they’ll come up with Control 2

[mariocki]

Thirty Minute Theatre: Not Counting the Savages (BBC, 1972)

"I didn't look round, of course, but when I went round to tidy the other side of the grave, I... became aware of a man standing up against the wire fence. At first I thought that he'd caught his handkerchief or something white on it, and then I realised what it was."

"What?"

"He was exposing himself. Exposing himself to me."

"Well, you've seen one before."

"But I was... I was terribly upset. You can't know how distressed I was! I still am."

"Why? You're an old woman. Why should you be upset? It was play-acting. You're an old woman."

[mssalo]

dirty old man

You were assigned as Joel Miller’s caretaker, but he’s a perverted old man who just can’t keep his hands off you. And the truth is, you don’t mind one bit—in fact, you want more.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, age gap, caretaker f!reader, joel is a perverted old man (I imagine him around 60-70), reader in her 20s, ddlg dynamic, daddy kink, size difference, rough sex, explicit sexual content, power imbalance, perverted/dirty talk, oral (male receiving), dick riding, degradation, cum play, intense kink dynamics, hint at oral (f. receiving), cumming inside, reader loves herself some old man cock (same)

more dirty old man in masterlist

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

You’d been assigned to Joel Miller by the government, part of a caretaker program for veterans and older men who couldn’t quite manage on their own anymore.

He wasn’t exactly the type to ask for help, but his injuries left him with no choice. And from the moment you walked through that door, something shifted between the two of you.

It had started innocently enough—you were just doing your job, helping him with the daily things, cooking, cleaning, making sure he took his meds.

But Joel? Joel was a different kind of man. He wasn’t just the gruff, quiet type; he was observant. He watched you—really watched you. At first, you tried to ignore it, the way his eyes lingered a little too long when you bent over, or how he’d mutter something dirty under his breath when you passed by, something you pretended not to hear but couldn’t stop thinking about later.

The first time he really crossed the line, it was subtle.

His hands would brush against your ass when you helped him up, fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary. His gaze would trail down your body as you walked by, slow and shameless.

And his words started to shift, the way he talked to you changed.

He wasn’t just thanking you anymore, he was complimenting you in a way that made your skin flush.

The things he said, the low, filthy edge in his voice, it did something to you. You could feel your resolve crumbling.

One night, when you were helping him undress for bed, he let his hands wander. It wasn’t accidental anymore -Joel was testing the waters, and you didn’t stop him.

His voice had been rough, low as he said, “You’re too good to me, sweetheart. A man like me doesn’t deserve someone as pretty as you takin' care of him.”

He’d leaned in that night, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered something filthy, something that made your heart race and your body heat up. And you couldn’t resist it.

You couldn’t resist him.

Joel Miller wasn’t just a job anymore—he was something more. 

From that point on, it was impossible to stop. He seduced you slowly, his filthy words and rough hands becoming more familiar, more irresistible until you couldn’t help yourself.

You gave in, and now, here you were, fucking him every chance you got.

What started with stolen touches and whispered innuendos had turned into something wild, something neither of you could control anymore. Joel made you feel wanted in ways you hadn’t before, and he wasn’t shy about taking what he wanted from you.

Joel wasn’t a young man, but the way his hands gripped you, the way his cock filled you, stretched you, made it clear he could still make you weak at the knees. You made him feel things he thought were long gone, things he hadn’t felt in years—desire, hunger, lust.

It was like you’d unlocked something inside him, something primal and desperate, and now he couldn’t get enough of you.

And the way he talked to you, the dirty things that fell from his lips, made your heart race every time. He had no shame in telling you exactly what he wanted, exactly how to make him feel good.

· · ────

From the moment you walked into his life as his government-assigned caretaker, Joel couldn’t stop thinking about you. Not just thinking, but obsessing.

You were young, beautiful and far too fuckin` sweet. Completely out of place taking care of an old, worn-out man like him.

Yet here you were, every day, walking around his house in those tight little clothes, bending over to clean or reach for something, unknowingly driving him insane.

He’d resisted at first, or at least he told himself he did. But Joel was never a man of restraint, especially when temptation was sitting right in front of him, practically begging for it.

And damn if you didn’t start giving him that look—a mix of innocence and curiosity, like you knew exactly what you were doing, yet playing dumb, as if you didn’t feel the way his eyes lingered on you.

The sexual tension had built up so fast, it was like a fuse waiting to blow.

One night, after one too many "innocent" touches, the line between you two snapped. He pulled you into his lap, made you feel every inch of what you'd done to him, and you never looked back.

Now, this—this—was your new normal.

Every time you walked into the room, his cock was hard, his mind already in the gutter, thinking about what he’d do to you next.

Like now.

You were just cleaning up, wearing those simple jeans and that tight little tank top, nothing too revealing but still enough to make his cock twitch.

Joel sat back in his chair, his eyes following the way your hips swayed when you moved. 

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” Joel muttered under his breath, the hunger clear in his voice. “You know exactly what you’re doin’, hm baby?”

His gaze narrowed as you bent over, your ass perfectly framed by the tight denim, the curve of your body practically inviting him.

Filthy thoughts swirled through his mind—thoughts of bending you over the nearest table, grabbing your hips, and fucking you so hard you’d be screaming his name.

You straightened up and caught him staring, giving him that innocent smile—the one that had him aching in his jeans.

You bit your lip, like you were playing shy, and it only made his cock throb harder.

“You okay over there, Joel?” you asked, your voice all sweet and playful like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing to him.

Joel shifted in his seat, making no effort to hide the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’m just fine, darlin’. But in fact, I think I could use a little help right now. A bath maybe?”

Your eyes widened slightly, but there was no surprise. You knew this game all too well. The way his voice dropped to that deep, gravelly tone that meant only one thing—he wanted you.

And Joel always got what he wanted.

“Come here,” he rumbled, patting his thigh, his eyes never leaving you. “Don’t make me wait.”

You hesitated, just for a moment, like you were still playing the role of the innocent caretaker. But you knew where this was heading.

Slowly, you walked over, standing right in front of him. Joel’s eyes drank in the sight of you, his gaze trailing up from your legs, over your hips, to the way your breasts strained against your tank top.

"Sit down," he commanded, patting his thigh again, this time more insistently.

You bit your lip, feigning innocence, but the look in your eyes said you knew exactly what you were about to do.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto his lap, feeling the hard bulge of his cock pressing up against you through his jeans. Joel let out a low groan, his hands immediately finding your hips, pulling you down harder onto him.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice a deep rasp. "That’s better. You feel that, baby? Feel what you do to me every fuckin’ day?”

You squirmed slightly in his lap, already feeling the heat building between your legs. Joel’s hands gripped your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he guided your hips, pressing you down onto his hard cock.

"You've been drivin' me crazy, darlin'," Joel growled, his breath hot against your neck.

“Ever since you started comin' here, wearin’ those tight little clothes, bendin' over right in front of me like you don’t know what you’re doin'. You’ve been teasin’ me, haven’t ya?”

Your breath hitched, and you didn’t answer, but Joel didn’t need you to. His hands slid up your sides, lifting your shirt just enough to feel the bare skin beneath his calloused palms. 

“You’re a sweet little thing,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust.

“But I bet you like this, don’t ya? You like sittin' in an old man’s lap, grindin' on my cock like a good girl.”

You whimpered softly, your body already responding to his touch, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as he pulled you tighter against him.

His words were filthy, but the way he spoke made it clear—you were his, and he was going to take whatever he wanted.

"You’ve got all those boys your age starin' at you, darlin’? But here you are, sittin' on my cock. You want it, hm, baby?" Joel’s voice was low, his breath hot as his hands moved down, grabbing your ass, pulling you against him harder, the friction between you sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“Feel how fuckin’ hard I am?” he growled, grinding his hips up into you, making sure you felt every inch of his cock pressing against your core. “This is what you do to me.”

His fingers slid between your legs, rubbing slow, teasing circles over the damp fabric of your jeans, right where you needed him most.

You gasped, grinding down against his hand, desperate for more. Joel chuckled darkly, his fingers pressing harder, his voice low and commanding.

“Goddamn, you’re already soaked, aren’t ya? Just from sittin’ in my lap. You like this? Bein' told what to do, bein' my good little girl. You’re gonna take care of me now, huh? That’s your job, isn’t it?”

His hand moved to the button of your jeans, and he popped it open with ease, sliding the zipper down slowly, teasingly, all the while his eyes never left yours.

His fingers dipped inside, brushing against your slick folds, and you let out a soft moan, your hips jerking against his hand.

"That’s it, sweetheart," Joel murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

"You’re gonna be a good little girl and take care of your daddy. You’ve been teasing me long enough. Now it’s time to do your damn job.”

His hand slid lower, fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had you trembling in his lap. He growled low in his throat, his cock twitching beneath you as he watched you squirm.

"God, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, his voice rough. “But this ain’t about you. You’re gonna make me feel good first. That’s what you’re here for, right?”

He gripped your hips again, pulling you down harder, his cock pressing right against your entrance. You could feel the thick, throbbing length of him through his jeans, and it only made you ache for more.

Joel’s eyes darkened as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Now, be a good girl and give your old man what he wants.”

You bit your lip, nervous and excited as you reached down, your hands trembling slightly as you brushed over the hardness straining beneath his boxers. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand as you pulled him free, the sight of him, so big and ready, making your mouth water.

Joel let out a low groan as you wrapped your fingers around him, your small hand barely able to take him fully. “That’s it, darlin’. Just like that,” he muttered, his hips jerking up slightly into your hand. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

Joel’s eyes darkened as he watched your small hand wrap around his thick, pulsing length.

The sight of it—his cock heavy and leaking in your grip—made something primal snap inside him.

His rough, calloused hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding you in place as you stroked him slowly, his hips jerking up, desperate for more of your touch.

“That’s it, darlin’. Fuck, you got such a small hand, hm? Barely fits around me,” he groaned, his voice low and filled with lust. His head fell back against the chair for a moment, lips parting as he watched you through hooded eyes.

But then, he shifted, grabbing your chin firmly with one hand and pulling your face closer "Now get on those healthy little knees and serve me."

You quickly followed his command.

“My sweet little obedient thing, hm? I want you to lick it. Clean.”

You hesitated for just a second, your heart racing in your chest, but the hunger in his eyes and the way his grip tightened on your chin had you leaning in closer, feeling his gaze burn into you as you knelt between his legs.

You could feel the heat of his cock against your lips before you even touched him, the scent of him intoxicating, thick with arousal.

Joels eyes were glued to the sight of you, looking so innocent yet holding him like you knew exactly what you were doing to him. His lips curled into a filthy, satisfied grin as he stared down at you, that dangerous gleam in his eye growing darker.

"That’s it, sweetheart," he murmured, voice low and dripping with lust.

"You got those pretty little lips all ready for me, don’t ya? Go on now, give your old man what he’s been waiting for."

You hesitated, your body trembling slightly under the weight of his gaze, but the excitement was undeniable.

You leaned forward slowly, your lips barely brushing against the head of his cock, and Joel growled low in his throat, his fingers threading through your hair, guiding you.

“Not like that,” he grunted, his grip tightening. “I want you to suck it. Get your mouth on me—every inch of it. Don’t be shy, baby. I want you to show me how much you wanna take care of your daddy."

Your breath hitched at his words, the intensity of his voice shooting straight through you. His demand was laced with control, and something deep inside you wanted nothing more than to please him.

You opened your mouth wider, wrapping your lips around the swollen head of his cock, letting your tongue swirl over the salty taste of him.

"Yeah, that's it," he growled approvingly.

"Good girl. Use that fuckin' tongue. I want you to lick me clean, just like that. You know how to treat your daddy’s cock, hm? Been thinkin' about it, haven’t you? Bein' my perfect little slut."

The filthy words spilling from his mouth sent a flush of heat through your body, your thighs pressing together as you sank deeper onto his length.

Joel’s hips bucked up slightly, forcing more of him into your mouth, and you could feel his cock twitching as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him just like he wanted.

“Fuck, you’re so good with that mouth,” he groaned, his head tipping back as he thrust gently into your mouth, watching as your lips stretched around him. "Get it wetter, baby. I wanna see you drool. Let that spit drip down your chin."

You obeyed, sucking harder, letting your saliva coat him until it was dripping from your mouth, soaking his cock. Joel's fingers tightened in your hair, pulling you back for a moment, his cock sliding out of your mouth with a slick, wet sound.

“Look at that mess,” he growled, his voice thick with arousal. "Fuckin’ beautiful. But we ain’t done, darlin'. No, not yet."

He leaned forward slightly, his hand guiding your face closer to his balls.

“Now lick 'em,” he muttered, his voice low and commanding. “I want you to suck on them, baby. Get 'em nice and wet. Go on, clean up every inch of your daddy.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the lewd demand, but you were so far gone, so eager to please, that you didn’t hesitate.

Your tongue flicked out, gently running along the sensitive skin of his balls, and Joel groaned loudly, his body shuddering as you licked and sucked, just like he told you to.

“Good fuckin' girl,” he growled, his voice thick with need.

“You do whatever I tell you, yeah, baby? Such a sweet little thing, always takin' care of me. You know that’s your job, right? To make sure I’m feelin’ real good.”

You nodded, your lips wrapping around one of his balls, sucking gently as you massaged the other with your hand. Joel’s hips jerked slightly, his fingers still tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as he moaned deep in his chest.

"That’s it, baby," he rasped, voice rough. "Suck 'em. Show me how much you wanna be a good girl for your daddy."

Your body was trembling now, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as his filthy praise filled your ears. You sucked harder, letting your tongue swirl around him, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

Joel’s expression was dark, hungry, and the way he looked at you—like you were his to use—made your core clench with need.

He pulled you up suddenly, dragging you onto his lap, your body straddling him, the heat of his cock pressing against your soaked core. His hands gripped your waist tightly, his voice low and menacing as he whispered, "You think you're done, huh? We ain’t even started yet."

His eyes darkened as he looked down between your legs, the slickness of your arousal soaking through your panties. He reached down, his fingers brushing over the damp fabric, and smirked.

"So fuckin' wet already," he muttered. “I bet you’ve been dyin’ for this. You want your daddy to fill that tight little pussy again, hm?”

You whimpered, unable to form words as he pressed his fingers harder against your clit through your panties, teasing you mercilessly. His thumb circled your sensitive spot, making your hips jerk involuntarily, and Joel chuckled darkly.

“Fuckin' needy,” he muttered, pulling your panties to the side, exposing your slick folds. “Look at you, drippin' all over me. You need this cock, yeah, sweet girl?”

You nodded frantically, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you felt the head of his cock nudging against your entrance. Joel grinned, that filthy, perverted grin you had come to crave, and slowly guided you down onto him.

As his thick length stretched you, filling you up inch by inch, he groaned loudly, his hands gripping your hips so tightly it almost hurt.

“That’s it, baby. Take every fuckin' inch. You’re mine. This is what you’re good for.”

His voice was rough, commanding, and it only spurred you on as you rode him, your body bouncing on his cock, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. Joel’s hands never left your body, guiding your movements, pulling you down harder, deeper.

“You feel my cock deep inside, little girl?” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “You’re fuckin' perfect, baby. So fuckin' tight around me. You’re takin' care of your daddy just like you should.”

Joel's grip on your hips was firm, pulling you down onto his cock with a rough, needy pace that made your breath hitch. 

His body was tense beneath you, and the way his eyes darkened as they roamed over you—your breasts bouncing, your flushed face—made it clear how much he enjoyed watching you fall apart on top of him.

“Look at you, darlin’,” he rasped, his voice thick with arousal, rough around the edges. “Bouncin' on this old man's cock like you were made for it. You love it, baby? Bet you’ve never had anything like this, huh? Some young boy couldn’t fuck you the way I can. You need a real man, don’t ya? Someone who knows how to handle a sweet little thing like you.”

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your chest before his mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking it hard while his other hand squeezed the other breast, rough but possessive.

His teeth grazed your sensitive skin, and the sharp mix of pain and pleasure sent jolts of electricity through your body.

“You got these perfect fuckin' tits,” Joel groaned against your skin, his breath hot, words dripping with filth.

“So young, so tight. You know what you're doin' when you wear those little tops around me, don’t ya? Teasin' me with this sweet body, just beggin’ to be fucked.”

Your moans filled the room as Joel’s tongue flicked across your nipple, his hand moving to your clit, his thumb pressing in slow, rough circles as he worked your body in tandem with the deep thrusts of his cock.

You could feel every inch of him stretching you, filling you completely, and it was overwhelming.

"Fuck, you’re so fuckin' tight," Joel grunted, thrusting deeper, his voice a low growl in your ear.

"This old man’s cock is fuckin' you so good, huh? Bet you never thought you’d be so desperate for someone like me. You need this—need me to fuck you the way no one else can. Tell me you love it, baby. Tell me how much you love havin' daddy’s cock inside you."

You gasped, your body shaking as his words only pushed you closer to the edge.

His hand gripping your ass, guiding you down harder, faster, as you rode him, the slick sound of your arousal making his grin widen even more.

He shifted his hips beneath you, hitting that perfect spot inside with every thrust, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped your lips.

Joel’s grip tightened on your hips as he grinned up at you, watching the way your body shook with each rough thrust.

“Goddamn, you’re squeezin' me so tight,” he muttered, his thumb pressing harder on your clit.

“Look at how fuckin' wet you are. You’re drippin' all over me. I bet no one else has ever made you feel like this before, hm? Not like your daddy.”

You couldn’t answer—couldn’t find the words through the haze of pleasure that was overwhelming you.

But Joel didn’t care. He could see it in the way your body responded to him, in the way you moved on top of him, desperate for more.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, his voice dark and filthy as he thrust up into you, hard and deep. “You’re gonna come for me, little one? Gonna come all over this cock, like the good little girl you are. You love havin' daddy take care of you, love bein' used like this.”

His words sent a shockwave of heat through you, your body trembling as you neared your release. Joel’s thumb circled your clit faster, his cock driving into you with brutal precision, hitting every sensitive spot inside you.

“You’re gonna take every fuckin' inch, baby,” he muttered, his voice thick with arousal. “You’re gonna take everything I give you. You want me to fill you up, don’t ya? You want daddy to come inside that tight little pussy.”

You moaned, your body shaking as you rode him harder, the pressure building inside you, every word pushing you closer to the edge. Joel’s grip on your hips was bruising, his breath hot against your ear as he growled, “Tell me you want it. Tell me you want this old man to fill you up.”

“Please, daddy,” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper. “I need it. I need you to come inside me.”

Joel grinned, his eyes dark with satisfaction as his hips slammed up into you, his cock throbbing inside your tight heat. “That’s my girl. You’re fuckin’ perfect, baby. You love this cock. You love bein' filled up by me.”

With one final, deep thrust, Joel buried himself inside you, groaning as his cock twitched, his hot release spilling into you.

His grip on your hips tightened as he came, his breath ragged, his body shaking beneath you. The sensation of him filling you sent you over the edge, your own release crashing through you as your walls clenched around him, moaning as your body trembled, overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm.

Joel’s chest rose and fell in heavy, ragged breaths beneath you, his cock still buried deep inside as his hips gave one final lazy thrust, pushing the last of his release deeper into your tight, slick heat. His hands never left your body, sliding from your hips up your sides, gripping you possessively, like he couldn’t get enough of the feel of you wrapped around him.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction, low and raspy in your ear. “Took it all inside, hm? So fuckin’ good for me. You were made for this—made to take every bit of me.”

He leaned back in the chair, eyes dark and hazy as he looked up at you, still straddling him, your body trembling slightly from the intensity of what just happened.

His rough hands slid up to your breasts again, squeezing them possessively, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he let out a low, satisfied grunt.

“You feel that, darlin’?” Joel whispered, his breath still hot against your neck, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re full of me now, all stuffed with my cum. That’s what you wanted, huh? Bein' filled up by your old man, just like a good girl.”

You shuddered slightly, his words sending a lingering spark through your body. It wasn’t just the way he took you—it was the way he owned you with every filthy word, every possessive touch.

And even now, after everything, he wasn’t letting you go. His hands continued to roam your body, lazy and deliberate, as if reminding you that you were his.

Joel chuckled lowly, almost smug, the sound vibrating through his chest as his fingers trailed up your spine, making you shiver.

“You do your Job so well, darlin’,” he said, voice filled with dark satisfaction, like he was proud of you, like you’d done exactly what you were meant to.

“Gotta say, this old man didn’t think he had it in him anymore. But fuck, you make me feel like a man again. Ain't no one else who could take care of me like you do.”

His fingers traced idle patterns over your skin as he kept you close, his cock still warm and softening inside you. He grinned, looking you up and down, his eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of knowing how much control he had over you.

“You thought you were just gonna come here and help me out, take care of the house, huh?” Joel’s voice was teasing now, low and gravelly.

“But you’ve been takin' care of me in ways no one else could. Every time I see you, I wanna fuck you. Can’t help it, baby. You’ve got me fuckin' addicted.”

You shifted on top of him, still feeling the heat between your legs, the mess of him inside you, and you let out a soft whimper as his cock twitched in response.

Joel chuckled darkly, his hands gripping your ass firmly, pulling you down against him again, keeping you pressed tight against his body.

“You ain’t goin' anywhere,” he muttered, his tone possessive. “You belong to me. You know that, right? There’s no one else who’s gonna fuck you like this, make you feel like this.”

His words hung in the air, thick and heavy, and you knew he meant them.

Joel wasn’t just some old man you were assigned to look after anymore—he’d taken something from you, claimed you, and now you were his in every sense of the word.

He grinned up at you, his eyes still filled with that dark hunger, even after everything. His hands slid up to your waist again, pulling you down for another lazy grind, his cock still nestled inside you.

The sensation made your body tremble again, and Joel noticed, his grin widening.

“You keep takin' care of me like this, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low rasp.

“And I’ll make sure you’re never wantin’ for anything else. You’ll always have me to fuck you, fill you up just like you need. You like that, don’t ya? Bein’ mine, lettin’ me use this tight young little body whenever I want.”

You nodded weakly, still trying to catch your breath, your body pliant under his grip. He chuckled again, a deep, satisfied sound that made your core clench around him, even as you sat there, exhausted from the intensity of it all.

“That’s my good girl,” Joel whispered, his voice a low growl. “Always doin' what you’re told. Now, you keep sittin' on daddy’s cock for a while longer. Let me enjoy how fuckin' perfect you feel.”

And so you stayed there, Joel’s hands still possessive on your body, his cock still nestled inside you as the minutes passed.

You knew this was how things were going to be for a while—him using you whenever he wanted, taking what he needed. But the truth was, you couldn’t get enough of it either.

The way he made you feel, the filthy dominance in his voice, the way his rough hands claimed every inch of you—it was intoxicating.

You were hooked, just like him.

You shifted on his lap, your breath finally steadying as the intensity of the moment began to settle. But even as your body started to relax, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Joel’s hands still possessively gripping your waist, holding you there, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

A small, teasing smile tugged at your lips as you looked down at him, his cock still buried inside you, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

“You might like keeping me here all day, old man,” you murmured, your voice soft but playful, “but now I need to get up, cook, and get you your meds.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk spreading across his face. “My meds, huh?” he muttered, clearly amused, his voice still gravelly and low. “Hell, I think this right here’s better than any meds they could give me.”

His hands tightened on your hips for a moment, pulling you down one last time, making sure you felt the last bit of his cock buried deep before he finally let you move.

“But go on, sweetheart,” he said, his tone a mix of teasing and command. “You do what you gotta do. I’ll be right here, waitin’ for you to come back and take care of me again.”

You rolled your eyes, gently pushing yourself off his lap, feeling the mess of him still inside you as you stood up. As you turned to head toward the kitchen, Joel's hand shot out and smacked your ass, hard enough to make you yelp in surprise.

The sharp sound of his palm connecting with your skin echoed through the room, making your breath hitch, and you couldn’t help but grin, your body responding despite yourself.

“Still fuckin' got it, don’t I, sweet girl?” Joel growled, his smirk widening as his eyes roamed over your body while you walked away, his gaze dark and lingering.

“And don’t take too long, darlin’. I plan to have that sweet pussy on my tongue ‘til I pass out.”

You glanced over your shoulder, flashing him a playful smirk, your hips swaying a little more, knowing he was watching every move.

“You’ll survive a few minutes, won’t you? You are still the strong, stubborn old man you claim to be.”

Joel chuckled, low and rough, leaning back in his chair, the smug look on his face unwavering. “Yeah, yeah. Get that pretty little ass in the kitchen. But you keep me waitin’ too long…” His voice dropped to a dangerous murmur.

“And I’ll be comin’ after you to drag you back here myself.”

You could feel Joel’s eyes on you the entire time as you walked away, that smoldering, hungry gaze burning into your back.

The heat between you two was almost unbearable, thick and heavy, making every step feel slower than it should.

Joel might be older, but the way he looked at you, the way he commanded every moment, made it clear that age hadn’t dulled his hunger—especially when it came to you.

And you knew exactly what he wanted.

Hell, you didn’t even need his words to know. He had a taste for you, an obsession he couldn’t shake. It was the same routine nearly every night.

He’d pull you into his lap, his strong hands gripping your thighs, his voice a low growl as he told you to strip down because he wasn’t going to bed until he had your sweet cunt on his tongue.

You’d try to get things done around the house, but it was useless. Joel was insatiable.

“Come here, darlin’,” he’d say, like clockwork, his lips curling into that filthy grin. 

“You know I’m not sleepin’ till I’ve had my fill.” And before you could even respond, his mouth would be on you, licking and sucking until your body shook with pleasure, his deep moans vibrating against your sensitive skin.

Just last night, you had barely made it through the doorway when he had pulled you to the bed, laying you down and spreading your legs before you could even catch your breath. "Goddamn, baby," he’d muttered between long, slow licks, "I’ll never get enough of this pussy." 

And he hadn’t stopped until you were trembling, spent, your fingers gripping his hair as he kept going, like he couldn’t pull himself away.

You knew tonight would be no different. His need for you was constant, his desire always burning just below the surface.

And, truth be told, you loved it. The way he made you feel—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world—had you hurrying to get back to him.

You craved the way he devoured you, the way he worshipped you with his mouth, as much as he craved you.

As you finished up in the kitchen, your heart pounded with anticipation. You knew Joel was waiting, his eyes still lingering on the thought of burying his face between your thighs.

You hurried, eager to crawl back into his lap, knowing exactly what was coming next—his rough, possessive hands and that filthy mouth, reminding you again just how much he couldn’t get enough of you.

And, if you were being honest, you craved it just as much—craved the way he claimed every inch of you with his cock, fingers or mouth - making you feel like you were the only thing that could ever satisfy him.

Your favorite old pervert.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

I fear.... I want him biblically....

I`d LOVE to write many dirty scenes with these two, would y'all like that?

Stay tuned - thank you so much for reading and I would love to read your opinions!!

xoxo

[sherbertday]

I had this sitting in my Wip folder for a solid year before actually getting back to it since I’m back in the convention scene. I know a lot of people were suggesting I use inspiration from some modern Mafia film posters, but I realized most of them were far too dark, which is a stark contrast to the bright, and vibrant colors of Golden Wind. So I took a less Hollywood direction for this one to mimic the visual cadence of Italian films from the 60s and 70s, particularly Giallo and crime film posters. You’ll often find a selection of bright colors and popping yellows (it’s literally in the name) in Giallo films which feels VERY JoJo-esque. The finished version doesn’t really reflect a poster style of the time Part 5 takes place, but I think I had the liberty of paying homage to something that goes hand in hand with Araki’s style.

I’ll post the rest of my poster works after this!

Anyway, this is now available on my INPRNT, which you can find in the link in my bio!

[got-ticket-to-ride]

John Lennon explaining who "(Just Like) Starting Over" is for

This interview took place only 12 hours before he lost his life. He was so looking forward to the 80s. I had this edit sitting in my folder for two months because it hurt listening to it. John had such a difficult childhood (losing his mother, his friend dying), his stardom weigh him down mentally, his marriage was a failure (and he couldn't really live in freedom with the person he truly loved due to societal norms). And then he gets robbed of his life in the most brutal way. How absolutely devastating...

In this clip, he clearly says the song is not for Yoko.

I was visualizing all the people of my age group from the 60s.... Having gone through everything together, I am singing to them. I'm really talking to the people that grew up with me and saying here I am now, how are you? How's your relationship going? Did you get through it all? Wasn't the 70s a drag? You know, here we are. Well, let's try and make the 80s good, you know, because it's still up to us to make what we can of it. It's not out of our control.

We have grown, we have grown Although our love is still special Let's take a chance and fly away Somewhere alone It's been too long since we took the time

But when I see you darling It's like we both are falling in love again It'll be just like starting over

Everyday we used to make it love Why can't we be making love nice and easy It's time to spread our wings and fly Don't let another day go by my love It'll be just like starting over

We'll be together all alone again Like we used to in the early days

These parts of the lyrics specifically can only pertain to one person he grew up with. George Harrison.

I'm kidding, Paul.

[david-talks-sw]

"The Acolyte" wasn't 'woke' propaganda.

I had my issues with the show (you can check out my other posts to see what they were) but there's this notion that The Acolyte was created to spread The Message™ of "woke propaganda"... and I think there's a bit of a mix-up going on, there.

Because that's simplifying things a lot.

When you're a minority, you're not "being woke" when you're just being yourself! Conversely, you're not "writing to be woke" when you're a minority drawing inspiration from your personal experiences to tell a story.

I talked before about how George Lucas implemented elements of his personal life in his own films. In his own words:

"There's no way to write without writing from yourself. Y'know, the stuff gets made out of things that you care about… whether you've actually lived them or not. There are emotional issues that you deal with, and I think that's always a major factor with any writer. I don’t think— it's hard to write without having some kind of emotional connection to the material. I've never seen any reason not to. It’s easy to write that way. It's hard to write in the abstract. So when I write a scene, I write a scene that moves me or I care about, or is something that is personal to me." - George Lucas, Q&A with Lynne Hale, 1994 (StarWars.com)

Any piece of writing worth some salt needs to come from a personal place to some degree because that's where the heart of the story, the truth, lies. That's what an audience will relate to.

Example: The six original Star Wars films are purely George Lucas. As in, everything in those films, from the characters, to the cinematography, to the editing style, etc are all a reflection of who George is as a person and what he stands for:

anti-Vietnam / "fight the corporate & imperial machine"

60s-70s white kid from Modesto, California

single father of three

who defines himself as Methodist-Buddhist,

has an anthropology major and

a passion for Kurosawa,

cinema vérité,

cinema history in general

art and visuals and

car racing.

You see all that in those films.

Same thing with The Acolyte.

Leslye Headland drew from her personal experiences.

Among other things, Leslye is gay. So that's what she uses as inspiration to, for instance, craft Qimir's character motivation.

"I was on the treadmill being like, “What is [Qimir] gonna say?!” And my wife, who is a huge part of my creative process, finally she said, “What do you wanna say? Stop thinking of it like you have to somehow tap into a different guy.” [...] I was like, “I wanna say that people don't want me to exist as a gay woman, as a woman in this particular space, working in this wild sandbox.” There was a whole crew of people who believed in me, but deep down, I felt like, “I am unaccepted for who I am because of what I believe in and wanting to wield my power the way I'd like without having to answer to the legion of people that just exist out there.”" - Leslye Headland, Collider, 2024

She took this specific life experience of hers, and then made it more universal, so that a bigger audience could relate to it.

"By the way, I think everybody feels this way. I think that's why it resonates when you're honest about yourself, and you get personal about it. When [Qimir] says, “I want freedom,” that's what I want. I just want freedom. I want to be able to just be out there and be myself and be the type of artist I want to be without having to answer to anybody." - Leslye Headland, Collider, 2024

Same goes with Osha and Sol's relationship, or how she defines the Jedi Order. It derives from her own relationship with her father and how she felt being raised straight, in a Christian household.

If you have the time, listen to this audio clip where she describes that.

In the context of the whole interview, her voice goes down a few octaves and starts to crack a bit. This is a vulnerable moment, when she's talking about it... and it's this experience that she turned into fuel for her writing of Sol and Osha's father/daughter bond.

"There's this thing that's called benign sexism, and part of it is this paternal protectionism — it seems like this good thing, but like you said, there's this, “I have to protect you from everything. I have to make sure you're okay. I have to tell you what track to get on, and then once you're on that track, I need to support you.” Ultimately, what happens is — again, this is a father-daughter relationship — as women evolve in their lives and develop their own personalities separate from their fathers, at some point, they have to reject that protectionism. [...] She cannot stay a little girl or an adolescent or young adult. She has to, at some point, say, “I reject what you have told me I need to do to make you proud, to follow in your footsteps.” She has to do that." - Leslye Headland, Collider, 2024

Now... if we're talking consistency with the themes in Lucas' Star Wars, then yeah, The Acolyte misses the mark.

The Jedi Order isn't the patriarchy or the Catholic Church. They're more like Buddhist monks, George has stated so multiple times.

The Jedi teachings aren't narratively meant to be the same traits found in toxic masculinity or benign sexism.

When a Jedi tells you to be mindful of your emotions, it's not meant in the "boys don't cry" sense.

When they talk about letting go of attachments, it's not meant in a stoic "don't get emotionally involved" sense.

Anakin too, the whole point is that he's wrong, the narrative frames his fall to the Dark Side as his own fault, it's not meant to be perceived as a failure in upbringing.

But she's not the only one who does it. Filoni does it too, a majority of fans have this take on the Jedi.

And because of her experiences, I can see why her takeaway would be that. Same goes for Filoni, they're products of their generation, upbringing and experiences.

My point is:

Leslye Headland is writing from a personal place, when she's writing The Acolyte. It's partially informed by her politics because - like she quotes, "personal is political" - but when it comes to the writing of the show, it's personal first and foremost.

What this was, was a Star Wars fan (arguably the nerdiest one we've had so far, in terms of creators) putting all of herself in the creation of a show that perfectly reflects who she is and what she stands for, resulting in:

a story about growing past your father's paternal control and accepting that our guides aren't infallible,

where her wife holds a role and gets to wield a lightsaber,

a show about taking corrupt religious institutions to task

about the Sith and the Dark Side

and questioning the unquestionable

and exploring whether the good are really so good and if the bad are really so bad.

This was a project written from the heart, and regardless of whether the resulting art found its mark, I think it's important to note that it wasn't written to spread a propaganda message in some "pro-woke holy war" or whatever the hell the YouTubers are peddling.

[kaahgyuya]

saving u . ! (FLUFF)

. synopsis ; you get hurt, so kinich saves you.

. warnings/notes ; g!n reader, kinich might be a little and or completely ooc, forgive me.. 😓 he's kinda nonchalant, and no ajaw for this oneshot, and mention of being exposed to drug substance? (oneshot with plot), and reader in this might not be a liking for you! (Reqs are open, so feel free to recommend some stuff of your own!)

REQS. are open!!! (Open until 10/3)

You were always out in the wilderness going out and taking commissions one from another. Whether it'd be fighting, or simply delivering something, you'd always get it done in time.

All of the customers/clients you'd take commissions from, would always have something nice to say about you. That you were always a sweetheart and kindhearted.

Sometimes, your kindness would get you blind, and for this commission you took on, you didn't notice a single thing.

"Ah, isn't that Y/N?" You were passing by Kinich's tribe looking for him until someone called out for you.

"Hm? Hello! What is it that you need?" You turned to them. A slightly older man, maybe up to his 60s or 70s went up to you.

"you take on commissions, don't you?" The old man asked.

"Yes, I do! Is there anything I need to do for you?" You replied in a cheerful like tone.

"Ah, would you mind getting rid of some dangerous foes around the area? It's been bothering me and some of the fellow tribe people." The old man said.

"Uh huh, but first I have to know about the details about this commission, did you put it up on the adventures guild board or anything like that?" You asked.

"I did, but nobody took on the commission so I took it down." The old man looked sad, and you felt bad for him.

"Don't worry, sir! If you give me the details of the commission, then I'll be sure to get it done." You said in a reassuring tone.

"But before that, what's your name?"

"It's Junan." He replied.

"Don't worry Junan, if you have the commission details with you, I'll be able to get it done."

"Yes, yes, I have the paper details." Junan gave you some old paper that had a few rips and tears, and the paper looked quite old.

Some ruin guards and ruin hunters were around the area, that's not good, people can get hurt!

"I see... do you have a payment?"

"Unfortunately no, it was given to me by Kinich."

'Kinich? Huh that's kind of odd. Why would he give out a commission like this?'

"Kinich huh, alright. Do you have the location?"

"It's nearby the entrance, go a little to the left and then go straight. My memory is slowly getting worse by the years. Haha." The old man laughed.

"It's alright sir, well then, I'll take off."

"Thank you, Y/n." He waved goodbye to you and you walked off.

"Why would Kinich give out a commission like that?.. Something doesn't seem right."

"Whatever, maybe he was just too lazy to deal with it?"

You arrive at the place, surprisingly, there's no ruin guards or monsters anywhere. But since there's none, you get a little suspicious.

"I'll just take a quick look around just in case.." you look around the area, getting distracted by the beautiful view around you.

You then wince, something doesn't seem right.

Some horrible smell comes from somewhere, you don't wanna go near it.

You block your nose and mouth and slowly back away.

You then turn behind you to find yourself...

Being ambushed.

A couple of guys suddenly grab your arm and then say something, but that horrible smell/substance made you feel light headed making you feel really weak.

You suddenly see a silhouette that scoops you up before falling to the ground, you feel a gush of air as if you're flying.

You feel so tired that you suddenly...

"Huh?.. where am I?" You looked around you to notice you weren't at the place where you got ambushed, but under some tent.

"You're awake, you were ambushed by some people." You look over to where the voice came, and it was Kinich. He had some bandages with him and a wet towel.

"Owie, that stings." You whined.

"They hurt you pretty badly." You couldn't help but look at his face, and he looks a little guilty.

"I had took on some commission from someone, and they said that—"

"I know." Kinich cut you off.

"Huh? How?"

"I just do." Kinich says, while patching up your wounds. He totally wasn't stalking you when you were taking that suspicious commission from that guy.

"That commission wasn't from me, besides that issue was resolved a long time ago, it was just used to ambush you, or even kill you." Kinich said in a stern tone.

"I had already dealed with the guys so you're fine to rest here. Take as long you need to recover." He added.

You slowly sat up, while wincing at the pain.

"You know, I could've taken care of my wounds even if I did get ambushed." You said while looking over at him.

"Yeah, but there was this drug or substance that would make you pass out and or weak. You could've died."

"But you didn't have to take care of me like this."

"I'm just repaying the price, am I not?"

"For what? The commission I finished for you ages ago?"

"I guess so," kinich said.

You sighed as his hands gently lingered over your arms and body, making sure he patched them right.

"You're doing alright, right? Do you need water?" He asked. Even though his tone wasn't full of emotion, his eyes showed it.

"I'm doing.. fine. My body just hurts all over the place right now." You awkwardly looked away.

"You really didn't have to patch me up, though. Don't you already have stuff to do?" You added.

"I finished my stuff eariler today, so I'm free." Kinich looked up at you.

"Kinich, you know, you really didn't have to. You've already done so much stuff for me, and I don't know how to pay you back."

"It's fine, maybe think of a payment you can pay me back with."

"But you always say that and then just don't care about it after."

"That's because I really don't. For you, I'd do it for free. No need to pay me." He was still kneeled by you, as he looked at your wounds again.

"But really, you didn't have to patch me up, I could've done it myself." You felt pity.

"Sure, I didn't have to patch you up, but I needed to."

"Needed to? Did you mean want to?"

"No, I needed to."

@kaahgyuya 9/29/24 10:10 pm

a/n; lazy writing today, might post smt tmrw if I have my creative juices flowing!! Otherwise I hope you enjoyed this >_<

[writtenbymisunderstoodnerds]

Rock bottom (But you pulled me up) (Ingrid Engen x Reader)

I'm trying to work on my requests and WIP, but inspiration is lacking so I thought I'd try something new. This is my first time writing for someone out of the uswnt and in this style so please let me know what you think.

Warnings: Mentions of depression, anxiety, brief emotional abuse. Slightly suggestive at the end. Anything I've missed let me know.

Words: 2.8K

You could tell Ingrid was hurt, it was written all over her face. She had made you a lovely dinner and just wanted to have a movie night after not spending much time together. Yet here you were making an excuse to leave once again, you felt like a horrible girlfriend. Ingrid had taken the time to do something nice for you, but you couldn't get out of your head enough to enjoy it. Before you had the chance to get up, Ingrid uttered those three words that sent dread coursing through you. "We need to talk."

You swallowed hard before speaking, "About what?" 

"You barely spend anytime with me anymore. You never message me first, we only do stuff because I organise it. I don't feel like you want me anymore. You're slipping away. Are you trying to get me to break up with you because this hurts so much more than just doing it yourself."

"No! Ingrid-" Tears stung your eyes as you tried desperately to keep it together. Afraid that if she saw how broken you were she would just leave. Things had been difficult for you lately, you were depressed, anxious and stressed. You felt so close to rock bottom, as a result you had been pulling away from Ingrid. The last thing you wanted was Ingrid to leave you, but you also didn't want to be a burden to her or scare her away with your emotions. 

"Then what is it? Did I do something wrong?"

You could practically see the hope disappearing from Ingrid's eyes the longer you didn't answer, leaving hurt in its place. "I feel like when I see you, I need to be able to give you 100% of myself, of my energy and time. I can't do that right now and it makes me feel guilty. Like I'm a horrible girlfriend, that you deserve better than what I'm giving you."

Ingrid took your hand, everything in you fighting the urge to lean into her touch, to fall into the comfort you knew was waiting. If only you could bring yourself to accept it. The voices of your parents and ex-girlfriend hung in the back of your mind stopped you though. The voices that told you you were a burden to the people around you, that everyone had bigger problems to worry about and didn't care about you. The voices that told you Ingrid deserved better than you and your problems. 

"Elskling, relationships don't have to be equal all the time. There's times where it'll be 50/50, but there's times where you give 90% and I'll give 10% or the other way round, sometimes it'll be 70/30 or 60/40. You get my point. What's going on? You haven't been yourself lately and it's really worrying me. Talk to me please."

You sighed pulling away from Ingrid to cross your legs under yourself, grabbing a cushion to hold. There was a part of you that thought being single would be easier, that there was less risk of hurting Ingrid that way. At the same time you knew it was those stupid little voices in the back of your mind that kept pushing that thought. You loved Ingrid more than anything in this world and deep down you knew she loved you just as much. You didn't want to let everyone else win, you didn't want to let your mind win for once in your life. 

Talking about feelings was incredibly hard, it wasn't something you could do while being comforted by Ingrid or anyone really. "I'm sorry for the way I've been acting lately, it's not fair to you and I know that. I-I'll try to explain it all, bu-but I need you to be patient with me. Just let me speak and not touch me, I can't do this if you do."

"Anything you need. I just need you to know that whatever you tell me, I won't ever judge you. I love you Y/n, I love you so much."

"I love you Ingrid. I'm sorry if I ever made you doubt that. Okay, so I um I think I need to start with why I have such a hard time letting people in, especially those I love. My family, well to put it bluntly they're assholes. They were constantly putting down everything about my sister and I, nothing we ever did was good enough. Any problems we went through were nothing to them, they always told us that people had bigger problems, that they had bigger problems and we were just adding more stress to their lives if we talked to them about anything remotely not positive. Tha-thats the short version anyway. My uh my ex was pretty similar, she would tell me that she had better things to do then deal with my trauma or depression. If I was unhappy she would turn it around, say that she wasn't enough to make me happy. Even before her, I majorly struggled with my feelings and opening up to people. Fear mostly, that's why I um haven't told you anything. Fear that I'll be too much for you and that you'll leave me."

Tears threatened to fall, but pushing them back you continued talking. "I'm really struggling right now Ingrid. My depression is the worst it's been in years. The anxiety just sits there constantly under the surface making it feel impossible to breathe. Constant doubt about if I've made the right decisions, if I'm good enough at football, if I'm good enough for you, there are so many more things I could list. Sometimes I feel like everyone would be better off if I just packed up and left. I'm so sick of feeling like this, but I don't know how to get it to stop. This is probably one of the scariest things I've ever done, but I've had already almost lost you Ingrid. I can't let them win by actually losing you. I love you so fucking much, I can't lose you Ingrid, I can't."

Tears were near pouring out of you both as Ingrid sat there for a second. When you didn't speak she must have decided you were finished talking because the next second arms wrapped around you so tightly and you completely broke. Ingrid held you tight until the sobs turned to sniffles then you feel silent. Ingrid's hold never completely let go, it was like a life line at this point. 

"I love you Y/n. I loved you before and I still love you just as much now. I'm not going anywhere. Nothing your parents or ex said is true. I always want to know how and what you're feeling, I will always be here for you. No matter what your mind tells you, you are never too much for me or for the team or anyone who truly loves you. Our lives are so much better with you here so please don't even think about leaving because we will miss you. I will be here every step of the way while you figure things out, I will help you get the help you need. If you need space, I'll give you that, but if you need me here then I will always be here. I know you feel like you need to be giving me all of yourself, all of your energy, but you don't. Even if you can just give me 1% until you get over this bump in the road then that's enough for me. You are enough for me Y/n."

"I think there will be times when I need to be alone, but most of the time I just really want to be with you. I need to work on accepting that I deserve your love and comfort so I actually seek it out when I need it or want it. Some reassurance every now and then will help I think. Can we talk about the next steps tomorrow? I just want you to hold me right now."

"I will give you all the reassurance you need and more. Have you eaten today?" Ingrid asked, but the look in her eyes told you she knew the answer so you just shook your head. "Okay, I'm going to order some food while we cuddle here then we can go to bed."

True to her word, Ingrid held you tightly while you lay on the couch, staying close to your side during dinner and as you got ready for bed. "Thank you, for everything you've done, for being here, for loving me."

Ingrid kissed you softly, before pulling away and leaving soft kisses over your face, "Always."

Lying in bed later that night, head resting against Ingrid's chest, you decided to admit the one thing that kept swirling around your mind, "I think I need to take a break from football. Not the training, I think that helps me, but games. The pressure that comes from each game feels like weight being added. Makes me feel like I'm being dragged further down into this hole."

"Okay, if that's what you feel you need then we can talk to the coaches or Ale and she can sort it out. I know the thought of telling anyone else what is going on is scary, but Ale or anyone else on the team aren't going to judge you or think any less of you because of it."

"I think maybe we can talk to Alexia, not tell her everything, but the jist of it."

"I'll be by your side when you're ready." ---

It had been a few weeks since the talk with Ingrid and since you made the decision to stop playing in games for a while. The only person who knew why was Alexia, it was clear that everyone else was worried, but until now you hadn't felt ready to tell them and thankfully they didn't push. 

There was still a long way to go, but things had been slowly getting better over the last few weeks. You had started seeing the team therapist multiple times a week and had restarted medication for the time being at least. Everything was starting to become clearer, you weren't as anxious all the time, you were becoming more willing to talk to Ingrid, to actually spend time with her without worrying about not being enough, and smiles and laughs were becoming more genuine when they did happened. 

The team had been amazing despite not knowing what was going on, they were as supportive and loving as ever. So you decided it was time to let them in a little bit. You squeezed Ingrid's hand, getting her attention as you spoke quietly, "Can you get their attention please? I know they're worried about me and I think I'm ready to tell them."

"Hey! Can we have your attention for a minute."

Once everyone's attention was on you, the anxiousness started to creep in, but with Ingrid's hand still firmly holding yours, you took a deep breath and spoke, "I know you've all be wondering why I've effectively benched my self the last couple of weeks and I want to be honest about it. I've uh I've been um struggling a lot mentally at the moment and I decided I needed a break. The pressure was too much, I couldn't handle it on top of everything else. So uh yeah, I don't want you guys to keep worrying about me."

It was quiet for a few seconds before many arms wrapped themselves around you, mumbled we love you's and we're proud of you's were heard as you sunk into the arms of your teammates. Surprisingly, Mapi was the first to pull away, cupping your cheeks as she spoke uncharacteristically softly, "You keep doing what you're doing and come back to us when you're ready. You always have is in your corner Y/n. We are so proud of you and we love you. If there's anything you ever need you can come to us okay?"

"Thank you Mapi. Thanks all of you." --- A few months had passed and you were finally feeling like yourself again. There were still hard days, you were pretty sure there always would be, but you were genuinely happy again most of the time. You found yourself more willing to open up to not just Ingrid, but some of the other girls you were closest to. It was safe to say your life was pretty well back on track, there was just one thing left to do and that was get back to football. You hadn't told anyone of your plans to start playing games again, you had just been put in the line up as a sub, but after conversations with the coaching staff you knew you were likely to come in at half time. 

When the line up came out, Alexia was the first to notice and speak up effectively getting everyone else's attention, "Y/n?"

"Yes Ale?"

"Is there anything you want to tell us?"

Ingrid looked at you confused as you shrugged trying to be as innocent as possible while knowing exactly what she was talking about. "Oh really? Well how about the small fact that your name is on the substitute list again?"

"Oh yeah. That is a thing I guess."

Smiles grew on everyone's faces as it clicked what was happening. Ingrid practically jumped on you repeating over and over how proud she was, kisses placed over your faces. The team joined not long after, everyone cheered and congratulated you. 

"Okay okay, you can let go of me now. Yes I finally feel ready to come back."

Once everyone had let you go, Alexia pulled you up into a hug. Since she found out about your struggles, Alexia had been amazing. She was always subtly checking in whether you were at training or not, she would pull you away when everything got too overwhelming and Ingrid was busy, making some excuse so know one else would know the truth. Alexia was always just there in a way that was subtle and comforting. "Well we're so so glad you're back. I'm so proud of you Y/n."

"Thank you Ale, for everything."

As soon as your foot hit the pitch, you felt the excitement, adrenaline and happiness that you thought may have been gone for good. You felt yourself falling in love with football all over again, it was like the final weight had fallen from your shoulders. There would always be bad days or even bad weeks, you knew that, but with Ingrid, your family and your new found coping mechanisms, you finally felt ready to face them. 

---

You arms wrapped around Ingrid as she chopped the vegetables, she briefly turned to kiss your cheek before going back to her task. "Hi Elskling, you played really well today. How did it feel?"

"Hey love. It felt incredible, I know I needed a break, but man did I miss it. Anyway, enough about me I have a surprise for you. I was originally going to give it to you after dinner, but I can't wait anymore. Here." You replied, placing an envelope on the counter in front of her. You could never express how thankful you were for everything Ingrid had done for you over the last few months, for sticking by your side through everything. So instead you had decided to start with a few days away in Venice. It was something she had wanted to do for a while and you decided to make it happen.

 Ingrid looked at you for a second before opening the envelope, a smile appearing as she looked at the tickets inside. "What's this?" 

"I know what you're going to say to this, but I am so thankful for everything you've done for me. Sure we've spent a lot of time together, but it hasn't been the quality, good time you deserve. So you and I are going to spend a few days alone in Venice in a couple of weeks when we have a bit of time off. Now I don't want to hear any buts or I didn't have to do this, just say you're excited and give me a kiss."

Ingrid cupped your cheeks, allowing you to press her against the counter as she pulled you in for a lingering kiss. Just as Ingrid went to pull away, you cupped the back of her neck pulling her back in as the kiss grew heated. You didn't want to say that you stopped enjoying Ingrid's kisses because that's impossible, it was just intimacy beyond cuddling between the two of you had dropped off to almost nothing the last few months. There were still short kisses here and there, but you couldn't get out of your head long enough to actually be present for anything more and that wasn't fair to Ingrid. Your lips moved along her jaw as a quite moan slipped past Ingrid's lips.

"Di-dinner," Ingrid moaned as your hand slipped under her shirt. 

Ingrid's legs wrapped around your waist as you walked back to the bedroom, "Dinner can wait."

[folk-enjoyer]

Song of the Day

"Call of the moose" Willy Mitchell, 1980 As you might know, September 30th is Truth and Reconciliation day (more commonly known as Orange Shirt Day), a national day in Canada dedicated to spreading awareness about the legacy of Residential schools on Indigenous people. Instead of just focusing on a song, I also wanted to briefly talk about the history of the sixties scoop and its influence on Indigenous American music and activism.

The process of Residential schooling in Canada existed well before the '60s, but the new processes of the sixties scoop began in 1951. It was a process where the provincial government had the power to take Indigenous children from their homes and communities and put them into the child welfare system. Despite the closing of residential schools, more and more children were being taken away from their families and adopted into middle-class white ones.

Even though Indigenous communities only made up a tiny portion of the total population, 40-70% of the children in these programs would be Aboriginal. In total, 20,000 children would be victims of these policies through the 60s and 70s.

These adoptions would have disastrous effects on their victims. Not only were sexual and physical abuse common problems but the victims were forcibly stripped of their culture and taught to hate themselves. The community panel report on the sixties scoop writes:

"The homes in which our children are placed ranged from those of caring, well-intentioned individuals, to places of slave labour and physical, emotional and sexual abuse. The violent effects of the most negative of these homes are tragic for its victims. Even the best of these homes are not healthy places for our children. Anglo-Canadian foster parents are not culturally equipped to create an environment in which a positive Aboriginal self-image can develop. In many cases, our children are taught to demean those things about themselves that are Aboriginal. Meanwhile, they are expected to emulate normal child development by imitating the role model behavior of their Anglo-Canadian foster or adoptive parents."

and to this day indigenous children in Canada are still disproportionately represented in foster care. Despite being 5% of the Total Canadian population, Indigenous children make up 53.8% of all children in foster care.

I would like to say that the one good thing that came out of this gruesome and horrible practice of state-sponsored child relocation was that there was a birth of culture from protest music, but there wasn't. In fact, Indigenous music has a long history of being erased and whitewashed from folk history.

From Buffy Saint-Marie pretending to be Indigenous to the systematic denial of first nations people from the Canadian mainstream music scene, the talented artists of the time were forcibly erased.

Which is why this album featuring Willy Mitchell is so important.

Willy Mitchell and The Desert River Band

This Album was compiled of incredibly rare, unheard folk and rock music of North American indigenous music in the 60s-80s. It is truly, a of a kind historical artifact and a testimony to the importance of archival work to combat cultural genocide. Please give the entire thing a listen if you have time. Call of the Moose is my favorite song on the album, written and performed by Willy Mitchell in the 80s. His Most interesting song might be 'Big Policeman' though, written about his experience of getting shot in the head by the police. He talks about it here:

"He comes there and as soon as I took off running, he had my two friends right there — he could have taken them. They stopped right there on the sidewalk. They watched him shootin’ at me. He missed me twice, and when I got to the tree line, he was on the edge of the road, at the snow bank. That’s where he fell, and the gun went off. But that was it — he took the gun out. He should never have taken that gun out. I spoke to many policemen. And judges, too. I spoke with lawyers about that. They all agreed. He wasn’t supposed to touch that gun. So why did I only get five hundred dollars for that? "

These problems talked about here, forced displacement, cultural assimilation, police violence, child exploitation, and erasure of these crimes, still exist in Canada. And so long as they still exist, it is imperative to keep talking about them. Never let the settler colonial government have peace; never let anyone be comfortable not remembering the depth of exploitation.

Every Child Matters

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Blurbs: Smile

————————————————————————-

Summary: Joe’s learning his new girlfriend's ways, along with attempting to get bonus points with her dad.

Warnings: Pure fluff, illusions to smut at the end

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Misc.

————————————————————————-

April 9, 2024

Y/n and I have been together for a month.

We met at a party Sam had at his house a few months back, she was his girlfriend’s college roommate and they were best friends still today.

The second I’d laid eyes on y/n, I was taken aback by her beauty.

Sam had noticed, and a sly smile was on his lips when he spoke the words I’d forever be thankful for.

“Go talk to her. She’s single.” - Sam

I had done as Sam said, and we hit it off immediately. By the end of the night, I worked up the courage to ask for her number.

Eventually, I asked her out on a date, and we ended up having the best time.

The rest is history and now we've been dating for a month.

We have a lot in common, but I realized the other day that we don't have the same taste in music.

I liked rap, pop, indie.

On the other hand, y/n loved oldies. Old rock, old soul, and anything 60’s, 70’s, 80’s.

I learned that the other day when I picked her up from her apartment to hang out at my place.

When she was in my passenger seat, y/n controlled the music, and when she shuffled her playlist, I realized I knew nothing.

“Do you know this?” - you

“Uh… no.” - Joe

“You’ve never heard My Girl by The Temptations?!” - you

After she left that night, I found the exact song that she played earlier. Y/n told me it was one of her favorite songs, and I knew I had to learn it.

1965?! Jesus…

I played it over and over. Over and over.

At the gym, in the shower, in my car, over a speaker at the house, in my headphones while playing video games. I was listening to this song as much as possible.

At times, I wondered why I was going through all of this trouble, but the song answered it for me.

My girl, my girl, my girl.

——

“Joey!!” - you

“Hey, baby.” - Joe

Y/n just arrived at my place for the evening and our sleepover. I was in the kitchen preparing dinner and for the rest of the day. We’d eat dinner together and probably cuddle for a bit before going to sleep.

If only she knew the surprise I had in store for her.

“I missed you.” - you

“Missed you too.” - Joe

She wrapped her arms around my middle as mine went to her waist. When y/n pulled away, I leaned down and kissed her soft lips. The chokehold this woman has on me is insane.

“C’mere, I wanna show you something.” - Joe

“What is it?” - you grin

I took her hand and led her to the middle of the kitchen, waking away for a second to click play on my phone that was connected to my speaker.

Her face lit up immediately when she heard the beginning of one of her favorite songs.

“What are you doing?” - you giggled

“C’mere. Dance with me.” - Joe

“You don't know this song!” - you

She said that just as the lyrics started, and y/n was surprised to see me sing along with it.

“What are you doing?” - you

“Dance with me!” - Joe

The look of surprise never left y/n’s face as she joined me in dancing around the kitchen.

I spun her around and pulled her close, dipping her shortly after.

“This is so fun.” - you grinned

“I’m surprised you're able to dance with me, I have two left feet.” - Joe

“You’re perfect, I promise.” - you

We grinned as we sang the chorus to each other, I could tell that y/n was loving every second of this.

Talkin’ ‘bout my girl, my girl

Y/n stepped back and spun around before running back into my arms, a slight pain in my cheeks from how much I was smiling.

In the last fifteen seconds of the song, we stood still, y/n’s arms around my neck and her hands connected at my nape while my arms were around her waist. Our foreheads rested against each other as we stared into each other’s eyes.

As the song faded out, we leaned in, and our lips softly met together. The beginning of a kiss and the ending of the song.

Y/n’s voice was quiet as she spoke, her voice muffled since her face was now pressed to my chest.

“That was the sweetest thing a guy’s ever done for me.” - you

“Yeah?” - Joe smiled

“I can’t believe you learned that whole song for me.” - you

“Well, after a conversation with your dad, he told me that you wanted that song at your wedding, so that means I kinda have to learn it.” - Joe

I regretted saying it as soon as it left my lips; we'd only been together for a month and never once talked about a future. Fuck I've messed up.

Y/n pulled away from my chest and looked up at me, the look in her eyes made my heart stop.

“Wait- forget I said that, I'm sorry.” - Joe

“No. No, it's okay.” - you smiled

I nervously laughed, the super breathy kind that tells on your emotions.

“Yeah?” - Joe

“Yeah. You're right, better to learn it sooner than later.” - you grinned

“You wanna marry me someday?” - Joe

“When the time comes, yes. There's a lot I want to do before that day rolls around, but I can’t picture walking down the aisle to anyone else.” - you

“Good. You don't think we're rushing things by having this conversation after only being together for a month?” - Joe

“You can't rush the inevitable, baby.” - you

I thought for a few seconds before blurting out something I'd been thinking since the moment I laid eyes on this woman.

“I love you.” - Joe

My heart was beating out of my chest when her eyes went wide, and her jaw dropped.

“Y-you do?” - you

“Yes, we just talked about marrying each other didn't we?” - Joe chuckled

I laughed to cover up my nervousness, but I don't think it worked. She hasn't said it back yet. If she was going to wouldn't she have said it back by now?

“Do you… do you love me?” - Joe

Y/n’s face fell from shock to amused, a laugh escaping her lips in the process.

“Wait- shit. Did I not say it back yet?” - you

“No.” - Joe states, face not changing

“Oh! I must've just said it in my head then, I was a little in shock.” - you giggled

Laughing together, when we settled down, I stared at her and waited for her to say it back.

“I love you too, Joe.” - you smiled

——

Later that night, y/n was in the shower, and I was already in bed.

I grinned to myself as I clipped the video I secretly took earlier when we were dancing in the kitchen.

Better cut it off before we kiss, I thought to myself.

Pulling up her dad’s contact in my phone, I sent him the video and a small text with it.

I'm learning! :)

I waited for his reply, a little nervous to see what he'd say back. I knew he liked me, but this was still his daughter we were dealing with.

When my phone vibrated, I immediately picked it up and clicked on his message.

Atta boy! I haven’t seen her smile like that in a long time, and I know it's because of you that she lights up like that again. Thank you for giving my daughter the treatment she deserves.

There’s nothing I love more than making her smile, she's already such a big part of my life. You're welcome, by the way, she deserves nothing but the best.

She feels the same way about you, son. I know she's spending the night at your house tonight, by the way, and I wasn't born yesterday, so stay safe. 👍

Will do. 😂

Just as I hit send, the door of the bathroom opened, but the shower was still on.

Y/n poked her head out of the door with a playful grin on her face.

“I know I'm supposed to be showering, but I can’t stop thinking about you. Wanna hop in with me?” - you winked

“Oh, hell yeah!” - Joe

I jumped off of the bed and ran towards the bathroom, simultaneously shoving my boxers down my legs. Y/n giggled as I chased after her and jumped into the shower.

She wrapped her arms around my neck as was started making out, the water flowing over our bodies.

“I was just talking to your dad.” - Joe

“Joe, why would you talk about my dad right before we're probably about to have sex?!” - you

————————————————————————-

Authors note: I wrote down one of my maladaptive daydreams… 💀

This came from my own head! 💞

[callistocalavarni]

shifting to the 60s

hii I havent posted in a while, I've been trying re group from multiple shifts while getting my life back in order but I think I'm back.. Anyway I have a bunch of stories from so many places I'd like to share and im currently working on how I want to post them. But I don't see a lot of storytimes so I think it would be fun to share some. So i'm gonna rant about some shorter ones here.

shifting with sleep paralysis

I wanted to talk about this shift because it stuck out to me and I can't stop thinking about it.. I had shifted about 2 times in the span of 30 seconds. For a whole week back in October I was waking up at 3-5 am in the morning without being able to go back to sleep. So as you can guess I woke up at around 4 am and was restless. At around 6 am I got tired again so I started my method and I know people say that symptoms don't exist but in the time that I have shifted all I can say is that I disagree.. Anyway, one moment I was saying affimations and then the next I woke up all tingly and in a weird sleep state I've never been in before. I didn't even say to myself I wanted to shift I just did. It was like my mind was on autopilot. Didn't say affimations, didn't go through my script in my head, didn't even try to use the 5 senses. I just started seeing myself in 1st person and what I would be doing in my dr without any forethought and shifted. The first shift, I was on a track running with a couple of men and we all were wearing 60s running wear. I had an orange and red tank top with matching orange shorts. It had felt like there was an orange filter in this reality.. if that makes sense. I was on the track about to run and I just recall looking around laughing.

When I shifted to this moment its like I felt my consciousness leave my body; Which is the weird part because I've never really experinced this before. It felt like I was being pulled up by something and all I could hear was constant noise. I don't even know what noise I was hearing it was like someone was screaming right in my ear or veryyy loud ringing/static. The noise was SO loud. I was in the middle of sprinting when I shifted back because I thought I was the one making the noise, I thought I was screaming..Thankfully it was not me. But When I came back I was still In that state and I could look around me but my eyes were still closed. It's like I was seeing everything from a different perspective. There was a spider crawling on my wall right next to me when I shifted back so I freaked out and the noise got even louder ! The spider was leaving black spots all over my wall,, I could not figure out what was going on in the moment ( when I was writing this in my journal I figured out it was sleep paralysis ) It felt like I was tripping on a bunch of pain killers when I shifted back. I still couldn't move so I shifted again to the same reality but this time I was in the shower... the noise got even louder. The noise made it feel like a bad trip and I ended up shifting back here to try and stop it. It took my like an hour to get out of sleep paralysis. Unlike the method, this reality was very enyjoyable. It felt like a Nina Brodskyaya song, I lived alone and I was successful. I think I worked at a cigarette company, which is ironic because I hate smoking. But I don't know for sure as I didn't stay long enough to find out.

Lumari is a country I scripted, Forlina being one of its nations.

This reality was late 70's early 80's and one of my favorite drs. I stayed here for about a year. I was in Forlina living in an all girls home. Forlina gives free housing to students so I moved out of my parents house to start collage. About six girls are given a room to share together, don't worry they are pretty big. I loved our room. It had big sliding windows that gave a view of the tropical forest. We each had sunken in beds, some girls who were home sick shared beds for a couple of weeks. It took me a while to get use to the amount of noise in the morning. There was this one girl who would blast music on the radio while getting ready. I only had to worry about this sometimes because I woke up pretty early. Art was one of my classes and the professer would make the class times either 7 am or 9 pm which also took me some time to get use to. idk the guy was kind of weird. I rode my bike everywhere here. I miss being able to ride down a bike trail and see the ocean. I've been thinking about shifting back here for some time. I might post more about this reality in more detail later.

<3

[slut4evanpeters]

Lets Groove Tonight

kit walker x reader

song i recommend listening too: i want your love by chic

warnings: mention of alcohol, suggestive dancing? not really though! reader is mentioned to be a "lady" and female pro nouns are mentioned. lots of build up cuz again.... im a slut for a backstory KIND CORNY.

word count: 4.5k

notes: yes yes i know kits timeline is in the 60s but i mean.... what would it hurt to put him in the 70s🤫 i thought of this while writing a waren lipka club fic and i was like..... KIT + 70S + DISCO = FUCKING HOT! and i apologize for how clunky this is ya girl is TIRED.

Ahh yes, the 1970. The year of the disco scene, the decade of bold colors, high fashion, and music that pulsed through your veins. It was all alive around you, vibrant and daring, and somehow, you were right in the middle of it.

So here you are, seated at the wooden vanity that your husband, Kit Walker, had crafted for you with his own hands. Each detail of it was unmistakably his work, the smooth, polished surface, the sturdy frame, and the slight scent of cedar that lingered as you leaned in closer to the mirror. Warm light glowed softly across the room, catching the soft, coiled strands of your hair as you adjusted them. The pin curls sat tight and meticulous, framing your face with a precision that took effort but looked effortless.

You focus on your reflection as you apply the last touches of your makeup, finishing off the look you’d spent the evening carefully crafting. You sweep a vibrant teal eyeshadow across your lids, letting the pigment stand out against your skin, shimmering in that daring, unapologetic way that only 70s fashion could. You smile at the final effect, a flash of color that catches the light every time you blink. Finally, you glide on a layer of nude lipstick, pressing your lips together to set the look—a perfectly balanced mix of bold and understated.

Taking a deep breath, you reach up and slowly pull each pin from your hair. The curls unfurl one by one, cascading around your shoulders in voluminous waves. You fluff them gently with your fingers, marveling at the soft, touchable texture that’s equal parts glamorous and natural. To complete the look, you slip on a simple white headband, tucking it back behind your ears and pushing the loose waves away from your face. The band sits perfectly in place, giving your style that effortless, carefree touch.

As a finishing touch, you reach for your Aqua Net hairspray and give a few even spritzes, holding the can at a practiced angle to ensure each curl holds without stiffness. The familiar scent fills the air as you watch your reflection take shape, your hair settling into soft, bouncy waves that will last well into the night.

You stand up from the vanity, taking one last look in the mirror to admire the final result. The gleam of teal eyeshadow, the soft waves, and the vintage headband all come together perfectly, embodying that effortless, chic vibe you’ve been craving. You smooth your hands down the front of your makeup-stained robe, then cross the room to the closet you share with Kit. As you open the door, your fingers glide over the colorful array of fabrics inside, each one a piece of the vibrant spirit that fills your life.

Your hand pauses on a bell sleeve mini dress, a shimmering piece of cream coloured fabric with a floral pattern woven into the material. The sleeves are long and flowy and the skirt has just the right amount of swing, giving it that playful, flirty edge that fits the mood of the night. You lift it from the hanger and step carefully into it, sliding the dress up over your hips, letting the fabric settle softly against your skin.

Just as you slip your arms into the airy, loose sleeves, you feel a warm presence behind you, a familiar touch that sends a shiver down your spine before you even turn around. Kit’s hands rest gently on your waist, and he leans close, his breath warm against your neck.

“Hey, suga’,” he murmurs, his voice low, tinged with a hint of mischief. You can hear the smirk in his words, and the sound alone is enough to make you smile. “Need some help with that?”

You glance over your shoulder, meeting his gaze with a grin. “Yes, actually, Kit. Could you please zip me up?”

Kit’s hand slides up to find the zipper, his fingers grazing the small of your back. He takes his time, zipping the dress slowly, letting the fabric hug your form as he draws it up inch by inch. Just when you think he’s done, Kit presses a gentle kiss to the back of your neck, and then another, his lips warm and soft against your skin. His touch is slow, lingering, as if savoring the moment with each kiss he leaves along the curve of your spine.

His hands rest on your shoulders as he finishes, giving them a gentle squeeze before he steps back, admiring his handiwork. “There you go, darlin’. Lookin’ like a dream.” His voice is low, thick with warmth, and his gaze travels over you with a blend of pride and adoration.

“Thank you, you’re an angel, Mr. Walka’,” you say with a playful lilt, pressing a kiss to his cheek. His skin is warm under your lips, and a slight grin spreads across his face as he watches you glide past him. You feel his gaze on you, that familiar, gentle heat, as you make your way out of the room.

At the front door, you reach down to grab your knee high white platform boots, admiring their pristine shine. The boots are perfect, capturing a daring vibe that’s made for a night like this. You slip each one on carefully, adjusting the fit and feeling the slight lift they give you. The smooth leather feels snug against your legs, accentuating the line of your calves, while the glossy finish gleams under the soft lighting. Once they’re on, you stand up, feeling a whole new level of confidence as you balance on the chunky heels.

Kit reaches for the door, his fingers wrapped around the handle, and with a smooth, gentlemanly gesture, he opens it wide for you. “Ladies first,” he says, voice warm and teasing as he dips his head slightly, holding the door as if he’s unveiling something grand.

You grin and step outside, feeling the cool evening air wrap around you, your dress swishing around your mid thighs as you walk. He follows you out, and the two of you stroll together, his hand finding the small of your back, guiding you toward his red truck parked under a tree. The truck has a certain charm, its deep crimson paint shining under the glow. When you reach it, he’s already ahead of you, opening the passenger door with a little flourish.

With a laugh, you hop up onto the seat, the soft interior fabric a comforting contrast to the cool night air. Kit closes the door gently behind you, his face lighting up as he circles around to the driver’s side. He climbs in, settles into his seat, and starts the engine, the gentle rumble filling the quiet of the street.

As he pulls away, the radio crackles to life, and “Heart of Glass” by Blondie fills the vehicle, the familiar bass line vibrating through the seats. You can’t help but start to sing, belting out every lyric with a confidence that only the two of you in the truck could hear. You sway in your seat to the beat, letting the music take over, glancing over at him as he watches you with a smile that reaches his eyes.

You look to the side, propping yourself up over the middle console just enough to reach him, and press a sweet kiss to his cheek, feeling the slight stubble under your lips. His hand reaches over instinctively, finding yours and giving it a quick squeeze, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of your hand.

Finally, the neon lights of the disco club come into view, casting a rainbow of colors over the street. The parking lot is buzzing, the bass from inside thumping faintly even from here, and you can already feel the excitement pulsing through you. Kit pulls into a spot, shifts the truck into park, and turns to you, a twinkle in his eye, like he’s just as ready for this night as you are.

You step out of the truck, feeling the buzz of excitement as the neon lights from the club reflect off the polished white leather of your boots. Kit slides an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you walk toward the entrance. The bass from the club’s sound system pulses through the doors, thudding in time with your heartbeat. Kit flashes a grin at you, his own excitement mirroring yours.

As soon as you step inside, the club’s energy hits you in waves. Multicolored lights swirl overhead, flashing across the dance floor packed with bodies moving in perfect rhythm, their sequins, bell-bottoms, and feathered hair catching the strobe lights. The air is heavy with the scent of hairspray, perfume, and a hint of leather and smoke, mingling with the beat of the club

Kit gives your waist a little squeeze, leaning in close to shout over the music, “Gonna start the night off with somethin’ strong? White Russian for the lady, right?”

You nod with a grin. “You know it, babe. Let’s do this right.”

The two of you make your way to the bar, Kit’s hand never leaving your hip. You feel his warmth even in the cool air of the club, grounding you amid the frenzy. He leans across the counter and orders with his signature Boston charm, flashing a confident smile. “White Russian for her, whiskey for me, pal.”

Moments later, the bartender hands over your drinks, and you take a long, slow sip of your cocktail. The mix of cream, vodka, and coffee liqueur slides over your tongue, rich and smooth. Kit watches you, his eyes alight with amusement as he takes a swig of his whiskey.

“Tastes good, huh?” he teases, leaning in close.

“Mmm, perfect,” you say, licking a trace of cream from your lip, giving him a playful look. “Now let’s see if you got the moves to keep up with me, Mr. Walker.”

He laughs, a low sound that mixes with the beat of the music, and takes your hand, leading you toward the dance floor. The opening beats of I Want Your Love by Chic filter through the speakers, and the room seems to come alive in time with the rhythm. People on the floor cheer, spinning in wide circles, hands raised as the song’s bass line rolls out in waves.

Kit moves behind you, his hands slipping onto your waist, pulling you back against him. You can feel his warm breath at your ear as he murmurs, “Show me whatcha got, darlin’.”

With a grin, you start to sway to the beat, slipping effortlessly into the classic disco moves. You stretch one arm out, fingers pointed, before pulling it back in, letting your hips sway side to side in sync with the music. Kit’s hands stay firmly on your waist, guiding you, his thumbs grazing over your hips as he sways along with you. The two of you move as one, sinking into the rhythm of the song as it fills the room. You throw your arms up in the air, fingers snapping to the beat, feeling the pulse of the music flow through you.

Kit chuckles, leaning in close to your ear, his voice thick, “Ya look like a million bucks out here, baby. Like ya were born for this.”

You laugh, pressing back against him, feeling his solid presence behind you. “Maybe I was, Kit,” you say, flashing him a playful look over your shoulder. “Ya got the moves to keep up?”

“Oh, I got moves,” he replies, his grin turning a bit cocky. His hands tighten on your waist, and he pulls you even closer, his hips swaying in perfect rhythm with yours.

The chorus kicks in, and you spin around to face him, throwing your arms over his shoulders as you sway together. Kit grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners, the lights above flashing in his dark eyes. He’s got that look of pure joy, the kind you only see when he’s completely in the moment.

“Damn, baby, you’re somethin’ else,” he says, his voice a low murmur against your ear.

You toss your hair back, giving him a wink.

"Right back atcha, handsome." His eyes glint with something deeper as he gazes down at you, that grin slipping into something softer, more intense, that pulls you in closer.

The music pulses around you both, like it's part of you now, a beat that syncs with your heart. Kit's hands slide up your sides, his fingers skimming over the soft fabric of your dress. You shiver under his touch, feeling every gentle pressure as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer until there's hardly any space left between you.

You look up into his eyes, the colored lights flashing above casting shadows that make his gaze even more mesmerizing. His face is just inches from yours, and you feel his breath, warm and slow, against your cheek. He leans in, and you can see the slight smile on his lips as his hand moves to the small of your back, guiding you in a slow, sultry sway to the rhythm of the music. You press yourself against him, letting him lead you, feeling his solid warmth, the gentle press of his body against yours.

Your hands find their way up to his chest, fingers lightly tracing the edges of his collar as you take in the texture of his shirt, the steady beat of his heart beneath it. His hands tighten on your waist, holding you like he doesn't want to let go, and his head dips down toward you, his lips brushing softly against your cheek. It's barely a kiss, more of a tease, his lips grazing your skin as his hands slide down your back.

You feel your heart race, each beat quickening in time with the music. The world around you blurs, the swirling lights, the heat of the crowded room. All of it fades away until there's nothing but you and Kit, caught in this intoxicating dance. His mouth moves to your ear, his voice a low murmur that sends a thrill down your spine.

"Ya know, I could dance with you like this all night," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "Makin' everyone here jealous as hell."

You smile, tilting your head to meet his eyes, your hand slipping up to cup his cheek. "Good. Let 'em be jealous." Your voice is soft but daring, and his smile widens at your words.

Without another word, he leans in, his lips finally pressing against yours. The kiss is slow, unhurried, like he's savoring every second. His hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck, fingers tangling gently in your hair as he pulls you even closer, deepening the kiss. The music fills the spaces between you, heightening every sensation, every touch. You feel the strength in his arms, the steady way he holds you, grounding you and setting you alight all at once.

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the kiss, in the warmth of his body against yours. The crowd around you seems to fade entirely, the music a distant pulse as he presses his forehead against yours, catching his breath, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek.

"You're somethin' else, ya know that?" he murmurs, his voice thick with feeling, his gaze locked onto yours, as if he's seeing something in you that no one else ever has.

You bite your lip, barely able to keep the smile from spreading across your face.

"Guess you bring it out of me."

With a grin, he spins you around, his hands on your hips as he pulls you back against him, moving with you in time to the beat.

You laugh, the sound light and free, and he leans down, his lips brushing your shoulder, sending a shiver through you. You sway together, moving as one, his hands guiding you in slow circles, as though he's afraid to break the spell.

As the song's beat pulses on, you let yourself sink into him, feeling his breath, his touch, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. You close your eyes, allowing the moment to consume you completely, each note of the song carrying you both deeper into a connection that feels as electric as the music filling the room.

The night at the club felt like magic, like stepping into a different world. But now, as you and Kit step out into the cool night air, there’s a different kind of warmth between you. A quiet, lingering happiness that’s somehow just as bright as the flashing lights and thumping beats of the club.

Kit’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close as you make your way back to his truck. The music from the club fades as the door swings shut behind you, leaving just the sound of your laughter and the soft crunch of gravel underfoot. Kit’s fingers give your side a little squeeze, and he glances over, his dark eyes reflecting the soft glow of the streetlights.

“Didn’t know ya had moves like that, darlin’,” he teases, that playful Boston drawl coming through thick and warm.

You laugh, leaning into him as you walk. “Thought I’d surprise ya. And you, Mr. Walker, I had no idea you were such a smooth dancer.”

“Yeah? Well, I do my best,” he says with a grin, reaching out to open the passenger door for you. “Hop on in, Mrs. Walker.”

You slide into the seat, a smile lingering on your lips as he shuts the door gently behind you. A second later, he’s in the driver’s seat, settling in and giving you a quick, happy look before starting the engine. The gentle rumble fills the truck, and Kit reaches over, finding your hand with his and giving it a soft squeeze.

The drive home is quiet, the streets empty, and the only light is from the streetlamps casting a soft glow over everything. Kit keeps one hand on the wheel, the other intertwined with yours, his thumb brushing small circles over your knuckles. The radio hums softly, playing a familiar, gentle tune. A perfect backdrop to the night.

Kit glances over, catching your eye, his smile tender. “Ya had a good time, sweetheart?”

You nod, squeezing his hand in return. “Perfect night. You, me, a little disco… Couldn’t ask for anything better.”

“Yeah?” He lets out a soft chuckle, looking back to the road. “Well, I’ll have to take ya dancin’ more often. You light up that floor, ya know?”

You lean your head against the seat, watching him with a soft smile. “Only ‘cause you’re there with me.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, his eyes warm and deep, like he’s memorizing every detail of you in this moment. “Darlin’, you got no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice low and a little rough around the edges, softened by affection. “Every time I look at ya, I just feel… lucky.”

A warmth spreads through your chest, and you feel yourself blush a little under his gaze. “Kit, I’m the lucky one,” you say softly, your fingers lacing even tighter through his.

“Yeah, well,” he replies, his grin turning a little sheepish, “maybe we’re both lucky, then.”

As you pull closer to home, Kit rolls down the window a bit, letting the night air sweep in. It’s fresh and cool, a welcome contrast to the warmth inside the truck, and the scent of pine and earth fills the air. You close your eyes for a second, breathing it in, feeling completely at peace.

Kit looks over, his face softened in the gentle moonlight, and reaches up to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Y’know,” he murmurs, “nights like this… they’re what I live for.”

You smile, your eyes meeting his. “Same here, babe. Just us. Nothing else.”

The truck rolls to a gentle stop in front of your shared house, and he cuts the engine. For a moment, neither of you move, just sitting there, soaking up the quiet, intimate warmth of the moment. He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours.

Kit’s hand lingers on yours as he gently releases the seatbelt, his eyes catching yours in the soft, dim light. The world feels quiet, like it’s just the two of you wrapped in a bubble of peace and warmth. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and soft against your skin.

“C’mon, darlin’,” he murmurs, his voice softened, barely above a whisper. “Let’s get ya inside.”

He slides out of the truck, circling around to your side in a few strides. Even after all this time, he always insists on opening the door for you, and tonight is no different. He pulls it open with a gentle smile, extending his hand to help you down from the seat. As your boots touch the ground, you can’t help but smile up at him, your fingers still laced in his.

The night air feels even cooler as it brushes over your skin, but Kit’s hand is warm. The two of you walk up the path to the house slowly, savoring each step, your fingers still intertwined. He holds you close as you make your way up the steps, the wooden porch creaking slightly underfoot, a familiar sound that makes home feel even cozier.

Kit pauses at the door, giving you a long, lingering look, his dark eyes shining with that deep affection you’ve seen in countless moments like this. He raises your joined hands to his lips, pressing another kiss to your knuckles. “Ya look real pretty tonight, ya know that?”

You smile, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. “Thank you, Kit. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He chuckles, a quiet, content sound, and finally reaches for the door, opening it with a slow creak.

As you and Kit step through the front door, a calm stillness settles over the house. The warmth of your night together lingers between you, a gentle reminder of the fun and closeness you shared. Kit’s hand is steady at your waist as he guides you inside, his fingers tracing slow, comforting circles.

Once you’re in the soft glow of the living room, he turns to you with a gentle smile. “Alright, darlin’,” he murmurs, his voice soft with tenderness. “Let’s get ya comfy.”

Without another word, he kneels down in front of you, one hand sliding along the back of your calf as he reaches for the zipper of your boot. His fingers work slowly, careful not to rush, as though he’s savoring every little moment. When the first boot slides off, he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to the arch of your foot, then moves up to your ankle, leaving a trail of warm, soft kisses that send a shiver up your spine.

He looks up at you, a soft grin lighting up his face as he takes off the second boot. “Been lookin’ at these all night,” he teases, his voice low and playful. “Ya wear the hell outta these boots, but I’ll tell ya, they look even better comin’ off.”

You laugh softly, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks. Kit stands, sliding his hands up to your waist, his fingers tracing over the fabric of your dress before he takes your hand and leads you down the hallway. You follow him, feeling a gentle anticipation as he brings you into the bathroom.

Once there, he turns to you, his gaze warm and focused. He reaches for a soft cloth, dampening it under warm water, and then brings it up to your face with a gentle touch. He starts wiping away your makeup, careful and precise, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek as he clears away the remnants of eyeshadow and lipstick. The warm cloth feels soothing against your skin, and his tender gaze never leaves your face.

As he works, he murmurs softly, his voice thick with affection. “Ya know, you’re somethin’ else. Didn’t need any of this to begin with,” he says, gesturing to the makeup he’s gently wiping away. “Just as beautiful as ya are. Hell, I’d say even more so.”

You smile, eyes soft as you watch him. “Flatterer,” you tease, but his words make you feel warm, like you’re wrapped in a soft glow that only he can give you.

Once he’s finished, he sets the cloth aside, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead before gently guiding you out of the bathroom. His hands are steady on your shoulders as he leads you to the bedroom, his touch grounding, calming. He steps behind you, unzipping your dress with the same care he showed with the boots, sliding the fabric down over your shoulders and letting it pool softly around your feet.

He finds your favorite pair of pyjamas. A soft, worn set that’s seen countless cozy nights and slips the top over your head, guiding your arms through the sleeves. Then he gently pulls the matching pants up your legs, his hands warm and careful as he helps you step into them, before smoothing the waistband comfortably against your hips.

“There we go,” he murmurs, his voice filled with quiet pride as he guides you toward the bed, pulling back the covers and tucking you in with a softness that melts your heart. He presses a quick, tender kiss to your forehead, his eyes lingering on you with an adoring smile.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he whispers, “just get settled. I’ll be right back.” He straightens, giving you one last look before heading back to the bathroom to finish getting ready himself.

You watch him go, feeling the warmth of his care still wrapped around you. A few moments later, he returns, his face fresh and hair slightly damp, and he slips into bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight as he pulls the covers up around you both. He wraps an arm around you, and you feel his warmth spread across your back as he settles in close.

You turn to face him, resting your head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. His arm slips under your head, his fingers finding their way into your hair, gently twirling and stroking through the strands. His other hand rests against your back, drawing slow, soothing circles that send you into a deep, quiet peace.

“Ya know somethin’?” he murmurs, his voice a low, comforting rumble in your ear. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world, and I mean that. Every damn day, I get to look at you, love you, be with you.”

You smile, nuzzling into his chest. “I love you too, Kit,” you whisper, feeling a deep, contented warmth settle in your chest.

He holds you close, his hand brushing gently through your hair as his voice grows softer, his words gentle. “That’s my girl… Just close those eyes, honey. I gotcha.” His hand continues its gentle, soothing motion, and the sound of his steady heartbeat lulls you into the sweetest, most peaceful sleep.

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Meet Valentino🦋☠️

Meet my take on Valentino! This one took the longest for me to get around to.

Made him a Monarch Butterfly!🦋 I love the whole reverse Predator and Prey thing going on with him and Angel so what if he was a creature that would normally be considered Prey, if it didn’t have its own trick up its sleeve. Poison! ☠️ plus butterflies are often depicted as sweet and pretty, which would really lean into how he puts on a sweet face to hide his true colors.😈Though who’s to say he even is that(wink😉). Made his wings a warm gradient, added some sparkle ✨ and allude subtly to a split heart with the lines and dots💔 @the-burd-lord also pointed out they give off tears💧😢

Gave him a more bug like head, mouth, eyes and only has three fingers.

Gave him heart bent stripes like Angel Dust(@a-sterling-rose shared a cool idea that an overlord can change their contracted souls) wanted it to allude to bee stripes(bees love flowers and make sweet things) and other…striped insects.

Leaned with 70’s, DISCO !!!!!!!🕺🪩💃 Bell bottoms, matching top, PLATFORMS! The whole works! I figure it fits with his timeline a lot and with what he’s usually wearing. Plus he’s def into the club scene.

Replaced his top hat with a heart shaped fedora hat! Adorned it with all kinds of different flowers!!!!! Stuff like roses, Bleeding hearts, milkweed and the big flower he’s wearing is meant to allude to the Cattleya Orchid(Colombias national flower and symbolizes fertility and virility) roses are also very popular there! They even have a holiday around flowers called the “festival of the flowers”!🌼🌹.

For his sleeves wanted to allude to another Colombia flower “devils breath” highly toxic flower and in the same toxic family as the “Angels Trumpet”. Also a street term for the dangerous drug, scopolamine which is derived from the seeds of Borrachero trees, primarily found in South America like Colombia! 🇨🇴

Kept the heart buckle belt his og had but made it hollow. Hollow heart.

Gave him a cane that’s also a disco heart 🪩❤️which may not be able to squeeze out toxic gas and other tricks.

For his color scheme, @the-burd-lord suggested I'd go with RGB theme, colors on display screen(Vox is the leader and a screen) Ngl I was conflicted what colors to go with for the vees(Primary, Red blue purple etc). But then I realized when u mix those colors u get those other colors and then I decided to give the Vees two main color themes for each. One for show, the other their true colors! Val likes to use tropical warm welcoming colors(gold luxury), def still uses red for its sensual vibes….but those kinda colors are also color of many dangerous insects…warning colors⚠️‼️☣️☢️☠️☠️☠️

Made his Heart shades butterfly wing shaped like @lovesart23 did with her Val! Seriously LOVE IT!!!!!!!.

Added a heart on his chain with his initial. Was a gift from Angel Dust💔

Also wears black and white since he’s already very colorful and to appear clean with the white…the darkness often hiding under. Has some green for the leaves and thorns(every rose has its thorns) like how Velvette still wears gold colors for accesory!🍃🌿

My Valentino’s Colombian 🇨🇴 back in the 70’s a lot was happening with Drug trade(Cocaine trade) plus it’s in the warmer area of South America, where many butterflies can be found🦋🦋🦋Monarchs migrate to the south! Also great place for flowers🌹🪻🌸🌺🌷🌻🌼💐🪷

with the flowers also lowkey trying to allude with 60’s-70’s Flower power(he def likes to seem all peace and love) was also the time of the psychedelic era😵‍💫U know he def got that stuff.

Rewrite🦋☠️

Compared to OG he’s def more sly and smooth talking, often Make him ironically the more level headed of the V’s. Have him be able to keep a cool head more, try to covert his true nature, keep things under control. Play into how he likes to try a more pragmatic approach, relying on manipulation and pacifying first before getting violent if he feels like he’s not in control. They say u attract more flies with honey than vinegar afterall. he’s able to put on the charm and sweetness well enough. You do NOT want to get on his scary side��He relies a lot on manipulation but when push comes to shove, he can mess you UP☠️!!!!!!!

Leaning with the poison theme way more!☠️💊🧪.

He doesn’t just do Adult Entertainment, but also a huge drug supplier for Hell, especially for Angel💊. It’s been implied and supposed scrapped ideas and concepts have shown him feeding Angels drug addiction.

Have him be Angels main supplier and often uses his addiction to keep him under his wings, depend on him, likes to feed into it despite how much harm it does for him. He’s basically the embodiment of toxicity/addiction, things that can poison people, can become dangerous addictions and mess people up. He’s basically one of Angel’s most dangerous addictions, the toxic abusive boss/partner☠️

I honestly want him to want NOTHING with Vox’s whole revenge plan with Alastor and his new project…until he also realizes the Princess not only actually wants to help Angel but that Angel ACTUALLY might want to try to QUIT! Than he gets more involved with Vox’s schemes.

Gets his main poison from a special flower from Hell. Similar to how Monarchs get their poison from a certain plant(milkweed) as well as play into how Butterflies feed on nectar🌺🌸 perhaps has the flowers growing all throughout his studio…especially around and maybe even in Angel’s dressing room…

What do u think? How would u redesign Val if u wanted to? I’d love to know💖 I’ve also made the 🌈Hazbin Gang🌈 and his fellow VV’s, Vox & Velvette📺🧶

Oh one more thing…He’s not actually a monarch butterfly. Here’s some totally unrelated pics of wasps(one like the executioner wasp that can be found in warm places, like monarchs, spider wasps(not friendly to spiders) and….some more parasitic types)Warnign scary wasp pics) @the-burd-lord suggested the mandibles for his face(broken heart 💔)

[three--rings]

Most people don't have any understanding of what has been lost in Lahaina Town. Not just lives and property, but an entire town.

Most people hear "a city/town in Hawaii" and they picture probably resorts. And there are plenty of resorts nearby. But those are all fine.

Lahaina was an old whaling town dating back to the original colonization by white settlers. Before white people arrived, it was the capital of the island, where the high chief ruled, including Kamehameha the Great. The buildings are old, wooden, and crowded together. Obviously that was a problem in the face of the insanely fast wildfire.

But these weren't mansions, Mc or otherwise. It was a tourist town, a destination for cute, spendy shopping and dining, full of art galleries. (OMG THE GALLERIES. There was so much ART lost. There was original Dr. Seuss art in one gallery when I was there in January. That's gone now. Etc.)

But the people who lived and worked in Lahaina were mostly working class, working retail and restaurant jobs, living in old apartments and small houses. Lots of elderly, lots of non-white in a wide range of ethnicities, old hippies who have been there since the 60s and 70s. Yeah they were probably a little better off than people who drive in from other places to work in West Maui, at least because their property was high value, if they owned. But they lived without A/C, hung their laundry on lines, biked to work, called in sick to go surfing when the waves were up. There was a Chinese cultural center and a Buddhist temple, two different structures, if that tells you anything. Multiple museums housing historic items and cultural centers.

And the town will be rebuilt, in some form, I imagine. Or re-developed, more likely. People who are now homeless, who can't afford to rebuild or pay for two residences while the recovery happens will be bought out by deep pocketed developers. If they rebuild Lahaina Town I'm afraid it will be Lahaina Town tm by Disney.

Another fake paradise for tourists with lava rock from the Big Island. Another bit of Hawaii swallowed by capitalism and climate change.

I'm not painting everything about Lahaina as it was as perfect. Front Street was an often gaudy display of brand names and hucksters out to shovel in the tourist dollars. And of course the politics of Hawaii are incredibly complex and fraught in so many ways. I'm just a mainlander haole. I will never live on the islands, despite my family there constantly asking me to move. But I've spent more time there than anywhere I haven't lived, almost all of that time in West Maui.

My mom works in a building that is not there anymore. She just described that job to me as "the last job she'll ever have" as she's 79 and very happy with working two days a week selling t-shirts to cruise ship people. My brother has worked in a gallery on front street for the last ten years.

I don't know. A city of almost 15,000 permanent residents is just gone. 50 or so are confirmed dead, in some horrific circumstances from what I hear.

My mom says people are just walking around with thousand-yard-stares, aimless, clutching cell phones trying to get signal (there isn't any, but you can get lucky and get a call through. Some texts are going in but not out.)

So I don't know folks. Keep those people in your thoughts. If you can donate, I think this may be a good place because it's going to lots of local orgs on the ground: https://www.hawaiicommunityfoundation.org/maui-strong

I keep thinking of new sad things.

Anyway I'm going to leave you with a picture I took while strolling down Front Street one evening.