#15 Broad Street

[princesscallyie]

Me: Yes, I don’t work at grocery store any more so people can’t bug me to get them stuff 10 minutes before my shift ends!

My older sister and lil brother almost simultaneously 15 minutes before I leave:

[indieyuugure]

Indie Comics Master Post

Rise of the Parallel

A crossover fan-fiction graphic novel starring the 8 ninja turtles from TMNT 2012 and Rise of the TMNT.

Follow their multi-dimensional adventure as the turtles once again take on the Krang. The fate of the world rests on the boys’ shoulders while they fight to take down the Krangs’ plots of world domination, can they take the pressure? No one said being a hero was easy, but they’re not alone!

The Mutation Situation

A fan fiction graphic novel taking place during the second season of TMNT 2012

During a late-night run in with The Foot Clan, the turtles get injected with a mysterious mutagenic chemical made by the one and only Baxter Stockman, that has the unexpected effect of turning them into humans. At first, everything seems like a dream come true, being able to walk the streets in broad daylight, doing everything they’ve never been able to do before. That is until Donnie begins falling extremely ill from the chemical that changed them into their human forms. The boys must race against the clock to save their brother before it’s too late, but with their new vulnerability, The Shredder won’t make that an easy task.

Indie TMNT #1

An original version of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles written and illustrated by Indie Y (me)

Follow Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo as they discover their mysterious past, make unexpected friends, and battle dangerous enemies. From ancient ninjas to futuristic aliens, their world has an adventure around every turn!

Want to help support me and get the latest in concept art and comics? Support me on locals.com!

Merch Store:

(For the next month, you can use the code TMSSAVE5 to get 5$ off a set of posters! Posters are normally $15 but with the coupon they’re only 10!)

Wanna talk with other TMNT fans and have some fun? Here’s my Discord Server:

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More comics to come…

Updates are Every Saturday! Please enjoy! :]

[smileysuh]

- JEON WONWOO

works. 22 I words. 211.8k

solo works. 7 works featuring other members. 15

Nerd - Wonwoo

💙 preview. Look up at me for a moment, gorgeous,” Wonwoo commands, and you do as you’re told. He meets your gaze, his skin flushed from your mouth suctioning on his cock. “Just need to get your eyes right for your character,” he explains, threading his fingers through your hair and aiding you up and down on his throbbing length. “Such pretty eyes. You look so good staring up at me with your mouth stuffed full, baby.”

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, use of dragon knotted dildo toy, use of vibrator, multiple reader orgasms, blow job, dirty talk, slight power play/humiliation, clit sucking, overstimulation, pussy stretching, reader rides the toy then Wonwoo uses the toy to make her cum again, talking reader through it, mutual masturbation, Wonwoo strokes himself off to the reader using her toys, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby. (Wonwoo’s) puppy

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.9k I gamer au

After The Seminar - Wonwoo

💙 preview. In truth, Wonwoo has been tired. You haven’t fucked since the first night of the seminar, and although that was only two days ago, you’re definitely feeling the loss. On top of that, being wined and dined and looked after always makes you hornier than usual, and Wonwoo has been extra ‘husband’ today. He’s just so perfect. Well-mannered, kind, educated- God, you want him so bad.

tw/cw. sugar daddy Wonwoo, gentleman in the streets/softdom in the sheets, reader doesn't want to make choices, daddy/control kink, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral, blow job, deep throating, dirty talk, praise, masturbation, unprotected sex, holding hands while fucking, implied breeding/fullness kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) honey. (his) daddy.

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 6.3k I sugar daddy au

Twisted Fate - Wonwoo

💙 preview. “He deserved it,” Wonwoo assures you, reaching out to grab you by the back of the neck, pulling you closer. He’s covered in blood, and he looks like a sexy, wild monster. But he’s your monster, and you can’t help but react, leaning in- “Jesus Christ,” you hear Jeonghan breathe, turning to give you and Wonwoo privacy while he presses his lips against yours hungrily. At first, you can try to ignore the wet liquid on your fingertips as you grab at his strong shoulders, but you can’t ignore the taste on his tongue. Your body goes rigid and Wonwoo pulls back with a sigh, resting his forehead against yours. It’s an oddly peaceful moment amongst the chaos.

tw/cw. murder/blood, dickhead vampire wonwoo, yandere subthemes, kidnapping?, biting, blood play, throat grabbing, manhandling, begging, controlling!wonwoo, praise, dirty talk, fingering, mean dom Wonwoo, multiple reader orgasms, finger-licking, choking, unprotected sex, big dick Wonwoo, size kink, slight dacryphilia, gentle spanking, dumbification, begging, hair pulling, etc… I pet names: (hers) darling, brat, pet, etc.

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 14.3k I vampire au

Rogue - Wonwoo

💙 preview. “Lay back,” he instructs next. “I’m going to take your panties off.” Your heart races in your chest as you realize what he’s about to do, and you fall onto your elbows on the hood of his car, breathing heavily as Wonwoo leans down and begins to press kisses up your bare legs. His fingers hook in your panties, and he drags them down, exposing your hot core to the cool evening air. You can’t help the gasp that leaves you, and as Wonwoo positions your thighs over his broad shoulders, you think you might actually faint from the tension.

tw/cw. protected sex,pussy eating, blow job, deep throating, swallowing, oral (f/m receiving), exhibitionism (sex at a lover's lookout on the hood of his car), multiple sex scenes, Wonwoo's broad shoulders #confirmed, teasing through panties, hair pulling, breast worship, mutual orgasm, night terrors, mentions of a bad past, cuddling, etc… I pet names: (hers) angel.

💎 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 15.5k I collab. 70's collab

When You Gave Me Your Name - Wonwoo

💙 synopsis. he’s a fae that lives forever, and you're his mortal soulmate, created to tantalize him, over and over again

cw/ tw.  body worship, oral (m/f receiving), fingering, lots of foreplay, praise, petnames, multiple positions, unprotected sex, etc…

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 5.2k I fae king au

Players - Wonwoo

💙 synopsis. When Wonwoo’s group of streamers started interacting with another team, Wonwoo never expected to meet his match with a gamer by the name of FaeDaddy. Competitive to a fault, the two clash heads as Fae gets more engrained with the group. She’s used to being ‘Daddy’ and having an army of simps behind her, but what happens when she decides it might be fun to tease the only guy who hasn’t wanted to simp for her.

cw/ tw. switchblade play, use of toys/vibrators, pet names, daddy, sir, power dynamics, power bottom/brat oc, spanking, degradation and mean pet names but it’s Wonwoo, unprotected sex, choking, 69-ing, oral (f/m receiving) size kink, man handling, a lot of pushing oc into the bed with his entire body, mean wonwoo, phone sex, sex in public, marking, quickies, multiple sex scenes, etc…

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 19.7k I gamer au

Good & Bad - Wonwoo I ft. Mingyu

💙 preview. “My new therapist says it’s healthy behavior to let Wonwoo do what he wants to do ever so often,” you explain, watching Wonwoo beat Seungcheol at the arm wrestling and proceed to down two shots in celebration. “I’m not sure how she can think him coming to frats, getting drunk, and getting into pissing contests is healthy, but hey, it’s not my job to counsel power holders.”

cw/ tw. Threesome, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, dry humping, horny!gyu, dom!wonwoo, Wonwoo tells virgin!Gyu what to do, hand job, Wonwoo using his power to help y/n ride Mingyu, manhandling, size kink, groping, nipple pinching, praise, degradation, voyeurism, pussy stretching, cream pie, multiple reader orgasms, etc… I pet names: (hers) gorgeous & baby.

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 8.8k I superhero au

Crossroads - Wonwoo I ft. Mingyu

💙 preview. If one neighbour is a Doberman, then the other is a Golden Retriever. They’re like night and day, and yet, you’re drawn to both, as if some gravitational or celestial power is pulling you to them… it also helps that they both have motorcycles. How had it been so easy to ghost Wonwoo in the past, only to find yourself at a crossroads with his roommate seven months later?

cw/ tw. Threesome, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, big dick Mingyu, creampie, oral (f/m receiving), blow job, deep throating, hand job, Eiffel tower/spit roasting, breast worship, nipple pinching, nipple licking, panty kink, eating pussy through panties, fingering, squirting, pussy stretching, praise, dirty talk, ‘sir’, dom!Wonwoo, switch!mingyu, blindfold/sensory deprivation, voyeurism, listening to your neighbour have sex, masturbation, reader reads erotica, mutual masturbation, slight dacryphilia, blindfold/sensory deprivation, inklings of humiliation, etc… I pet names: (hers) angel, baby. (Mingyu’s) gyu. (Wonwoo’s) sir. 

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 19.8k I motorcycle au

Penance - Wonwoo I ft. Mingyu & 95 line

💙 preview. You’re hyper-aware of the fact that all four of your lovers are just outside the confessional, that they’re listening in- it’s making your mouth dry, your palms becoming sweaty as you rub them against your dress. “When you last confessed, you mentioned greed and lust as your sins. Would you care to elaborate more on that?” The priest asks. “Maybe it will be easier, now that you’re amongst… friends.”

cw/ tw. unprotected sex, orgies, 3some, 4some, 6some, creampies/filling kink, cum play, dirty talk, praise, degradation, fucking in weird places (a tank & church & outside & bathrooms), multiple sex scenes, choking, rough handling, manhandling, blow jobs, deep throating, oral, squirting, anal, double penetration, triple penetration, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, overstimulation, possessiveness, sir kink, powerplay, free use subthemes, getting horny during confession, sins: lust/greed, fingering, sex as punishment/penance, jealousy, dubious consent/inclusion of a new person, spit-roasting/Eiffel tower, finger sucking, spanking, spitting, etc... I pet names: (hers) baby, beautiful princess, kitten, whore/slut, good girl, dirty girl, etc. (cheol's) sir. (gyu's) puppy. (others) etc...

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 21.2k I zombie au

This Dream - Wonwoo I ft. Mingyu

💙 preview.“now I see the problem.” wonwoo’s voice makes you groan in annoyance, and you tangle your fingers in mingyu’s hair, dragging his lips to your own in an effort to block out whatever the incubus is about to say- “you’re a sex demon with a thing for love... that’s why you ran from me, isn’t it?” 

cw/ tw. angst, mention of death by drowning, dark/yandere content, dream sex & dubious consent, vouyerism, dirty talk, dream exhibitionism, 3some, praise, unprotected sex, etc... 

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I incubus au

Clowns - Wonwoo I ft. 95 line & Mingyu

💙 preview. you’re a sad, blue, crazy, tulle’d clown - corset and all - riding one of the most beautiful men you know, on the hood of his best friend’s car, exposed to the cool night air, under the full moon on a Halloween night while four more men watch... what could be better than this? 

cw/ tw. dark content, group sex, 6some, orgy, degradation, praise, manhandling, size kink, dirty talk, oral (f/m receiving), dacryphilia, deep throating, protected sex, fingering, squirting, parking lot exhibitionism, voyeurism, marking, horror/clowns, choking, dumbification, etc...  I pet names. squeak (50), silly/sad/stupid/messy/little clown (19+), daddy (6), etc...

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 13.3k

Celebrated - Wonwoo I ft. Mingyu

💙 synopsis.  after a long week working overseas, mingyu calls you and wonwoo to make sure you still miss him. And, because he’s the ‘breadwinner’ of the day, supposedly- he’s going to get to call more of the shots ;)

cw/ tw. 3some, phone sex, voyeurism, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, power play, sir (1), multiple orgasms, praise, masturbation, unprotected sex, etc…

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.9k

Hazed - Wonwoo I ft. Mingyu

💙 synopsis. tensions have been high for a while, but an edible becomes the catalyst to a trio’d ascension to cloud 9, being a little hazy has never felt so good

cw/ tw. size kink, alcohol/weed consumption, man handling, dirty talk, switch!Mingyu, dom!Wonwoo, oral (f/m receiving), slight choking, face grinding, fingering, overstim, etc…

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 4k

Rules - Wonwoo I ft. Mingyu

💙 synopsis.  Morning sex with Mingyu is always really amazing- but it comes with rules. 

cw/ tw. unprotected sex, 69-ing, oral (f receiving), fingering, anal/butt plug play, dom Wonwoo, switch Mingyu, praise, degradation, lots of pet names (princess, angel, baby, slut, etc…), bdsm type rules, etc…

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 6.4k

Besties - Wonwoo I ft. Mingyu

💙 synopsis. Your best friend drags you to a frat party despite your budding relationship with a man named Mingyu, and your best friend even convinces you to let loose, after all, you might not be single for much longer… however when he tells you to let your freak flag fly and kiss randoms- neither of you can foresee the massive blunder you make when ‘some random’ ends up being the best friend of your new ‘boyfriend not boyfriend’.

cw/ tw. dirty dancing, suggestions of infidelity that are unwarranted, crack shenanigans/debauchery, teasing, pet names, propositioning, sexual tension, tsundere/strangers to enemies to lovers! Wonwoo, exhibitionism, dirty talk, threesome, simp Mingyu, Hard Dom Wonwoo, spitting, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, dumbification, etc…

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 15.2k I frat au

A Break - Wonwoo I ft. Mingyu

💙 synopsis.You and Mingyu live a perfect life. He’s an idol by day, and a doting husband by night, who showers your new baby with adoration. Life is easy- but when Mingyu starts paying more attention, he realizes why things are so easy: because it’s not just the two of you raising your baby, there’s a third person involved, and your baby has no concept of what differentiates a dad from a baby sitter.

cw/ tw. 3somes, dirty talk, oral (m/f receiving), deep throating, some body worship, spit roasting, unprotected sex, mentions of voyeuristic themes and public sex, man handling, size kink, etc...

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 15.6k

Class Project - Wonwoo I ft. Mingyu

💙 synopsis.You’re less than enthusiastic about being paired with notorious frat boys Mingyu and Wonwoo for a class project. They make it a point to change your opinion of them... by being the ultimate meanies. 

cw/ tw. Mean Dom Wonwoo, threesome, unprotected sex, oral (m/f receiving), hand jobs, fingering, spanking, choking, biting, thigh riding, marks, dirty talk, pet names, degradation, voyeurism, edging, making Mingyu read a class project while Wonwoo rails you, etc…

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.3k I frat au

Anteric - Wonwoo I ft. Mingyu

💙 preview. when you bump into the guy that ghosted you, your model best friend and roommate, Mingyu, steps up to be your fake boyfriend for the night... and when the asshole is hired at your workplace, your other roommate, twitch gamer Wonwoo, is roped into the charade too - “polyamory exists dude, get over it.”

cw/ tw. 3some, dom/gamer/alt Wonwoo, Switch Mingyu, choking, spanking, handcuffs, slight pain kink, toys, vibrator, fingering, oral (f receiving), squirting, some overstim, nipple play, finger sucking, sex without condoms, some degradation, shower sex, multiple rounds, marking, jealousy, size kink, etc... I pet names. kitten, lazy bones,etc...

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 16.6k I roommates au

Cuff 1 - Wonwoo I ft. Seungcheol & Vernon

💙 synopsis. You and Vernon have been together forever, and your relationship is almost perfect… but it’s missing something. When the young member mentions wanting to spice things up a bit in the bedroom, his hyungs Wonwoo and Seungcheol are more than happy to give you and Vernon some in-person lessons. aka: You and Vernon want to try bdsm, S.coups and Wonwoo help.

cw/ tw. vouyerism, toys, vibrator, power dynamics, unprotected sex, Vernon’s the only one who gets his dick wet, etc...

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 4k

Cuff 2 - Wonwoo I ft. Hoshi & Vernon

💙 synopsis. You and Wonwoo have been together forever, and your relationship is almost perfect... but it’s missing something. When he, Hoshi and Vernon have the dorm to themselves one weekend, they find their way into Jeonghan’s *toy box* which hatches a plan for Hoshi to wiggle his way into you and Wonwoo’s sex life. aka: You and Wonwoo get propositioned by (mainly) Hoshi, and Vernon

cw/ tw. foursome, oral (m/f receiving), fingering, mentions of lots of sex toys, voyeurism, Dom! Wonwoo in charge, Vernon is pining, no actual penetration, oral spitroasting, sex on the dorm’s dinner table, food bribery for sex, mentions of Mingyu being a regular third in Wonwoo’s relationship, etc...

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3k

Night Out - Wonwoo I ft. Mingyu & Vernon

💙 synopsis. Vernon goes out for a night with Mingyu and Wonwoo to experience the ‘fun’ they always have. You go out to find a hot guy to take you home, you score threefold. 

cw/ tw. foursome (Orgy?), oral (f/m receiving), drinking, unprotected sex, Vouyerism, Wonwoo low key LOVES to watch, spit roasting, spanking, biting, deep throating, different sex positions?, i dunno, it was semi tame, petnames, dom!Wonwoo, switchy sub leaning Mingyu. 

💎 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 4.3k

✘ masterlist

[himezoro]

love wins all (a roronoa zoro story, part 2) (smut)

tysm for your support on part 1 !! this story means a lot to me, i've had a lot of vision to write it etc. it's not proofread, and it's written by a tired lawyer who's been up for the past 15 hours because of a few cases. anyway, thanks for your support, and thank you for making my days so much more bearable. ilysm !! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

inspired by this song!!

@sanjisprincesswifey i know you liked the first part, so i'm dedicated it to you (i hope it doesn't suck lmao)

warning!! : nsfw (minor DNI), gender (female), mention of (Y/N), slight angst ? angry sex/cheating involved.

.・゜゜・ 1 hour before ・゜゜・．

Zoro’s years of superhuman training were a benefit here. His body was moving on its own, as fast as he could, barely paying attention to the people he was bumping into with his broad shoulders. Just like a race horse, he had blinkers preventing him from seeing the rejoice faces of the villagers preparing for the reception, dancing to the musicians’ plays on the streets and basically creating a path to the palace where the festivities were to take place.

These poor people don’t know what they’re talking about.

While he made his way closer to the palace, his mind was too busy thinking about the last words you two shared rather than thinking of an infiltration strategy. From the way your plumped lips traced thousands of “I love you” to the harsh “I hate you” they uttered when he took off, from the laughters they shared to the silent cry they failed to conceal. From the lewd sounds they let escape when his cock thrusted into your wet cunt, to the sensual moans they purred onto his lips.

For a second he felt his heart sink, and a weird feeling to his stomach. Was it anxiety because he was about to enter a restricted area? Mad, that you forgot about him so easily? Jealous, that another man, and a ridiculous one he thought, got to spend the rest of his life by your side? Sick, that a man that is not him, was to touch you in ways only he could?

He couldn’t pinpoint the right word for what he was feeling, and he frankly did not care. His goal was set, and it was to enter that palace and get to you. How would he achieve that was apparently not an important matter to him, because he just barged in, breaking through the guards with undiscovered strength, not giving a damn about the consequences.

I’m sorry guys, we’ll have some mess to clean up before tasting the banquet.

His ears almost failed to hear the guards crying for help and threatening to call the Marines, as he climbed all the stairs he found at once, his heart knowing that at the top, they led to you.

And it did.

.・゜゜・3 minutes left・゜゜・．

Zoro was facing a long corridor with a large room down the hall. The doors were slightly opened, as if he was awaited all along. Even though he knew he probably was not the person you wished to see, he still felt like the small light peering through the doors was a way to your heart. Like there was hope.

His pace slowed as he approached your doors, and his hand lingered on the door before slowly pushing it open, his good eye widening at the sight he was bestowed with.

There you were, in all your glory, your back facing the door as you looked at yourself in the huge mirror standing in front of you, gently trying out earrings that would complement your hairstyle of the day. The white dress you were wearing hugged your curves perfectly. The corset on top carved the shape of your waist, only for it to enhance the curves of your ass. The silk material left little to the imagination, and he could stay watching forever. He swore he could smell your perfume from here, already enamoring him much more. He could see the glistening of your skin as the so-short sleeves of your dress lovingly fell off your shoulders.

You were a mythology goddess. A legend, only for him to see.

And he had a chance to conquer.

・゜゜・00・゜゜・．

« So I guess my invitation got lost in the mail? » you heard the hoarse voice speaking through the opened door of your quarters. You kept on looking at yourself in the magnificent mirror standing in front of you, looking at how the white dress hugged your form, pretending not to have heard the said voice, ignoring the immediate chills it sent down your spine. You knew who these words belonged to, and so did your racing heartbeat.

You slowly reached down to the table by your side to pick another pair of earing to try out, letting Zoro enter as you calmly and sternly responded.

“The only thing that appears to have lost itself here, is you.”

Zoro scoffed as he fully entered your quarters, closing the door behind him as he stands, looking at you intently. Gosh, you were even more beautiful than in his memories. The way your hair fell so beautifully around your face. He missed your comebacks, your confidence, the way your brain seemed to understand his better than anyone else, better than he knew his own.

He slowly walked behind you, so close that you could feel his hot breath tickling the nape of your neck. He only looked at you through the mirror in front of you, feeling like, at some point, this would help him keep his façade. He bore his poker and stern face while taking in your presence.

Gosh, how he wanted to pin you to that mirror and kiss you until your lips turn bloody red from how much he would bite them.

“Looking great here. Nice big ring too.” he said, the hot breath of his lips tickling your ear.

It was hard for you to ignore how fast your heart was beating, and the tension between the two of you. It was electric, deep, high. You hated the effect he had on you, how he would always manage to have you wrapped around his finger. How he could make you kneel in front of him, happily opening your mouth to welcome his hot length. How he could make you melt from the simplest of words.

How he could break your facade, break your heart and confidence under a minute.

Your eyes met through the mirror, and that’s when you noticed his new scar. It hurt, knowing that you did not have the opportunity to mend his wounds and see his progress.

“I can’t say the same for you.” You lied, breaking the eye contact by focusing on removing the earrings you had just put on.

Zoro laughed, never looking away. He agreed: beside you, he looked like a picturesque character. You were the epitome of beauty, an ethereal image. If he were Sanji, he would have probably died on the spot.

Your eyes met again.

“You could have told me you were getting married. I had the right to-“

“How dare you?” you cut him mid-sentence, turning around to face him. His new built caught you off guard, but you didn’t let that stop you from finally, cutting the air.

“Zoro you better not finish that sentence. You have no right whatsoever to know a thing about my life. Not after what you did.” You explained, clear annoyance and a hint of hurt in your voice.

“Oh, is that how it is? How it’s going to be, (Y/N)? Of course you should have told me ! How dare you not tell me?” Zoro responded, mad, stubborn, scratched. “You can’t just get married, with this creep, and believe that I don’t have MY say in this? Or are you stupid?!” he continued, not noticing he started yelling.

You slightly pushed him away to get behind him, clearly needing the space. And he was surprised he let you push him, following your movements, wondering what your dress would feel like under his touch. He stared at your dress, your bosom and the way the corset enhanced the roundness of your boobs.

He wanted to eat them out right now and tear this corset apart.

“Oh you’re the stupid one here! Zoro you cannot expect me to tell you a thing about my love life, or anything about my life for that matter, when you walked away, in the middle of the night, saying your dream was more important, right after making love to me, and leaving to the sea without as much as a note?!” you stated, yelling the last words.

“It was not the right time for us and you know it! Come on, don’t act like I forced my decision on you. You know it was the best choice.”

“I beg your pardon?” you asked, walking closer to him, closing the distance between the two of you to state your thoughts loud and clear. You shook your head, gathering your thoughts after Zoro’s unreasonable rambling.

“Let me ask you. What do you call someone leaving in the middle of the night, saying how his dream is more important than the night he just spent with who he called to be the love of his life, while the later cried her heart out? Do you call that a consensual decision? A mature talk? Enlighten me, Roronoa Zoro. Please, enlighten me.”

Zoro just dived into your eyes at your words. Enlighten me. The words echoed in his ears, and for a couple of seconds his brain just stopped working. Noticing his lack of response, you sighed, trying to walk past him to finally put your veil on.

But this time, he did not let you past him.

Zoro grabbed your hips and looked into your eyes before diving in and kiss you. The taste of his lips surprised you, they seemed more mature, but still as soft as they were that night. With Zoro invading your space, it was hard to think, hard to breathe, hard to resist breaking the tension lingering after all these years. Before he could slide his tongue pass your lips, you pulled back, looking at him with half-lidded eyes, whispering, afraid the universe might hear you;

“What are you doing?”

“Enlightening you.” he whispered with a smirk, his breath tickling your lips.

And these words were enough to send all senses of hurt, bitterness and ache to hell. You let him kiss you, putting your hands on his arms as he kept a firm grip on your hips. He kissed you hard, feral. His tongue parted your lips, twirling around yours as he let out a deep groan. He has been waiting for this for years, and feeling your lips respond to his sent him to heaven. He could not help but let his hands glide to your ass and give it a light squeeze, making you yelp. Your reaction made him laugh, a small, intimate laugh only you could hear.

You slowly pulled away to catch your breath, and he took the opportunity to tell you what he really meant to say before rambling the selfish nonsense he let out.

“Don’t marry him. Come with me.” He whispered, his lips meeting the side of your neck, using his tongue to tickle the soft spots he never forgot: your submaxillary triangle, your trapezius.

“What are you talking about?” you responded, still a little out of breath, and mostly, distracted by his shenanigans.

“You got me baby, loud and clear.”

The dress started to bother him, and he took the opportunity to tear the bottom to the side, creating a slit on your left leg, taking advantage of it to massage your thighs and groping your ass once more, with more force and determination. He tapped your ass, a small gesture to wrap your legs around his waist as he pinned you to the mirror.

And when your legs tightened around his waist, he knew your answer.

And so he did not waste any time anymore. He massaged your breasts through the corset of your white dress, admiring how your boobs threatened to escape only for him to lick at your buds, cupping them in between his large hands. Your hands fell into his mossy green hair, slightly pulling on the ends as his tongue danced around your clavicles.

Being the skillful swordsman he is, and having experience with his mouth and hands, his left hand went under your dress, thanks to the slit he made, so he could play with your clothed cunt, feeling its wetness forming. There are so much things he wished to say at that moment, but the way his erection irritated his pants kept him from uttering the slightest of word. And knowing him like the back of your hand, you let out a small laugh.

“Are your pants too small to contain your little friend here?”

“If you call it little then I really should jog your memory.”

With that, he pushed you against the cold mirror surface a little harder so he could unzip his pants, letting his length sprung free against the white silk.

“Be careful, you might tarnish it you idiot!”

“Like you and I care.” he proudly stated, sliding his hand under your dress and pushing his index into your cunt, while rubbing circle on your clit. He never took his eyes off you, appreciating every little of your reactions, bearing your face into his memory.

“Gosh, I missed the feeling of your pussy around my fingers, you know that right?” he desperately uttered, feeling his already hard cock getting harder. “Gosh (Y/N), I missed everything about you.” he added, pumping harder, adding another finger into your pussy, your moans getting louder and lewder.

“And I missed the feeling of your cock, Zo’..” you whimpered, a dark light sparkling in his eye as he heard your plea.

“Well you won’t miss it anymore sweatheart.” he said, removing his fingers out of your cunt and pushing up your dress some more, so he could set your white lace panty aside and slide into you.

“Hmmpf!” you whimpered in extasy, the simple feeling of his cock stretching your tight cunt already answering your needs. He waited for you to adjust and looked at you, his eyes pleading for consent. Once you nodded and gave him a soft, intimate smile, Zoro started pounding into you at a feral pace. His nails dug into your thighs and ass as he held you tight, pumping his thick cock into your warmth. You threw your head back on the cold mirror surface as you tried to keep some sense into you, tears forming in your eyes from how passionate your partner was.

“G-Gosh (Y/N), you’re still taking me so well… completely m-made for me..” Zoro managed to say, as he could feel your pussy tightening around his shaft. This felt so real, so much better than in his memories.

“Please k-keep going!” you plead, only for him to hold you tighter, spanking your ass in the process.

“I’ll k-keep only if you answer my question.” He said, slowing his thrusts, going excruciatingly slow, torturing the both of you.

But he needed to know.

“Are you coming with me to the sea?”

He stared into your eyes for as long as he could, trying to determine what went on in your head.

“Zoro..”

He thrusted hard into you, looking at you again.

“Answer me.”

He thrusted harder, his eye never leaving your beautiful face.

“I..”

He thrusted harder, so hard you swore you could feel it in your guts.

“(Y/N). You love me. I love you. Come with me.”

“Y-Yes for God’s sake I’ll c-come with you!” you cried, only for him to smile in pride and thrust into you without anything as a break. He felt ecstatic and tried his best hiding his smile into your neck, giving it sloppy kisses before giving you one more passionate kiss as you both came together, your dress a total mess, both your bodies a sweaty mess, but a loving one at best.

He looked at you and saw the smile he waited to see for so long. He gently put your legs to the ground as he looked through his pocket.

“Don’t tell me you’re looking for a condom now that we’re just done” you muttered, earning an eye-roll from the swordman.

“I’m looking for the ring I got you, dumbass.” he bluntly stated, pulling the ring out of his pocket before putting it in your hands.

“Let me take off this ugly ass ring so I can give you mine.” He said and you let him have his way, gently laughing at his usual stubbornness. He slid his ring on your finger with a prideful and loving look, trying to conceal his blush by looking away.

“So, what’s the plan now Zo?” you asked, gazing into his good eye with more love than you thought ever existed.

“There’s none. We’ve got all the time in the world.” he responded, kissing your left hand before he heard a familiar ruckus down the hall, curtesy of his captain.

“I promise you’ll get used to it.” he shyly said as he held your hand tight, definitely not letting go, love wins all, after all.

[mykneeshurt]

Envy

Shout out (again lmao) to @ave661 for the artwork (I’m sorry I tag you so much lmao)

Possessive Keegan x F!reader

Inspired by Bad Omens - Death of Peace of Mind

Not proofread because I’m legit so tired lmao I could have done more to this but my brain isn’t working x

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, possessive and jealous themes, p in v, unprotected sex, goes without saying but it’s the internet ini, this is fiction. This is not a healthy relationship.

•

The buzz of the bar hummed around you, strangers going about their business, wrapped up in their own little worlds. You sipped at your drink as you watched life unfold before you. Couples sharing intimate conversations, friends sharing stories, laughter. That’s when you noticed a pair of silvery blue eyes watching you from across the bar.

Keegan.

More specifically your ex-boyfriend Keegan.

Absolutely not wanting to get into it you finished your drink and made your way out of the bar. You could feel his eyes bore into you as you took your leave. Watching. Waiting.

It was an early autumn evening. Still warm but with a noticeable chill now in the air. Pulling out your phone your text your best friend, informing them that you’d seen Keegan at the bar and that you were making your way home. Going for a drink on your own wasn’t unusual for you. You did it quite often in fact, happy in your own company, watching the world go by. It gave you time to decompress, to think.

The taxi rank was about a 15 minute walk away, the streets weren’t too crowded, it being a Sunday after all. Everyone at home too full to move after their roast dinner. Various alley ways lined the streets, the first golden crisp leaves began to fall, the breeze encapsulated you in its warm embrace.

It was perfection. Your favourite season.

You allowed your mind to drift, forgetting all about seeing your ex-boyfriend. Entranced within your own world. And that’s when he pounced.

A firm broad body slams into you, pushing you full force into one of the alleyways. Before a shriek could even fall from your mouth a large hand muffled your mouth. Effectively silencing you. Your body hit the red brick wall with a dull thud. Dazed you eventually focused on your assailant, eyes widening as you were met with Keegans face.

His ashen eyes stared into your very soul, your essence. Your brows knitted together confused as you relaxed into his form. He’d never laid a hand on you, if anything he was sickly sweet, worshipping the ground you walked on. But he had a jealous side, one that he had managed to hide well. But the mask slipped, as it always did. He became possessive, envious of every interaction you had. He didn’t control or coerce you in anyway, but he’d always let you know what he was thinking. He wanted you all to himself. That’s when you ended it.

And by the looks he wasn’t getting over you any time soon.

Slowly he removed his hand, allowing your short sharp breaths to echo in the cramped alley. ‘Keegan?’ Your eyes fluttered around his features, trying to make sense of this … situation. ‘Hi sweetheart’ he drawled, his voice thick like caramel. Still breathless you whispered ‘what are you doing?’ He watched as your chest rose and fell, your lungs fighting against the adrenaline pumping through you.

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he caressed your cheek. ‘Just missed you is all. Saw you across the bar n needed to tell you.’ Scrunching your nose you scoffed ‘then just tell me like a normal person? Instead of pinning me in an alley way. Christ Keegan.’

‘Fuck, I love it when you’re angry.’ His eyes fell to your lips, watching as the corner of your mouth twitched.

Dropping his head he nuzzled into your neck, as he slipped his knee between your thighs. Slightly pushing your dress up against your skin. ‘Keegan’ you warned, your tone sharp and commanding. But that’s when he trailed his tongue from your neck to your earlobe, nipping at it gently. ‘Fuck you smell so good sweetheart’ you felt his voice rumble through his chest and onto yours. Your breath hitched in your throat as he pulled at your hip, his 6’1 frame towering over you.

‘Keegan …’ it was less of a warning and more of a plead, your breathless voice seeped into his skin spurring him on. ‘Missed the way you say my name sweetheart’ his grip on your hip tightened. Causing you inadvertently roll your hips into him, arching your back off the brick wall.

You brushed your cheek against his, his sharp jaw cut against your skin as you melted into him. With his other hand he snaked it up your body, along your neck and into your hair. Twisting it in his grasp. A surprised moan fell from you lips as he nipped your collarbone.

Peering over his shoulder you tried to scope out the street, to see if any passers by had clocked you. The street appeared empty, the off leaf tumbling by the entry way, the sky gradually darkening with every minute.

Giving in slightly you placed your hands on his arms, squeezing them gently. Heavy breaths fell in between the two of you. Nipping at your jaw he finally placed his lips on to yours, going against your better judgement you reciprocated the kiss. Lips dancing in unison as he swiped his tongue against yours. Sighing deeper into the kiss you tangled your fingers in his jet black hair, eliciting a hiss from him.

He placed his hand at the small of your back pulling you further into him. Breaking the kiss he trailed kissed from your lips to your neck again, knowing it was your sensitive spot. Using his free hand he cupped your jaw, dragging his thumb along your lips. You nipped and sucked on it gently, muffling the guttural moans from your chest. Thrusting his knee upwards closer to your cunt it grazed your swollen clit.

You jerked your hips, desperate to relieve the mounting pressure. Feeling you grind against his thigh he cupped your pussy, feeling how wet you were through your lace panties. ‘Always knew I could still make you wet baby, you want me to fill this cunt? Just like I used to? … hmmm?’ You knew this was so wrong, you ended it for a reason, but he always knew how to work your body. How to make you come undone with a mere touch.

‘Yes … fuck, yes’ you muttered.

With that he swept your panties to the side and plunged two fingers into your weeping cunt. Not giving you any time to adjust to his fingers he began pumping them in and out of you. Clenching onto the back of his neck you buried your face into his shoulder, biting at his muscular form. The sound of the wet pussy echoed in the alleyway as you desperately tried to stifle your moans. ‘Such a pretty little cunt. All those pretty sounds just for me. Only me’ his voice was possessive and deep.

You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, he was thick, it honestly surprised you every time. Dropping your hand you began rubbing his cock over his jeans, causing him to buck his hips slightly. With small gentle motions he began to circle your clit, adding to the pressure that was building in your core. He felt you clench against his fingers, ‘give it to me baby, wanna feel you cum … c’mon’ he cooed, his voice soft but demanding.

He kept his rhythm going, his moans melted into your ears as you rubbed his cock. He felt you clench tighter, throwing your head back your jaw fell slack as you started into to pant. Feeling yourself pass through the veil into an ocean of euphoria you clenched your eyes shut. Your hips writhed and jerked on his hand as his fingers remained inside you.

Tugging as his belt he soon got the message, removing his fingers he placed them on his tongue. Eyes rolling back into his head at your taste, a taste he missed to fervently. Yanking down his jeans and boxers his thick cock flung free. Wasting no time he hooked your thigh around his waist and pushed into you. Both gasping at the change in sensation as your walls hugged his cock. The evening air nipping at your exposed cores.

He placed his forehead against yours, biting his lip as he whimpered. Noses bumping together as he thrust into you, making up for lost time. ‘Missed the way you fuck, the way you taste’ he whispered against your lips. A grin broke out across your lips as you whined into him, reigniting a kiss. It was sloppy, messy and driven by his intense possessiveness of you. But fuck did he know how to work you, how to break you.

You muttered a string of nonsensical phrases under your breath as you savoured the feeling of him again. He stretched out your walls as the tip of his cock kissed your cervix, his fingertips clenched onto your thigh like a vice. Trying to steady himself but to pull you closer, despite there being no more room. Your arms draped around his neck, nails digging into his flesh as you let the intense pleasure consume you.

Feeling your oncoming orgasm grow deep with you, he gripped your jaw forcing you to look at him. ‘Fuck sweetheart, that’s it, cum on my cock’ he said drawling every last letter, every last syllable. You mouth fell open as heat rose against your skin, dropping a hand to your clit to push you past the edge. He quickly slapped a hand over your mouth as you came, stifling your moans, muffling his name. The vibrations of your sounds shattered through him, as he came seconds later. He bit down on his lip, hard. Quietly whimpering as he watched your blown out pupils search his face, for what he wasn’t sure.

He pulled out slowly, but not before pushing his cum back into your cunt. You jolted at the sudden intrusion before smirking to yourself. He kissed you again, but this time it was slower, tender. As he pulled away he ran his thumb across your lips ‘you’ll always be mine.’

————

Taglist - @taurus-ted @luminousbeings-crudematter

‘The way you fuck the way you taste’ I didn’t make this up, this is from the song. God bless you Noah Sebastiann

[dearheartdont]

Fic snippet, Charles backstory : "At least twice a year Charles and his mum packed their cases and caught a train to Birmingham to visit relatives, leaving his dad behind with a freezer full of carefully labelled Tupperware."

Note: Canon-typical mentions of abuse. Use of a racial term now understood as offensive.

Charles’ mum never tried to leave his dad. Not when he smashed her Ashe Bhosle records. Not when his dad used a belt on Charles for the first time. Not even when a neighbour called the police after hearing an argument through the walls (is it an argument if there’s only one voice shouting? His mum had learned to hold her tongue and at thirteen Charles knew how to brace for a blow). The WPC turned up at the door the day after, asked Charles’ mother questions in an even voice, and left alone after finishing the tea his Mum served on their best bone china.

But at least twice a year she and Charles packed their cases and caught a train to Birmingham, leaving his dad behind with a freezer full of carefully labelled Tupperware.

---

His auntie’s home in Birmingham was packed and lively. His auntie, uncle and his two cousins, Priti and Hari, all in an end of terrace house. There was a constant hum of noise there– Hari playing ska records on his record player from his bedroom; the clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen where his mum and auntie would congregate; the stamp of Priti’s feet up and down the stairs as she rushed around getting ready to meet friends.

His mother had a voice in her sister’s house. Charles woke to the sound of her and his auntie talking each morning. She called Charles beta here. At home he only remembers her calling him that once. Charles had been very small and full of chicken pox. His mum had sat on the floor next to his bed to stop him scratching, her hand smoothing though his sweat-soaked hair. She’d sang to Charles to lull him to sleep. In Birmingham, she sang every day.

---

When Charles grew enough not to be a complete liability on the cricket pitch, Hari took him along to play with his friends.

“I’ve got a friend like you who’ll be there. Aidan,” Hari said as they cut through the back streets to the playing fields.

Aidan wasn’t like Charles in appearance or manner. He was broad chested, with dark, tightly curled hair that showed a reddish tint when the sun hit it. He cuffed his trousers like Hari did, and his Docs were brightly shined. His short-sleeved shirt was a maroon and white check, his braces thin and black. He looked sharp. He wasn’t like Charles at all, except that he was half-caste too.

“Jamaican dad, Irish mum,” Aidan said, offhand, when they were introduced. “Saves you asking later. Hari always get it the wrong way round.”

“Indian mum, English dad.” Charles replied, and then tagged on, “I’m Charles.” Aidan smiled then, like they’d just shared a joke.

“He can be on my team,” Aidan told Hari, and grabbed Charles’ shoulder to guide him to where there was a gap in the team’s fielding cover.

As Hari walked over to the other team by the stumps he shouted, “Don’t show me up,” to Charles’ back.

“He says that like he’s any cop himself,” Aidan muttered into Charles’ ear, and told him the story of Hari falling into the wicket just the week before.

At the end of that week Charles left with a ska mixtape from Aidan, and two Fred Perry polos that Hari had outgrown.

---

At 15, his older cousin, Priti, snuck Charles out with her to a daytimer.

In the queue, Priti swiped and smudged kohl under Charles’ eyes. “Gotta hide that baby face,” she said and pinched his cheeks. She made him promise, yet again, that he’d keep his gob shut about the daytimer from his mum, her parents and most especially Hari. “He’s such a grass,” Priti said. He could already hear the hum of music leaking out from inside the converted warehouse.

He let out a huff of breath when they got past the bouncer and the ticket table, and Priti laughed. “If your parents could see you, such a naughty boy!”

Priti’s friends ran to meet her and pulled her onto the dancefloor to dance in a swirl of long hair and fruity body mist. Charles waved off their beckoning hands and watched the dancefloor heave with bodies. The music was a strange mix of familiar and unfamiliar: bouncing synths with Indian strings overlaid, all underpinned by the shifting rhythms of dhol drums. The vocals singing over the top sounded joyful and yearning by turns.

By the end of the afternoon, Charles had joined Priti and her friends on the dancefloor where they taught him dance moves, taking the piss at every misstep he made, but cheering him on when a girl asked him to dance with her.

When Charles broke away to visit the loos he looked at himself in the mirror. His curly hair was frizzy with sweat, his eyes dark with the smudged kohl. He looked different. He didn’t look tougher, or more like his cousins. But maybe, sweaty and happy with his eyes traced in eyeliner, he looked more like himself.

On the way home, Priti sent Charles into the chippy with a fiver while she changed and scrubbed off her make up in the public toilets. They unwrapped the newspaper when she finally emerged and walked slowly back to the house, eating. The vinegar the chips were doused in stung Charles’ sinuses. At the top of the street, Priti stopped and rubbed a screwed-up hanky across Charles’ cheek. “I’m not explaining how you got that lipstick on you,” she said.

She left the kohl alone.

---

Charles says the food he misses is spaghetti. But sometimes he thinks about the smell of vinegar rising from fish and chips and being fed dhal on a roti by kind hands.

---

(Notes: I chose Birmingham as the home of Charles’ relatives as it’s a multicultural city with an established East Asian population. It was also a hub for the English ska scene.

Ashe Bhosle – famous playback singer for Bollywood movies.

WPC – woman police constable

Daytimer – a rave that played bhangra music. Held during the daytime so that British South Asian kids could go without parental knowledge.)

[venear-tmblr]

…. so i’ve had an idea

C!Ven FableSMP In-Character Smash or Pass

Today we reject canon and embrace non-canom ships like it’s the 2000’s-10’s again. Let us begin heheheh (also im sticking to masc leaning characters because c!Ven likes 🅱️oys.)

Aax

5/10: Pass

I don’t think they’d be bad for each other, I just think Ven would feel out of his depth yk? Their communication type wouldn’t clash badly, they’d both be able to argue without killing one another, but they just dont click?

I just think Ven would be intimidated? and that should be a dealbreaker in any relationship.

Caspian

6/10: Smash

Caspian would be the cool ex that you still see sometimes in random places, and you stop for 10-15 min to see how he’s doing, before you both leave and forget about each other again.

Cas would keep Ven’s bossy streak in check, and they’d sort out their problems together well. They have aligning interests in knowledge and writing, and overall they’d work.

they actually seem like the kind of couple to fall out of love with each other? which is very sad to me ;-;

They’d care about each other a lot i think, in a Scott’s Street by Phoebe Bridgers kinda way

Centross

7/10: Smash

… there’s only room for one self-sacrificing idiot in this relationship.

Opposite of Rae; Centross is Ven’s type, personality-wise. Also Centross does the love-bickering thing that Ven and Feng would do. They communicate well, they’d argue healthily, over all they’d be pretty good tbh. The sleep schedule between the two of them would be bad though, Ven would forget to stop work and Centross would do the same, they’d forget to check in with each other.

Rae

3/10: Pass (edit, was 2/10 but i raised it by 1 for Zenni the beloved)

you already know what i’m gonna say about these goobers. they’re terrible for each other

the interesting thing to me; there’s only two reasons for Ven to date Rae. 1) they’re young, and social norms say you should date someone similar to you. So both Vena and Rae would go “he likes what i like” and call it a day. OR 2) Rae would be a rebound for Ven. neither of which can happen in canon. (i love the band au blorbos <3)

Seven

4/10: Pass

they wouldn’t be bad, Ven just wouldn’t know how to approach Seven? Seven has so much going in, and Ven would need to know every detail about Seven’s past in order to feel comfortable in the relationship. Seven can’t really give that, so the relationship is over before it’s begun.

Ulysses

7/10: Smash

Similar to Caspian, they’d get along, they’d be good exes. Ven would learn a lot academically from Ulysses.

bonus point because this fish sounds aussie and that is important to me ok

Will

4/10: Pass

Based on the emotional reactions seen in the spy arc of S2, I don’t think these two would get along. i actually think Ven would get on Will’s nerves in close proximity, if he were to open up and let Will in emotionally. Not that it’d be Will’s fault, they just clash. They would have common interests though, so all wouldn’t be lost.

Will would speak his mind, whilst Ven clams up and avoids conflict, but they’d get around to communicating eventually. (so they’re def not the worst pairing on this list.)

Wolf

…9/10: Smash

ok hear me out, you haven’t seen the half of it in canon yet, but these two work well. They have a lot in common (that i can’t share yet)

they argue so well, maybe even better than Feng and Ven did. Where Feng would speak up with Ven, Wolf sits and listens and waits.

Wolf is Ven’s type physically,tall with long hair and broad shoulders, and comes close to his type in personality.

nodders they should kiss

…So in conclusion; Let Ven join Wolftross, its time for Wolventross throuple takover

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

Title: cruel summer | chapter 4

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Pairing: Joel Miller/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Read on AO3 | Join the tag list | Masterlist

Summary: 

Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise.

He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.

Author’s Note: Thank you again for all the love you’ve given this fic. Please consider leaving a comment if you enjoyed! I’m also open to requests <3

Warnings/Additional Tags: age gap (15 years), explicit sexual content (18+), explicit language, A N G S T, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), confessions, dirty talk, pet names, emotionally constipated Joel Miller and his communication issues part 27346, alcohol use, blatant Taylor Swift references

When Joel stirs awake, it’s still dark outside and the house is blessedly quiet. He’s got an arm around your waist, keeping himself pressed tightly to your back. His half hard dick strains against the curve of your ass, his hips flexing slightly to chase the friction.

You wiggle against him, letting out a cute little sigh in your sleep. He has to bite back a groan as his hips flex again. You’re so beautiful lying there in just one of his t-shirts, your features highlighted by what little light filters in through the window from the street lamps. He gently moves your hair from your shoulder to press kisses to the skin exposed from the worn collar.

You squirm again, and Joel slips his hand underneath the hem of your shirt to press his fingers against your hip bone, urging you to move against him. You’re still asleep but your breathing has sped up as his cock grinds against you. 

He lets his fingers slide beneath the band of your panties, still only caressing your hip bone. He kisses your neck some more, nibbling gently, and you finally stir awake.

“Whatimesit,” you slur. Joel chuckles against your shoulder.

“Don’t know. Early enough,,” he replies, voice scratchy from sleep. “Can I touch you?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, nodding your head against the pillow, eyes still closed. 

Joel loves you like this. All sleep warm and soft, opening up to him with all the trust in the world. It makes him think dangerous thoughts, like keeping you in bed beside him for the rest of your life so that he can wake up like this every day.

He lifts your leg over his own hip, opening you up. Those wandering fingers slip past your panties to part your slick folds. He groans, deep and rough, against your shoulder as he plunges two thick fingers inside of you.

“Christ, sweetheart, you’re so fuckin’ needy, huh? This pussy’s always wantin’ attention.” He curls his fingers and you bury your face into the pillow to muffle your moan. 

Joel plays with your soaked pussy for a few glorious minutes before withdrawing his hand to the sound of your sad whines. He moves your leg, shifting on the mattress until he’s on his knees between your spread legs, urging your hips up so that he can tug your panties down and off your body. He lays on his stomach, the broad expanse of his shoulders spreading your legs as he leans in and licks your center, starting at your dripping entrance before circling your clit.

“Joel,” you whimper, fingers immediately curling in his hair, pinpricks of pleasure-pain shooting across his nerves. He growls against you, dipping down to curl his tongue into your entrance as his nose bumps against your clit. Your hips grind against his face as you pull him closer. “Joel, baby, fuck, that feels so good.”

He looks up at you from between your spread thighs, loving the view of you with your head thrown back as you struggle to catch your breath. He works his fingers back into your tight heat and you whimper, biting your lip to hold your sounds in as best you can.

You’re tugging on his hair, urging him up. The annoyance he feels at being interrupted is quickly soothed when you drag him into a filthy kiss, your tongue tangling with his as you moan into his mouth. 

Then your hands are shoving at his shoulders, throwing him off balance until he lands on his back and you scramble to seat yourself on his lap. The only barrier between your bodies is his boxers and he can feel the wet heat of your grind against his painfully hard length.

“What are you doin’ up there, sweetheart?” Joel asks through gritted teeth, fingers digging into the soft skin of your thighs. “I wasn’t done.”

“Don’t wanna cum on your mouth, baby,” you whisper. Your hands press down on his chest as you work yourself against him. “Wanna cum on your cock again. Please?”

And who is he to deny you anything?

He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he shoves his boxers down only enough to expose his cock. You drag your wet pussy across his lust hot skin, his head dropping back against the bed as he swallows down a moan. 

“Christ,” he growls. “Take it, baby, come on.”

___________

You reach between your bodies to fist his length, positioning the sensitive head at your entrance and sliding down with a gasp. Joel holds perfectly still beneath you, the only sign of his desperation the rhythmic tightening of his fingers on your hips.

You swivel your hips once your bodies are flush, making Joel hiss. You slowly raise your hips until just the tip remains inside before bringing yourself back down and grinding your clit against his pelvis. 

“Christ, Christ,” he says through gritted teeth. “Nothin’ in this world better than your cunt.”

You smile down at him as you keep your movements tortuously slow. Joel slides a hand under the shirt he’s leant you, kneading your breast, the sensation making you tip your head back with a breathless moan.

Joel shifts beneath you, sitting up and changing the angle of his thrusts and making them so deep that you see stars. You cling to his neck as he gets his knees under him while you’re still wrapped around his waist, the new leverage giving him more power to his movements as he manages to hit that spot inside of you that makes your breath catch and your vision go a bit blurry at the edges.

“Joel,” you say in a desperate whisper. His eyes meet yours, dark and determined as he pounds into you. “God, Joel, fuck.”

It’s not the only three words you want to say, but it’s all you can manage to get from your brain to your mouth. His lips take yours in a rough kiss, his hands wrapped around your waist and his fingers digging into the grooves between your ribs like they’re made just for him.

“Sweet girl, my good girl,” he breathes. “Want you to say it. Who’s pussy is this, huh?”

“Yours, Joel,” you reply brokenly, your muscles going taut with your impending release.

“Fuckin’ right,” he growls. That deep possessive rumble in his voice sends you right over the edge, your nails scratching across Joel’s shoulders as you cum. 

He takes the opportunity to flip your positions, your back hitting the mattress with a dull squeak of springs. He lines himself back up and wastes no time slamming back inside you in search of his own release.

“Come on, Joel,” you urge, curling your fingers into the muscle of his ass to draw him closer with each thrust. “I want you to cum for me, baby, I want you to fill me up so fuckin’ bad I can’t stand it.”

“Fuck,” he groans, pressing forward to sink his teeth into your shoulder. His hips stay flush with yours as his cock pulses, warm heat spilling inside of you and making you shiver. 

He drops his weight on you, the air leaving your chest in a whoosh. You tap at his shoulder and he rolls to the side, spent and sated.

“You make a pretty good alarm clock,” you tease. He laughs before pressing up to his elbow to kiss you, slow and sweet. You smile at him as he pulls away, only to watch his face fall suddenly.

“Shit! We didn’t use a condom,” he says, sitting up abruptly. “I’m so sorry. I just got so carried away, I don’t know what I was thinkin’.”

“I’m sorry, too. I didn’t even think about it.” You sit up, rubbing a hand on his back. “I take my birth control religiously, though. I swear. I even have it in my purse if you wanna check.”

“I trust you, baby,” he replies, kissing your forehead. 

“Daddy!” A small voice calls at an impressive volume from down the hall.

“Duty calls,” he groans, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and bending down to retrieve a discarded pair of sweatpants. “I’ll go attend to the princess.” He leaves you with another kiss to your forehead.

You head to the bathroom to clean up, brushing your teeth with the spare toothbrush he’d given you the night before and running a brush through your sleep and sex mussed hair. You stick with the big shirt he’d given you for sleeping, putting your bra back on beneath it before rifling through his drawers for a pair of boxers to wear as shorts beneath it, 

You move downstairs, passing by Sarah’s closed door where you can faintly hear Joel’s muffled voice asking his daughter how she slept. In the kitchen, you peer inside the fridge, pleased to find a full carton of eggs and milk. Pulling those out, you check the pantry and cabinets until you find a loaf of bread, cinnamon, and brown sugar.

You find the coffee on your hunt as well, filling up the filter on the drip machine and adding water before pressing start. With coffee brewing, you get started on breakfast, mixing up the batter for french toast while a pan heats on the stove.

In your own little world, you don’t hear the front door open, or the heavy footsteps that come down the hall.

“Smells good in here–oh. Well, hello,” a voice says, making you jump. You turn to face a man leaning in the doorway, his black hair and brown eyes familiar despite never having met him.

“Uh, hi,” you reply, brandishing the spatula defensively. “You must be Tommy.”

There’s a flurry of footsteps on the stairs before Sarah runs into Tommy, wrapping her arms around his legs. “Uncle Tommy!”

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, eyes not leaving you. “That’s right. And you are…?”

Joel follows down the stairs, pausing in the doorway and eyes flicking between you and Tommy. Sarah breaks the tense silence by coming to your side and asking what you’re doing. Your attention turns to her as the men share a look.

You return to your task, attention focused on Sarah as you try to ignore the weight of their silence behind your back.

________

Joel drags Tommy by the shoulder to the living room. The younger man’s eyebrows are raised, waiting for him to speak. 

“Who’s the jailbait, Joel?” Tommy asks with a laugh. Joel narrows his eyes at his brother.

“She ain’t jailbait, okay?” He says with a sigh. He gives Tommy your name, running his hand through his hair. Tommy’s eyebrows raise impossibly higher.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me. The daughter of your client?” He whistles low. “That’s fuckin’ ballsy, even for you.”

Joel remains quiet. Tommy tilts his head, appraising his silence.

“What’s on your mind, brother?” He asks. Joel clenches his jaw.

“Nothin’, man. Let’s just get back in there,” he finally replies, moving past Tommy to return to the kitchen.

You smile brightly at him when he enters the room, and he forces one in return.

________

Joel drives you home that afternoon. You mention your plans to study at the library the coming week.

“Don’t wanna risk any distractions with the exam so soon,” you tease.

Joel’s laugh is strained, the sound awkward.

He gives you a sweet kiss when he parks the car, watching you as you enter the house. You turn to wave at him, but he’s pulling out of the driveway.

Your hand drops to your side, your goodbye unseen.

_______

Joel finishes the job in your parent’s master bedroom on Wednesday, the day before they’re scheduled to return from their cruise. He doesn’t see or hear from you much, and part of him is relieved. Tommy’s words echo in his mind every time his thoughts stray to you, strengthening his resolve.

Your exam is scheduled for Friday. After that, he knows that your parents are helping you move back to your apartment near campus for the start of your senior year. His replies to your messages are brief.

You: Exam finally done! I think it went really well. 

Joel: Congratulations.

________

You don’t see Joel before you move back to your off campus apartment. Your parents had taken up your remaining days in their house, taking you out for a celebration dinner following your exam and helping you prep for moving back for school. Joel’s been pretty quiet, but you chalk it up to him starting a new job and needing to focus on the work.

Alarm bells don’t start to ring until your second week of school, when your phone calls start reaching his voicemail instead of him. The replies to your texts take longer to arrive, if they do at all. 

It’s a Friday night and your stomach is in knots as you stare at your phone, willing Joel to reply to your last message. It was innocuous, just an update about your day, but you haven’t heard from him in a couple days. Your phone gets ripped from your hands by your roommate, Hannah, and she holds it above her head as she stares down at you with a stern expression.

“Stop moping. I can’t stand it,” she says. “Cam and Tristan want to go out to midtown tonight. You’re coming with.”

“But–”

“No ‘buts’. I’ve let you be sad for a week. It’s time for alcohol and talking shit about the mysterious boy you’re so hung up about,” she interrupts. She slips your phone into her pants pocket and claps her hands. “Go change. And use some dry shampoo, your hair is not doing your Texas roots any justice.”

You can’t help but laugh, but the sound is rusty to your ears. She follows you to your bedroom, picking through your closet and tossing a pair of high waisted jeans and a crop top at your head. You change into the selected outfit and dig your well worn cowboy boots from under your bed. Hannah then waits until you sit at your desk and start pulling your hair and makeup stuff toward you before giving a satisfied nod and retreating to her own room to get ready.

Later, you slide into the Uber beside her and she holds your hand as you start to tell her about Joel, the man you were in love with and how he’s breaking your heart. You swallow around the lump that forms in your throat.

“Oh, honey. You wanna slash his tires?” She asks, making you giggle. “Or do you wanna drown your sorrows in margaritas and line dancing?”

“Drinks, please,” you reply with a sigh, leaning your head against her shoulder. She pats your thigh.

“Anything you want, darlin’.”

________

Joel’s on the couch drinking a beer as he tries to focus on the basketball game Tommy turned on. It’s late, passing midnight. His nail scrapes against the paper label absently.

“How’s your girl doin’?” Tommy asks as he flops onto the couch. 

“Don’t know. Broke it off,” he grunts. Tommy’s eyes widen. 

“Seriously? Must explain why you’ve been such a miserable bastard.” Joel punches him sharply in the shoulder. As if summoned by the conversation, his phone rings on the coffee table, your contact name lighting up the screen.

Tommy’s eyes flick between the phone and Joel, who refuses to pick it up. The phone goes dark before lighting again, a second call coming through.

“Joel…does she know that you broke it off?” Tommy asks. Joel clenches his jaw, staunchly refusing to meet his brother’s accusatory gaze. “Christ, man. Could you be any more of a dick?”

The phone goes dark and lights up again. A third call. Joel reaches out for the device just as the call goes to voicemail. A text comes instead.

You: Joel, please pick up the phone. 

He swipes through the screen to his missed calls and presses one of the entries, most of them from you. It rings once before you pick up.

“Joel?”

“What’s wrong?” He asks. 

“Nothing, not really. Just…I went out with Hannah and I just…I wanna go home, Joel. But there’s no rides available and–”

“Where are you?” He asks immediately. You tell him the name of the bar, some country themed place he knows is big with the college crowd. He’s already standing and gathering his keys, shoving his feet into his boots by the door. “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he promises before hanging up.

“Tommy, keep an eye on Sarah,” he commands. Tommy gives him a salute in response, reclining back on the couch.

“Go get your girl, brother.”

________

You’re outside the bar, boot tapping on the pavement when Joel’s familiar truck pulls up in front of you. You hop in the cab and he doesn’t say anything as he pulls away from the curb.

Seeing him is like a punch to the gut. The silence sobers your mind from the mild haze two margaritas had left you in. You ache to touch him but he feels thousands of miles away despite sitting right next to you, his grip on the steering wheel white knuckled as he avoids your gaze.

You give him the directions to your apartment building, voice small and wavering with emotion. You tip your head back against the headrest, tears stinging behind your eyelids as you fight against them. 

“You okay? Nothin’ happened back there, did it?” Joel asks. 

“I’m fine,” you mumble, voice watery. The first tear slips down your cheek, the rest in hot pursuit as you try to breathe through the ache in your chest. He pulls into the parking lot of your complex and kills the engine. 

You blink up at the ceiling, more tears falling. Joel heaves a sigh.

“Baby…,” he murmurs.

“Don’t call me baby, Joel. Not after your radio silence the last couple of weeks,” you snap, opening the door and jumping out. “Fuck you.”

You hear the sound of a door slamming shut behind you, footsteps pounding on pavement as he jogs to catch up to you. You refuse to look back, entering your building and rushing up the stairs, breathing labored as you take the steps two at time to get to the third floor before him.

Your efforts are pointless. He catches up to you as you fumble with your keys, eyes blurry with your tears. He grabs you by the waist, turning you until your back is pressed to your door and he’s bracketing your body with his arms. You struggle to shove him back.

“Stop it,” he growls. “I’m doin’ this for your own fuckin’ good, can’t you see that?”

You’re frozen in anger, the rage bubbling in your veins. “My own good? You’re back on this fuckin’ martyr shit? Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not fuckin’ kiddin’. Don’t you see how much of your life you have left to live? Why would I keep actin’ like I have any right to keep you?”

“Because I love you, you fuckin’ asshole!” You shout back. A door down the hall opens and your neighbor Craig, another student at UT, pokes his head out and calls your name tentatively.

“You okay?” He asks, eyes flicking between you and Joel. 

“Doin’ swell, thanks Craig. See you in biochem Monday,” you say, eyes not leaving Joel’s. The other man blinks.

“Uh, okay…,” he says uncertainly. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“With all due respect, Craig, get the fuck back inside,” Joel snaps. Craig’s door shuts with a click. He murmurs your name. “Open the door, sweetheart.”

You turn in his arms, sticking your key in the lock and shoving the door open.

Joel follows you inside, pressed to your back. He kicks the door shut, turning your bodies until you’re pressed against the door once more, your chest heaving. 

“You love me?” He asks incredulously. His palms frame your face, thumbs smoothing across the tear stains on your cheeks. 

“Yes, you big fuckin’ idiot. I want you to keep me,” you whisper. “Please, Joel.”

He leans forward, pressing his lips against yours. It’s rough and demanding, his teeth nipping at your lower lip and his tongue exploring yours when your mouth drops open in a gasp.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmurs, trailing his mouth down your neck.

“I don’t know either, but if you pull this shit again, I’m taking Hannah up on her offer to slash your tires,” you reply. He pulls back slightly.

“What?” 

You drag him back to you. “Don’t worry about it.”

He kisses you again, his hands on your hips as he wedges a knee between your legs. You gasp at the friction, the seam of your jeans rubbing just right as you flex against him.

“Fuck,” Joel says through gritted teeth. “Missed you so much, sweetheart, ‘M sorry I was such an idiot.” 

“Make it up to me, then,” you command.

Joel lifts his head, grinning like the devil as he turns your body against his until his hips are pressed against your ass and your hands are flat on the door. He runs a large palm over one cheek before drawing his hand back and landing a hard smack to the muscle, making you gasp. Your fingers curl against the wood door and you press to your tip toes, torn between wanting to escape the sensation and wanting more.

Then his fingers are on the button fly, tearing it open before shimmying both the pants and your panties down your thighs until your heated skin is exposed to the cool air of your apartment.

“You already wet for me, darlin’? Or do you need a little encouragement?” He asks, mouth pressed to your ear. He slides his fingers through your wet center. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

“Fuck me, baby, please,” you beg, voice wanton as you arch your back and press your ass out more. “Pretty please?”

You hear the shuffle of his hands undoing his belt and pants before they drop to the ground and he’s wasting no time fulfilling your request. The hard length of him slams into you, filling you so abruptly and delicious you can’t hold back your shout.

“That’s right, scream my name for me,” Joel growls in your ear before latching his teeth harshly into your shoulder. “Let everyone know you’re fuckin’ mine.”

“All yours,” you whisper back, holding on for dear life. He wraps a hand around your throat, not constricting, but holding onto your pulse point the same way he holds your heart.

You’re already fluttering around him, so wound up from the argument and the adrenaline of it all that when he slips the hand still on your hip around to circle your clit, you come with a strangled moan.

“Fuck,” Joal grunts, his hips stuttering in their rhythm. He slams inside, pressing against you as he comes, the fingers around your throat flexing possessively. 

You’re both panting, your skin slick with sweat as you try to recover. He slips from your body and you can feel the lewd drip of his spend down your thigh. He pulls his own pants up before easing yours up as well, though he doesn’t bother to button them. Instead, he keeps a hand on your back and crouches down to loop the other behind your knees, picking you up as you giggle and wrap your arms around his neck.

You tilt your head against his shoulder as he carries you down the hall and you point out the door to your room. He sets you on the bed, kneeling to pull your boots off before helping you get fully out of your jeans this time.

“Can you stay?” You ask, voice small and uncertain. He pulls his phone from his pocket and sends a text before he replies.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I can stay,” he replies, removing his own shoes and pants to climb in beside you, curling around your body in the small bed.

“I love you, Joel.”

“I love you, too.”

Tags: @huffle-punk @telepathay @johnwatsn  @hopelessromantic727 @caatheeriinee07 @leeeesahhh @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly 

@dragon-of-winterfell @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @cutesyscreenname

[1americanconservative]

The man who attacked Paul Pelosi in late 2022 just got a 30 year prison sentence.

Great. But in the same city, Daniel Cauich attacked a 94-year-old woman in broad daylight and stabbed her repeatedly. His punishment? Probation.

Elite Democrats view their bodies as sacrosanct, so you'll be punished if you attack them. But when psychopaths attack one of the little people, they want them back on the streets as soon as possible.

sfstandard.com/2024/03/15/san…

[writingcold]

Guess what...

I thought a double post to get us going would make for a good start. So, we’ve met our Jacob, let’s roll into chapter one, shall we?

Content Warnings:  I need to put this here - this is a work of fiction. There will be imagery of violence, character deaths, inequities, poverty, heavy angst, and adult sexual situations throughout the story. Please read at your own discretion. All characters are fictional, though some of the big events that are shown are historical, but may not be historically accurate. 

Thank you to @edgingthedarkness for all of her help as my all mighty beta for this fiction. She listened to me drone on and on about it for months on end. She really took a bullet for this one! She created the banner for this story as well! Also thank you to @katuschka for her amazing skills in bringing our hero Jakub to life. Divider art by @ firefly-graphics.

The Dead

Jake X Fem!Reader

Chapter One word count: approximately 7100 words

Warnings in this part: None other than language, being in the graveyard, perhaps seeing our ghost for the first time from y/n’s pov.

Chapter 1: The Visitor in the Graveyard

     Cemeteries were supposed to be places of honor and reflection. For some, there is nothing but deep grief and despair but cling to the ground in a stark effort to hold on to loved ones lost. For others, the spaces are stained with loss and suffering but avoid to negate the trials of their painful, broken hearts through avoidance. For me, however, it is a place to allow my imagination to run wild. To latch on to pieces of history and rehydrate the roots of the past to weave new stories. I was driven by the need to visit the grand and lavish cemeteries of the huge urban areas, but I was equally intrigued by the tiny, backwater village graveyards of rural communities. There was inspiration to be found in the rotted marble and granite as well as the new, heartrending loss of pristine stone and vaults. 

     I may be known to some as a writer of spooky stories, so it would make sense that I find spaces of hallowed graves the perfect place for inspiration. Spooky is just happenstance. A cowl over the meat of what really interests me - the history; the stories that were deemed too unimportant to record, but the memory of them live on in the people who may have once had a frayed thread to the wider story. Now granted, I am not a ghost hunter, nor am I one who likes to troll these spaces in the dead of night. No. I find that they are just as freaky in the broad light of day. It may be just the flicker of shadow or color that resides in the corner of the eye, but you cannot convince me that nighttime is the only time ghosts and other entities exist or have the ability to reach out to the living side of this world. In reality, I’m the biggest scaredy cat ever. 

      I had passed by the forgotten cemetery way out on County Road 15 somewhere in middle Michigan two years prior when I was on a solo Spring Break road trip up on the Upper Peninsula. I had taken a few photographs with my phone of the little, closed up church and the cemetery grounds that lay across the street. While the church was surrounded by barren crop fields, the graveyard was encased in ancient, scraggly pine trees with a smattering of old oaks on three sides, as if the farmers did not dare encroach on the hallowed ground. Honestly, I had forgotten about the scrap of space until I was clearing out downloaded trip photo files on my laptop back in August.

      I had found myself needing to return to the desolate grounds. My fingers ghosted across the ragged scar on my forearm that seemed to throb as I looked over the pictures. The church was that typical Midwest narrow, white structure with a steep roofline and high steeple that housed a large bell to call the farmers in for services. The weathered wooden siding needed some love and the once lush stained glass that was housed in the window casings needed attention. There were heavy locks on the doors and an old air feel to the overgrown dirt parking lot that indicated that it was no longer utilized for a spot of worship. A voice buried deep in my brain, whispered a longing to stand in the seemingly forgotten grounds of the dead. There was a drive to be amidst the weather and time eroded blocks of memories of lives that needed to stay in the distant past.

      One headstone in particular had snagged my attention that day. It was truly ancient, caked in mold and dirt, the top was decayed from centuries of exposure. However, someone had attempted to keep the stone sealed with a heavy lacquer. Unlike the other antiquated monuments where the lettering was faded or completely eroded, the carved letters appeared fresh, despite the overall condition of the stormy colored granite. It was strange. No surname, just a formal name. No dates. No inscription that identified the life it memorialized. Jacob. I had felt strange when I had snapped the last bit of pixels and turned my back to the sullen treeline. My foot wobbled on the path and I tumbled down, catching my forearm and tearing open my arm in the most nasty manner. The wound healed, leaving a gnarly scar behind that had been forgotten. That was until I tripped once more across the pictures of the graveyard. 

      There were four weeks in October that had very few items on the calendar. I convinced my publisher and dear editor, Vinny, that I needed to return to that mid Michigan town for the sake of research. Vin was receptive. The publisher not so much. My deadline was looming and they wanted something - some manner of work that I could show to prove that I had not fallen down another hole of …  Nope. Never you mind about that. I have three books under my belt and I’m only thirty three. It’s not like I’m experiencing a block or anything. A bit distracted is a good way to explain the situation. I had packed my bag, booked a room in a tiny roadside hotel and headed out from Ypsilanti with the full intention of finding the central character to my next novel, and perhaps the scrap of story that could help me get over this dry spell.

      The trees were whispering with color, not the full show of Autumn yet, but it was already swirling with crispy air and chilly skies when I arrived in Frankenmuth. Oktoberfest banners were plastered across the touristy town. I found the little hotel and checked in, all the while being cordial and warm the best way I knew how. The lady behind the desk gave me recommendations for the best coffee shop and diner to visit that the locals kept secret for the most part. I smiled like she had given me insider information.

      The suite was cozy with a lovely quilt across a queen sized bed, an office space and little kitchen. It would be fine for a home for an initial two weeks. I spent the better part of my first hour setting up my laptop and stack of empty notebooks, favorite pens…  I had a method that was not to be trifled with. It was evening, and the sun was on the horizon when I decided to find food and make a plan for my first official day of research. 

      I drove through a fast food place for a sandwich and drink then proceeded to drive around the town, finding it a bit larger than what my memory had remembered. I cruised past the huge Christmas store, and through the downtown area, getting a lay of the land. I found the little coffee place and the diner that the lady at the motel had said to visit, as well as the city hall and library. I fought the urge to drive north of town to the church and graveyard. It was growing dark, and knowing me and the fact that I can get lost trying to get out of a paper bag, I opted to return to the hotel and call it a night.

      Sort of.

      I set up my coffee pot in the kitchenette and filled the room with the scent of chai. A smile bit at my mouth as I settled in at the desk with the local history of Saginaw county. I scrolled through a few minutes worth on the state site before I tripped over a local historical page on Frankenmuth. I had no direction as of yet, so all this reading really was moot. Just as I was getting comfy in the not-so-comfy office chair, my phone illuminated with Owen’s picture. I debated for a second, knowing that the fucker was in Rome and probably was salivating to rub it in. 

      “Hey, baby sister,”  he said as I answered.

      He sounded way too happy and the music in the background drowned out his light hearted voice. I tried to ask how he was doing, but he was pretty much shouting over me.

      “Have you been paying attention to my texts at all?”  he jabbered, his words spilling out fast.

      “I’ve been objectively staying distant,”  I remarked as I kicked my feet up on the table.

      He let out a laugh that was instantly joined by a frilly little trill. “Come on, you’re missing all the fun we’re having.”

      Ah. There it was. He had company when he hadn’t left with company. I grinned and waited for their hushed conversation to turn back to me. 

      “Talked with Gran earlier,”  he said, his breath heavy with movement. “She said you’re in fucking Frankenmuth?”

      “Yeah, research,”  I said, picking at a flaw in my pants.

      “Why there? It’s like milk toast and beer,”  he replied just as a woman’s laugh carried across the line. 

      “We’ll see. Just something here is all.”

      “Shit, Y/n,”  he said, his tone light. “If there’s something weird about a tourist trap, you’ll find it.”

      “You bet I will.”

      He talked at me for another fourteen minutes while I scrolled through local county history, moreso looking at archived pictures than reading. We ran through our typical litany: check in with Gran, make sure we pay attention to each other, and actually answer a text every now and then. That last one was on me. I get it. We lost Mom and Dad when we were really young. Grandma and Grandpa raised us in Ypsilanti. After Grandpa passed, I didn’t have the heart to leave. I may have lived on the opposite side of town, but I didn’t have the heart to leave completely. Owen was a freelance photographer, and a damn fine one at that. He had built a solid reputation traveling with bands and artists and other clients around the world. But Ypsilanti was home to him still as well. We always returned home to Grandma.

      There was a pause and it sounded like he was stressed. I sat up in the chair with an awful squeak as I listened to his companion speaking.

      “Hey, Owen?”  I asked, trying to keep my voice free of tension and failing.

      “It’s all right, little sister,”  he sighed. “I gotta go. It’s an early morning shoot and a few of the permits weren’t filed properly. Talk soon?”

      We said our hurried goodbyes, but included a heartfelt ‘love you’. There was never an end of conversation without that phrase. It was a shared scar from losing the parents that remained. We could be angry with each other, but we always parted with a ‘love you’ for fear of never seeing the other again. It had happened. Wouldn’t happen again - not in our family.

      Tea savored and some soft music in the background, I tucked in to read a bit. I caught up on the socials, and called Gran to say goodnight. We shared a giggle and a promise to say goodnight tomorrow. There had been rain through the night. I woke at some point, light shimmering in the fringes of my sight and my stomach sloshing around. I tried to breathe through the pain that lurked there, refusing to give in to another migraine. There was a moment where I was unsure if I should move to get my meds, or dash to the bathroom to empty my stomach. So, instead, I drifted through that wasteland between conscious thought and dream. It felt like hours that I lingered in that state. The warmth of the quilt and the softness of the pillows did little to tug me deeper. I felt my lashes tickle my skin but never did they fully close.

       At the three o’clock mark, I felt a chill course through my flesh. The pain was mostly gone, thankfully adverted, and simmered at a dull roar. I took in as much air as I could and slowly counted it away from my body with a soft count. I felt gray around my edges. It was a dogged malaise that haunted me for nearly two years. The migraines had increased, robbing me of days at a time. They ate my creativity and stole my will to even move. Owen and Gran were more than concerned, but when your doctor says it’s ‘just’ migraines, what is one supposed to do?

       Sleep finally came; the welcomed stranger that it had been as of late laid its hands upon my brain and allowed me to be still. I woke after only a few hours, but it was enough. I lay there for more than a few beats, just listening to the world around me, my breath keeping time like a metronome. The ghost of a touch brushed itself against my shoulder. I pictured many of my characters of the past, but none fit. This was a touch that whispered of forbidden love. The striking heat was full of longing and desire and barriers. It was a shimmer of inspiration that blazed and was gone as I slipped from the snug bed.

       The diner was my first stop. It was beyond crowded, but the kind waitress found me a two-top in the far corner, nestled amongst the local art and news clippings of important events. I sipped my coffee, taking in glorified high school sports from decades past, and yellowed pictures of smiling faces of long forgotten achievements. Breakfast completed, I found myself in the car heading out to Old County Highway 15. The sky was a startling shade of blue with little swirls of clouds, as if framing the lovely shades of orange, yellow and red that were gaining momentum. The church and cemetery came into view along the long stretch of straight, rolling road. My heart quickened its beat the closer I got. 

       I sat, parked on the side of the road, hands on the steering wheel. There was a stab in my belly that I initially identified as anxiety. But that’s not what it was. I couldn’t understand this emotion as it needled me. Instead of listening to it, I grabbed my camera, notebook and pen, and my phone, braving the wind as it swept in from the distance in waves of sharp gusts. If there was no wind, the day would actually be warm. I rolled my eyes at myself over the old feel of my thoughts. Obviously, I was suffering from too much influence from Gran. I moved towards the overgrown lawn of the church first. There were signs that it had been mowed, not often, but certainly taken care of a few times a year. I stood way back and snapped a few pictures of the stained glass on the east side of the building. I walked up and took note of the tiny etched metal placards that held names. I took a picture of each one, recording the surnames of those long since passed who had worshiped upon this ground. I repeated the process on the other side. 

    Pausing a moment, I looked down at my camera screen to make sure the names on the placards were clear for later research, when movement across the street caught my attention. It was no more than a shadow of tree limbs, surely, but my spine was telling me that it was a form that was clearly moving in a very non-tree-like manner. I raised my camera and took a few pictures, first of a wide angle to make sure I got in the whole range of the grounds, but then a few of the older side of the cemetery. The sight of the Jacob stone made my skin quiver with curiosity.

      I crossed the street without actually looking for cars. Dangerous - not really. The only sound was that of the trees creaking and shivering in the breeze. I wondered what constituted a traffic event on such a desolate stretch of road. Perhaps my singular parking was the highlight of the day. Pausing to really look at the wrought iron, taking note of the patches of exposed rust, the fencing was actually quite beautiful for such a rural setting. Odd. The latch moved easily, betraying the care that had obviously been taken to maintain the gate had been recent. The hinges hissed a high pitched screech, but it was more like an old person getting up - once they got moving, they quieted. 

      My eyes skated to the Jacob stone once more, but I turned east, away from the point of interest. The small lobe was dotted with headstones marked with more recent years. My steps were measured and slow, taking in the years as close as 2017. The church may have not been used for some time, but the cemetery was still visited, and was still utilized by those of the living. The corner of my mouth tugged at the notion that the grounds were not completely forgotten.

      With resolve, I turned to the much larger western stretch, but again, strayed away from the Jacob stone. I worked my way back towards the gate, finding a truly ancient stone that held a ghostly 1847 with all the other lettering eroded from its surface. The idea that this was hallowed ground for nearly two hundred years chilled me. I paused as my brain scolded me for not looking for the memorial plaque that surely would give information about the church and graveyard. I scanned the fence line, feeling like an idiot that I walked right past it. Thankfully no eyes were there to see me bumble back out the gate to feast upon the information, I took in that the church was The Church of the Redeemer, founded in 1850, although the cemetery had been consecrated well before that, with burials taking place prior to 1800. I took a picture of the information before returning to my grim browsing. 

     The wind began to whip through the top of the pines, creating a jaw clenching sensation swim through my guts and shiver across my flesh. I took in the formal names of James and Myrtle, William and Gertrude matching the surnames that I had seen on the stained glass on the church walls. I stooped to touch a few of the smaller stones, brushing back the soot of time, to be rewarded with dates that tickled the late 1700’s. All the while, my gaze strayed to the Jacob stone despite my need to pay attention to the spectral memories of those whose graves I lingered across. 

     My head tilted as I once again looked to the Jacob stone, catching how each letter of name looked to be carved by a different hand. I frowned as I returned to the stones close to the gate, careful in my footing as the ground buckled and bucked against its inhabitants. The overall condition of the headstone matched that of the first stone that bore 1847, but somehow, it felt older, despite, or perhaps because of the thick lacquer that appeared to be poured over it. The 1847 stone faced the same direction - north - as the Jacob stone. It was not as tall, but the weathering would be similar, wouldn’t it? It was interesting that the letters of Jacob appeared to be freshly scored in the stormy granite. Surely, someone was maintaining the marker, but why do that to the letters of the man’s name? Making each one different. Even the carving styles were distinct in how the letter was crafted. I snapped a few pictures before I proceeded to my target. I finally approached the grave, as if it beckoned me like a long lost…  Stop. Stupid brain getting all weird, just ignore that, yeah?

      The thought that each letter signified a different era struck hard as I reached out to touch the apparent flaw in the ‘A’. I scratched the thought down in my notebook. A grimace perched itself on my mouth as if accusing me of being an idiot at that moment. The scent of water wafted past my nose as I traced a finger across the name as a whole. Odd. My heart thudded thickly as I followed the cap of the ‘B’ back to the ‘J’. What was this sensation that bound itself across my chest with such…  strength? Confusion touched my thoughts as I pulled my hand away. The smell of water - the smell of big water like a lake - wafted into my nostrils once more as I lifted my camera to take a few more pictures. Rationally, none of what was before me, around me, made sense. I took a step back and a sense of longing the likes I had never felt before attacked every cell of my frame. I fought for breath. My stomach pinched in anger for no reason. It was as if my life shattered without cause. 

      “Fuck,”  I sighed as I leaned on the back of a bench that rested at the edge of the main path.

      There had only been one time where that level of dread had struck - when I was told Mom and Dad were never returning to us. But somehow, this pain was deeper. It was even more painful of a sensation than that day. On the verge of sobbing, I glanced back at the stone as if that had been the source of all my woe. A shimmer of linen and a lock of chestnut seemed to peek out from the edge of the monument to disappear around the back. My feet stumbled forward. I caught myself before I could fall over. With my heart pounding sickly, and my throat closing on a yelp, I managed to move with a shred of grace towards the gate in a hurried retreat. Before I pushed my way out, I lifted my camera once more and turned back to the Jacob stone. Nothing. There was nothing there. No shadow. No sound. Even the breeze had grown gentle. I snapped a few last pictures. 

      Unsettled, I nearly fell across the threshold of the gate and rushed to latch it behind me. I ran across the broken asphalt of the road and hopped into the waiting driver’s seat. I discarded my camera, phone and notebook into the passenger seat before cranking over the engine. I paused before locking the doors. As if that would stop anything that lingered in the air. My eyes strayed to the headstone once more, strained in an attempt to see anything that was clearly not of this world. A profile of a man’s face was unmistakable, peering out from beyond the back of the headstone. The skin was translucent, the hair danced around like it was caught in a wind. For a moment, it turned towards me as if seeking me out over his nonexistent shoulder. 

      “Nope,”  I gulped as I slammed my foot to the gas pedal and took off like a shot down the long, straight road.

      I was all the way back to town and in my room before I could feel my skin start to slow from crawling. The hair on my head felt like it was full of static from the swirl of thoughts. Was the apparition that I saw Jacob? My hands shook as I took a long, slow drink of water. Whatever I had seen out there may not have realized my presence. Or if it did, was it playing coy? Shaking out my hands before reaching for the camera, I found I needed just a few more breaths before plugging it into the laptop. 

      “Fuuuuuuuck…  Do I really want to do this?”  I asked myself, outloud. 

      I opened up a music app and found my soothing playlist to start before I flipped the cover of my notebook to look once more at the stray thoughts that I had recorded. I reached for my pen and added a fuller note beneath my initial observation.

     The name was clearly not carved by either the same hand for each letter, or it was not fully carved by the same hand in the same ‘era’. Each letter of Jacob seems different, not belonging to the name as a whole -whatever the fuck that means.

     I dropped the pen with a disgusted huff before I turned my eyes to the screen before me. The warmth of my skin evaporated immediately at the sight of the first picture - it’s of a wide shot of the headstone and it was completely hazy. My lips pursed as I moved to the next one, where I knew I was zoomed in on the carving to capture the detail. And it was the same damn thing - it wasn’t just hazy, but pixelated. I scrolled through and sure as shit, every shot of the Jacob stone was the same - totally unreadable. 

     “What the literal fuck,”  I whispered, as my eyes hardened on the mess I somehow made of the most unnerving morning. “Okay, go back to the beginning.”

      I closed it out and opened the file that would bring out all the day’s photographs. I started with the first one I took of the church and it was fine. All the names that I recorded of the stained glass were also fine. The first headstones of the cemetery were fine. I gritted my teeth with frustration as I scrolled to the first wide shot of the grounds. The gate and subsequent fencing, the headstones in the foreground were fine. It seemed almost like someone was smudging the picture around the Jacob stone only. I was so focused on the screen, my nose was practically touching it when I realized there was something  at the edge of the treeline…  

     “What the hell?”  I whispered as I tried to zoom in.

     My mouth hung open at the sight of that same man whose profile I had seen looking over the edge of the stone earlier, but this time, it was nearly the entire face that was captured - and it was on film. I could see the tree limbs through the spectral face, but it was a face with a sharp jawline and high cheekbones, round cheeks and a point to the nose that rested above a full set of lips. The brow was furrowed and eyes were almost… angered? 

     I felt like my chest was caught in a vice as I continued to stare. This was not a human. This was not anything close to human. And yet, my stupid brain was screaming at me like he was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. The confusion wrapped me up as I panned back out on the picture to look at it once more as a whole. My eyes remained glued to the foggy patch where the creature’s face resided. 

     I brought up the next picture, and there it was again, this time, not just the face, but the upper torso was revealed. He was strong, as evidence his chest peeked out, and he seemed broader than I would’ve expected. I moved to the first of the seriously blurred pictures, allowing my eyes to remain right where the apparition had been in each of the previous frames. 

     My hold on the moment was already fragile but the longer I remained frozen to that spot, my vision of what was in the frame became clearer. It was the full outline of a masculine figure from the top of his head to the bottom of his foot. My jaw slackened and my stomach churned. The apparition could only be Jacob - whoever that might have been, I was looking at what he was in the ‘now’. My body oozed back into the stiff chair and my feet tingled as my weight shifted. My logical mind did not want to accept what the picture was depicting. I knew I was alone. I knew there was no one remotely close to that cemetery that could have accidentally “photobombed” the scene. And yet. There he was. He looked to be seeking out something. He looked to be seeking the answer to a puzzle. 

     “Damn.”

     The word slithered out from between my lips like it was the most important thing possible. I glanced down at the time and realized that I could run for lunch and possibly have time in the library to round out my afternoon. My eyes strayed to the man in the photo once more. The corner of my mouth tugged a bit before I reached for my keys.

     I grabbed a sandwich from the local deli and followed the directions to the library from my map app. I delved into my ham and cheese in the parking lot of the library, my eyes skating across the grounds of the park that lay just beyond the tidy brick building. I was instantly wrapped in the smell of paper and books and all things wonderful as soon as I walked through the narrow foyer and into the library proper. There was a kind, round face that greeted me from the circulation desk. 

     “Local and regional section?”  I asked with a shy smile.

     Instead of just pointing me in the direction, the soft looking woman emerged from behind the counter with a huge smile and bubbly conversation. By the time we arrived in the back corner that was decorated in local art and what appeared to be hand turned bookcases, she knew that I was a writer and that I was researching for a character. She started pulling all sorts of books out that I may find the little church in the country in, that included platt books, local history, and the best part, she disappeared for nearly ten minutes only to reappear with a narrow flat bed cart with three volumes of bound newspapers.

      “We have these going back to when the paper got its start,”  she huffed as she maneuvered the volumes up onto the table beside me. “I’m talking way back. But this will get you through the last seventy five years.”

      My eyes must’ve been sparkling something fierce as the woman snickered at my reaction. “These are perfect. I will be sure to find something I can use for sure.”

      “Oh good. I was afraid I was going to overwhelm you,”  she remarked with a wave of her chubby hand. “We still have the old microfiche readers in the basement, but I find going through the actual papers gives things a bit more oomph.”

      “Absolutely,”  I gushed, dragging my fingers across the shiny gold lettering. 

      She let me be with an offer of more help when I was ready before she made her return to her desk. I fished in my backpack for my earbuds, notebook, and laptop and settled in to immersing myself in the information before me. At first, it was like walking across a highly polished sheet of ice. My eyes were skating over words of little import and my brain was begging me to stop with such mundane events. Business openings. Business closings. School events. Football games. Dances. Graduations. Spelling bees. Concerts. Festivals. Court news. Fires. Arrests. Storms. Tornadoes. Weddings. Obituaries. Births. My neck was screaming at me as I sat back in my hard chair with a sigh. I needed to take a break from the newspapers. I shifted my playlist to something heavier and moved my attention over to regional history in the few hefty, leather bound books that had taken up the corner of the table. 

     Flipping the cover back, I bypassed the meager table of contents and moved towards the index in the back, figuring to look for churches first. Sure enough, there it was, beneath my fingertips - the little forgotten country church out on 15. The Church of the Redeemer Catholic Church was founded in 1850, giving service to the surrounding farms that would go on to make up the future township of Frankenmuth. The strip of land that the cemetery was located had been used for many years prior to the founding of the township, being used by trappers and their families for much longer, but the date was not disclosed. The series of photographs of the church had to have been taken at the turn of the 1900’s, with updates from the ‘40’s, 60’s, and the most modern was no later than the early ‘90’s. I flipped to check the imprint of the book and I was correct - it was published in 1994. 

      My fingers were tapping against the few pictures of the actual cemetery,  as I began repeating the names I knew were on the stones with each tap of my finger. Biting the inside of my cheek, I reached into my backpack for Grandpa’s trusty magnifying glass. It was the only thing Grandpa treasured as much as Grandma. She bestowed it to me since I was the only one of the grandchildren who she trusted to care for it as well as her husband had during his lifetime. I passed the thick glass across the pictures, straining in my search for the Jacob stone. Like the wide shots of my own pictures, the location of the headstone was all blurred and smudged.

      I pushed out a breath before I turned back to the newspapers. At least I know the church was still in operation in the 1990’s. I disregarded the top volume of newspapers, setting it on the table behind me, opting to peruse the volume that held 1975 - 1999. Honestly, I had no clue what I was actually looking for, but as I flipped through the pages I felt a pull like I was on the right path somehow.

     “How are you doing back here?”  the librarian asked as she stopped at my side.

     “It’s all interesting,”  I said quietly with a smile and a glance over to her. “So much information, but interesting.”

     “Oh, that’s the Redeemer you’re looking at there,”  she remarked as she reached for the open book with the pictures of the church. 

      “Yeah. Full disclosure - it's what brought me here actually. I was heading home from up north when I saw it,”  I explained. “I don’t know what it is, but there are some really interesting headstones.”

      She licked at her lips before setting a book - my book - down on top of the newspapers. “For research, right?”

      I picked up my novel with a laugh. “Wow. You’re trouble.”

     “Naw, just aware of all of our authors that belong to the state,”  she said, a faint blush on her face. “We have all three of your titles, by the way. They do very well in circulation.”

      “Nice,”  I said before handing her back the clearly lightly read tome. “And yes, it’s research. I may have a story to tell if I find something here. But… can we…?

      “Lips are sealed, of course,”  she beamed with a hand over her heart. “I do need to tell you that the library will be closing in an hour.”

      I put every ounce of disappointment into my eyes as I nodded away. “I see. I know these books cannot leave the library…”

     “Nope, but I’ll tell you what I can do - we can leave everything right here. We’ll make this your workstation,”  she offered kindly.

     “That is amazing,”  I oozed as I placed a hand on her arm. “I would really appreciate it.”

     I watched as she nearly floated back to her desk with a wave. In the meantime, I could feel it… The pounding behind my eyes. I knew I was pushing it just a bit on the day. I knew I probably should have laid down instead of continuing on to the library. I stretched my neck and told myself I can last a little while longer. 

     I was somewhere in the summer of 1984 when I landed on an article about a musician from the area that had made his way onto the stage in Detroit. The picture above the article was grainy but… My brain literally froze at the sight. The black and white image sizzled into my eyes like a beacon. I rushed to the picture folder on the laptop and brought up the one of the near full face and nearly screamed from the likeness.

     Before me was Jacob. He had been real once. A guitar player for some rock band that was doing well within the local scene. I scanned the article and my stomach was swirling as I learned that the band was getting some serious notice from heavyweights and were in the process of cutting an album. I glanced back at the busy circulation desk before reaching for my phone to snap a few pictures of the article and picture. 

     With my head screaming, I packed up my backpack and straightened up the table. I left with a whispered thank you to the librarian and made my very quick exit. I started to feel the waves of nausea echoing through my gullet as I made my way out of the parking lot and easily made my way back to the hotel. I made it into the room just as the blinding pain started. I skipped turning on the lights and struggled out of my shoes before landing into the bed. This was a routine that I had down pat for the past two years. Migraines really were a bitch. I knew I had pushed it too far and now I was going to have to survive the consequences of those actions.

     Pulsing lights jabbed behind my eyes. I slowed my breathing down, counting to five in between each time I took in air or blew it away. I felt my toes getting heavy, followed by my legs. The best I could do was sleep it off. It was too late to take meds. I pictured the man in the cemetery. The subtle cleft of his chin and the point of his nose soothed me. The sharp ridge of his cheek and the shadow of his eyes were haunting. If this man had been alive he would be beautiful. I had to pause the thoughts as I waited to see if I needed to book it to the toilet to throw up. Instead, I lulled, my mind adrift in the blackness of the room and the ghost in my thoughts…

     ⭒☾ The absolute exuberance of a child pumped through my veins as I ran across the solid earth. I knew every turn and hole of the land, so I ran with a confidence that could only be gained through youthful sureness. The cream colored linen of my dress billowed around me and seemed to dance with my laughter. I caught sight of my hands and knew that I was indeed locked in the form of a young girl. The field I was dashing across was vast and full of untouched tall grasses and locks of wildflowers. The sky was heavy with bright white wisps of clouds and crisp Springtime breezes.

      A blink of my eye and I knew I was older. Not running, but still traversing across the ground of this foreign space I had no idea where it resided. Happiness touched me still as I looked over my shoulder to see a woman in a much heavier dress trying to keep up. I laughed as I did turn and run as she called out to me to wait. The near black waters of the lake spread out before me as I finally stopped on the edge of the ground before it fell away to the storm beaten rocks below. I held my arms up to feel the wind across my whole body and was instantly scolded for being so ‘wild’.

       Another blink and I was standing upon a beachhead littered with tiny wooden shanties. There was a desperation that lingered in between the structures where children wandered and played while women applied their few trades to gain coin to keep those bellies fed. There was a heaviness here that I didn’t like. Once more, the woman was with me, scolding me for stopping her in our task. Her sour expression only stirred my emotions. I snatched the purse at her side and proceeded to the open air market with her right on my heels. I must’ve been no more than fourteen, but she did not pursue me like a thief. She protested as I stopped before the man who sold bread. I pointed at the largest of his baskets that was brimming with food. I handed the whole purse over and started to lug the basket away. 

       The children on the beach took notice of me as I struggled through the sand. I stopped and untied the ribbons on my shoes, leaving them behind as I moved much more swiftly barefooted. I started to knock on the doors of the shanties, one by one and handed each a loaf of bread. The woman was standing with her arms crossed as if she were angry but I waved her down to help me. These people were hungry and I had at least a few scraps to aid them through their day. It was a happiness that filled me to the brim and continued to flow over.

      Another blink and I was alone in a grand bedroom filled with fine fabrics and rugs and a bed that would hold the likes of many sleepers. It felt wrong to have such lavishness when there was such blatant need only moments from my door. There was wealth here that could help the poor for many years. The woman from the market was brushing my hair, her voice speaking foreign words I did not understand, but the tone was certainly scolding me for my actions. I walked from the dressing table to the narrow balcony, leaving the chilly air to infiltrate the room behind me as I leaned against the elaborate railing. The moon was full, splashing down upon the waters of Le Lac Superior. The ships and their great white sails seem to play across the dark current of the black night waters. I realized this was home. Home from forever ago… ⭒☾

Dreams play a big role in our story, probably more than they should. How did you like the official chapter one? Let me know! I will be posting every Thursday - you can find a sign up for my tag list here. 💚💚See you next Thursday!

@edgingthedarkness @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @katuschka @thewritingbeforesunrise @ignite-my-fire @takenbythemadness @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @demonrat444 @klarxtr @peaceloveunitygvf @hollyco @lipstickitty @joshym @itsafullmoon @josh-iamyour-mama @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @way-to-go-lad @jjwasneverhere @gretavangroupie @emojakekiszka @wetkleenex-gvf @vanfleeter @losfacedevil @myownparadise96 @lizzys-sunflower @literal-dead-leaf

[supermaks]

1. Brazil. 1992. By Ercole Colombo. 2. Giovanna Amati and Niki Lauda watch as a Ferrari passes in Circuito Estoril, Portugal. 1992. By Ercole Colombo.

Giovanna Amati bought her first motorbike in 1975. A 500cc Honda, powerful, loud, clearly too big for a 15-year-old Italian kid without a driver’s license.

Her parents never found out, not how she got the money, not where she found the bike, not even the identity of the salesperson desperate enough to accept a child’s money. A bike like that, to a kid like her. But not just any kid. Giovanna’s father owned movie theaters; her mother acted in said movies. All Giovanna wanted to do was play the role of racing driver. For two years, Giovanna kept her Honda hidden behind her friends’ garage, and only took it out for little spins during the late hours of the night, when Roma pretended to sleep and the sleek, narrow streets grew even more austere. Monsters in silk shirts mumbled low in the shadows, watched the kid ride over stone and grime, turn into dark gardens and across the Tevere river, far beyond the reach of the misty moonlight. Up and down, left and right, zigzagging past the Vespas and the yellow bicycles left unattended in the piazzas. A curt glimpse towards the Vatican, a recognition of Spirit, a nod of respect. Total darkness. Giovanna rode through the night like a black horse. Hair like broken hay sticking out of her helmet; sunken eyes the color of whiskey peering through a red visor. Straight, thin lips sucking on rolling paper and blowing out smoke too strong to be tobacco. This was Giovanna Amati in the dark. La principessa veloce de Roma.

3 years later, in 1978, Giovanna Amati was kidnapped in broad daylight. Caught between the considerable wealth of her surname and the diabolical politics of the time, the girl never really stood a chance. She was sitting in her car, parked in front of the Amati villa, perhaps waiting for someone to come join her, perhaps only taking a moment to breathe, listening to some music. We’ll never know. 3 masked men broke through the windshield like hammers and dragged her kicking and screaming into a van nearby. Giovanna was then taken to an apartment just a few blocks away, where she was undressed, assaulted, humiliated, broken and tortured, wrapped in a thick plastic sheet and shoved inside a wooden box. For 74 days, she was kept inside that box. The box only opened for food, for water, for hands, for mouths, for pain, for horrors. 2 months later, the box opened one last time. Against explicit court orders from the Italian government, Giovanni Amati and Anna Maria Pancanni paid for their daughter’s ransom using leftover box-office receipts from George Lucas’ ‘Star Wars’, old family jewelry and some of their servants’ life-savings.

The full cost hit 800 million-lira (almost 3 million US dollars). Soon after her release, Giovanna started receiving flowers and love letters from one her captors, Jean Daniel Nieto, which prompted some to speculate about the nature of their relationship. Giovanna was kept in a box for two months. ‘The box made me stronger.’ She’d tell the BBC, years later. After a few days of radio silence and even more flowers, she phoned Jean Daniel Nieto, and informed him she could no longer live without him, and they should run away together. Jean Daniel Nieto was ecstatic. He showed up to the meeting point right on time, in his best two-piece suit. Giovanna showed up on the back of her Honda. She did not stop for Jean Daniel Nieto. The police cars who’d been following close behind, however, did.

Giovanna Amati began racing cars professionally at the age of 21. Despite successful campaigns in Formula Abarth, Italian F3 and Formula 3000, Giovanna had close to no open-wheel experience, no real backing, no sponsors, and no hopes of a successful F1 stint. Still. She wanted to ride F1 cars the way she rode her bike alone in the streets of Rome. She wanted to play the role. She was an Amati, after all. Her final option was still in the box. Money. A doomed team wobbling on its last leg let her pay for its ’92 seat, and so, with no actual pump and uncomfortable circumstance, Giovanna Amati became the last woman on earth to ever drive for the F1 world championship, and the first and only woman to do so 14 years after being kidnapped. She attempted to qualify for Brabham 3 times: Brazil, Mexico, South Africa. All failed. Brabham kicked her out, obviously, and in came male savior Damon Hill, who then, phew, failed to qualify five times.

In my dreams, la principessa veloce de Roma still rides her Honda at night. Her eyes are red behind the visor, and she doesn’t stop at the Vatican. They’ll never catch her again.

Text by supermaks

Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4

3. South Africa. By Ercole Colombo.

4. Gangster-story all’italiana. Source unknown.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Devised by the France-based urbanist, Carlos Moreno, 15-minute cities are a broad planning concept based on people living within easy reach of workplaces and schools, as well as local amenities, gradually reducing the need for short car trips. The idea caught the attention of a range of conspiracy theorists, who see it as a supposed part of a “great reset” or “climate lockdown” in which people are forcibly kept within their local neighbourhood and not allowed to travel. In his speech to the Conservative conference in October, Mark Harper, the transport secretary, described 15-minutes cities as schemes in which “local councils can decide how often you go to the shops”, which was incorrect and is something that has never been proposed in the UK. While many critics assumed at the time this was just rhetoric, the documents indicate Harper and the Department for Transport (DfT) used this definition as the basis for one of the biggest shifts in transport policy for decades. In September, Sunak ended years of policies aimed to promote walking and cycling with his plan for drivers, which promised to crack down on “anti-car measures” like 20mph speed limits and LTNs, which seek to limit through-traffic on residential streets.

[fandomtrashbag]

I am aware this isn't a Destiel meme but the shitty memes grab enough attention and that's all I need. It's been a long day.

Hi! It's trashbag again. I've got a migraine but I'll power through with a more detailed summary about the Job Quota Protests in Bangladesh.

Currently Bangladesh has 56% quota allocated for govt jobs. 30% of this is for the descendants (children/grandchildren) of freedom fighters. In comparison, ethnic minorities have 5% and the disabled have 1%. It's nearly impossible to get into the govt jobs without inside connections due to rampant corruption and nepotism.

Students have protested for this before, back in 2018. It was bad, university students got tear gassed and shot with rubber bullets.

July 1st the public universities began the protests for the job quota reform again. Coincidentally this also coincided with public university faculty going on strike because of the Prottoy Pension Scheme, which does not provide enough of a financial safety net and also takes a significant chunk out of the faculties' income. So, students did not have any classes to worry about when they went to the streets.

July 14, PM of the country let us just call her Granny because I don't want to raise red flags on my blog. Granny came back from a visit to China, and of all the statements she gave, one said "if there is no quota for the freedom fighters, who will there be quota for? The Rajakars?"

For context, Rajakars were the paramilitary force that were against the independence of Bangladesh. They did their best to thwart liberation. They're national traitors. They've done concentration camps, genocide, murder of intellectuals, rape, torture.

So, the leader of the nation just called us the local equivalent of a Nazi for demanding to lower the freedom fighter quota. She did not want more merit based people working in the government, which as a leader of a nation is absolutely wild to me.

There was a considerable amount of outrage. Students of Dhaka University (DU) who have been protesting since July 1, took the streets at midnight to chant slogans. The chants lose a lot of weight in translation, but they're essentially calling themselves Rajakars (ironically) for wanting equality.

July 15. We've had student protests erupt around the country. The ruling party sent their student wing, BCL, to suppress. Students occupied the dormitory halls and barricaded. People were beaten and attacked in broad daylight. Rajshahi University (RU) had a raid attempt by BCL at 11PM. Jahangirnagar University (JU) had an attack at 3AM.

July 16. Nationwide protests surge. Private Universities - BRAC, NSU, AIUB, IUB, UIU and so on took to the streets and occupied the roads. There's been blockades. The police got involved today, there was an attack on Primeasia University. The first martyr for the movement, Abu Sayed, 25, died by police gunfire. The video of his murder has been all over Facebook. BCL brought in reinforcements. RU had arson. There was open gunfire in DU.

Come evening, there's been a massive misinformation campaign ongoing. There is fear being incited wherever you look. The latest was 27 rapes at Dhaka University, proven false. The main source of communication is Facebook, and they've slowed that right down. There's now confusion on if there will be protests tomorrow. False information that tomorrow's protests were cancelled on the occasion of Ashura spread too far.

Local media isn't reporting shit. Al Jazeera, AP, Reuters, the diplomat have but there needs to be more.

6 officially dead. One is a highschooler.

At least 200 injured. Real numbers are close to 400.

All hope is not lost - 5 DU halls have pledged to ban student politics. But there is a lot left to be done. Please boost this before we spiral into a much worse situation.

[thethief1996]

Here's a list of upcoming events in support of Palestine:

ALBANY, NY (US) – Sun Oct 29, 12 pm, West Capitol Park, Washington Ave and S Swan St. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy4E2xxJT54/

ANTWERP, BELGIUM – Sun Oct 29, 3 pm, Sint-Jansplein. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy7z0ZnN1uT/

ATHENS, GREECE – Sun Oct 29, 11:30 am, Metro Evangelismos. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy8bhiMIoDh/

AUSTIN, TX (US) – Sun Oct 29, 3 pm, Texas Capitol. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyyrpZnJC3_/

BERLIN, GERMANY – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, Sonnendeck im Westpark, Gleisdreieckpark

BERLIN, GERMANY – Sun Oct 29, 6 pm, Hermannplatz

BILBAO, BASQUE COUNTRY – Sun Oct 29, 6 pm, Bihotz Sakratutik. Info: https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=716646197162773&set=pcb.716637363830323

BIRMINGHAM, ENGLAND – Sun Oct 29, 12:30 pm, Barclays, High Street. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy8eCTNophn/

CAERNARFON, WALES – Sun Oct 29, Maes. Info: https://www.facebook.com/groups/303482486838722

COLORADO SPRINGS, CO (US)– Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, Colorado Springs City Hall. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy36OhUPtP7/?img_index=5

DEN HAAG, NETHERLANDS – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, Malieveld. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyzFb9pI5rX/?img_index=3

DENVER, CO (US) – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, Colorado Capitol. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy58qQALzp4/

DERRY, IRELAND – Sun Oct 29, 3 pm, Free Derry Corner. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy79d9EsLxp/

DURANGO, CO (US) – Sun Oct 29, 4:30 pm, Buckley Park, 12th St and Main Ave. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy36OhUPtP7/?img_index=6

EDMONTON, CANADA – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, Churchill Square, march to Violet Henry King Plaza. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy6l5kEyKBp/?img_index=1

EINDHOVEN, NETHERLANDS – Sun Oct 29, 6:15 pm, Silent March. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CywSp76ouui/?img_index=1

FORT LAUDERDALE, FL (US) – Sun Oct 29, 3 pm, 299 East Broward Blvd (Federal Courthouse). Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy3sBHsJfzz/

GHENT, BELGIUM – Sun Oct 29, 4 pm, Stadshallen. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy7z0ZnN1uT/

GRANADA, SPAIN – Sun Oct 29, 1 pm, Jardines del Triunfo. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cys_3qPoXw0/?img_index=1

HOUSTON, TX (US) – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, City Hall, 901 Bagby St. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy6iXjigiN9/

LAS VEGAS, NV (US) – Sun Oct 29, 4 pm, 333 S Las Vegas Blvd. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy3edR_L_sE/

LEEUWARDEN, NETHERLANDS – Sun Oct 29, 4 pm, Stationsplein. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy8gvdBobZ8/

LISBON, PORTUGAL – Sun Oct 29, 3:30 pm, Martin Moniz Square.

LONDON, ON (CANADA) – Sun Oct 29, 12 pm, Western University. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy9CGDkOpCK/

MADRID, SPAIN – Sun Oct 29, 12 pm, Atocha. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy6H79nqVGD/

MAO, SPAIN – Sun Oct 29, 6 pm, Pl. Esplanada. Info: https://www.facebook.com/photo?fbid=716646140496112&set=pcb.716637363830323

MCALLEN, TX (US) – Sun Oct 29, 5 pm, Archer Park. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyzQ_WfRrkC/

MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 29, 12 pm , State Library. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyxBu-GB068/?img_index=7

MEMPHIS, TN (US) – Sun Oct 29, 3 pm, FedEx Forum to Tom Lee Park. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy7O9BJuL32/

NASHVILLE, TN (US) – Sun Oct 29, 4:30 pm, Fred D Thompson Federal Bldg, 719 Church St. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy7llxyu8Tq/

NEWARK, NJ (US) – Sun Oct 29, 1:30 pm, 920 Broad St. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy6OjhnuA3e/

NEW PLYMOUTH, NEW ZEALAND – Sun Oct 29, 1 pm, The Landing. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy3y_7RJ-7J/

NURNBERG GERMANY – Sun OCt 29, 3 pm, Kornmarkt

ORLANDO, FL (US) – Sun Oct 29, 5 pm, Orlando City Hall. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyzKXS5sl6f/

OTTAWA, CANADA – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, Parliament Hill. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy6bAGfRmGM/

PERRYSBURG, OH (US) – Sun Oct 29, 3 pm, 10576 Fremont Pike. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy7XWqSN6q7/

PHILADELPHIA, PA (US) – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, City Hall West Side. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy045GWrQuk/

PISCATAWAY, NJ (US) – Sun Oct 29, 1:30 pm, MCMC, 1000 Hoes Lane, Drive for Palestine. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy4WRLHu3jccM1saN9BFQdHx1aGEMrbaPNE5wY0/

RALEIGH, NC (US) – Sun Oct 29, 4 pm, Moore Square, 201 S Blount. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy4IwhURhSO/

SALZBURG, AUSTRIA – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, Neue Mitte Lehen. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyxsStRMTyE/

SALINAS, CA (US) – Sun Oct 29, 12 noon, Boronda and North Main. Info: https://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2023/10/23/18859834.php

SAN JOSE, CA (US) – Sun Oct 29, 1 pm, SJ Ciy Hall, 200 E Santa Clara St. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy4pO7Org29/

SANTA ROSA, CA (US) – Sun Oct 29, 11 am, Old Courthouse Square, Third Street.

SCRANTON, PA (US) – Sun Oct 29, 12 pm, Lackawanna County Courthouse

ST. JOHN’S, NEWFOUNDLAND (CANADA) – Sun Oct 29, 1:30 pm, Harbourside Park.

SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 29, 1 pm, Hyde Park North. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyxBu-GB068/?img_index=10

TORONTO, CANADA – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, US Consulate, 360 University Ave. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy0-N2-JpO0/

VALENCIA, SPAIN – Sun Oct 29, 12 pm, Placa Reina. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy0KUQIq-jl/

WATERBURY, CT (US) – Sun Oct 29, 3 pm, City Hall. Info: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1715808265508048&set=a.124168471338710&type=3&mibextid=cr9u03

WORCESTER, MA (US) – Sun Oct 29, 3:30 pm, Worcester City Hall. Info: https://masspeaceaction.org/event/protest-with-justice-for-all-in-worcester-stand-with-palestine/

CLEVELAND, OH (US) – Mon Oct 30, 5 pm, 601 Lakeside E. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy6D8RogwWT/

ESSEX, ENGLAND – Mon Oct 30, 6 pm, Square 2-5. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy81di8oy9N/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

IRVINE, CA (US) – Mon Oct 30, 7 pm, Ring Road by Langston Library, UCI. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy17TjfJBFV/

LAS VEGAS, NV (US) – Mon Oct 30, 11 am, Free Speech Walkway, UNLV. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy3ae38rkGe/

MANHATTAN, KS (US) – Mon Oct 30, 6 pm, Triangle Park. Info: https://actionnetwork.org/events/palestinian-liberation-rally

TROY, NY (US) – Mon Oct 30,  5pm, Riverfront Park. Info: https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=309545841705829&set=a.177000064960408

TUFTS UNIVERSITY (US) – Mon Oct 30, 11:45 am, Lower Campus Center. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy4OXa7LIty/?img_index=1

FORT WAYNE, IN (US) – Tues Oct 31, 5 pm, Allen County Courthouse. Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/638151171839892/

[BIDEN WILL BE HERE!!!] MINNEAPOLIS, MN - Wed Nov 1. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy4n_chs1q_/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA%3D%3D

SAINT PAUL, MN - Every Friday, 4-5 PM, Corner of Snelling and Summit Ave.

ABERDARE, WALES – Wed Nov 1, 5:30 pm, Library. Info: https://www.facebook.com/groups/303482486838722

OXFORD, ENGLAND – Wed Nov 1, 5 pm, Manzil Way to Bonn Square. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cyv-w5wIK4_/

SEVILLA, SPAIN – Wed Nov 1, 7 pm, Plaza Virgen de los Reyes. Info: https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=716671617160231&set=pcb.716637363830323

SHEFFIELD, ENGLAND – Wed Nov 1, 1 pm, Sheffield Town Hall. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy3H3HPsJPp/?img_index=1

ST PAUL, MN (US) – Fri Nov 3, 4 pm, Snelling and Summit Ave. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy4oFPTMVzq/

BERLIN, GERMANY – Sat Nov 4, 2 pm, Neptunbrunnen to Alexanderplatz. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy5tpQAsx0J/

BURLINGTON, VT (US) – Sat Nov 4, 1 pm, Battery Park. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy5_1OCuoWw/

ROME, ITALY – Sat Nov 4, Rome. Info TBA: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyndKUitnMU/

SANTIAGO, CHILE – Sat Nov 4, 11 am, desde el GAM. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy59hQiu411/

SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA – Sat Nov 4, 1 pm, 32 Mugyo-ro, Jung-gu, Seoul. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy5cGxOpSCA/

WASHINGTON, DC (USA) – Sat Nov 4, 2 pm, Freedom Plaza. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyiecRtr9-B/

ZARAGOZA, SPAIN – Sat Nov 4, 6 pm, Glorieta Sasera to Plaza del Pilar. Info: https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=716671587160234&set=pcb.716637363830323

BARRY TOWN, WALES – Sun Nov 5, 12 pm, King Square. Info: https://www.facebook.com/groups/303482486838722

CAERNARFON, WALES – Sun Nov 5, 6:30 pm, Maes. Info: https://www.facebook.com/groups/303482486838722

STUTTGART, GERMANY – Sun Nov 5, 3 pm, Schlossplatz

VALLEKAS, SPAIN – Sun Nov 5, 12 pm, Metro Buenos Aires. Info: https://twitter.com/IUMadridRetiro/status/1718229817366044883/photo/4

Feel free to add more!

[trulybetty]

joel miller x masterlist

x. main masterlist

series.

Gold Rush Old lovers Joel and Charlotte find themselves unexpectedly reunited in the community of Jackson. Struggling to navigate the complexities of their shared history and the harsh realities of their new lives, the pair find themselves again drawn to one another. Strings (Complete) Your arrangement with Joel Miller is supposed to be uncomplicated. No attachments. However, you're not sure how long this is going to last. 323 Mulefall Crt. (no outbreak!Joel x OFC) | Delta Landscaping Crossover In the sunny, eclectic neighbourhood of Mulefall Crt., Katie has been navigating her fresh start away from her past life in Chicago, finding unexpected friendships and found family with the street's residents. As she rebuilds her life, and the fixer-upper she purchased sight unseen, love is the last thing on her mind after being burned. However, Joel Miller's arrival has sparks flying and has her wondering if having fun might not be such a bad idea in helping her move on from her past. Honey (Jackson!Joel x f!reader) A series of oneshots, which can be read as a collective or on their own, depicting life for Joel in Jackson after the events of TLOU. The Little Coffee Shop Around the Corner Maplewood, a small town nestled in northern BC where people flock to see the festive decorations of the main street and enjoy the festive traditions. finding yourself back home and working for the family business, you strike up a friendship with the town's local contractor.

one shots.

Drip (warning potential TLOU2 spoilers) In the quiet of the house, you can hear voices arguing, but all you can focus on is the drip, drip, drip of the tap. Sequins (no outbreak!joel) On a night out with friends, you run into a broad-shouldered stranger and there's no denying that there's an immediate attraction between the two of you. happy birthday (no outbreak!joel) happy birthday Joel Miller. Tess (Gold Rush) (Joel x Tess & Joel x OFC) Tess doesn't hold any delusions from her complex, and often one-sided, relationship with Joel. Long Time (Gold Rush) (Joel x OFC) Inspired by The Last of Us Episode S1x03 - leaving Bill and Frank's home and Joel reminisces after Ellie finds a mix tape that unlocks some old buried memories.

prompts & drabbles.

oct' x 01 - ruffled hair (joel x gn!reader) oct' x 04 - walks in the forest (strings!joel x reader) oct' x 06 - falling leaves (gold rush!joel x charlotte) oct' x 10 - oktoberfest (sequins!joel x reader) oct' x 12 - cornfields (sequins!joel x f!reader) oct' x 15 - first wine (sequins!joel x reader) oct' x 18 - picking apples (sequins!joel x reader) oct' x 23 - harvest (gold rush!joel x charlotte) oct' x 27 - witches (sequins!joel x f!reader) oct' x 29 - stormy days (sequins!joel x f!reader)

[accio-victuuri]

from this article released today titled: “Three films in half a year were shortlisted for the Golden Deer Awards, Wang Yibo proved himself with good works!”

On August 21, the nominees for the 18th China Changchun Film Festival, the "Golden Deer Award" that has attracted much attention from the public, were announced. China Changchun Film Festival is an international national-level film festival approved by the Ministry of Radio, Film and Television of the People's Republic of China . It will be held in Changchun from August 28th to September 2nd.

A total of 75 films were submitted for the Golden Deer Award Film Festival. After the jury’s preliminary selection, 15 films were finally shortlisted.

The three films have very different styles, and Wang Yibo's roles in them are also completely different. In the literary film "Hidden Blade", the underground party undercover Mr. Ye played by Wang Yibo is cold and forbearing, and his thoughts are meticulous. "Even if there are few lines, the audience seems to be able to hear his unfinished words"; ", he played the young test pilot Lei Yu, who was energetic, courageous and wise, "the arc of character growth is convincing"; and in the sports movie "One and Only", he played the dancer who is pure and true, persistent with his love, "simple and pure, but very touching". The three completely different roles not only reflect Wang Yibo's excellent acting skills - he interprets each role very well, but also shows the audience his broad acting path.

If the audience during the period of "Hidden Blade" may also attribute his excellent performance to the careful training of director Cheng Er, then the excellent performance of "Born to Fly" proves that Wang Yibo's professional ability as an actor is stable-he can eat this bowl of rice , and eat very well. He successfully won the honor of the most media-focused actor in the movie channel's media attention unit by virtue of his roles in the two films "Hidden Blade" and "Born to Fly". For Wang Yibo, the talent of his lines helps to set the characters in different languages, and the excellent appearance endows the characters with special charm. Just like the award speech said, "The characters contributed by Wang Yibo often give the audience clear and mysterious contradictions. Feeling, combined with romantic and noble personal characteristics."

The movie "One and Only" further demonstrated his ability to control different roles as an actor. In "One and Only", Wang Yibo starred for the first time to challenge the low-level little people. This character is like him, because they have the same superior dance talent, and the same willingness to sweat and pain. As a top dancer and all-round dancer in domestic entertainment, it is difficult for us to find another star in the entertainment circle who is better than Wang Yibo's street dancer and more suitable for this role. This character is not like him, because Chen Shuo (character name) is the epitome of those hip-hop old OGs who had no money and resources back then, a complete little guy chasing dreams, and Wang Yibo himself is more confident and powerful than Chen Shuo. Chen Shuo's struggle insists on the epitome of his past, but the reality of Chen Shuo's suffering is not Wang Yibo's experience. He is far luckier than Chen Shuo.

This year is the year when Wang Yibo's films started, and it was also a year when his word-of-mouth box office received a harvest. All 3 films were shortlisted for the Golden Deer Award. Wang Yibo proved his status as an excellent actor with his good works, and also laid a solid foundation for further climbing the peak in the future. I hope that the young actor Wang Yibo can bring more excellent movies to the audience in the future and contribute more exciting roles.