#vertical house number

[macalaelliottphotography]

This is an illustration of a small, roof-extended Victorian front porch. An example of a small victorian front porch design with a roof extension.

[scottsmiles]

This is an illustration of a small, roof-extended Victorian front porch. An example of a small victorian front porch design with a roof extension.

[paulbeige]

Brick in Houston Typical small red two-story brick building with a gable roof.

[milkteabinniechan]

*⁠♡Happy Father's Day - Chan

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY membership // m.list

pairing: single dad! Chan x afab reader

warnings: fingering, lots of mouth sounds, angst (if you squint your eyes)

I’ll tell him about you.

Your friend had an adorable three year old. A loud, sticky, energetic three year old. But adorable nonetheless. You had a pretty regular babysitting gig going. A few people around your neighborhood had talked and heard about your services and now you were basically a seasoned vet when it came to entertaining toddlers.

But your friend was a full time stay-at-home mom now and could watch her own adorable, sticky three year old. And now you needed another spot to fill those last bit of monthly bills. So she said there was a new dad at the preschool that seemed like he was struggling. “Struggling”, she said in air quotes. You agreed and asked her to give this new dad your information. Even though you mostly worked with the mothers, money was money.

A few days passed and eventually your phone rang, an unknown number flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Uh, yeah. Hi. This is Chan. The.. uh.. Dad from Sunnyvale Preschool? I was told you could help me out with babysitting?”

He sounded nervous, or maybe he was just a shy person. Maybe he hated talking on the phone. But did his voice sound sexy? There was a deep, velvety smoothness to the way he spoke. Even between the stutters and pauses. You lingered for a moment, lost in the thought of that voice of his.

“Are you still there?” His voice pierced through your eardrum.

“Shit. Sorry, yeah. I’m here. And yes, I am available. Do you have time this week to set up a meet and greet?” your voice quickly went into customer service mode, knowing exactly what to say, memorizing the script you had made for yourself months ago.

THe two of you agreed on a time and day and said your goodbyes. You took a deep breath and tried to forget the way the sound of his voice made you feel. And you prayed all night that he didn’t look as good as he sounded.

Soon, you found yourself at the front door of Chan’s house. An expansive four bedroom home with one of those driveways that was nearly at a ninety degree angle. The door itself was large with two thin lines of stained glass running vertically down the front. A wooden WELCOME sign layed lazily against the door. A novelty sign you could buy as a last minute purchase at a hardware store. The front door clicked open and Chan stood in the doorway, child on his hip.

“Come on in,” He said warmly, arm gesturing for you to walk inside, “Did you find the place okay?”

Inside was a long staircase leading up to the bedrooms, a chandelier hanging from the top floor and swinging down gracefully into the foyer where the three of you stood. Past the stairs was a long hallway that led to the living room and an open floor plan kitchen. Windows surrounded the rooms in a sunlit blanket that made the whole house seem as if it was holding its arms out to you, embracing you.

The three of you sat down on the sectional couch in the living room. You sat on one end, while Chan and the small child sat together on the other corner. Chan introduced the small girl as Lilly. She clung to Chan tightly, her small, chubby finger gripping onto his shirt as if it were a lifeline. You smiled at Lilly and introduced yourself to her. You held eye contact with only her and asked her about some of her favorite things. You had learned over the years that children appreciated when you spoke to them like you understood them. Like everything they said was important, because to you it was. Lilly lit up and talked excitedly about some of her favorite books, jumping at the opportunity to show you. She ran to her room and hastily returned with a few small books. One was about animals, another was about a tractor that made a new friend. You exclaimed in amazement at Lilly’s amazing books. She was smart and she was quiet, but you could tell she was very well loved.

Chan watched the two of you talk about books and the different noises that animals make. It had been a long time since he had seen Lilly open up to someone so quickly. It made his heart feel full to burst, seeing the way you interacted with his daughter.

“You’re hired.” Chan said as you started to walk out of the door. His sudden decision startled you, usually it took most parents to call a few days after the meet and greet. You smiled warmly at Chan, giving him a firm handshake. The two of you quickly made a schedule of the days you would be working and before you knew it, you were in the routine with him.

Months went by with the three of you falling into this routine. You knew exactly when Chan would get home, you knew the foods that Lilly liked to eat, with her tastes changing by the week. You knew when to have dinner on the table and when to have Lilly in bed. And there was comfort there. A comfort in Chan coming home, in making a meal for him. You loved Lilly, and you couldn’t ignore this role that you were easing into.

“Happy Father’s Day!”

Chan walked in the door to find you greeting him with balloons and a cake on the dining room table. Lilly ran to Chan and squeezed his leg. You stood by the balloons and cake, waiting for his reaction. But for a moment he just stood there. Then, he picked Lilly up, propping her on his hip and walked towards you, embracing you with his free arm. He pulled you in close and whispered a soft thank you against your neck. As he pulled back from the hug, the two of you lingered there for a moment, caught heavily in the tension building thick between you. Later that evening, you walked back downstairs from putting Lilly to bed. You entered the kitchen to see Chan cleaning off the rest of the plates and silverware, blue frosting speckled on forks and spoons alike.

“I hope the cake wasn’t too much,” You spoke softly, moving towards Chan at the sink, “It was Lilly’s idea, she really wanted a cake.”

Chan chuckled softly at the thought of his daughter begging for a cake, with only blue frosting, blue being her current favorite color.

“It was perfect,” Chan stopped washing dishes and turned towards you, “you’re perfect.” Chan slowly moved his hands from the warm sink water, to your waiting waist. His fingers crept along your stomach and landed flush along your back, pulling you close to his body. You gasped at the sudden movement, but your body reacted reflexively to his touch. He took you by the hips and propped you up on the kitchen counter. He moved in towards your legs, spreading them open, making room for him. He gripped your thigh with his large hand and pulled it up and around his waist. Your eyes burned bright at his brazen actions as you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, pulling him into a deep, possessive kiss. Chan forcefully glides his tongue into your mouth, letting it graze across your teeth. You let out a soft gasp as you feel his tongue slide inside, sending a shiver up your spine. You open your mouth wider for him, letting your tongues tangle together in a slow, sensual dance. You press against Chan, craving more of his touch, desperate for it.

He lets his hand fall lazily down your chest, then your stomach. He easily unclasps the button of your pants and lets his hand slip inside. The rush of warmth from his hand causes your head to fall back, your back arching at his every movement. A low growl escapes from inside Chan’s chest seeing how responsive you are to his touch. He lets his teeth graze lightly along the skin of your neck while his fingers trace hypnotic circles around the entrance of your cunt. He can feel how wet you already are for him and it causes something feral to happen in his brain. He buries his fingers deeper inside you, the sudden impact and pressure causing you to squirm and squeal pathetically in his strong arms.

A small, faint cry comes from the top of the stairs and suddenly the two of you snap back into parent mode. The sound of Lilly’s tiny voice pushing all other thoughts and feelings aside. The two of you run upstairs to find Lilly in her bed, crying from a nightmare.

Chan melts instantly at the sight of his daughter safely lying in her bed, instantly thinking the worst may have happened. He sits on the bed with her and holds her close. He consoles her and reminds her that dreams cannot hurt her, he reassures her that he is here to protect her. That he will always be here for her. But as he speaks, he looks at you too. He looks at you as if he wanted you to hear what he was saying as well, like he was speaking to you and Lilly. That you were both important to him. As if he wanted to protect you too. And love you too. You gave Chan a small nod, so he knew you understood. You loved him too. And you would protect both of them with your whole heart.

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo

[whitherwanderer]

Pride Backlighting Tutorial

A few people have shown interest in replicating the pride backlighting I did, so hey, here’s a quick tutorial below the cut.

Enjoy, and happy Pride Month. 🏳️‍🌈

STEP 1 — SETUP

First thing you’ll want to do is find a suitably dark background to bounce the light off of. I use the White Screen housing item dyed Soot Black, available from the Housing Merchant or Apartment Merchant in any of the housing zones for 3000 gil.

I line up 2-3 of them for coverage, but one will do if you're trying to be frugal.

If you don’t have an apartment or an FC room to use, try asking friends, FC mates, or even folks you share a Discord server with. You might even find someone who already has a studio space set up and is willing to let you use it!

Lighting in your studio space should be 0 (though you might have success at 1 as well), so make sure to adjust that or ask the studio owner if they can make that change before you start posing.

STEP 2 — GPOSE

Position your character(s) just a little ways back from the edge of the screen. You want some space between them and the screen so that the lighting can float there without casting a weird circle on the wall.

Hop into /gpose and bump up the “Manual brightness adjustment” to about 120 or whatever level allows you to see your character well enough to pose them. Pose to your heart's content.

STEP 3 — LIGHTS

Here’s the fun part. In the Light tab of the Gpose menu, switch all of your Light sources to Type 1, which has the shortest falloff radius (meaning it doesn't reach as far as Type 2 or 3). I also set all of my lights to one strong color to differentiate them while I worked on lighting—red, green, and blue, all maxed out at 255 (for now).

Swing your camera (still on all default settings) around to your character’s back and up above their head a little ways. This is where Light 1 (red) will go.

Now pan your camera down at about mid-back height and set Light 2 (green) there.

Pan your camera down one last time until you have a nice shot of your character’s butt and set Light 3 (blue).

Spin your camera back around and enjoy this nice little macaw-colored gradient.

STEP 4 — CAMERA

Set your camera angle.

The way FFIXV’s lighting works is partially dependent on how much light is in a shot. It will adjust a lot like your eyes do when you’re entering a dark room from a bright room, or vice versa. Your zoom level and camera angle are going to directly affect the lighting, so set this before you start messing with light strength and color. Sometimes this means weaker lighting will actually light your character better.

I ended up bringing my lights down to around ~160 and boosted the "Manual brightness adjustment" up quite a bit to get lighting I was happier with.

For a straightforward vertical shot, I like to have my Field of View (FOV) at 200 and of course my rotation is set to 90. Zoom in or out as needed. Remember to save your camera angle if you plan to pan around and fix things!

STEP 5 — COLOR

Make it ~queer~.

Take your flag of choice and pick out 2-3 “main” hues. Generally these will be the strongest hues in the flag, if not the only ones. Some flags, like the Pride/Progress/Intersex-Inclusive flag itself, are difficult to replicate for the sheer number of colors that are in it. You can loosely represent a rainbow with some adjustment to the RGB colors, if you’re determined to have a whole rainbow in there.

Shader Note: I recommend picking a shader preset that doesn’t mess too much with color so that colors are represented correctly. You may need to adjust light strength and “Manual brightness adjustment” to be compatible with your preset of choice. Bloom will also heavily affect the way your colors are showing up, so you may need to tone down the bloom FX or toggle it off entirely. This all depends on your preset, however.

If you’re not into RGB math, here are some cheat sheets! Not every flag is represented here of course, but I tried to cover as many colors as I could so that you could grab a color from another flag as needed! Please note that colors will need some adjustment for your own screenshot, presets, and preferences.

And that’s it, y’all! 🏳️‍🌈

(Open this image up in a new tab for more detail.)

These were taken using a heavily customized shader for that nice glowy effect.

[thehouzekat]

Not sure if anyone else has done this yet, but I wanted to try to recreate Lane’s paintings based on the descriptions given in the the Lake House FBC document.

RL-3-42 Black Circular Shape Among Yellow lines. An uneven circle painted in dark black in the foreground. With jagged yellow/brown lines behind it. Lines sometimes overlap with each other and/or bleed into the black circle.

RL- 1-169 Lone Tree at Night? A dark green tree(pine?) standing in a dark landscape, presumably night.

RL-1-170 Empty Road in Forest? Dark grey streak across a dark green landscape, presumably forest at night. The grey streak is likely to be a road due to its location, color, and the way its width reduces in line with the perspective. A small white shape in the road could be a page.

RL-5-24 Yellow crescent Shape on Blank Canvas

A curved yellow shape in a roughly crescent shape painted onto an otherwise empty canvas. Crescent Moon or banana, unfinished?

RL-2-24 Red, Yellow and Green circle

Three uneven circles, red, yellow, and one green roughly arranged in a vertical line. Background is black/grey, with dark red streaks along the border of the canvas. Possibly a traffic light?

RL-1-171 Cityscape with Blue-Grey Sky

Grey vertical shapes, likely the skyline of a city, in the bottom third of the canvas with a vivid blue-grey sky. Geometric shapes painted in thin white lines can barely be made out among the colors of the sky.

Rl-3-44 Black void

A deep black void covering the entire canvas, with a few small specks of dark or light grey able to be seen on close inspection

RL-3-45

A large number of rough spirals painted in black, ranging in size from that of a quarter to that of a basketball. Though the canvas appears quite covered, it is blank aside from the spirals.

Rl-2-25 Brown Shape with Horns

A brown shape, vaguely triangular, with what are presumably horns extending from the shape. Likely an animal head, possibly a deer or elk. Black background

[todaysbat]

You know what's the most tiring part of running this blog?

The number of people who think every bat indoors must have rabies.

Bats end up in people's attics intentionally, and many species are known to roost in buildings (big brown bats in north America, for instance)

Being as small as they are, they might find a crack to slip thru and end up in the rest of the house by mistake.

Bats need vertical space to fly, they aren't really built to take off the ground, with the exception of certain species (common vampire bats in central America, pekapeka in new zealand, to name two examples).

Young bats in particular are terrible fliers and often end up in situations like people's kitchens.

[xxblairexxss]

Jealousy (part 3)

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Angst / fluff

I felt like including everything so I somehow couldn’t end it in 3 parts because there was still a lot to cover. I’m sorry. 😔

Please let me know if I missed you in my tag list!

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When you arrived at your parents’ house, your dad started bombarding you with questions. He wasn’t expecting you to be here because it was race week and you would normally be with Charles.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I just missed my old bedroom.” You flashed a toothy grin and dragged in your suitcase.

“Really?” Your dad raised a brow, looking rather dubious. “What’s wrong with your daughter?”

“Oh, let her be. She probably just wanted to spend some time with us.” Your mom rolled her eyes and kissed your cheek.

You didn’t tell your parents about what happened. You wanted everything happened between you and him stayed between both of you.

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You had blocked Charles everywhere you could think of so you didn’t know if he even made an attempt to call you or, if he actually cared to chase after you.

“Honey! The qualifying is starting!” You heard your dad called out from the living room. He had always been a huge fan of the sport and never missed any of the races.

“I’m not gonna watch!” You yelled out in reply and laid back vertically on your bed, legs up in the air as you scrolled through your Instagram.

“Come and watch your boyfriend!”

“I’m okay, dad!”

“You are missing out!”

You groaned and dipped your face into the pillow so you could scream your head out. How you wish your dad could read the room instead of forcing you to watch your boyfriend or ex boyfriend when it hadn’t even been a week since you left him.

“Look! It’s your boyfriend!” His eyes never left the screen, didn’t spare you a glance when you walked to the living room as you joined him.

He ended up crashing during the qualifying round. It was bad enough that they had to put a red flag, putting the Q3 on hold for more than 10 minutes but he was fine. The car on the other hand was badly damaged that they were unable to continue, putting him in the last position for the starting grid. Sure, you were upset with him but you sworn the crash on the live television made your blood run cold. You were so close to tears if they didn’t show a glimpse of him stepping out of the car the next second and for that same second too, your anger for him was all melted down and long forgotten.

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“Did something happened between you and Charles?” You looked up from your sour gummies and blinked in surprise to your mom’s word. You knew you could never hide things from her. Different from your father who couldn’t be any more oblivious to what happened, you knew she had been wanting to ask the question the moment you came back to the house but she never wanted to bring up the topic in front of your dad.

“Nothing happened, mom.”

“If nothing happened then he wouldn’t call me to ask about you.” She nodded when you widen your eyes at her.

“He called you?! What did he want?”

“He just asked me how you were doing.”

Your face grimaced from the sourness that hit you and earned a poke on your waist.

“Y/N, can you be serious? What happened between both of you?”

You clicked your tongue. “We got into a fight. He got jealous and channeled all his anger towards me without hearing my explanation first.”

“I don’t want to know the details because that’s between you and him. At least, honey, let him reach you out through a text. You’ll never know what could happen to him. Take the qualifying round just now as an example.”

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The screen on your phone had been reflecting the same image for the last 10 minutes. It was a reflection of your face. You weren’t sure if you should unblock his number. What if you did, and you got disappointed because it turned out he didn’t actually made any attempt to chase after you. What if he only gave your mom a call and that was it. What if you unblocked him and he didn’t even realised about it because he never really cared.

You eventually clicked on the unblock button, getting dizzy from the constant staring contest with your own reflection and tossed your phone aside so you could go and take a shower. You somehow became more diligent to do everything, anything, including cleaning your room just to take off your mind from all the ‘what ifs’ that kept on running around in your head.

He didn’t reply to your last text. You had a lot to say, actually. You wanted to ask if he was fine, if he suffered any pain from the crash earlier but he deserved this. Just like how he refused to listen to you that night, he didn’t deserve to talk to you now.

Thought you hated to admit that it was hard to fall asleep both without being in his embrace and unable to tell him about all those random facts you saw on the internet. You liked how he didn’t just attentively listen to everything you said but also responded to everything.

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flash

You let out a gasp and double tapped the screen of your phone. “Wow! Baby, did you know about this?”

You question was replied with an absolute stillness. “Charles!” You softly jabbed him on his middle and felt him stirred, his arms that was nicely wrapped around your waist went a little firm.

He had his face buried against your hair, having your back facing him so you didn’t know he had fallen asleep. “Did you know?” You asked again, still on the same topic.

He groaned and you heard him took a deep breath before he finally replied. “I’m not sure what you are talking about, precious.”

“This! A greenland shark can actually live up to 500 years. They are like the grandpas of the sea!” You giggled, turning your body to face him and saw he still had his eyes closed. “Do you know how a greenland shark looks like? They look really old.”

You would have thought he was asleep if you didn’t see him shaking his head.

“Look at it!” You brought your phone to his face and he winced from the brightness of it.

“Why is your phone so bright. My eyes hurt.”

“Did you see? Don’t they actually look old?” You flashed your phone back at him again and he pulled his face away so he could see the picture clearly.

“Yeah, how old is that one? He looks 400 years old max.”

You laughed and slide to a different video. “I don’t know. They didn’t state the age for this one.” You were now laying on your back and Charles draped one arm on your stomach as he was laying on his side, his face was now back into the side of your neck.

It was silence again for another minute before you giggled, again, and tilted your head to the side, feeling his soft hair against your cheek. “Baby, apparently a sea turtle can swim faster than Usain Bolt can sprint!”

You heard him stirred again in his sleep. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear you, love. What did you say?”

“Sea turtles swim faster than Usain Bolt’s sprint!”

He stifled a yawn and titter. “That’s a lie. Don’t you know how fast Usain Bolt is?”

“It’s a fact on the internet!”

“This is why you shouldn’t believe everything on the internet.” He poked you on your waist, giggling along as he brushed his lips on your jawline. “Can we sleep now, baby or is there any other facts you want to tell me?”

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You woke up next morning and saw your dad already sitting in front of the television, watching the press conferences of the drivers. You weren’t going to watch but something caught your eyes when you were about to look away from the screen. Your ring. It was drooped from Charles’s neck. He looked like he didn’t get enough sleep, the eye bag under his eyes looked way obvious than usual. It made you feel bad, wondering if you should have let him called you last night.

You pressed the call button and it didn’t get a chance to ring when you heard his voice on the other line. “Y/N?”

“Charles, hi..”

“Are you okay?”

“I just…wanted to wish you good luck. I know it doesn’t mean a lot to you.”

“It does.” He replied, cutting you off.

“What?”

“It means a lot to me. I needed that. Thank you, bab– Y/N. I don’t think I could do well today since I’m starting at the very end but I’ll try my best, now that I got to hear your voice.”

“My dad is so excited he has been sitting in front of the television since the morning.”

“That makes me nervous.”

You chuckled at his words. “Get the car to top 5, pilot. I’m sure you can do that.”

“If I get that for this race, can you come with me to the next Grand Prix next week?”

You sat up, your hands started twirling your phone charm. You didn’t want to see him. At least not yet. You deserved a proper apology so you were actually going to ignore him until you felt like it but seeing how miserable he looked, you didn’t have the heart to say no.

“Please, Y/N.”

“Fine. Top 5 and I’ll come to the next race.”

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He ended up with P4 and was chosen as the driver of the day which made your dad cheered and yelled out loud, telling everyone how he saw that coming. You were surprised. Though you never underestimated his talent, you weren’t completely confident he would nailed it since he told you how bad the car was yesterday.

You were still watching the television up until they did an after race interview to every driver. Charles walked into the frame and in just one glance, you knew he was elated. The grin, the dimple, the wrinkle on his eyes looking more visible from the way he greeted the interviewer. You saw the way he played with your ring, the one that he had made as a necklace while he was answering the questions and you couldn’t help but to smile, feeling proud of his result today.

But you didn’t text him or call him at all because you didn’t want to bother him and you didn’t want to look like you were excited to talk to him. It might sounded like a child but this was nothing compared to what he did to you. A notification popped in as you were too busy selecting a shade for your new liquid blush.

“Congratulations. You did amazing today.” You laid down once you answered the call, tugging on your duvet to cover your body even more as you made yourself more comfortable on the bed.

“I thought you didn’t watch the race?”

“I didn’t. My dad told me how it went.” You replied, lying through your teeth. As if you weren’t celebrating along when he crossed the finish line.

“I owe you that one. I wouldn’t be able to do that if you didn’t wish me good luck.”

“You are exaggerating!” You then turned on the loud speaker so you wouldn’t have to keep on holding the phone to your ear.

“I’m serious. Can I tell you everything about the race?”

“Sure.”

You listened to him talked about how the race actually went, how he had trouble with the mic earlier on that he had no idea when he should have pitted. He had skipped the after party because he thought you would have called him but you didn’t so he had been staying in his room, eagerly anticipating for a call that never came until he decided to text you first.

“Y/N?” Charles broke the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Can you tell me more facts about animals?”

You sat back up and took your phone back into your hand. “I don’t want to. It’s boring.”

“It’s not. Tell me more.”

So you went on to Tiktok and started looking for more facts that you felt like you hadn’t told him about. You had a lot of new facts but didn’t have anyone to share it with so a small part of you was so glad he had actually asked about it.

“Do you know what’s the fastest animal on earth?” You heard him hummed, thinking of an answer.

“A cheetah?”

“Nope!” You replied, lips pressing to emphasise the ‘P’.

“It’s not cheetah? Then what is it?”

“A black marlin!” You exclaimed.

“What even is a black marlin?”

You kept on talking and talking until he stopped responding at one point. All you could hear was just a soft, light snoring sound. You rolled on your back and was contemplating to end the call until you heard a mumble on the other line. “I miss you..”

“I miss you too, Charles.” Your thumb lightly brushed against a picture of Charles and you laughing in each other’s embrace, taken by one of your friends a few months ago. “But you treated me so bad, I deserve an apology. Until then, I don’t think I can take you back. No matter how bad I want to.”

✧.* tags! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @buendiabebeta @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @ironmaiden1313 @teenagedreams-cl @sheslikeacurse @love4lando @charli123456789 @ru-kru @httpspedri26 @honey6578 @ohthemisssery @sealsu @shyartisanvoidwagon

[bobbin-buckley]

So Lonely In Her Mansion

Cairo Sweet x Writer!Fem!Reader

Summary: She’s so lonely in her mansion, so she calls you over

Warnings: Wine drinking, cigarettes mentioned, heavy make-out & and implied smut near the end

y/e/c: Your eye color

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/n..can you call me back? I miss you..”

“It’s so lonely in my mansion..”

Your breath hitches.

Listening to her voicemail sent shivers down your spine.

Cairo rarely called, texted or even voice-mailed you. She was really just an independent woman. She didn’t have many friends, and her parents were gone on business trips every month.

But in this case she seems sooo lonely she called you. You!

You of all people, you’re surprised she called you and not her friend Winnie Black, even if they ghosted each other.

Yet she called you

After hearing this, her voice sounds so..solitary..maybe even desperate..

She obviously really needed the company, needed you to accompany her. You picked up your phone again, pulling up the call button and pressing it.

The call is quickly answered by her. It almost seems like she was staring at her phone while she waited for you to call her back.

“Hey…I miss you..”

Her voice sounds soft. You could hear her sigh on the other end, she sounded bored. You smiled a bit when you heard her voice, chuckling a bit at her sigh.

“..hey Cairo. I miss you too..”

You did, you did miss her. The both of you only had one or two classes together, it being English and Spanish..

She was silent for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking again. She was obviously nervous..talking to you.

“I would really like to see you right now, it’s so lonely here..can you come over?”

You smiled, feeling wanted for once in your life, “yeah, I can.” “Good.”

Cairo was excited..yet calm about it. She hasn’t had anytime to talk with you, she’s been dealing with her own problems. Neither of you had much in common, it was a surprise when she asked for your number a few days ago…

“Alright, on my way…see you in five.”

“I’ll be waiting..”

Cairo lived in a Mansion. She was rich, her parents were lawyers, and gone most of the time. You’ve never been to her house, but you just new where she lived..I mean how could you miss it? It’s a huge mansion. Even if it does live in the woods..it isn’t hard to find. The large building almost reminded you like a movie.

The front gate slowly opened and you eased your car past it, her front yard was pretty. A beautiful landscape with a fountain.

Once you pulled in, you noticed her.

She was standing right outside the front door on the last step of the stairs. She was wearing a grey silky dress that made her cleavage pretty visible, her dark brunette hair was a bit ruffled, brown eyes piercing your e/c.

She looked so ethereal

You stepped out of your car with your bag, walking in the rain to get to her. She watched your every move like a tiger, she seemed so glad you were here.

She looks at your features, she’s never been this close to you before. Yeah you have class together, but you sit far back as she sits in the front.

“You came.”

“You called.”

You smiled, and she smiled.

“Come in, it’s cold and rainy..”

She grasped your hand gently and brought you inside, as you walked in it was definitely so aesthetic…

The green wallpaper, dark brown wood floors, perfect minimum lighting. You could tell this Mansion really gives her inspiration.

She brought you into her living room, it was pretty big. Maybe twice the size of your living room.

It had large vertical windows with big green curtains, a big fireplace on the opposite wall and it was on, a bookshelf of many books, a grand piano in the corner of the room and a massive leather couch which Cairo sat on

She patted the spot next to her. You approached her and sat down in that spot, facing her. You watched her grab the wine bottle and pour some in two separate glasses, handing you one.

“Are you cold?” She glanced at you again, sipping her wine.

You smile and take the glass, drinking a small sip before answering, “not really, the fire is helping.” The fire was spewing a nice orange from the wood.

“That’s good, I want you to be comfortable.”

You nod in agreement, looking around the room once again. “I see where you get such inspiration,” “definitely, this is my favorite room in the mansion.” She glances around the room too.

“Do you also write? Like scripts, novels and stuff?” “Anything really, though I enjoy mainly script writing.” She smiles, watching your lips as you talk.

“Have you had the chance of adapting them into a film?” “Eh, I don’t have that much confidence in my writing.” You paused, sipping more wine. “Which reminds me.”

You sat down the wine glass, turning to your bag and grabbing out a bunch of papers. Cairo watches as you open the bag, curious. But she’s excited to see what you’ve brought.

You set down the papers on her lap, “these are some of the scripts I wrote that I’d like for you to read.”

She’s a bit astonished at your words as she glances the papers in her lap. She’s never been asked or given the privilege of reading someone else’s work, especially in person with them. And she’s excited.

She sets her wine glass aside, picking up the papers and starts to view through em’. Her facial expression changes, she’s amazed at your work. Admiring how you write really pulls her in.

“I-it’s not much but..” “I didn’t know you could write so well,” she cuts you off. “It’s very good Y/N, really.”

Her eyes were glued to your papers, she seems really intrigued. Her brown eyes were sparkling with delight.

You shrug at her words. “I’m telling the truth, really. I think you should put these in a film.” She finishes looking at the scripts, sighing a bit.

“What is it?”

She glanced back at you, looking in your eyes. “Can I ask something..a little personal?”

She seems a little nervous now, you can tell by her body language. Her hands are fidgety, tapping her foot on the hard wood floor, eyes searching for something in yours.

“I suppose.”

Cairo’s eyes lit up a bit, taking a deep breath before asking her question.

“Why aren’t you in a relationship?”

The question caught you off guard, you didn’t expect this. I mean- coming from Cairo you’d think she wasn’t so nervous about it.

Your eyebrow furr, “should I be in one?” “Well, you seem like you need one. You’re just so beautiful and..talented, sweet, real discreet, but most of all your personality is..well you.”

She gets a bit closer to you now

You blushed, “y-you think I’m all those things?”

Cairo stares directly into your eyes, blushing a deep crimson red. The wine getting into her system, and you as well.

“You are one of the most loveliest women I’ve ever met. I seriously have never met someone as endearing as you. You’re just…perfect.”

Perfect

She described you as perfect

She bites her lower lip, waiting for your response. Your gaze had softened at her words, blushing even more.

“I- I don’t know what to say..” you chuckled.

“I’m just being honest Darling…”

Placing a hand on your forearm, creasing your skin with her delicate fingers. That you noticed had black nail polish and..her hands are very..well- manly..

“Thank you..”

“You’re welcome, I’m really just telling the truth.”

She moves some hair out of her face, leaning closer to you. She smiles more and the both of you are getting hot under the collar, the wine was definitely getting to you.

“You’re..gorgeous too..”

She grins, her dimples being very visible. She trails her hand down to your waist, giving it a small squeeze.

“You’re so sweet. You’ve made my night by coming over..”

“It’s not like I had anything better to do.”

“Still..you could’ve been doing anything else. You could have said no and continued your evening alone..yet you chose to come here.”

“Well you called, and I can’t say no.”

She laughs a bit, her hand playing with your hair. “You’re so funny. You could have rejected and did something else… but again you came here. Now you’re mine for the whole evening.”

You start to lean closer to her too. She can’t help but grin more as she notices how you want this too. Cupping your jaw and rubbing your cheek, her other arm around your neck playing with the back hairs. Her eyes have never left yours as she gets closer.

“Mine.”

“Yours.”

Her eyes are now filled with lust, she really wants you she wants you so bad. She pulls you closer, her lips hovering near yours. You could smell the wine from her breath, maybe even cigarettes.

Cairo’s lips finally meet yours, pulling you down on-top of her as her back hits the couch, your hands on either side of her head.

You feel your body pressed against hers, as her other arm wraps around your neck. She kisses you with deep passion, the thumping of your heart beating faster as you both become intertwined in this kiss. Her lips feel so warm, tasting that sweet wine and tone of cigarettes. She is really showing a side of her you've never seen before.

Her other arm that's around your neck starts slowly making its way down to your chest, groping it. She's kissing you so aggressively, not wanting this to end and she's starting to get really hot and passionate with you. You can feel her warmth as her body presses against yours. You notice how tight the grip she has on you, she wants to keep you close to her. Her legs wrap around you now, she wants you close. She wants you so badly

Her tongue slips in, twirling around with yours. The hand on your chest is now tight on your neck, not squeezing but keeping you more in place. You groan into her mouth, sending a sharp sensation down her hot body.

After about a good five minutes of shoving tongues done one another throats, she pulls back catching her breath and strains of saliva on her lips. Your breath is heavy, blushing so hard at the sight below you.

Her cheeks are flushed, eye fucking you, arms still tight on your neck, and mouth gaped open. “You’re a good kisser.” “You too.”

She laughs, “the wine is really getting to us..cause I’m still so desperate for more.”

“Same..”

Cairo smirks, that same desire still in her eyes. You know whatever she’ll do next she won’t hold back.

She starts to kiss your cheek, down to your jaw then neck. She whispers into your ear for a moment; “I wanna fuck you so bad…”

Your face heats up, and she stared into your eyes with just pure lust.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She grabs your hand and brings it down to her womanhood, continuing to kiss your neck.

She swims back up to your lips, kissing your passionately as she grinds a bit on your hand.

“..I wanna be yours..” she mutters against your lips. “You will be.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yippie! New post!

I actually liked this one

And I’ll take any requests!

[moodboardmix]

John Hejduk, "Wall House No. 2,"

Hoornse Meer, Groningen, Netherlands,

John Hejduk originally designed Wall House No. 2 in 1973 as a weekend retreat for landscape architect Arthur Edward Bye. The House was to be built in Ridgefield, Connecticut, United States. However, it wasn’t until 2001 that the structure was built as part of the Blue Moon architecture festival in Groningen. 

In this project, Hejduk uses the wall to reinterpret the traditional configuration of a house: instead of presenting the different spaces enclosed within the perimeter walls, in the Wall House 2 the rooms and the circulation systems are physically isolated from each other.

The kitchen, dining room, bedroom and living room are stacked curvilinear volumes, vertically linked by an independent circular staircase and connected to a study by a long corridor.

The wall, which Hejduk establishes between the rooms and the circulation systems so that one has to go through it to move from one room to another, becomes a passing line, a limit. A palette of yellow, green, black, brown and gray reinforces the division of the function of each volume.

Since 2004, Wall House has served cultural purposes under the Stichting Wall House Number 2 foundation, hosting artist residencies, public tours, events, and functioning as a knowledge center.

Built by Thomas Muller / van Raimann Architekten and Otonomo Architecten studios,

Photos by David Altrath

John Hejduk (1929-2000), Bye House plan for the second floor, 1974. Yellow and blue coloured pencil and graphite over diazo type on paper, 459 x 980 mm. John Hejduk fonds, Canadian Centre for Architecture © CCA.

[defectivevillain]

those who fall

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: “What’s your name?” You ask your companion. “Hannibal,” he responds. The man doesn’t look the slightest bit malnourished, despite your predicament. Either he’s new here, or he’s been able to keep his hunger satiated. “Hannibal,” you repeat, taking note of his vaguely European accent. “That’s a strange name.” Hannibal just blinks. The man looks almost expressionless, but you can see a hint of irritation at the edges of his faux smile.

word count: 3k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical blood and violence, death, suicide, cannibalism, gore, suicidal ideation/self-harm. Emphasis on the cannibalism — both willing and non-consensual cannibalism. Mentions of throwing up/vomiting.

author's notes: Happy spooky pride! (I'm being told it's also called Halloween...? Weird.) Here’s a really fucked up fic. :3

If y’all haven’t watched The Platform, here’s the trailer, which should explain things. I’ve also attempted to write an explanation, but it’s long and bad. Here it is anyways, in case you don’t want to watch the trailer:

There is a vertical prison system that stretches more than 300 levels down. Each floor houses two people, and there’s a large hole in the middle to accommodate a table. Each day, a single table starts at Floor 0 and makes a stop at each floor. The table is loaded with a ton of dishes for a large and extravagant meal. Floor 1 gets the table for a short time before it drops to Floor 2. So on and so forth. People aren’t allowed to take things from the table to save for later, so it’s a scramble to eat enough to keep them nourished until the next day. They’re all eating from the same table, so as the floors get lower, there’s less and less food left. Inhabitants stay on their floor for one month, before they’re exposed to gas and moved to a different floor for another month. Basically, the lower the floor, the less likely you’ll be to get any food. In theory, if each person ate only their own ration, the food might last. But some people are greedy, wasteful, etc... A floor below 100 is virtually a death sentence, because that means 200 people pick at the food before you get to.

heed the warnings listed above before reading!

You wake up, blinking away the traces of a gas-induced sleep. It’s the beginning of the month, which means you’ve been transported to another floor in the facility. Groaning, you blink blearily, only to find someone staring down at you. You flinch and get up, hoping he’ll move away. But he continues looming over you, looking at you with a scrutinizing gaze. 

“You must be my new roommate,” he says emotionlessly. 

“How’d you wake up so fast?” You respond, squinting at the daylight seeping through the room. Typically, the gas is strong enough to leave you knocked out for at least twelve hours. But this man is already awake, and there’s no telling how long he’s been standing before you, watching you. The thought unnerves you. 

He just shrugs in lieu of a response to your question. You take a deep breath and turn towards the far wall, dread coiling in your chest as your eyes find the number of the floor you’re on: 139. Fuck. You’ve never been this low before. You had the 76th floor last month and the 23rd the month before that, then 87, 6, and 53. You had no idea the floors went down past 100; all you knew was that you’d be getting a new roommate this month, in light of your past roommate’s death. 

Floor 139 is practically a death sentence. You’d normally be able to fast thirty days, but you spent all of last month fasting at Floor 76. (You didn’t have much of a choice, as the food never made it down to you in the first place.) You push yourself to your feet and walk near the center of the space, glancing down only to find more floors stretching down as far as the eye can see. There are dozens—maybe hundreds—of people beneath you. You want to throw up. 

“You look frightened,” your new roommate remarks, breaking you out of your spiraling thoughts. You glance at him, unable to hide your irritation. 

“Of course I am,” you snap, beginning to pace around the edge of the hole in the floor. “The food will never make it down this far.” 

“How do you know?” He hums. There’s a knowing smile on his face, as if he wants you to concede and utter the words aloud. 

“The food didn’t even make it down to level 87,” you recall, shaking your head as you try to fight off memories of an aching stomach and a debilitating weakness anchoring you to your bed. “And we’re fifty-two levels beneath that.” 

Silence. You swallow hard and try to maintain your composure. Panicking won’t do you any good.  And you definitely don’t trust this stranger enough to show him any sort of emotional vulnerability. You bite the inside of your cheek and think for several minutes. “What’s your name?” You later ask your companion. 

“Hannibal,” he responds. He takes another step backwards and light falls on his face, revealing a chiseled facial structure, brown-grey hair, and glimmering brown eyes. The man doesn’t look the slightest bit malnourished, despite your predicament. Either he’s new here, or he’s been able to keep his hunger satiated. 

“Hannibal,” you repeat, taking note of his vaguely European accent. “That’s a strange name.” Hannibal just blinks. The man looks almost expressionless, but you can see a hint of irritation at the edges of his faux smile. 

“How’d you lose your roommate?” You continue determinedly, desperate for some information on this guy. Something about him unsettles you. It must be the unbothered way with which he analyzes your surroundings, as if you hadn’t both just been given a finite expiration date.  

Hannibal studies you for a long moment. “You don’t want the answer to that question.” He eventually answers. A shiver rolls down your spine. 

“You killed them,” you realize aloud. 

“And ate them,” he confirms casually. Your heart starts thudding quickly in your chest. You pretend not to be affected by his confession. Internally, you’re scared for your life. To think that you’d survived months of starvation, only to die at the hands of another human? “What happened to your roommate?” Hannibal continues, before you can truly collect your thoughts. 

“They jumped.” You remember to say, the taste of bile climbing up your throat. There’s no need for further explanation. 

“Ah.” A tense quiet descends on the air once more, and the two of you spend the seemingly countless hours before the table’s arrival in silence. 

When you finally hear the telltale whirring of the table above, your stomach growls. You need food rather desperately—especially after not receiving any legitimate nutrition last month. Your hands are shaky; your vision is blurry; and your legs feel as if they’ll cave in at any moment. 

The glassware rattles and the table sinks down to your floor. Hannibal and you both look at the remnants of the meal from above, only to find plates licked clean and glasses entirely empty. As you expected, there is nothing left for you to eat: not even a crumb or bone. 

There is, however, a man crouched on the table. He stares ahead with blank eyes, as if he doesn’t even see either of you. You look at him for a few moments, immediately promising yourself not to get any closer. In this place, vulnerability is weakness. You’ve seen it happen before: someone will extend a helpful hand to another person, only to be stabbed through the back in the same breath. There is no saving anyone here. You are all destined for death, regardless of when it may come. 

Hannibal regards the new arrival for several seconds, before quickly reaching out and grabbing his collar, yanking him off the table and onto the pavement. You watch in disbelief as Hannibal brandishes a knife—when in the hell did he get that?—and stabs him several times. Your roommate’s ferocity ensures the man’s death. Calmly, Hannibal drags the corpse by the ankles until it’s closer to the walls. 

Then, he sinks his knife into the body’s skin. The victim, unsurprisingly, doesn’t so much as flinch. The knife pierces the skin of his chest and Hannibal sinks his hand into the cavity, gripping the entrails and pulling them out with practiced precision. He gets to his feet, holding the liver in his hand. You watch in silent horror as his head turns and his gaze finds you, his eyes trained on you even as he raises the organ to his mouth and begins eating. 

Your stomach turns in disgust and revulsion. You’ve survived months of fasting—you never ate another human, despite the earsplitting screams from above and below indicating that several other inhabitants did. Even though you know you need to eat, the thought of tearing into that corpse is enough to make your appetite disappear. You quickly turn your head and clamp a hand over your mouth, before raising it to cover both your nose and mouth. The scent is enough to make you nearly hurl. You close your eyes and pretend you’re somewhere else—anywhere else, but trapped on this floor with a cannibal. 

Your ears are ringing at the confirmation that Hannibal is a seasoned killer. This was not his first kill, and it likely won’t be his last. There is a very good chance you’ll be his next meal. Fear pulsing through your veins, you manage to pull your knees close to your chest and close your eyes. The cool metal of your lighter grounds you to this horrible moment, this stiff and unfeeling air. 

If you had known just what horrors you would be subjected to, you would’ve chosen a different object to bring. Maybe you would’ve even chosen a weapon to protect yourself or a form of entertainment. But your naive self chose a lighter—not even for smoking, but just to watch the flickering flame. Your finger now twitches to bring the flame to your skin, but you resist the urge. There is enough pain and suffering here without your own self-inflicted torture. 

It is hard to sleep that night. Your thoughts are buzzing too loudly. It takes a while for your eyelids to slip shut, and once the table comes rocketing by, you shudder awake and have to fall asleep once more. When you finally succumb to slumber, your dreams are distorted and cryptic. 

The weird sensation of something in your mouth pulls you from slumber. You open your eyes to find Hannibal standing over you, the crimson light casting shadows across his face. You instinctively want to belch at the foreign material, but Hannibal’s hand is secured firmly over your mouth. You immediately catch on to what he’s doing: he’s feeding you some of the corpse’s meat. 

You try to fight back—attempting to shove him off—but his grip is too strong and you’re weakened by hunger and lack of sleep. You’re forced to chew, unless you want to choke and die. A shudder runs through your entire body as you chew, disgusted with the texture. The taste of iron and copper runs through your mouth; the smell alone is enough to make you gag. After what feels like far too long, you manage to swallow. 

Satisfied, Hannibal steps away—and you immediately fall off your bed and to the floor, stumbling to the sink to drink some water and flush the organ down. “Fuck you,” you spit at him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. It comes back bloody, and you take extra effort to scrub your face clean. Hannibal doesn’t seem to be affected by the insult. Rather, he’s wearing an understanding smile on his face—and you’re growing more and more overtaken with the urge to punch that look off his face. You clench the faucet with an increasingly tight grip, until there are bolts of pain sliding through your fingers. 

“You will thank me soon,” Hannibal remarks, staring at you. You can see his heated gaze in the cracked mirror before you. It’s clear what he’s trying to say: if you don’t eat, you will die.  

“I won’t,” you say numbly, your heart roaring in your ears. “You should’ve left me alone.” Your voice breaks at the end of that sentence; if Hannibal notices, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he only looks at you imploringly. 

“You need proper nourishment.” Hannibal maintains. 

You hiss and walk back to your bed, turning to the side so you don’t have to look at him. You’re not foolish enough to turn your back on him—not when you know just what he can do. You don’t want to indulge his murderous sensibilities. You spend the rest of the day split between seething and suppressing the urge to throw up.

When night falls, Hannibal goes to sleep. You only pretend. When you hear the steady rise and fall of his breathing, you push yourself up quietly and sit on your bed. You will not fall asleep tonight. You don’t want a repeat of last night. 

Despite your quiet movements, it doesn’t take Hannibal long to notice that you’ve shifted. “You’re not sleeping,” he says aloud, admittedly startling you as the uneasy silence across the space is broken. When you comprehend his remark, you can’t stop the wry laugh that falls from your lips. 

“I don’t trust you,” you respond candidly. There’s no point in pretending otherwise.  

Hannibal lets out a strange noise. It takes you a few moments to realize that he’s just laughing. “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already,” he then says. “You are… the least insufferable of my companions so far.”

You blink in the near darkness. “Thanks.” You say dryly. That statement isn’t reassuring in the slightest. You don’t want to wake up to find him forcing organs down your throat again. The thought sends a renewed wave of nausea through you, and it takes you several moments of measured breathing to fight it off. 

Eventually, you fall asleep. You can only fight off the exhaustion for so long, and if you’re not eating, then you definitely need to be resting to conserve energy. 

You wake the next morning breathing hard, expecting to see Hannibal looming over you. But he’s only sitting on his bed, regarding you with a blandly amused look. It appears he won’t be forcing you to consume human entrails again. 

But little do you know, Hannibal doesn’t have to force you next time. 

It’s been sixteen days since that horrible night. Sixteen days without food. Your body has grown incredibly weak. You can barely push yourself up to get to the faucet across the room. Speaking takes too much energy. Most of the time, you just lie on your bed and stare at some point in the distance, losing yourself in memories long gone. 

You can’t find the energy to waste on getting angry. Instead, you’re just… empty. The movement of the table is the only thing that helps you discern the time. The corpse Hannibal took all those days ago has since become a rotted pile. Neither of you have seen anything resembling food on the table. The people above are merciless. They eat the rations of several people; they spit on everything in reach. 

You don’t bother to look up at the table’s arrival today. There will be nothing for you to eat. And indeed, when you finally drag your eyes over, there is only glassware and silverware… scattered around a person in the center. They sit cross-legged and stare ahead with that similar unseeing expression from the man all those days ago. 

You don’t need to watch to know what happens next: Hannibal drags them onto the pavement, brandishes his knife, and kills them. He dissects them with the mercy of a disinterested scientist, before sparing you a simple look. There’s a single drop of blood carving a path down his lips. Hannibal wipes it away. 

You extend a hand wordlessly. 

Hannibal stares at you, a complex emotion passing over his face as quick as lightning. He places a bloodied chunk in your palm. The crimson stain spreads across your skin. You look down at it and feel… nothing. There’s an echo of disgust and horror, perhaps. But beyond that, you’re an empty shell. This place has changed you. Emotions do not survive here—instinct does. And your instincts tell you that you need food. 

Minutes later, the gnawing pain in your stomach has subsided and there’s the horrifically familiar taste of iron settling on your tongue. You swallow hard and slowly push yourself to your feet, mechanically walking over to the sink and getting some water to wash it all down. Your hands are shaking but you manage to satisfy your thirst. Turning the faucet off with shaking hands, you lean against the wall and sink down into a sitting position. 

There’s dried blood on your hands. It doesn’t matter that you washed it away—you can still see it. It haunts you, even when the night arrives and the floor is drenched in crimson light. You’ve since migrated to your bed, but you can’t get yourself to move from your sitting position and lie down. You can’t give yourself comfort. You don’t deserve it—not after what you’ve done. 

You’re not sure how long you sit silently, watching the darkness settle and fade into a dusky light. There’s a persistent pain in your back and your cuticles are picked open, yet these sensations fade to obscurity when you remember the meal you just willingly consumed. You had no choice seventeen days ago. You can’t say the same for yesterday.

There’s an uncomfortable wetness clinging to your cheeks and eyelashes. You’re crying, you realize. It’s been a while since you’ve cried, even with all the horrors you’ve witnessed here. You shakily wipe at your tears, but they keep falling. Falling prey to the burning in your throat, you bury your head in your bent knees and struggle for breath. 

At some point, there’s a hand on your back. You’re so exhausted that you don’t even flinch, because you can’t seem to muster up the energy. Your body is wracked with chills and phantom shivers as you try to comprehend just who is offering you comfort. The same person who kills others with ease and feasts on their remains… is wrapping an arm around your shoulders and sitting on your bed next to you. 

You don’t have the strength to push Hannibal away. You lack the strength and fortitude to do so. Hannibal is the only human contact you will have, if you continue living. You don’t have a choice—if you want to maintain your sanity, you’re forced to cave into the loneliness screaming behind the confines of your rib cage. That’s what you tell yourself as you reluctantly begin to relax in his hold. You cling to him with increasing desperation. Hannibal’s hand rises to the nape of your neck, cradling your head in what feels like an intimate gesture. 

You can’t stop the sobs crawling out of your throat. 

You want to assign Hannibal the blame. But you know it’s not that simple. He didn’t put you in this prison system; he is nothing more than another participant: one with the courage to keep themself alive, at any cost. Perhaps you should be more like him.

…It’s a chilling thought. 

You have never been so desperate for answers, inside bleak cement walls that give you nothing except more questions. The sparkling silverware; the gleaming glassware; the callous cruelty of those above; the painful plight of those below. There is no solidarity or community amongst the people in these walls: only the concepts of superior and inferior… and the fallen. Those who have been above, have savored without suffering… only fall from grace and stumble into starvation’s relentless grip once more. 

Your tongue recognizes the taste of copper; your hands the crimson stain that becomes a murky brown as time passes. You have fallen. And of one thing, you are certain: you will never rise again.

thanks for reading! <3

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[snek-panini]

Got a bit of a different bookbinding post today. @renegadeguild got an ask from a new binder saying they were intimidated by everyone's gorgeous binds (me too, actually, some of you guys are scary good), and so they've asked people to share their first binds. And I realized I'd never even taken photos of my first one, so here it is, warts and all:

This is E.M. Forster's The Machine Stops, a public domain scifi short story that you can read for free at the link. The first reason I chose it was that it's an interesting story, and I'd bought a print-on-demand copy a few years previously that was just terrible. Baffling cover choices, basic errors in the typeset (like quotes that face the wrong way), weird size that didn't fit on my shelf; just not a good product. I couldn't do it with more indifference than the PoD people. The second reason was that I was too intimidated by the thought of asking a fic writer if I could bind their story and then producing something with a thousand sloppy beginner mistakes, and then they'd want to see photos and I'd have to show them this and it would have been mortifying, but Forster has been dead since 1970 so I could not disappoint him. It was very freeing. I bound it in 2021 as an experiment, to see if I liked this hobby enough to stick to it. The cover is green cardstock and faux leather scrapbook paper that I bought at... probably Hobby Lobby. I added the title later, as a practice project when I first got my Cricut; for the first two years of its existence it had a blank cover.

There are more photos under the cut!

In this photo we can see:

--Too much glue when attaching the leather-print paper, so it oozed out onto the cover.

--Cricut font too thin and too much heat/too long of a press, so the letters have gaps and the glue also oozed out here. It's a continuing theme with this bind.

--I tried to use a bone folder to give it a sharper hinge crease and accidentally pressed too hard and tore a hole in the paper; you can see this in the little white vertical line near the top of the hinge

The fore edge is not square. I actually don't remember why this happened. I may have eyeballed the board position when I made the case, or the paper may have slipped while the glue was wet, or I cut it crooked and didn't notice till later. Either way it's bad enough that the book doesn't stand on its own. There was a crooked man/who walked a crooked mile/and found a crooked sixpence/against a crooked stile./He bought a crooked cat/which caught a crooked mouse/and they all loved together in a little crooked house, and I bet they read this little crooked book from their little crooked library.

Top view, you can see that the case is too big and the text block doesn't sit straight in it. It has no endbands or bookmark, and it's hard to see in this photo but there's glue on the top of it, at the spine. This still happens to me but I know how to trim books now so this bit gets cut off. You can also see that the scrapbook paper has some cracks where its white core is visible. This is why I do cloth or actual faux leather on the spines now. Endpaper shows uneven trim (did I not use a ruler for this??), too much glue causing major seepage, and it doesn't sit evenly in the case. I'm not sure if this is because of the case itself being crooked, a badly-trimmed endpaper, or if the text block is also crooked. Or it may be a combination of all these factors. Unclear.

Typeset photos! Here we see:

--Title page has a page number on it. This is a pet peeve of mine and I fixed it after this book.

--There is no half title, summary, or metadata. All my later binds have these things.

--It's typeset in Times New Roman. Unlike many I don't actually hate this font but reading it reminds me of being in high school so this is the only book I used it for. Baskerville is my beloved now. The font is also much bigger than it should be. It's not huge but it's like a large print book so it feels weird for me to read it.

--Lol what are margins

--Lol what are page headers

--Actually I think I left the headers out so it wouldn't have a header on the first page of each chapter, because I knew about page breaks but not section breaks at this time.

--It's on regular-ass lightweight printer paper. There's nothing wrong with this but I switched to heavier weight paper shortly after to help with bleed-through and the light stuff feels so flimsy now.

--I didn't understand how Word's book fold worked at this time, so when I had to set the sheets per booklet and it had an option for 4, I chose that thinking it would give me 4 sheets of paper (16 numbered pages) per sig. It did not do this. It gave me 4 numbered pages per sig. So every signature is 1 sheet of paper. Every page is its own signature. I am still mad about this but it sure drove home how the setting works and also how to make kettle stitches since you make one after every sig. A book of 48 pages has 12 signatures which is just ludicrous.

--There's no photo of this but it has a piece of printer paper on the spine because I didn't have mull. I did use PVA though. Lots and lots of PVA.

--It's stitched with regular sewing thread, which means it doesn't have much swell for a book with that many sigs, but it's less sturdy and more likely to tear the paper.

And that's that! It probably sounds a bit like I was tearing it to shreds but I actually love this book quite a lot. I learned so many things that I applied to my next binds, it was an invaluable experience. It let me fall in love with the hobby so I could make the awesome things I make now. I've got those all posted on my main blog under the tag #snek makes books, or you can see them all on my side blog @papersnakepress. For a first book it's functional and readable, and still better than the PoD copy I had before. I've been thinking of doing a rebind as a sort of progress gauge, actually. Maybe next year.

[kaeyx]

Omg omg omg yeees!! So excited!!! I'd love to see number 2 with chuuya and female reader!! Maybe them working together and some mutual pinning but they are both sooo dense, until they get drunk, or whatever other scenario comes to your mind💓

Kinktober day 2: Drunk sex + Chuuya

Warnings: smut, afab!gn!reader

Notes: you get a full fic because I'm down horrendous for this man, but it will not be the norm for this challenge!

"Hey, doll?"

Frankly, he's distracted by the elusive glimpse of skin whenever you reach up for something. The gap between your jeans and body where your hips fall away, the hair that disappears downward, the thick, vertical line by your bellybutton signaling a knife that has long left your guts. Nobody is safe in this job, he guesses, though it still sends a pang through his chest.

"Hmm?" You turn from the shelf with a carton of juice in your hands, and the vision disappears behind your shirt.

"Got anything... different?"

You smile. "You know I don't drink like you, Chuuya." It ticks upwards, satisfied. "But I do think I have a little something around here..."

The juice is forgotten as you kneel by a cabinet, coming back up with two bottles in your hands.

"I love you," he groans.

"That bad of a day, huh?" you smile and leave him with the choice of wine or whiskey, pulling the appropriate glasses out from the cupboard. Another thing just for him. Who else would be in your house, nitpicking your choice of glasses?

The way your arms stretch let him see that horribly unexpected sliver of skin, the hair and the scar he's never noticed because how could he? Your clothes don't let him. Come to think of it, why are those jeans so loose?

You sit close to him, curling up on your couch while he leans back with his legs comfortably apart. In one hand you have both his glasses and in the other your juice, mixed in with a generous amount of rum. He runs a gloved hand over his face and looks at his bottle, reading "Chinon" on the label. Chuuya can see your side profile as you tilt your head back, the lines of your nose and jaw and your neck bobbing up and down as you drink. He catches himself and looks away, pouring out almost an entire glass of wine and draining it, then pouring another. You grimace as you finish your own glass but pour another too, ignoring how he laughs at your expression.

"So, what's the problem this time?" You ask him, tilting your head, and Chuuya lets the dam burst.

He rants and raves, voice rising and falling as he gestures wildly. Somewhere along the line he loses his hat and throws his coat over the back of the couch, as well as gets through an inadvisable amount of wine. All the while out of the corner of his eye he can see you, head on your knees, watching him and drinking steadily.

"And I- I- ugh! It's so annoying, why in the hell am I the one in charge of the new recruits!" He groans, draining his glass and putting it on the table.

You smile, kindly, putting a hand on his elbow that snaps him out of it.

"Because you train them best, and you know that. Kouyou and Akutagawa scare them half to death." Your expression is so warm, and you're suddenly way closer to him than he realised before.

"Hey! I..." he laughs, brushing the comment off but putting his hand on yours. "I can be scary too!"

"Terrifying," you agree. "But not right now." There's alcohol in the air between you, and your lips glisten.

He can only stare, his hand shaking a little, eyes flitting over your face. He lens in just a fraction, then a fraction more, barely aware of his movement. Your mouth parts so invitingly, eyes closing a little, breaths fanning across his lips.

Chuuya lunges forward, his hand tightening on yours as he kisses you at long last. You squeak in surprise but your spare hand flies into his hair for purchase, and you don't refuse him. He pulls away after a second, licking his lips, his entire face bright red. You're looking at him with wide eyes, but it barely lasts an instant before he feels a tug on his hair and your warm mouth is on his again, and his hands are grabbing your shoulders and arms, trying to pull you as close as he can.

You're so warm, so close, moaning his name into his mouth as your hands grab the front of his shirt, keeping him locked in the kiss. His lips buzz from the alcohol, his mind reeling from the sudden turn of events. Experimentally, Chuuya's hands ghost over your back and come to rest on your thighs, giving them a squeeze.

"Chuuya I- I..." you trail off, unsure of what to say.

"You want this?" He asks just to make sure, to convince himself this isn't a dream, stroking your cheek. He really hopes you'll say yes. He wouldn't know how to live if you said no.

"Yes," you gasp, nodding. Your hands cling to him a little tighter. "Yes Chuuya, god it doesn't even feel real."

He laughs at that, stroking the nape of your neck. "Don't worry, it's real."

You kiss him through his laughter, cupping his face and shifting forward so you can straddle him properly. He groans, hips twitching up involuntarily and brushing against your heat....It feels divine.

"Fuck," Chuuya groans, breaking the kiss to let his head fall back. "Doll, you're so fucking hot." The way you cast your eyes down is adorable, and he can't help but grab your chin to pull you upright. "Don't. Don't do that, I've wanted to see you like this for too long."

"Chuuya, I-" you swallow, eyes wide. "Please."

He groans, guiding you into another desperate kiss, his fingers fumbling at the waistband of your jeans. The way you wriggle your hips to help him slide the fabric off makes him shudder, heart skipping a beat. One of your hands is on his chest, working his shirt open and exploring the heated skin beneath, sending sparks of heat down his spine. Chuuya pulls your hips down, grinding desperately against you, feeling the shadow of your pussy through his clothes.

"Not gonna make you wait any longer, okay baby?

You mouth at his neck, teasing the edge of his choker with your tongue as one of your hands tries to undo his pants. It tangles with his in the process, making both of you laugh drunkenly even as Chuuya finally manages to pull himself free. He's already fully hard, eager, only pulling your underwear aside before sinking into your hot, wet cunt. It's a tight fit but the alcohol loosens your bodies and you groan as you let yourself fall into his lap, deliciously full.

Your little gasps are intoxicating, especially mixed with the velvety squeeze of your walls and the way you curl into his chest. The redhead grabs your hips tight enough to bruise, willing himself to last a little longer than this, only daring to rock back and forth slightly. It hits him that you want this, really want this, that it's your perfect cunt wrapped around him, pulsing and fluttering before he's even had the time to move, trying to suck him in further. He moans, resting his head on yours as another twitch nearly milks the orgasm right out of him.

"Chuu..." you trail off with a breathy sigh, drawing little circles with your hips to feel him shift inside you. "You feel so good... please?"

"Please what, doll? Need my help? Need me to fuck you?"

You nod, looking up at him with glassy eyes. Both of you are a mess, breathing heavily and unconsciously rocking against each other. Chuuya's grip on you is strong and it tightens even more when you look at him so pleadingly. One of his hands finds your clit and toys with it, making your eyes roll back and ripping a broken cry from your throat. He begins to move then, bouncing you effortlessly in his lap as you try to contribute with your shaky legs, still stroking the little bundle of nerves.

Neither of you last long, trembling as your skin smacks together, pace faltering every so often or going out of sync. Chuuya loses himself in you, working furiously at your sex until you give up and go limp, unable to keep up with his pace. He's not bothering to keep quiet, gorgeous whines and moans filling the room as his head falls back. You've been reduced to little more than a doll, whimpering his name over and over, your voice almost a sob. Your head is still fuzzy in the best of ways, joints loose, every touch permeating your entire body as you cling to him. He's still speaking, huffing out words of praise and encouragement even as his hands grip you tighter, dick twitching and on the verge of spilling into you.

"Chuuya, Chuuya..." you moan, mouthing at his neck, and it sends him over the edge in one go. Chuuya clings to you, pumping into you one last time before staying as deep as he can, painting your walls white.

You gasp in surprise as the warmth spreads through you and cum as well, digging your hands into his shoulders and bucking forward. Your world narrows down to him, the smell of sweat and cologne, his silky hair brushing against your face. Chuuya whines as you tighten even more, squeezing every last drop out of him even as your high recedes and you slump in his arms.

"So pretty..." he whispers shakily, hugging your waist and stroking your back, "so good for me, love."

"I don't wanna move," you giggle, warm lips covering his jaw in kisses. Your movements are sluggish, content, your whole body warm and satisfied.

"I'll stay over then."

Taglist: @miloofc, @gettinshiggywithit

[toastingpencils37]

Just a collection of various Ninjargon translations from DR S1E1 so I can keep them all in one place.

Also, just a warning, some of the shots on this post have pretty bad quality so that you can't see what's on the signs, but I'm using a different screen for the actual translations that I can't really just screenshot.

The wall painting right below the garage thing:

Fresh Fo-

I'm assuming the "Fo-" part is supposed to have a "od" after it, spelling out Food, given the Fresh.

And then the banner thing to the right of Sora:

J4- PK-

Less likely real words, given the letter placement and the numbers. So probably either some sort of store advertisement/sign or just some random tag sign of some graffiti artist.

(Had to get two shots of these signs in order to be able to translate everything in the second shot)

The Green sign with the Dragon on the building:

Dragon House

The orange sign with the bowl right next to it:

Fresh

Again, likely food. Especially since right below it there's a menu

The menu below the orange sign:

Specials Fish.......Fcs Soup.........vfd Chicken........Yjr Noodles........Fcs

There may be some mistranslations with some of the red letters on the menu, as they were hard to figure out.

The string banner below the Specials menu:

68392047

Yeah I have no idea what that means. Because I don't think it's a set number of sorts because a) too long for a regular set and b) i don't think there was a polybag thing for this either, even like a LEGO City one.

Also, this menu and string banner appear at least four more times in the episode, with the string banner sometimes being blue rather than red.

For this shot I'm actually just going to translate the neon pink sign, because I can't get enough focus on the smaller things such as the papers taped up to tell what I'm looking at.

Also the cut off large blue "S" in the planter is part of a much larger sign that appears earlier, spelling "Crossroads"

Neon pink sign:

Forward

Only translating the white paper in this shot, which have some pretty bad handwriting (and i'm pretty sure a couple of the letters might be actual English or just nonexistent Ninjargon letters as well)

White paper:

**a*** am*fg mf** a*** fhl 5****

I was going to translate the blue paper as well, but one close look at it, I decided it's not worth it and that I don't have enough brain power for this shit.

The Specials chalkboard and the blue string banner right next to the green fish sign says exactly the same thing as the previous Specials sign and string banner, so I'm not translating that.

Purple vertical lamppost sign with an arrow pointed to the right:

Somewhere

Thank you street sign that really cleared things up /s

The blue sign:

2828

Probably supposed to be an address sign, but like many of the signs around the Crossroads, it pops up multiple times on different buildings. So who truly knows.

The box shown between Arin and Sora:

It appears to be flipped upside down, so if flipped the right way, it should spell:

Kgbdy

Also translating the poster because it surprisingly has some interesting stuff:

Mechmaster Mechma Reward Track Pie

The second line is cut off on the poster design itself, so that "Mechma" is the whole thing it says. Also not sure if the pie is something actually involved as a reward for winning the race, or if the people on the actual Ninjago team making the poster just decided to put it on for another reason, possibly even foreshadowing of what'll happen in the next scene.

Sign of cat:

Deals

This sign also pops up quite a bit in this episode.

The orange sign right behind Sora:

Sale

I noticed it appear once more towards the end of the race as well.

Sora's Mech:

SA-Mark

Orange sign above Frohicky:

Mec- Mast-

Obviously it's supposed to spell out "Mech Master" but it's cut off

Yellow letters below the black screen above Frohicky:

Register

The front of the mech:

Fast

The arm:

So

There's also a brown mech shown earlier that appears to have this also written on it, but another mech in front of it cuts it off so you can only see the "Fa" and the dash part of the "S"

Kreel's Mech:

Speed

The blue, black, and yellow graffiti:

Htja

The orange/brown shop sign to the left of Riyu:

It's the same as the one behind Sora, but now we can see that below the "Sale", there is also some Ninjargon.

So the full translation is:

Sale 98

Then the yellow sign with the red dragon to the right of Riyu:

Great deals

The graffiti with the fish:

Pux4

Of the graffiti, this tag makes the most sense word wise.

This same graffiti also popped up earlier on the race track, but I couldn't make out some of the letters there, so I put this one with the more clear letters instead.

Also, I think the "x" is an "x". Only letter that really seems to fit that shape.

Graffiti with shuriken star:

Dfg

Graffiti with hamburger:

Tddhfj

However it appears to be mirrored so it should actually spell:

Jfhddt

And then the little piece of graffiti in the bottom left corner:

....cy

Which is all we see of the graffiti there.

So, that's it for translating stuff from episode 1. And yeah, for quite a bit of the stuff, it's just gibberish.

[tiedyeflannels]

BTS Headcanon || The Members Playing Loteria

OT7 x reader

Word count: 1k

Masterlist

A/N: Hey! I just wanted to write a little blurb while I'm working on the next installment of Blind Date(s)! @maple-leaves-in-the-wind and I came up with this and it was super fun to think about how they would be if they played loteria.

For those who don't know loteria, here's a quick run-down: It's basically bingo, but with betting. You have a set amount (usually a few cents) that you pay per "bingo" card (you can have multiple cards) and you pile the money in the middle. You, then, have someone calling the cards (numbers in bingo) and you win by filling a row either vertically, horizontally, or diagonally and get the money from the middle. Basic bingo rules. At the very end of the game, there is one last round where you pay a good amount of money for each card. The higher the amount, the bigger the pot, the higher the stakes. You win the final pot by filling out the ENTIRE card (think blackout bingo).

Playing loteria with the members would best be described in one word…

CHAOTIC

If RUN BTS has taught us anything, it’s that they are competitive

I’m talking shouting

Blaming

Demanding recounts (looking through each card that was called)

Demanding their money back if they think that the person who’s always winning every round (most likely you) is cheating

The WHOLE nine yards

And speaking of money…

Broke millionaires

When you said that everyone would be buying a card at 25 cents a pop, they immediately start running around whoever’s house (or the shared dorm) that you’re playing at and digging in between the couch cushions for change

Though you had told them about this game DAYS in advance

“Spare change? Spare change, ma’am?”

And don’t even get me started on how much is going into the final pot

Someone Tae suggests that they should pay 5 bucks a card and everyone becomes DEFENSIVE

Get ready for some arguments to break out

"Alright, should we do one final round before we call it a night,” I asked, looking around the table, slightly chuckling at some of the members' hair.

It was mainly the maknae line that had their hair sticking in every direction from the amount of times they had run their hands through it. I collected the cards from near the middle of the table so I could shuffle them as Namjoon pushed the pot money over to me.

Everyone nodded at the question.

“Alright! How much should we pay per card,” I asked as I shuffled the deck.

Taehyung was quick to answer, “5 bucks!”

Everyone’s head shot up at the suggestion while Jungkook, Jimin and Hobi abruptly stood up, almost knocking over their chairs.

"Absolutely not!” “That is too much money!”

I giggled as Jimin and Tae started to bicker and the others sat back down.

“5 bucks? Do you know how many ramen packs I can get with that,” Jungkook argued.

“I’m gonna have to side with Jungkook on this one. I don’t want to pull from my retirement fund yet,” Yoongi said, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“Yeah we don’t want to do that, he’s gonna need it soon,” Jin chimed in.

Yoongi threw a glare at him, “You’re older than me, you know that?”

I bursted out laughing at the disgusted face Jin made before Namjoon started telling us to calm down.

We looked over to him as he stated a proposal, “How about we do 2 dollars a card?”

“I’m down,” I said, taking out 2 dollars from my wallet.

Everyone followed my lead and started to dig around for their wallets before pulling out the amount they were going to pay. I put my two dollars in the middle of the table and got rid of my other two cards, leaving me with the one. I looked around as everyone was sorting their things and stopped at Jungkook.

“I only have a 5 dollar bill,” he said with a pout.

“Do you want 3 cards because I can give you a dollar or if you don’t, just take the change from the pile,”I offered.

He nodded, placing the five in the middle, “I’ll take three cards!” I nodded and pulled out another dollar from my wallet, throwing it in the middle.

Looking around, Hobi, Jimin and Tae had two cards, Jungkook had three, and Namjoon, Yoongi, Jin and I had one which made the grand total: 26 dollars.

“Alright, are we ready,” I asked as everyone nodded. I was about to call a card, but Hobi stopped me.

“Wait, can someone else call the cards?”

I looked at him, confused, “Why?”

“Because you’re the only one that’s been calling cards and you’ve won almost every round.”

“That’s because no one wants to call the cards, but if it makes you feel better… I’ll let you shuffle,” I said, moving to hand him the cards, “And Namjoon can call out the cards, okay?”

I looked over to Namjoon for confirmation as Hobi started to shuffle the deck, he nodded. Once Hobi was done shuffling he handed them over to Namjoon, who started to call out the cards.

It had been a while and no one had cleared their entire card yet, so I looked over and saw that Namjoon had already gone through half of the deck.

“How has no one won yet,” I asked, looking down at my car, that only needed a few more spots to be filled and then looked around.

“I don’t know, but I only need a couple more to win,” Jimin spoke up and the other nodded in agreement.

A few more cards were laid down and the tension was building. Everyone was on the edge of their seats as Namjoon started to near the end of the deck until…

“Buenas!” I cheered as I covered the last spot I needed to completely fill out my card. The guys groaned and fell back into their chairs as I happily collected the money.

“That’s not fair,” Tae groaned.

I laughed, “That’s how it goes.”

I grabbed my wallet and got up, “Well I’m hungry, so I’m gonna go to the convenience store.”

Jungkook and Tae shot up, following me immediately.

“Can you get us something,” Jungkook asked as they both looked at me with puppy dog eyes.

I squinted before sighing, “Fine.”

I was about to step through the door, but stopped and looked at the others, “Are you guys gonna come too?”

They all got up and followed me to the door. I sighed again as we started to walk to the convenience store.

“I’m only getting you ramen, okay?”

“Yay," they all cheered.

[hermitscratch]

7 or 16 - Bdubs/Joel?

Send me a pairing + a number! || Accepting

16. A kiss while someone watches, Bdubs/Joel, 849 words

Honestly, Bdubs saw this coming ages ago.

Since Double Life, in fact. He'd have to be blind, deaf, and stupid not to notice the way Etho and Joel clicked. Like two halves of the same whole that had Bdubs wondering, not for the first time, if the game knew something they didn't. Bdubs hadn't been surprised when Etho came to him two sessions in to say that being with Joel felt Good. The kind of capital-letter-warranting feeling that Etho used to describe how he felt with people like Doc, like Beef, like Bdubs. Bdubs was sure at that point that Etho was in love. He was just as sure that, in time, he'd love Joel as well.

A lot had happened since then. Limited Life, the Rift debacle, The Decked Out 2 invitations, Secret Life. Season Nine had ended. When Season Ten began, Joel was there, and he took to being a Hermit like sparks to dry kindling, getting happily caught up in the whirlwind of early-game adventures.

Joel always seemed busy. Never too busy to indulge a conversation with any passersby who grabbed his attention, never too busy to pay calls and visits to his wife, and certainly never too busy to build- but busy enough that by the time he showed up on Bdubs' doorstep, Bdubs hadn't seen him since the season introduction.

It was nice, having Joel to himself for a while. They chatted, they caught up, they talked about their building plans as Bdubs toured Joel around his house and the space he'd cleared for future projects. Joel was a great rubber duck, taking all Bdubs' ideas and bouncing them back a little to the left, helping him see what could change for the better. Using the tree as a living indicator of the passage of time? Genius.

Bdubs tried to be the same, when it came time to tour Joel's base, but what could he add to perfection? His builds had so much visual interest, each decorated sign and hanging banner significant to the image as a whole. It felt like a part of a city, chiseled right out of the mountainside, and Bdubs was incredibly impressed. Verticality, especially, was a tough thing to work with.

They were on their way through the shopping district when Joel stopped. Bdubs walked a few paces ahead before he noticed, and stopped as well to let Joel catch up. The next time it happened, Bdubs paused with him. "You alright?"

Joel seemed to stare at the corner of the building they'd just passed. "Fine," He said, turning back around and gesturing with a nod for them to keep moving. As they did, Joel continued, "Any ideas why your boyfriends are following us?"

"What?" Immediately, Bdubs tried to backtrack to the corner Joel had been staring at, but Joel grabbed him by the arm.

"Shh! Bloody- don't make a scene of it. Etho's lurking behind the building," Joel nodded towards the shade behind the oddly tall pop-up shop, "And Impulse is going from roof to roof."

Bdubs had known for a long time that he was going to love Joel some day.

He just... didn't expect it to start here, with enchanting eyes glinting mischievously and a smile that made compelling promises as Joel said, "We should mess with 'em."

Bdubs' throat dried. Now wasn't the time to be looking at Joel's mouth. "Yeah, uh-huh," He said with a nervous-excited chuckle, "They've got it coming! Wh-what do they think they're doing, spyin' on us!"

Joel giggled back, and the sound made Bdubs' heart do these funny little flips that he hadn't felt since he and Impulse were bound in Double Life, "Gotta make it convincing," Joel warned.

Oh. Joel's lips were soft.

Softer than Bdubs would have expected from a man who bit them while he thought. Warm, as well, and Bdubs' awareness narrowed to that point of contact. It was tame, as far as kisses went. Joel wasn't much for tame, and possessed by resentment that Joel might be doing something stupid like holding back, Bdubs grabbed Joel by the folds of his kimono and pulled him closer, kissed him harder.

They broke apart with a gasp only after hearing the sound of Impulse falling from his rooftop perch.

For a moment, there was nothing. They both stared at where Impulse had been, then to the dissipating smoke of his lost life, his items scattered haphazardly around the area. They looked at each other, kiss-drunk and surprised, like they'd forgotten that this started as a way to get back at Etho and Impulse for stalking them through the shopping district. Like they'd forgotten that they're very much still in the, very public, shopping district. Admittedly, Bdubs might have forgotten his own name if they'd kept up like that for much longer.

They laughed.

"That's enough of that," Joel finally said, "We should get Impulse's stuff put away, before it despawns on 'im."

Bdubs nodded his agreement, already in the process of crafting a chest. "And what happens then?"

"After that," Joel had that mischievous flicker in his eyes again, "I think you and I've got a lot to talk about."