#Cloud Migration Guide

[lucid-outsourcing-solutions]

Complete AWS Cloud Migration Strategy Guide: Step-By-Step Guide

Introduction

Migrating to the cloud is a complex process that requires careful planning, execution, and optimization. Amazon Web Services (AWS) provides a comprehensive suite of tools and services to facilitate cloud migration for businesses of all sizes. In this detailed technical guide, we’ll outline a step-by-step AWS cloud migration strategy, focusing on the key considerations, best practices, and tools to ensure a successful migration.

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[softweb-solutions]

Cloud migration guide: Your strategic path to AWS migration

Today’s business world is reverberating with the drumbeat of digital transformation. Organizations across industries sprint to keep pace with evolving customer demands, competition, and ever-shifting technological landscapes.

Adopting Amazon Web Services (AWS) has become a critical catalyst for success in this high-stakes race. IT infrastructure and applications in the cloud require a well-defined AWS cloud migration strategy, one that charts the path to maximizing the transformative power of this technology.

This blog serves as your compass, guiding you through the intricacies of AWS cloud migration and empowering you to start a successful course toward digital dominance.

Source: IBM

Cloud migration strategies and their importance

The decision to migrate to AWS is just the first step on your digital expedition. Choosing the right path is crucial, for it affects the pace, cost, and ultimately, the success of your cloud takeover.

But why migrate at all? Why abandon the familiar confines of your on-premises castle for the uncharted territory of the cloud? Consider these treasures that beckon from the cloud:

Agility: Adapt and scale your applications quickly, just like a cloud expert avoiding digital challenges.

Scalability: If you need more servers to manage high traffic, the cloud has plenty available, just a click away.

Cost-efficiency: Ditch the expensive upkeep of on-premises infrastructure. The cloud offers a pay-as-you-go model, like renting a cloud-powered dragon instead of buying your own stable.

Innovation: Embrace the latest cloud technologies and unlock new possibilities, like using a cloud-powered telescope to scan for future business opportunities.

With these riches within reach, who wouldn’t want to join the cloud migration craze? However, navigating the landscape of the seven Rs without understanding their strengths and limitations can lead to detours and missed opportunities. In the next section, we’ll delve deeper into each R, unpacking their individual characteristics and equipping you to chart the optimal course towards your cloud kingdom.

The seven R’s of cloud migration

The seven R’s represent distinct migration strategies with varying degrees of complexity, speed, and long-term impact on your application portfolio. Let’s explore each R in detail, highlighting its purpose, suitability, and potential limitations:

Source: AWS

1. Rehost (Lift and Shift): This rapid and cost-effective option involves directly migrating applications to the AWS cloud infrastructure without significant architectural changes. Think of it as simply relocating your servers to a cloud data center, leveraging its scalability and resilience. However, this approach may limit long-term agility and cloud-native optimization potential.

2. Relocate: If you seek specific AWS features or multi-cloud flexibility, relocating applications to a different cloud platform might be ideal. This approach requires careful planning and compatibility testing but opens doors to specialized services or cost optimization opportunities.

3. Replatform: When existing architecture impedes cloud optimization, replatforming applications allows you to fully utilize cloud-native principles. This approach involves significant reworking to unlock advanced scalability, elasticity, and resilience. However, it demands substantial resources, expertise, and planning.

4. Refactor: For applications where future-proof agility is crucial, refactoring involves building them completely from scratch, embracing serverless technologies and microservices architecture. This most comprehensive approach unlocks future potential but requires intensive resources and planning.

5. Repurchase: Instead of extensive replatforming, you can repurchase outdated applications for cost-effective cloud-native equivalents offering similar functionality. This approach streamlines maintenance, provides modern features, and leverages the inherent advantages of cloud architecture.

6. Retire: This AWS cloud migration strategy targets outdated, underutilized, or incompatible applications. Retiring these applications liberates resources and simplifies your IT infrastructure, while reducing maintenance costs and potential security vulnerabilities.

7. Retain: For stable and compliant applications, retaining them on-premises ensures operational continuity and minimizes disruption. This approach avoids unnecessary migration efforts and allows you to focus cloud resources on strategic priorities.

By understanding the strengths and limitations of each R, you can confidently choose the most appropriate migration strategy for each application in your portfolio. Remember, a hybrid approach is often optimal, tailoring specific R’s to different applications for successful cloud adoption.

Insights

Explore the best strategies to migrate to the AWS cloud

AWS migration refers to the process of moving an organization's IT infrastructure, applications and data to the cloud-based services offered by Amazon Web Services (AWS).

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When to use each migration model

Migration strategy: Retire

Use Case: Outdated, underutilized, or incompatible applications

Benefits:

Simplifies infrastructure

Reduces maintenance costs

Mitigates security vulnerabilities

Implementation: Analyze workload dependencies and plan sunsetting process

Migration strategy: Retain

Use Case: Stable and compliant applications needing operational continuity

Benefits:

Minimizes disruption

Avoids unnecessary migration effort

Focuses resources on strategic priorities

Implementation: Assess compliance requirements and optimize on-premises environment

Migration strategy: Rehost (Lift & Shift)

Use Case: Rapid and cost-effective migration with minimal architectural changes

Benefits:

Leverages cloud scalability

Resilience

Reduces data center complexity

Implementation: Refine infrastructure sizing and optimize resource utilization

Migration strategy: Relocate

Use Case: Specific cloud feature requirements or multi-cloud flexibility

Benefits:

Accesses specialized services

Optimizes costs across platforms

Enhances future flexibility

Implementation: Evaluate target platform compatibility and plan data migration strategy

Migration strategy: Repurchase

Use Case: Cost-effective cloud-native alternatives for outdated applications

Benefits:

Streamlines maintenance provides modern features

Unlocks cloud-native advantages

Implementation: Identify suitable SaaS or PaaS offerings and plan application integration

Migration strategy: Replatform

Use Case: Significant performance and agility gains, but with greater reworking

Benefits:

Unlocks advanced scalability

Resilience

Future-proofs architecture

Implementation: Invest in development resources and plan application modernization roadmap

Migration strategy: Refactor

Use Case: Complete rebuild for future-proof agility and cloud-native optimization

Benefits:

Enables microservices architecture

Unlocks serverless technologies

Maximizes cloud potential

Implementation: Secure dedicated resources and prioritize development expertise

AWS migration benefits

Beyond simply transitioning your infrastructure, migrating to AWS delivers tangible benefits that empower your business to thrive in the digital landscape. These advantages stem from several key areas:

1. Unmatched agility: Adapt and respond to market shifts with lightning speed. AWS enables rapid scaling up and down of resources, effortless deployment of new applications, and real-time adjustments to meet shifting demands. This agility allows you to capitalize on fleeting opportunities and outmaneuver competitors.

2. Infinite scalability: Break free from the constraints of on-premises limitations. AWS offers boundless scalability, seamlessly accommodating spikes in activity, resource-intensive projects, and future growth. Need more servers? They’re available with a click. Require advanced analytics capabilities? Specialized services readily await. Your ambitions are no longer confined to infrastructure.

3. Optimized cost management: Ditch the burden of upfront investments and unpredictable expenses. AWS embraces a pay-as-you-go model, where you only pay for the resources you consume. This granular control enables precise cost optimization, eliminating wasted capacity and over-provisioning. Invest intelligently in cloud resources that directly drive business value.

4. Innovation as a constant: Embrace the cutting edge and propel your digital transformation. AWS constantly introduces groundbreaking services and features, opening doors to previously unimaginable possibilities. From artificial intelligence and machine learning to serverless computing and data analytics, the cloud fuels disruptive ideas and propels you ahead of the curve.

5. Global reach and resilience: Extend your digital borders and connect with customers like never before. AWS boasts a global network of data centers, ensuring exceptional performance and unparalleled redundancy regardless of your users’ location. This global reach strengthens your brand, unlocks new markets, and bolsters your disaster recovery capabilities.

6. Unwavering security and compliance: Prioritize data security and safeguard your reputation. AWS prioritizes multi-layered security controls and adheres to the highest compliance standards. Sensitive data is protected with rigorous measures, building trust with customers and minimizing risk.

Conquering cloud migration challenges

With the seven Rs as your compass, it’s time to chart your course through the inevitable challenges that arise on any AWS migration journey. By anticipating these roadblocks and proactively addressing them, you can ensure a smoother and more successful transition to the cloud. Here are some key obstacles to keep in mind:

1. Complexity and skill gap: Navigating the vast and ever-evolving AWS ecosystem can be daunting, especially for organizations with limited cloud experience. This complexity, coupled with a potential skill gap in your team, can lead to inefficient resource utilization, suboptimal architecture choices, and delayed timelines.

Strategize: Address this challenge by investing in training and certifications for your IT staff, partnering with experienced AWS consultants, and leveraging readily available online resources and documentation. Prioritize understanding core AWS services and best practices to make informed decisions throughout your migration.

2. Security considerations: Migrating sensitive data and applications to the cloud requires meticulous attention to security protocols and compliance regulations. Failure to secure your assets can lead to data breaches, reputational damage, and hefty fines.

Fortify: Implement robust access controls, data encryption, and threat detection mechanisms. Choose security-focused AWS services and adhere to industry best practices. Partnering with AWS security experts can significantly mitigate risks and ensure compliance.

3. Vendor lock-in: While leveraging the full range of AWS services can offer significant benefits, over-reliance on proprietary solutions can create an unhealthy dependence on a single vendor. This can limit your future flexibility and potentially increase costs.

Diversify: Maintain a balance between utilizing valuable AWS services and keeping some workloads on-premises or considering multi-cloud strategies. This approach enhances flexibility and bargaining power in the long run.

4. Cost management: While AWS offers flexible pricing models and optimization tools, managing cloud costs effectively requires ongoing monitoring and proactive adjustments. Uncontrolled spending can quickly eat into your budget and undermine the cost-effectiveness of your migration.

Optimize: Implement strategies like reserved instances, cost tagging, and resource auto-scaling to control expenses. Regularly review your cloud bills and identify areas for optimization. Remember, continuous cost management is the key to maximizing the financial benefits of the cloud.

Beyond migration: Embracing the digital horizon with Softweb Solutions

By embracing this roadmap, you’ll propel your business forward with agility, efficiency, and innovation. The cloud isn’t just a destination; it’s a powerful platform for growth and transformation. Don’t let questions cloud your judgment. Let Softweb Solutions be your guide to sail you through.

Originally published at https://www.softwebsolutions.com on February 14, 2024.

[blackmoreops]

How to Migrate WordPress to GCP Server Using WordOps and EasyEngine

Migrating a WordPress site to Google Cloud Platform (GCP) offers numerous benefits including improved performance, scalability, and reliability. In this comprehensive guide, I’ll walk you through on how to migrate WordPress to GCP using WordOps and EasyEngine, with special attention to sites created with the --wpredis flag. This guide works whether you’re migrating from a traditional hosting…

[vastedge330]

Discover a step-by-step guide to cloud migration in 2025, covering various types and best practices to ensure a smooth and efficient cloud transition for businesses.

[bdccglobal]

Lift-and-Shift Cloud Migration Made Simple! Explore our essential guide for seamless migration strategies.

[devildomwriter]

Fun Facts 871-880

• Mammon accidentally ate a cursed candy that forced him to become studious. His brothers were so weirded out they avoided him.

• Before knowing it was cursed, Mammon bought a toy car for his look alike plushie.

• Asmodues once mistook a tree shadow for a cat. Satan wanted to see the picture of it anyway but was angry to learn Asmo just immediately deleted it.

• According to Satan, once a book it acquired it should never be sold

• Barbatos caught Belphegor from accidentally falling down the stairs in his sleep. Asmo thinks it wouldn’t been the perfect meet-cute moment if they’d been strangers.

• Raphael doesn’t like being brought into Simeon and Lucifer’s arguments and does his best to stay out of it

• Beelzebub once accidentally bit into a giant cloud hamster. If it likes you it will let you climb onto its back which feels like laying in a cloud.

• A migrating bird that can shift into a hat once stayed with MC for a few days before continuing its migration.

• Simeon points out that Lucifer treats Luke like a younger brother, never fails to greet him, “throws him a lot of bones”, and joins/guides him on fun adventures. Lucifer still pretends this isn’t the case even with overwhelming proof.

• When in crisis, Luke ran to help strangers without any consideration about his own needs and safety.

861-870 • 881-890

[alltheirdamn]

Rotten | cowboy!joel x f!reader

Part III

Summary: When it rains, it pours. You want to hate Joel so badly, but it’s so hard when he keeps fighting for what he wants. Rating: 18+ MDNI Word Count: 7.6k Warnings: No-Outbreak AU, heavy banter and arguing, brat taming, explicit language, mild violence, kissing (!!!), outdoor sex, fingering, orgasm denial, rough unprotected piv sex, squirting, choking, slapping, creampie, aftercare, a fuck ton of angst, a dash of fluff A/N: if you came for the smut, part 1&2 are always there for your enjoyment...but if you stayed for the angst and the ending they deserved, then this is for you. i'll never shy away from angst and the opportunity to deepen a story past pnp, so if you don't like it pls don't fucking bite it. anyway, a HUGE thank you to @lotusbxtch for helping me work this final part out, you are my partner in crime. and thank you @mermaidgirl30 for always screaming about these two with me <3 xoxo everyone, enjoy Part I & Part II

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Storm clouds brewed above you, their grey formation migrating together until the darkness blanketed the sky. The incoming rainstorm made the cattle restless in the fields, and you were fighting through the whipping wind, trying to wrangle them back into the barn. Usually, you’d let them wander through the fields during calmer storms, but the churning clouds made you nervous for what was to come. 

Mac hesitated beneath you as thunder cracked through the air, the sound rippling through the rolling fields. He bucked against your grip on the reins, timidly backing away from the path you were guiding him on. The cattle were too spread out to control by yourself, but you could handle it. You weren’t raised to back down from a challenge, and that’s all this was—a challenge. The only issue was that there was little room for error before the storm reached its full potential. 

“C’mon, Mac. Y’gotta work with me,” you said, frustrated. 

You steered him toward the right side of the field, using him as a lead for the cattle to follow. It was useless; they only ran in the opposite direction and further away from you. You cursed at the sky, gripping your saddle horn as you leaned into Mac’s neck. The storm would come crashing down soon, and you’d be chasing the cows through the downpour alone. 

“Y’want some help?” Called out a voice in the distance. 

The deep timber of Joel’s voice frightened the herd, making them sprint through the tall grass in every direction. Fuck. You steered Mac around, facing Joel in the direction of him as he barreled toward you on his horse. He had one hand holding the reins, the other holding down his cowboy hat against the wind rushing over his body. 

“Fuckin’ dammit, Joel!” You screamed. “I had it under control!”

You didn’t, but he didn’t need to know that. 

His horse came into a slow trot beside you and Mac, and you whipped your head to the side to glare at him. Under the shadows of the storm clouds, his brown eyes glinted brightly, absorbing every ounce of light left above you in the sky. God, you hated him. You hated his stupid eyes, his smug smirk, and his broad body sitting atop his horse. 

“Lemme help you,” he offered. “Y’can’t get them all wrangled alone. Y’need another horse helpin’ move them.”

“No, I fuckin’ don’t! I can handle it, Joel!”

“Darlin’, I know y’can handle most everythin’, but this storm is gettin’ too crazy to be out here alone. Lemme just help herd them together, then y’can take it from there.”

“Jesus Christ, why can’t y’just leave me alone?” You yelled, exasperated. 

You glanced back at the cows, now several yards away and deeper into the fields than you wanted. Shit, this wasn’t good. Kicking your heels against Mac’s sides, you sent him into a full sprint through the open fields, distancing yourself from Joel and propelling yourself deeper into your endless expanse of land. It didn’t matter if you got caught in the midst of the storm; you just wanted to prove your point. You could do this. You didn’t need help. You didn’t want help. 

Joel called out your name, the sound of his horse galloping behind you growing louder. You pushed yourself harder, forcing Mac to run faster. Lightning struck down into the field miles away, the blinding light causing Mac to rear upwards. You tried to steady yourself in the saddle, swinging the reins to the side to guide him back onto all fours. He only fought against your hold, jerking his head back and forth as he huffed out a loud whine. 

“Mac, calm down!” You begged. 

A hand came beside you, gripping the reins and tugging them firmly to the left. Joel steered Mac beside his horse, taking control and limiting your ability to calm Mac down. You tried yanking the reins from Joel’s large hands, but he only tightened his grip. 

“This isn’t the time to be stubborn,” he barked. “You’re gonna get caught in the storm.”

“I have responsibilities!” You seethed. “I need these damn cows in the barn ‘fore it starts gettin’ bad. I can’t just leave them out here!”

“They’ll be just fine! It’s one storm,” he argued. 

You grasped at the reins, tearing them from his hands. Another ripple of thunder shook the air around you, and you took it as a sign that time was running out. You needed to work against the storm before it was too late. Leaning into Mac, you pushed him into a long gallop toward the herd. You managed to gain the lead around them, zig-zagging Mac until they grouped together. Joel watched from a distance, his horse standing restless in the blowing wind. You were doing this without him, proving you didn’t need help. 

The cows grunted as you urged them into a faster pace, the view of the worn-down barn drifting closer. You were acutely aware of Joel trailing behind you but couldn’t find the energy to care. Let him follow. You’d rip him to shreds when the cattle were safe. Mac continued his waltz back and forth, obeying your commands as you guided him in a rhythm behind the cows. You tuned out the sound of thunder rumbling above you and kept your breathing even as you pushed through the wind tearing at your face. 

“Alright, let’s get y’all inside,” you said, coaxing the cattle through the open barn doors.

They rustled through the hay-covered ground, veering off in different directions. Some went straight for the water basins, while others huddled in dark corners behind the wooden beams creaking above you. You kicked your legs over Mac, sliding to your feet and giving him an appreciative pat against his neck. Softly kissing his jaw, you smoothed down his mane and waded through the cows to check them over. The sounds of hoofs pounding into the barn startled you—and the cows—and you clenched your fists together before turning toward Joel. 

“I told you to leave me alone.”

Dismounting his horse, Joel waltzed his way into the barn, thunder clouds casting dark shadows over his large frame as he walked closer. Under the brim of his cowboy hat, you could see his smug grin and glittering eyes, just watching as you shook with anger.

“All I was tryna do is help,” he explained. “No need to get feisty with me.”

You stepped closer, rage boiling inside your veins. You hated him. You hated the help he offered because he thought you couldn’t do this alone. He thought you were weak—incapable. Well, you weren’t. You were more than capable of handling anything out on your land. That’s what you were raised to do.

“I don’t want your fuckin’ help, Joel. And I don’t want you ‘round here.”

“Why?” He pressed. 

You were toe-to-toe with him, staring up at eyes that looked at you with anything but anger. Where was that menacing look he usually wore? Where was his dominance? Why wasn’t he fighting with you? 

“You piss me off!” you yelled. “You come ‘round here ruinin’ my fuckin’ day. You don’t take no for an answer. You don’t let me live.”

“Darlin’, bein’ alone ain’t livin’ at all. Why don’t y’want someone ‘round? Why don’t you want me ‘round?”

His body crowded you, his hands roaming up your arms, squeezing your tense shoulders as you disappeared under his shadow. You shook him off, breezing past him and into the open space outside the barn. You didn’t want to give him the answer; you couldn’t explain it without being vulnerable. And Joel was the very last person you wanted to be vulnerable with. 

“Hey!” Joel hollered. “Would y’come back inside? It ain’t safe out there right now.”

As if to prove his point, lightning struck the fields just a mile away, the instant clap of thunder rattling through the air. Drops of rain began to pelt the dirt around you, misting your hair and face as you glanced up into the sky. You worked at shutting the fences together, ensuring everything was tied down and secure before the storm hit full force. 

Two strong arms braced themselves around your middle, pulling you away from the barn until your boots dragged through the mud. Your house was only feet away, and you knew that’s exactly where Joel intended to take you. Maybe he’d fuck you through the anger like he always did, but not even that sounded appealing right now. You wanted to be alone. 

“Let me fuckin’ go!” You screamed, thrashing against his firm grip. 

“No. I’m sick of this fuckin’ attitude y’always got. Ain’t gonna listen to it anymore.”

You drove an elbow into his stomach, forcing his arms to slip from your torso as he doubled over with a soft oof. You staggered away from him, staring him down through the pelting rain. 

“I want to be alone!” You raged. 

“Why do y’want to be alone so bad? Y’don't have to be alone, you know,” Joel argued. 

He had a hand pressed into his side, no doubt to quell the pain from your jab, and a grimace twisting up his lips. You were soaked from the rain now, your hair matting down onto your forehead and cheeks as you stared at him. Humidity thickened the air around you, leaving you suffocating in your skin. 

“I can take care of myself,” you defended. “I—.”

“I know y’can take care of yourself,” Joel interjected. “You’ve made that perfectly fuckin’ clear! All I’m sayin’ is, what if you didn’t have to?”

“And do what?” You laughed bitterly. “Have you take care of me? In your fuckin’ dreams, Miller.”

Joel dragged a wet hand over his face, his eyelashes weighed down by the heavy droplets. You folded your arms over your chest, your shirt soaked and no doubt see-through. It didn’t matter; too many emotions flooded your mind to even care about your appearance. 

“Y’drive me fuckin’ crazy, y’know that?” Joel cursed. “Always gotta be so fuckin’ stubborn and pissy. I can’t stand it.”

“Then why do y’keep comin’ ‘round?!” You tossed your arms up in defeat, huffing out a cloud of air through the torrents of rain.

“Because!” He shouted.

“Because why?”

“Christ, y’just don’t fuckin’ get it.”

Joel tore his hat off his head, rushing toward you. His strong hands gripped the sides of your face, his nose brushing over yours. With a deep inhale, he crashed his lips against yours, the taste of rainwater and smoke falling onto your tongue. Everything inside your body tensed up, too afraid to cave into his embrace. But Joel held you closer, tangling one hand into your damp hair, coaxing your mouth open wider. His tongue rolled over yours, and a moan slipped from your mouth and into his. He swallowed every tiny noise you made, drinking in your vulnerability as it coated his lips. Every slant of his mouth over yours was a step closer to your undoing; he would ruin you completely if he kept kissing you. 

“Stop,” you mumbled against his lips.

Joel pressed harder against you, his nose smashing into your cheek as he deepened the kiss. He was consuming you from the inside out, sucking out every emotion and bleeding you dry. You sank your teeth into his bottom lip, pulling it hard until he broke away with labored breathing. He brushed a finger over his mouth, finding blood seeping along the surface of his bottom lip. 

“This how y’wanna act?” He questioned, his eyes a swimming pool of onyx. 

There it was. 

Your chest rose and fell as you tried to slow your breathing, watching Joel flex his fingers at his sides. You had torn yourself from his grip and left him empty-handed; if you did it first, then you wouldn’t have to face the pain of losing him. Christ, the realization hit you like a freight train. 

You hated him… you had to hate him. 

You wouldn’t let yourself feel anything else.

“Go home, Joel! I don’t want you!”

“Sure fuckin’ felt like y’did,” he huffed.

Then he was on you, wrangling you down into the mud until you were pinned beneath him. Sloshing against the wet earth, you clawed at his flannel, tearing your nails through the soaked fabric. Joel clamped a hand around your wrist, pinning it above your head as he lowered his face close to yours. Your other hand came up to his face, smearing thick mud over his scruff-covered jaw. Every time he leaned closer, you pushed his face away, distancing yourself from the addiction that beckoned; lips saturated in the rain, soft and inviting…a sweet promise of something you could never have. You wanted him to ruin you like he always did; you needed the pain. You needed the reminder that this was nothing but physical that kept you colliding together. 

“Stop. Fightin’. Me.” He panted.

“No!”

You continued swatting at his face, mud caking into his mustache and over the bridge of his nose. Joel pried your hand from his face, pulling it above your head and clasping your wrists together under one large palm.

“Enough!” He barked. 

 He shredded your wet shirt apart with his free hand, the saturated pieces fraying into the muddy ground. With a snarl off his lips, Joel bent down and ravished your body with open-mouthed kisses, his teeth marring your neck and chest. You arched into his touch, hissing at the pain of each bite into your flesh. 

“Fuck,” you groaned.

This. This is what you wanted. You wouldn’t fight this because this was what you wanted. Right? You mewled as he marked your body, leaving bruised patches of skin in his wake. Pleasure began to pulsate between your legs, a constant ache that only grew stronger the longer you lay beneath him. You needed him inside you—assaulting you with quick thrusts until your brain turned off. 

Joel worked at peeling your pants from your legs, huffing out a frustrated breath as he fought with the denim plastered to your skin by the rain. Maybe you'd laugh at his struggles if you weren’t blinded by so much rage. But you were beyond desperate for release—release from the pleasure boiling under your skin and release from this constant painful ache inside your chest. With your pants and underwear lazily tossed into the puddle of water beside you, Joel smoothed his hands over your curves, his fingers pinching and twisting your pebbled nipples. Every inch of your body was drenched with rain, the droplets pelting your face as you tried to bite back another moan. His fingers roamed down your stomach, slipping easily between your legs and through your silken folds. 

“Please,” you whined. 

It was the first time you willingly begged for anything from Joel. You bit your lips to hold back any more desperate pleas. 

“Look at you, darlin’,” Joel teased. “Finally learned some damn manners.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped. 

You chased his fingers, lifting your hips as he brushed the pad of his thumb over your clit. Everything was so sensitive and heightened that you could hardly blame the rain for your eyes blurring as he drew slow circles over the aching bud. Joel coaxed small noises from your mouth as you writhed against the wet earth. 

“You gonna be good for me, darlin?” Joel asked, his voice lost behind another rumble of thunder.

“Just make me cum,” you bit out. 

“Y’think I’m just gonna give you whatever y’want right now? After the way y’treated me? Nah, I don’t think so.”

His lips twitched into a smug grin, his fingers teasing their way into your slick entrance. Joel paralyzed you with a heavy stare, and you turned your head away, staring off across the field to avoid his eyes. The longer you looked at him, the harder this would be.

He curled two fingers inside you, dragging them over the spongy spot that had your insides rupturing with ecstasy. Every stroke of his fingers was another tug on that pleasure unfurling within your core. Squeezing your eyes shut, you focused on the rhythm of his movements, the quickness of his fingers, the thickness as they stretched you wide.

“Gotta look at me if y’wanna cum,” Joel said, plunging his fingers deeper.

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes tighter. You couldn’t look at him, not right now. 

“Look at me!” Joel demanded.

A sharp sting bolted across your face, sending your eyes flying open. Joel’s eyes were darker than the thunderstorm hanging above your bodies, emotions swirling deep within his irises. You saw it all—the anger, the pain, the need. This is why you didn’t want to look at him; it reflected everything you felt, too. His fingers pinched your chin, holding your face firm within his grip. You had nowhere to go. You were trapped—trapped beneath him, trapped inside yourself. 

Joel worked his fingers harder and faster, pulling cries from your lips until your orgasm skyrocketed through your body. 

“Fuck, Joel!” You cried. 

His jaw twitched as he watched you unravel beneath him. Your core fluttered with phantom ripples of your orgasm, your body unwinding from its tension. You had enough of this—you didn’t want to be under his control. Not when his eyes softened and his body pressed closer to yours. 

“Get off me,” you begged. “Fuck—get off!”

Joel tore his fingers from you, drawing them into his mouth as he cleaned your arousal from his skin. There wasn’t a single ounce of rage radiating off his body, which only angered you more. For how much fight you were putting up against him, he wasn’t giving in like he usually did. 

Frustrated with everything, you shimmied your body far enough upward to twist your hips and swing a leg over his waist. Joel relinquished and allowed you to wrangle him to the ground; your hands splayed over his chest, his shirt soaked beneath your fingers. Joel gazed up at you with hungry eyes while he worked at undoing his belt buckle. Rain pelted his face, washing away the mud as it streaked through his graying curls. Christ, he looked so beautiful beneath you; you would kiss him if you weren’t so fucking scared. But you didn’t want that—at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. Above him, you could hurt him however you wanted; you could torment him until he snapped. 

“This what y’want, darlin’?” Joel asked, breathless. “Y’wanna use me? Go ahead.”

You didn’t want to use him; you wanted him angry enough to snap back into his commanding nature. You wanted him to break you apart. You wanted his handprints seared into your skin and his filthy words in your ear. But he kept staring at you with eyes that could fracture your heart into a million pieces. There wasn’t a hint of darkness in his eyes anymore, all of it replaced by that deep-rooted need you couldn’t stand to look at. 

Joel’s cock throbbed in your hand as you lined it up with your entrance, the velvety skin damp from the rain, sliding into your sex without resistance. You lowered yourself until his length filled you completely, the stretch rendering you speechless. Slowly, you began to grind against him, letting your body move fluidly until you buzzed with newfound pleasure. It coursed through your veins, igniting that fire low in your stomach you so hungered for. 

You rolled your hips faster, leaning into him to thread your hands through his matted curls, your nails digging into his scalp. Joel wouldn’t move with you—he lay there with his hands gripping your waist, letting you take the lead.

“Keep usin’ me, darlin’,” Joel whispered. “I can take it.”

It wasn’t what you wanted to hear. You hoped your nails clawing in his skin would elicit a response…anything. You sped up the tempo, raising yourself along the length of his cock and pushing yourself down. 

“I hate you,” you panted, throwing all your weight into each drop of your hips. “I hate you so fuckin’ much.”

“I know y’do,” Joel said softly.

You dragged your nails down his hair and over the graying patches of hair along his jaw. Dirt collected under your nails as tiny red welts rose to the surface of his skin. Joel wasn’t phased by any of it, not even a grimace of pain when you squeezed your hands around his throat. 

“Hate me back!” You begged.

“No.” 

You choked him harder, throttling him as your sex clenched around his cock. You couldn’t even focus on the pleasure curling inside your stomach, your anger suffocating every sensation in your body. 

“Goddamnit, Joel! Hate me!” 

His tan skin flushed underneath your hands, and your rage took hold of your body as you sent your hand flying across his cheek. Nothing. Not a single reaction from your anger. Joel should have had you on the brink of death at this point after all your yelling and fighting. That’s what he did best—he hurt you until the pain became pleasure, and your control slipped out of reach. But he wasn’t feeding into your pleas. He wasn’t even considering it. That stupid brow furrow softened, his eyes looking at you with a mixture of emotions, none of which you wanted. 

“Fuckin’ hate me!” You screamed. “How much more can I keep hurtin’ you ‘til you hate me back?”

Joel lifted himself up despite your efforts to hold him down. Everything felt electrified with your bodies pressed together, sticky wet skin against wet clothes. Your body pulsed with pleasure…with anger…with everything you wanted to escape. His hands wrapped around your back, guiding you along his cock as you kept your hands squeezing around his throat. 

“But I don’t hate you.” He was soft-spoken as if to coax you out of your aggressive haze.

You dropped your head onto his shoulder, sinking your teeth into his skin as you rocked against his body. Faster and faster, your hips moved, driving his cock deeper inside you; all the while he remained paralyzed against you. Small flexes of his fingers against your skin were all you could feel, and his breathy moans in your ear were enough to drive you mad. Your teeth were bearing down into his shoulder with enough force to draw blood, yet he didn’t move a muscle. 

Releasing your grip, you jerked away from the warmth of his body with a snarl twisting up your lips. Why wasn’t he taking control? You deserved the torture—the complete domination of his body against yours. Why was this time different? Why wouldn’t he give you what you wanted?

“Why won’t you hate me?!” You wailed. “Why won’t you fuck me like y’always do?”

Joel silently watched as you pounded your fists into his muscles over and over again. You could keep hitting him, keep yelling, keep pleading…but what was the use? He wasn’t giving in, and you were growing tired. You were so fucking tired of fighting.

“Is this not enough?” You cried, your voice cracking. “Am I not enough?”

“Oh, darlin’,” Joel sighed.

His breath was hot against your ear, his lips dangerously close to your skin as you continued crying. His cock throbbed inside you, yet your pleasure dissipated. You didn’t want this anymore. You were broken. 

“Why am I not enough?” You whimpered.

Your hands stopped their beating, and you let the emotions you had kept at a distance crash against the surface. Sobs wracked through your body as your head fell into the crook of his neck. Joel’s hands brushed up your back, caressing and holding you close. He buried his face into your hair, one hand tangling in the soaked tendrils, holding you flush to his chest.

“I got you, darlin’. S’alright,” he crooned. 

Your tears bled into his shirt, untraceable within the wet fabric that clung to his strong shoulders. Your body shook with each wave of cries, and Joel just kept holding you, kept shushing you until your sobs turned into whimpers, and you had nothing left. 

You were so scared to lose everything—your land, your generational responsibilities… Joel. Everyone in your life had vanished. All you had left was hundreds of acres of empty land and a hollow chest with a half-broken heart. You could take the pain he gave you because that’s what you deserved. You didn’t deserve this tenderness, not after the way you treated him. Anger and hate were enough for you; it was enough to pacify the ache of wanting more. You weren’t worth more than this. 

“Please, Joel,” you muttered. “Please hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Joel whispered. “I can’t. Y’got yourself under my skin, and I don’t want it any other way.”

“No…don’t do that,” you mumbled. “Don’t say things like that to me.”

“C’mere, lemme look at you.”

Joel pushed your shoulders forward, peeling you away from his chest. You hid your eyes from him, lowering your head and away from his longing stare. 

“Darlin’, look at me,” he coaxed, his fingers brushing under your chin and lifting your face. 

The rain was falling slower now, large droplets smattering against your cheeks and forehead. You tried to avoid his eyes, watching the rain roll down his nose and over his pouty lips. For once, the thought of kissing him didn’t scare you. 

Joel squeezed his fingers around your jaw, softer than you were used to but still effective in getting your attention. Through the tears still blurring your eyes, you gazed into his brown eyes, the softness crashing into yours. With his brows slightly pulled up in concern, Joel exhaled, finally seeing all the broken pieces he held in his arms. 

“You are enough,” he vowed. “Attitude and all, you are enough. If y’wanna hate me, then hate me. Hate me all y’want ’cause I can handle it. Just please don’t hate yourself. I see how scared you are, darlin’. Ain’t got nothin’ to be scared ‘bout with me, ‘kay?”

You nodded solemnly, letting your forehead fall against his. Joel smoothed his hands down your back, slowly guiding your hips up until his cock slipped from you. Your core clenched around nothing, the ripples of your denied orgasm rolling through your body. Fucking out your anger was one thing, but you couldn’t fuck away your feelings. Not anymore. 

“C’mon, darlin’,” Joel urged. 

He lifted you to your feet, following suit and rising from the slippery ground. Bending slightly, Joel curled an arm around your back and the other under your knees, tossing you up and cradling you against his chest. You let your head rest on his shoulder, watching the mud dry on his tan skin. With bleary eyes and a heavy heart, you felt guilty for making him care for you. You were supposed to be good on your own; you were supposed to be independent. You didn’t need taking care of, yet here you were, limp in Joel’s arms and exhausted.

He waded through the muddy puddles around the barn and carried you toward your house. Water dripped down the patchy roof, rattling against the storm drain as it rolled down the side of the walls. The smell of the thunderstorm wafted over Joel’s body, invading your senses with each heavy inhale. He walked up the porch steps cautiously, kicking the door open with the toe of his boot. It didn’t bother you when it smashed against the wall, the wood rattling at the force. 

Still keeping you close to his chest, Joel walked through your tiny farm home, familiarizing himself with the layout until he found the door to your bathroom. Propping it open with his knee, Joel guided you inside, gingerly lowering you to your feet. 

“Let’s get you in the shower, darlin’,” Joel urged. “Needa get y’warmed up.”

“I’m okay,” you croaked, wrapping your arms around your bare chest. 

Joel huffed a quiet laugh, bending his head down to kiss your dirty forehead. 

“Stubborn lil’ thing. C’mon, I’ll join you.”

You glanced around the bathroom, staring at the yellow wallpaper peeling around the crown molding. Time—and weather—had done its damage to your home, but no one ever visited, so you never thought about fixing it. But now Joel was standing there, truly seeing your house and not just focusing on you pinned to the couch, and you were awfully insecure. Every paint-chipped crevice along the wooden walls, every creak in the floorboard, every water stain along the corners of doorways… was just another reminder of how bad you were at existing. Focusing on the land and keeping the animals cared for was easy, but it was hard to care for yourself. You didn’t matter; you never had. 

“Hey.” Joel’s voice was soft in your ear.

You looked back at Joel hesitantly, watching his clothes drop to the floor. Piece by piece, Joel slowly materialized into a reality you hadn’t imagined. Without his cowboy boots or worn flannel, Joel was soft everywhere. His dark chest hair curled around his torso and down his navel, his stomach soft and moldable. His tapered waist looked much better out of his jeans, and his thick thighs were worth spending hours kissing. All his rough edges and calloused skin morphed into something so much more tender and inviting—something you yearned for in unspeakable ways. 

“Do I need to carry you into the shower?” He asked, half teasing.

You didn’t have the energy to laugh, so you only stood silent, waiting for him to run the water until the steam fogged the mirror. Once it ran hot enough, Joel pulled back the curtain and dragged you under the spray of the water. Mud slipped off your skin, swirling down your body in dark rivulets and into the drain. 

Joel’s body pressed against yours, his arms snaking around your waist. You felt his warm lips press into the skin of your neck, trailing further down as you leaned into his touch. The longer you spent in his embrace, the more pliant you became—malleable. 

“Can I help wash you, darlin’?” Joel muttered into your neck.

You wanted to decline to prove you didn’t need help, but Joel was just as stubborn as you. He’d persist, and you were terribly close to hitting your limit on how many times you could tell him no. So, you gave him the tiniest nod and let him steer you under the water. He reached around you to grab the shampoo, pumping enough into his hands to massage over your scalp. The drag of his fingers through your tangled hair was enough to loosen the tension in your muscles. Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling of his hands on your body the only sensation you could focus on. 

Joel remained silent, moving soapy hands over your body until there wasn’t a speck of dirt left. Eventually, your body hit its limit, and you sagged into his chest, your eyes tired and heavy. He reached over and turned the water off, the immediate chill in the empty air sending shivers down your spine. 

“Stay here,” Joel muttered. “Lemme grab a towel.”

“Y’don’t even know where they are,” you grumbled. 

Joel chuckled, slipping a hand down your chest to hug you closer. His scruff tickled your neck as he nestled into your body, swaying you softly against him. 

“Then show me,” he whispered. “Get me used to this house.”

Tears stung your waterline at hearing his words; he wanted to be here with you. Not just in this moment. He was thinking about the future, and you couldn’t understand why you were worth more than this. 

“They’re up in the cabinet outside the bathroom,” you offered. “Just don’t slip on the tiles, old man.”

“There’s my girl,” he laughed. 

You hid behind the shower curtain, watching Joel’s ass leave the bathroom as he roamed into the hallway. He was only gone a moment, returning with two towels in hand. You couldn’t help but stare at how water clung to his chest hair, curling the brown hair in swirls as they trailed down his stomach. His cock hung low between his thighs, half hard and thick. You still didn’t get your last orgasm, and maybe that was something you could rectify later. Later. 

“Sure starin’ a lot for someone who hates me,” Joel quipped, holding a towel. 

“Shut up, Miller. I can do whatever I want.”

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it,” he smirked. 

You stepped out of the tub, turning around so he could wrap the towel over your shoulders. His arms wound around your body, rubbing the fabric into your skin and drying you off. You twisted the towel over your chest and returned to watching Joel in all his glory. He used his towel to dry his hair, the salt and pepper curls sticking to his forehead. You liked Joel like this—soft and natural. As much as you enjoyed the fire in his eyes and the aggression in his actions, this was something so enticing. Slinging the towel around his waist, Joel beckoned you closer and hauled you into his arms. 

“Wanna get in bed with me?” He asked. 

“Now you’re askin’ permission for things? That’s new,” you scoffed, peering up at him with an eyebrow raised. 

“Alright, have it your way,” he huffed.

Bending down, Joel tossed you over his shoulder, making you squeal as his hands planted themselves on your ass. He waltzed out of the bathroom, hauling you down the hall until he found your bedroom. The overcast sky shadowed your room through the windows, and you were so ready to curl up under the covers and hide away. 

Tossing you onto the comforter, Joel climbed over you, caging you between his arms. You shied away from him as he leaned closer, his face dangerously close to yours. You were unsure if you were ready to kiss him again, though your body thrummed with the aching need to feel his lips against yours. He roamed a hand over your chest, his fingers dancing up the column of your neck as they squeezed softly around your throat. Instinctively, you arched into his touch, relishing the slight dominance back in his movements.

“Y’gonna fight me if I kiss you?” He teased, bending down closer.

“Maybe,” you whispered.

Joel’s lips twitched into a grin as he pressed his body into yours, his mouth a breath away from yours. With a flex of his fingers around your neck, he closed the gap, his lips colliding with yours. It wasn’t frenzied like the first time; his mouth was warm and soft against yours. He moved slowly, letting you adjust to every slant of his mouth, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth as an invitation, allowing him to steer this kiss in whatever direction. 

Roaming your hands up the expanse of his muscular arms, you dug your nails into his shoulders, dragging him closer until you were flush with his body. He broke away from your lips, trailing his mouth down the hollow of your neck, sucking marks into your skin. 

“Joel,” you whined.

“Hmm?” He muttered.

“I need—.”

Your begging was cut off short as he pulled down your towel, his mouth suctioning around your pebbled nipple. Your fingers tangled in his wet hair, pulling slightly to guide him off your body. He bit the sensitive bud, rolling your nipple between his teeth. He was relentless, and you found yourself caving into his desires the longer he spent ravishing your body.

“I know y’can be demandin’, darlin’,” Joel said, releasing your nipple from between his teeth. “So, let’s fuckin’ hear it.”

“Fuck me, Joel,” you begged. “Fuck me, and don’t be gentle.”

“Y’like it when I’m rough with you? Y’want me to fuck you into the mattress?” He questioned.

“Christ,” you exhaled. “Please.”

Joel wasted no time tossing his towel across the room and lifting your legs high into the air. You didn’t care that he had you pinned beneath him; you wanted to see his eyes wild with lust while he fucked himself into you. Shuffling his knees up, he maneuvered both of your legs over one shoulder, his hands sliding under your ass and lifting your hips. He slowly eased himself into you, and you let a moan slip from your lips as his cock brushed against your cervix. Yes. This is what you needed.

“S’fuckin’ pretty when you’re stuffed with my cock,” Joel grunted, rocking his hips against yours.

“Mhmm,” you whined. 

You couldn’t formulate a coherent sentence when you were struggling to breathe. You were so fucking full of him, and the angle he had you molded into only shoved his cock further inside you. Joel rutted against you slowly, but each drive of his hips hit hard against yours. You reached for his hand that gripped your calf and pulled it down until it wrapped around your neck.

“Greedy lil’ thing,” he smirked.

Joel flexed his fingers around your throat before fully gripping it, stifling your breathing until your vision darkened. He snapped his hips harder, speeding up his thrusts until your bed frame smacked into the wall. Arousal dripped down the seam of your ass, coating Joel’s cock as it slipped in and out of you. Coils of pleasure twisted inside your stomach, and you let out strangled whimpers as you tried to swallow around his fingers.

“Y’enjoy bein’ fucked like a lil’ slut?”

“Y—yes,” you choked.

“Louder for me. Wanna hear ya’.”

But his grip tightened, cutting off your words as they lodged in your throat. Tears slid down your cheeks as you chased the burning pleasure coursing through your body. The orgasm you lost earlier was surging back to the surface, and you clawed at the feeling as it wracked against your core. Joel could sense it, too, his pace ruthless as he assaulted you with powerful thrusts.

“S’my girl need to cum?”

My girl.

The sentiment alone could have skyrocketed your orgasm to the surface. Joel’s eyes gleamed with pride as he looked down at you, satisfied at your reaction as your lips tipped up into a timid smile. The sound of being his girl didn’t sound so bad…but you’d think about that later. You needed this. 

“Please,” you begged. 

“You gonna be my good girl, darlin’? Gonna make me proud right now?”

Joel unwound his hand from your throat, threading his fingers into your hair. He bent down, forcing you further into the mattress as he captured your lips in a hungry kiss. He leaned in closer, your body nearly folded in half against his, your thighs pressed into his sweat-slick chest as your calves still rested over his shoulder. Every inch of you was covered in him: his musky scent, his smoke-tinged breath, his deep grunts lost inside your mouth. It blanketed over your fears, and you lost yourself in him. He was consuming you from the inside out, and you couldn’t help yourself when you deepened the kiss. 

“C’mon,” Joel urged, his words lost against your mouth. “Make me proud.”

Your orgasm erupted through your body, stare sparkling behind your eyelids as you seized up. Your core fluttered around Joel’s cock, milking him through each ripple of your orgasm as it passed through. 

“That’s my girl,” Joel praised. “Fuckin’ drenchin’ my cock.”

In a blur, Joel had you flipped onto your stomach, his cock vanishing from you for only a moment before he was yanking your hips up high and driving back into you. 

“Fuck!” You cried out, your fingers clawing at the comforter.

“Ain’t stoppin’ yet, darlin’. You’re gonna give me one more.”

You weren’t sure if you had anything left to give, but with Joel ramming into you from behind, you had no choice but to relinquish all control. Slick arousal ran down your thigh as Joel plunged deeper, his cock spearing into you and tearing you apart. 

“Please don’t stop,” you panted. “So close, Joel…I’m so close.”

“I know. I know,” he crooned. “Doin’ so good for me.”

Joel’s fingers dug into your hip bones, anchoring you into the bed. His touch was bruising—brutal. Your head dropped between your shoulders, your tears falling onto the sheets. Euphoria thrummed in your veins, ready to explode at any given moment. The loud echo of Joel’s hips slamming against yours battled against the storm still brewing outside; each thrust its own sound of thunder erupting inside your tiny bedroom. 

Pleasure fractured through you, your skin lit on fire as your orgasm lapped up your spine. You seized around Joel’s cock, arousal gushing from you and coating his length as he slipped in and out of your sex. Joel grunted in satisfaction, pinning your hips to his as he let your orgasm flutter through your body. 

“Fuck yes,” he groaned. “Makin’ such a mess of me, darlin’. Filthy lil’ thing just squirtin’ all over my cock. Y’want my cum deep inside you now? Want me to fill you up, darlin’?”

You nodded vigorously; your mouth opened in a silent plea despite Joel towering over you from behind. He couldn’t see the way you mouthed please, but he felt the desperation in your body as you pressed your hips back against his. Joel took you hard, barreling deeper inside you with each thrust until you felt him shudder with a breathy moan. Your name slipped off his lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his release filling you to the brim. It dripped out the sides, mixing with your arousal as it rolled down your thighs. Christ, you were so fucking full of him in every single way. 

Joel slumped over your body, his mouth warm against your spine as he left small kisses on your skin. You sunk into the bed, your legs giving out beneath you and leaving you exhausted and listless. Time passed slowly, and Joel finally slipped from you and tumbled onto the bed beside you. He quickly pulled you into an embrace, tucking your head under his arm and against his chest. Though your body was still unwinding from the way he fucked you, you felt yourself tensing back up. To feel this close to someone felt foreign and unsure; every fiber of your being fought against this, yet you were too tired to overcome it mentally. Joel’s fingers curled into your waist, digging softly into your skin as if to beckon you closer.

“You doin’ okay, darlin’?” He asked, his voice hoarse and tired.

You buried your head into his chest, refusing to look at him. How could you voice your fears when everything inside his eyes scared you the most? You could run from your feelings, but you could never outrun the softness of his brown eyes.

“I don’t know how to do this, Joel,” you mumbled into his chest.

“Do what?”

“Be with someone,” you confessed. “I don’t know how to be anythin’ other than alone.”

He nudged you softly, trying to coax your eyes to meet his. There was no point in hiding; at this point, you’d lose any battle against him. Lifting your head, you caught a glimpse at his eyes, their soft brown color shaded by clouded a deep sense of concern. 

“Let me show y’what it’s like,” he offered. “Let me care for you the way you deserve.”

“I’m just scared,” you whispered.

“What’re y’scared of?”

Joel raised a brow, the furrow above his nose deepening. He was silently trying to understand your hesitancy, which you appreciated, but it didn’t feel right to be this vulnerable with him. The moment you spilled your heart to him, you’d never have it back. Your walls would be broken down, and you’d have nowhere to run and hide. Sucking in a breath, you allowed the words to tumble out of you. 

“I’m scared that if I let myself fall for you, I’ll lose you like I lost everyone else.”

“Darlin’,” Joel sighed. 

He tilted your chin up, placing a gentle kiss against your trembling lips. 

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You showed me how strong y’can be. Now it’s my turn to be strong for you, ‘kay? Can I do that?”

“You aren’t supposed to be like this,” you said, shaking your head.

“How am I supposed to be?” He questioned.

“You shouldn’t be this nice to me. I don’t deserve this after everythin’ I’ve done. I deserve all the mean shit y’been doin’ to me.”

“Why can’t I do both?” He chuckled lightly, squeezing your side. ���I can still be mean as long as I get to love you, too.”

You propped your head onto his chest, watching him for any fault in his words. You truly didn’t understand how he could feel all these things for you when you’d been nothing but awful. You pushed him away constantly; you got on his nerves. Why did he want you?

“You love me?” You asked, tears welling in your eyes. 

“Yeah, maybe I do. Got me wrapped ‘round your bratty lil’ finger, darlin’.”

Joel leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. His lips traveled down your damp cheeks until he captured your mouth once again. You slid your hands up his chest, your fingers tugging at the curls at the base of his neck. He pulled you in closer and maneuvered your body over his, your chests pressed together and hearts beating in the same rhythm. 

“This doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop givin’ you hell, Joel,” you smiled, breaking away from his lips. 

“Oh, I’m countin’ on it, darlin’,” he chuckled.

Outside, the storm continued barreling through the fields, the quiet sound of rain tapping against the windows. Joel kept you tangled around his body, his warmth never leaving you as time drifted away. The fear still lingered in the back of your mind, but it wasn’t as powerful anymore. You had your land, you had your responsibilities, and you had your man. 

You could have it all. 

You did have it all.

[lovebugism]

can I request [ MISTLETOE ] for sender and receiver to find themselves under the mistletoe. with steeb and shy!reader?! maybe they’ve both been crushing for a while and so it’s all fluffy??

ty for requesting :D happy xmas angel!! — you and steve have your very first kiss under the mistletoe (shy!fem!r, new relationship, fluff, 1.1k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You’re pretty sure your friends are debating which Christmas song is better. You can’t be sure, though, because it all just sounds like static. Everything feels a little like static, too.  

You’re sitting on Steve’s couch, but it’s more like sitting on a cloud. He’s right next to you — arm lazy around your shoulders, fitting into your side like a puzzle piece — but you can’t really feel him, either.

Steve can tell how far away you’ve gone. You haven’t said a word to him in ages. He can’t be totally sure you’ve even blinked, either. He squeezes your shoulder with a gentle hand, one that you barely feel, to bring you back again.

You turn to him, sluggish and slow and softly smiling.

“Still good?” he wonders. His grin is barely there and slightly lopsided. His honey eyes sparkle with a subtle concern. He doesn’t know how to be anything but entirely tender with you.

You nod, though your eyes are still a little glassy.

Steve’s smile widens. His golden features drip with a fondness you don’t feel very deserving of.

He’s so close, you think he might kiss you. You can smell the hot chocolate and candy canes on his breath — a lethal concoction that makes you melt further into him. And truth be told, he wants to kiss you, but he’s terrified of being too forward.

You’re made of something delicate. Like flower petals or winter sunlight. He doesn’t want to be too rough with you.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks.

Your chin jerks back a bit. The subtle meaning behind his words makes you flinch. “…What?”

His face falls in a gaping horror. “Wait— No— that’s not— That’s not what I meant,” he stammers quickly, an awkward laugh sputtering from his lips. “I was trying to ask if you wanted to get a drink before Eddie breaks out his metal version of Rudolph the Rednose Reindeer.”

His dumb joke makes you laugh. He’s grateful for it.

He walks with you towards the kitchen, guiding you with a warm hand on the small of your back. Robin gives him a not-so-subtle thumbs up when he passes her. “Real smooth,” she mouths. 

He flips her off but feels a little bad about it a second later. The mistletoe hanging in front of the sink was definitely her doing — and probably his only opportunity to kiss you tonight. He’ll thank her for it later, if everything goes to plan.

You stand across the room at the fridge, pouring him a glass of eggnog like the sweet thing you are. He doesn’t know how to get you over to him without being too obvious. So he just lingers in place, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, and hopes you’ll eventually migrate towards him.

“Here you go, babe,” you murmur under your breath, not even looking his way as you sit the full glass to the side. 

Steve wonders if you noticed the nickname spilling from your mouth, or if it just came out without you realizing it. It makes his chest all warm and fuzzy either way. He wants to kiss you stupid about it, but he has to get you over here first.

“Uh, can you hand it to me, please?”

You look over your shoulder at him, expecting to find him busy in some way. He isn’t, though. He’s just kinda standing there. Like he’s waiting for something.

You’re confused, but you don’t press it. You go to hand it to him without complaint. Sweet thing, indeed.

You take a few steps towards him and reach out your arm, not quite under the half-hidden mistletoe yet. Steve grimaces slightly. “Little closer?” he pleads.

With furrowed brows, you take another step closer.

“Just a little bit more—”

Your golden laugh fills the kitchen. “What are you doing? Just take it, weirdo.”

Steve beams when you’re finally beneath it. His gasp is almost cartoonish, but it makes his eyes sparkle anyway. “Ah! Look at that! We’re under the mistletoe!”

Your eyes flit to the ceiling. The artificial plant is mostly hidden, strung up between hanging pots and pans. A smile tugs at your mouth — you wonder if he planned this or if the chance just fell into his lap.

You’re grateful for it, either way.

“What a coincidence, huh?” you murmur sheepishly, stomach so full of fluttering butterflies that it aches.

“Yeah. Not planned at all,” he beams, totally honest, as he takes a small step closer.

“Not even a little bit,” you tease.

His hands settle on your waist, warm with how clammy they’ve gone. His thumbs rub gently along your ribcage, over your reindeer-patterned Christmas sweater. His chest presses intently against yours, and you wonder if he can feel your racing heartbeat.

“Totally unintentional, actually. I think the universe willed it.”

“Totally.”

“Well,” Steve lilts with a quirked mouth and twinkling eyes. “Do you wanna?”

He won’t do anything you don’t want to do. He’d never force you to do a damn thing, but fuck, if he doesn’t want you to say yes more than he’s ever wanted anything in the whole world.

His heart nearly bursts out of his chest when you nod at him with your own quiet smile. 

When he leans in to kiss you, it feels like something out of a movie. There’s a swelling choir in the distance and snow falling all around you. It’s in black and white or technicolor, something so obviously old Hollywood, because only the golden age of film could capture these once-in-a-lifetime romantics.

And it’s weird, ‘cause it’s just one little peck.

His chiseled nose bumps once against the side of your own, scruffy chin scratching at your skin. His lips lock momentarily with yours with all their plush pink glory. It’s heaven — for a flash of a second — and gone way too soon.

Both of you are grinning like lovesick idiots when he pulls away.

His freshly kissed mouth opens to say something — to tell you that he’s head over heels for you or that you taste like hot cocoa, maybe — but nothing like that comes out.

Something metallic cracks in the distance, like a valuable thing broken, and all the loud voices in the living room suddenly go quiet.

“Little shits…” Steve mumbles in an annoyed sigh. His blatant irritation makes you laugh. The sound makes him smile all over again. “I should go make sure no one broke a limb or something.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

His hands squeeze gently at your sides before he goes, grieved to leave you.

He barely gets five steps away before you’re calling him back again. 

“Wait! You forgot your drink.” 

When he walks back towards you again — nicely settled beneath the hanging mistletoe he’d already forgotten about — you sneak another kiss in. It’s quicker than you’d like, but more languid still. 

It takes his breath away all over again.

[miaoshow]

🍀【Miaoshow batik intangible cultural heritage | Fan leads the breeze · Lotus earrings】🍀 🌺 Inheriting the ancient technique of "ice pattern dyeing" for thousands of years - pure plant blue dyeing opens ice cracks on the fan surface, just like sealing the clouds and mists of southeast Guizhou and swaying beside the ear. The Miao silver lotus pendant contains seven-hole lotus seeds, which is in line with the blessing of the Big Dipper. When walking, the sound is clear, like stepping on the bluestone terraces of the hometown after the rain.

✨ Totem code: ▫️ Fan bone pattern: Replica of the wing veins of the guide butterfly in the Miao "Migration Ancient Song" ▫️ Lotus hole: Meaning "seven orifices are spiritual" ▫️ Wax knife mark: The craftsman holds the copper knife and leaves a mark, and each wrinkle is a living epic

✅Purely handmade-each earring is unique. ✅ Ancient beeswax + isatis root fermentation dyeing, will produce a unique patina as you wear it ✅ Comes with a traditional Chinese blessing bag

🌊 When the oriental fan rhythm meets the Miao spirituality Click to let tradition revive in your ears: www.miaoshowcn.com

[five-rivers]

providence 2

[Based on prompts by @ash-rabbit @lexiepiper and @kinglazrus! Big thank you to @jackdaw-sprite, Lexie, and @datawyrms for beta. Read the full fic here.]

“You should just ask him,” said Sam.  

Danny flipped over in the air to stare at her.  “No, I shouldn't!  I shouldn't have asked him what I did ask–”

“It doesn't sound like you asked him much of anything,” said Tucker. 

“--I mean, what if it's what killed him, and that's why he was hiding it?” 

“I thought your current theory was that other Danny merging with him somehow merged his scars with Clockwork's scars,” said Sam.  

“That was a theory,” corrected Danny.  A chill from his ghost sense passed through him, and he righted himself in time to gently guide a swarm of blob ghosts into the phase-proof mesh butterfly net he'd been gesturing with.  

Over the past few days, blob ghosts had started a sort of migration.  Most of them stayed in the Ghost Zone, moving in enormous clouds, but some slipped through the portal and got lost.  With ghost hunting back in full swing, Amity Park wasn't safe for even the most harmless of ghosts, so Team Phantom was trying to catch them first.  

Emphasis on trying.

Blob ghosts (this type, anyway, not whatever Skulker was) were weak and usually docile.  The problem was, there were so many of them that the thermos by itself wasn't enough.  Sure, the beam would scoop them up readily enough, but the rest of the swarm would scatter in all directions, often invisible and intangible, becoming nearly impossible to find, let alone catch.   

The nets, while they wouldn’t have worked for any other ghosts, didn’t scare the blobs, and once they were in the nets they were easy to scoop up in the thermos.  However, nets were a much closer-range tool than the thermos, and getting close was its own problem.  Sam, Tucker, and Jazz couldn’t fly.  The blob ghosts, obviously, could.

But blob ghosts were attracted to heightened emotions.  Which made sense.  All ghosts could feed on emotions.  Even Danny, although he, like other more complex ghosts, could feed on his own emotions.  Hence the purposefully emotional conversation.  

“He said it wasn’t your fault, though, didn’t he?” asked Tucker.  He and Sam were wearing an abbreviated set of ‘standard’ ghost hunting gear, goggles, gloves, belts, concealing anti-ecto medical masks, and hoodies, so that they could fake being normal ghost hunters, if they had to.

“But he also said that, uh, other Danny wasn’t me, and what he did wasn’t my fault, which sort of means that it is because of him, doesn’t it?  Which means that it is my fault.”  He collected the last of the blob ghost swarm and swooped down to Tucker, so he could suck them into the thermos.

“Him saying that it isn’t your fault means that it is?” asked Tucker.

“Okay, maybe not my fault,” clarified Danny.  “The other thing. You know.   My responsibility.”

“But if that’s where it came from, Clockwork couldn’t have died from it, right?” asked Sam, reasonably.  “He was already a ghost when other Danny possessed him.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s why it’s my other theory.  I can have more than one theory.  It doesn’t matter if they’re contradictory.  I’ve just got to figure out how to test them and get rid of the ones that are disproven.  That’s science.”  His ghost sense went off again, and Danny flew upward to survey the surrounding streets.  

He thought he saw a flash of something round and green, but it disappeared as soon as he flew closer.  He sighed.  

“Nothing,” he said, returning. 

“I think you might have a skewed idea of what science is,” said Tucker.  

“And where it can be applied,” added Sam.  

“It can totally be applied here.  And my theories are completely valid.”

“I’m not sure I completely understand the one where you think it killed him?” said Tucker.  

“Okay, well,” said Danny, “when someone is hit in the head by lightning, they die.”

“Roy Sullivan didn’t,” said Tucker.  

“Who?”

“A guy who got hit by lightning seven times.  None of them killed him.  And he fought bears.”

“That’s not real,” said Sam.  “That’s not a real thing.”

“It is,” said Tucker.  “He’s the world record holder.”

“Usually getting hit in the head by lightning kills you,” said Danny.  “It’s electricity.  Electricity kills people.”

“But then why didn’t it look like a lightning scar the whole time?” asked Tucker, reasonably.  

“Because who’d want to look at a reminder of the thing that killed them every time they looked in a mirror?” asked Danny.  “He’s a shapeshifter.  He was hiding it.  And now that he’s– He’s hurt, or his power is gone, or whatever, he can’t hide it anymore.”

“His shapeshifting is pretty specific, though, isn’t it?”  Tucker’s eyes flicked down to his PDA.  “Incoming hunters.  Parsley and Overlook.”

Danny grabbed them under the arms and lifted off, turning intangible and passing through several buildings on the way to safer streets.  “Not Mom and Dad?”

“Nope.” 

“They’ll probably follow traffic laws, then.”  Danny set them down.  

“Yeah,” said Tucker, checking his PDA again.  “It’ll probably be a while before they start to look for us over here.  But I doubt we have much more than an hour before enough hunters are out that we won’t be able to avoid them.”

Danny made a face.  “There’s no way we’re going to catch all the blobs before then.”

“We can pretend to be hunters again,” said Sam.  They’d used the tactic a few times to get ghosts away from the new crop of hunters.  Most of them didn’t want to fight other people, even for the ‘rights’ to a ghost.  “That’s why we’re wearing this stuff.”

Danny nodded.  “I guess we’d better start again, then.”  He spread his arms wide and floated back.  “Hit me with your best shot?”

“You have any more theories, Wes Weston?” asked Tucker.  

“Ow,” said Danny.  “I mean, I guess it could be something else that’s happened since I’d last seen him, but that’d be a huge coincidence, wouldn’t it?”

“As opposed to the coincidences that somehow make it both your fault and a horrible imposition to Clockwork?” asked Sam.  “For all you know, it could be, like, ghost acne.”

“Just ghost acne?  You mean, the thing that half killed Vlad and put you in quarantine?”

“Bad analogy,” admitted Sam.  They started walking again.  “But it could be something normal that he’s just embarrassed about, or an attack from another ghost or something.  That he’s also embarrassed about.  Heck, it could just be a bad attempt at glamour makeup.”

“Pretty sure Clockwork doesn’t wear makeup,” said Danny.  

“That you know of.”

“Yeah,” chimed in Tucker.  “He could’ve just come from a drag show or something.”

“I– What?”

“It was the silliest thing I could think of,” said Tucker.  

“Okay,” said Danny, before darting off to catch another small swarm in his butterfly net.  “I’d just feel a lot better about all of it if I could help him.”

“So, why don’t you?” asked Sam.  

“I asked him if I could help, and he basically ignored it.  I don’t think he wants to see me.”

“Isn’t being able to get to his tower in the first place basically a standing invitation, because of the weird time stuff?”

“Maybe.  He might not be able to hide it anymore, with his powers damaged.  I didn’t ask.”

“Okay, well,” said Sam, “believe it or not, I actually got this advice from my parents, but a lot of people who need help don’t like to ask for it, so sometimes it’s better to just show up and find something to do, or with something to help.  It doesn’t have to be a big thing.  Like, when Mom was talking about this, it was about giving casseroles to widows.”

“Does that work?” asked Danny, dubiously.  

“We’re on patrol with you, aren’t we?” asked Sam.  “You said his place was full of rubble, right?  Maybe you could sweep that up.  It won’t solve any of the real problems with time, but it’d be a job he didn’t have to do, right?  And his house would be clean.  Cleaner.”

“That… might work,” said Danny.  “If I was careful not to touch any weird time stuff.”

“There you go, then.  Which means…”  She turned an evil grin on Tucker, “it’s your turn to have a heartfelt conversation.”

Tucker groaned.  “Come on, I don’t have nearly as much drama with my parental figures as you two do.”

“Then find some other drama,” said Sam, mercilessly as Danny sputtered that Clockwork was not his parental figure, “didn’t you try to ask Tiffanie out the other day?”

Tucker groaned again, and Danny’s ghost sense went off.  

.

Danny couldn’t visit Clockwork every day, or even on a regular day every week.  The timing of his trips to the Ghost Zone was based on opportunism.  He had to pick times when he wouldn’t be missed too much by his parents, when he wasn’t in school, and when Amity Park wasn’t under attack.  Plus, he still had to pass his classes, make sure no one was being dissected, hang out with Sam and Tucker, and sleep.

It was a lot.  

When he did get into the Ghost Zone, there was always a lot to do there, too.  Jazz wanted him to visit the Far Frozen more regularly, because Frostbite was a doctor who Danny could actually go to.  Johnny, Kitty, and Youngblood would derail any plans he had if he ran into them.  So would Walker, but for different reasons.  Danny wanted to track down Wulf at some point.  Also, Danny was still trying to map out the immediate area around the portal, which wasn’t exactly easy, since it moved.  

So, it was over a week before Danny could begin to put Sam’s advice into effect.  In that time he’d talked himself in and out of doing it multiple times.  Which was silly.  He hadn’t been this indecisive about anything since cheating on the CAT.  Clockwork liked him, or at least consistently tolerated him, and what was the worst that could happen, anyway?

His brain loyally conjured up half a dozen worst case scenarios.

Stupid brain.  

He floated outside the tower, eyeing the rubble.  He’d start here.  The stuff just floating around randomly outside probably wasn’t all that important, and dealing with it first would give Clockwork the chance to tell him to knock it off if he really didn’t want Danny’s help.  

First, he’d have to find places to put stuff.  He wasn’t sure if pushing things together into floating piles would work.  Maybe the bigger chunks would work like islands and have their own gravity?  He’d have to test that.  

Then, he’d have to start sorting.  He could see stuff that looked like chunks of masonry, bits of twisted metal, whole gears, fragments of glass, and splintery lengths of wood.  He absolutely wouldn’t throw anything out.  He’d learned that lesson from cleaning out the lab.  There was no way of telling if a particular slab of innocuous rock was secretly the power source for some doomsday device somewhere.

Once he had the skies clear out here, he’d move on into the entryway and the halls.  

That sounded like a plan.  

He got to work.  

It turned out that the bigger pieces of rubble would stick together, if only loosely, so Danny pushed a few of those out of what he considered to be the main paths around and to the tower, and used them as the nuclei of his piles.  He dumped armfuls of smaller rocks and other junk on them, and they got larger bit by bit.  

(It wasn’t, quite, accretion.  It wasn’t the way the planets formed.  But it was… adjacent.  Artificial accretion?  Was that a thing?)

But as he worked he started to feel like he was being watched.  It was an itch on the back of his head and in-between his shoulderblades, but every time he scanned the tower, hoping to find Clockwork in the shadows, he saw nothing.  The feeling persisted, and Danny decided that he must be watching through a time viewer or something similar.  Any of his enemies or ‘rogues’ would have made themselves known by now.  Even Vlad wasn’t all that subtle, unless he was using his little spy bugs (which hilariously didn’t work for more than thirty minutes in the Ghost Zone).  

It still made him uneasy.  

He dropped one more armload of rocks into the planet-pile, and surveyed his work.  It… wasn’t all that impressive, actually, but he’d been working on it for an hour, so… It’d have to do.  He wanted to say hi to Clockwork and make sure he was, well, aware of what Danny was doing. 

He definitely was, given the whole ‘I know what you’re doing before you do it’ thing he had going on, but Danny just wanted to check.  He flew down to the door, and almost ran into a strange ghost exiting.  

The ghost wasn’t large, by ghost standards, only a little longer than Danny himself, and their body plan seemed to be a fairly standard humanoid upper half with a ghostly tail.  However, instead of a normal head, a single giant eye rested on their sloped shoulders.  

They looked Danny up and down, their great eye narrowing slightly, but then they flew off without another word.  Danny watched them go for a minute, but then turned back to the doorway and slipped through.  

Only to run into Clockwork.  

“Augh!  Sorry,” said Danny, backing up and rubbing his nose.  He looked up.

Clockwork was wearing an eyepatch.  It didn’t cover the branching scar that now wound down his neck and up into his hairline.  

“So,” said Danny, “um.”  He hadn’t planned this conversation out at all, and most of his brainpower was occupied by not staring.  “Who was that, just now?  A friend?”

Clockwork made a complicated face, made all the more difficult to interpret because it was covered up.  “I can say nothing against them.”

In Clockwork language, that was basically equivalent to saying they were soulmates.  Clockwork took a lot of pride in his snark and he snarked about everything.  Not always in a straightforward way, sure, but where Danny was an apprentice in the art, Clockwork was a master.  

While Danny was still processing, Clockwork put his hand on Danny’s shoulder and squeezed lightly.  “All analogies have their limits,” he said.  “If time is a parade, then who are the marchers and marshals?  If it is a river, then why does it flow apart, and not together?  If it is a wheel, then why do events not repeat with regularity?”

He seemed to want an answer.  “Because it isn’t any of those things?”

Clockwork nodded, then drew Danny closer into a loose not-quite hug.  “Nor is it a lightning bolt.”  

Danny suppressed a shudder at the mention of electricity, and leaned his head against Clockwork’s chest.  He could hear it ticking, and the pendulum within the glass case flashed in the corner of his eye.  

“These things are still used,” stressed Clockwork.  “We all make the choices we can.”

The last bit was added quietly, as an afterthought, and Danny twisted to look up at him.  Clockwork looked… tired.  He was in his middle-aged form, but he looked older than Danny had ever seen him before.  

Clockwork pulled away with a sigh and patted Danny’s head.  “You are going to be late.”

“It’s the middle of the night?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

He’d probably wind up oversleeping, then.  It was awfully unlike Clockwork to warn him about that.  

“Goodbye, Daniel,” he said.  “Be… safe.”

Well, that was ominous.

.

Danny was being watched again.  This time, midway through his flight home, he was less certain that it was Clockwork.  He kept flying, anyway, unsure if he should try to confront whoever or whatever it was, or if he should try and pull a counter-ambush– Assuming the person watching him would attack.  

He realized he was slightly off course, and banked, correcting his path.  As he did so, a ghost, sheltering in the shadow of an island, came into sight.  The same ghost Danny had seen leaving Clockwork's tower.

That was strange.  

Danny stopped several meters away, cautious.  They might have been Clockwork’s friend or acquaintance or whatever, but most of Danny’s ghost friendships had started off with getting the crap beaten out of him.  “You want to eye-dentify yourself?”

So that was what an eyeball ghost looked like when they were annoyed.  Cool.  You learned something new every day.

“I,” said the eyeball ghost.  They paused, glaring, when Danny muffled a laugh.  

Yeah, Danny knew he shouldn’t do that, but it was how he interacted with ninety percent of other ghosts.  Sue him.  

“Members of my order do not use personal names,” said the ghost, rather pompously.  “I am an Observant, a watcher of time.  You are Phantom.”

Danny nodded in confirmation, even though that felt more like a statement than a question.

“You are… attempting to aid the timekeeper.”

“Yes?” said Danny, not at all sure where this was going.  

“He is a stubborn creature, unwilling to accept aid even from us, though we have long worked together.  But he accepts aid from you.”

“Sort of,” said Danny.  He hadn’t explicitly or implicitly rejected Danny’s help, anyway.

“We have an interest in maintaining the timeline, as he does.  But we are limited in what we may do.  Would you, Phantom, help us help him?”

[lucid-outsourcing-solutions]

Cloud Migration Best Practices : A Comprehensive Guide

[tomalbon]

Poem #85

You rose in the North with a wax lance

And marked the first mountains

With such enthusiasm the world shook.

Canyons charged with bear-eyed

Guide-light emanated from your toolmarks,

Waypoints for my fingers

Tossed in Southern oceans like strange

Porpoises, carriers

Of aquamarine promises that spirit

Grottos to distant places.

Great trunks transfigured from their bodies

Sprout skyward, unburdened,

Seeking green anointment from your migrations,

Ascendant in the East

Where prevailing winds now carried your interest,

Dog-curious, arrow-bright,

Risen as balloons of an egg yoke sun

Unshadowed by purple clouds.

You coronate them so gleefully,

Dappled in apple hues

Instinctively circled in Spring flightpaths,

Anthologising countless

Ley lines that glide, swallow-bodied, to you,

Nested in a starlit smile.

Pilot our penmanship to the West

Where I fear I cannot go

Alone; the swan-crowned hazes of the West

Where stranger life begins -

The second life, the one where no-one

Comes to save you;

Where ink-black strands lie illegible

Beneath a squid-beak moon.

Fathom its deep lamps for guideposts

Where the sea becomes ichor

Of that beast. Flense its shapeshifter skin

Into chrysanthemums

And weave their violet flakes into lifeboats

For my unshattered senses,

And I am carried as in arms as in song

As in memory

As in dust in a sunbeam, weightless

As your watercolour hope.

-

[boneapplet]

From Rust and Bone pt.10

Chronicles of the Lost Primarch

Relationship: Rogal Dorn x oc/afab!reader

Warnings: alluded to illness

Word Count: 1034

Requested tag:@noncon-photobomb @beckyninja @blukitty40k @runin64

Masterlist

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7 | pt 8 | pt 9 | pt 10 | pt 11 | pt 12 | pt 13 | pt 14 | pt 15 | pt 16 | pt 17 | pt 18

The migration wore on, their silhouettes stretched long across the pale stone as the sun crawled behind a bank of ash-colored clouds. The toxic haze having receded with the stormfront, leaving the world dry and brittle, as if the very air had been scraped clean of softness. Dorn riding high atop Arravox, the beast’s scales shifting with dull light, each step steady and sure-footed along the fractured ridge path. Kessa behind them off to the right, slumped slightly to the left in the saddle. Her mount—smaller and nimbler than Arravox—moves with patience beneath her, sensing her discomfort in ways Dorn had come to notice as instinctive among these beasts. Her grip on the reins remains steady, but her other hand has started to tremble.

She tries not to show it. She always tries not to show it. Dorn narrows his gaze, watching the subtle shift in her posture. The tightness in her jaw. The way her breath catches every few minutes.

"You’re favoring your side again," he says evenly, his voice cutting through the dry wind.

Kessa doesn’t answer at first. Reaching down, adjusting a strap on her saddle pack as if that was the problem and not the fire lacing her nerves. “I’m fine.”

"You’re not."

A small laugh escapes her—dry, brittle. “You sound like someone I used to know.”

"You didn’t listen to them either, did you?"

A faint smirk crossing her face, eyes still forward. “Nope.”

They ride on in silence for a few minutes more. The landscape undulated with broken rocks and the odd tilt of mineral skeletons, silent witnesses to long-dead floods or magma flows. It is beautiful in that sharp, exhausting way this world often was.

A sudden hiss escapes under her breath, leaning forward and gripping the horn of the saddle with both hands. Her mount trills, adjusting its gait, more careful now. Dorn doesn’t wait. Bringing Arravox alongside her, not pressing too close, but enough to offer presence. Anchor. He doesn’t reach for her, doesn’t try to lift her down. Silently lets her know that the offer is there, in the stillness of his eyes.

“I said I’m fine,” she repeats, softer this time. As if trying to convince herself too.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking it loud enough.”

Dorn gives a slow nod. “Then let me say it. You don’t need to prove anything. Not to me.”

That brings her gaze to him, sharp and tired all at once. “I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m trying to not fall behind.”

“You won’t.”

Closing her eyes briefly. When they open again, they are glassy with something she wouldn’t name.

“There’s no stopping out here. You know that. You stop; you die.”

“Then we pause. Not stop. Rest. Long enough for you to catch your breath.”

Kessa hesitates. Her pride warring with her practical sense, and for a long moment, it isn’t clear which would win. Finally, with a short nod, she guides her mount toward a jut of rock ahead that offers partial shade.

Dismounting upon reaching it. Her legs nearly buckle when they hit the ground, and Dorn is there—silent, steady—as she steadies herself against the creature’s flank. She lets herself lean for a heartbeat too long before pushing off and sitting on a chunk of sun-warmed stone. Unwrapping a cloth bundle from her satchel—dried root, wrapped in what seem to be dried herbs—and begins to chew it with slow, deliberate movements.

“What is it?” Dorn questions, lowering himself beside her.

“For inflammation. Won’t fix it, but it'll help keep it from getting worse.” Pausing for a moment. “Tastes like rotting dust rat though.”

Arching his brow. “I’ll take your word for it.”

The corner of her lips twitch. “You're lucky.”

Wind sweeping across the plateau and for a few quiet minutes, they simply sat. No forward motion, no proving. Just two survivors, letting the land catch its breath through them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By late light, the sun is a dull coin peaking barely over the horizon, and the worst of the terrain has begun to flatten. Wind hissing across the scrubbed stone, sending fine ash and mica dancing in the air. Their mounts move slow and steady now, weariness bleeding into the rhythm of hoof and claws.

They find a notch in the rocks just before dusk—half a cave, half a windbreak. Kessa guides her mount into the shelter with practiced familiarity, slipping from the saddle with more grace than earlier, though Dorn still catches the slight wince that curves her spine as she touches ground. She doesn’t comment, and he doesn’t press—not yet. Building a small fire, just enough to cook strips of salted meat and reboil their water. Dorn takes the first watch, eyes turned toward the pale horizon while Kessa leans back against her pack, arms crossed over her chest, her breathing shallow but even. He waits until the fire is mostly coals.

“You didn’t just hurt yourself riding,” he says at last, low and without accusation.

Kessa opens one eye. The flicker of firelight made her look older in that moment—hollowed, not fragile, but carved deep.

“No,” she admits, and closes her eye again.

He watches her for a few heartbeats. “How long?”

“Long enough.”

A silence stretches between them, brittle but not uncomfortable.

“Does it get worse?”

“Sometimes,” she says. Her voice isn’t cold, just careful. “Not always predictable. Heat’s bad. Cold’s worse. Overexertion, stress, sleeping wrong, breathing wrong—take your pick.”

Opening her eyes again, meeting his stare with a half-smile that doesn’t reach the edges. “But I manage.”

Dorn nods once, slow. “You always have.”

Kessa tilts her head. “You say that like you know me.”

“I’m starting to.”

Something in her gaze softens, if only for a moment. But she doesn’t answer. Instead, she reaches for a waterskin, takes a drink, then offers it without a word. He accepts it. Outside, the wind moans across the rocks, tugging at the corners of the world like it wanted in. The stars won’t come out tonight. But the silence between them has changed again—not distant, but full of things neither of them was quite ready to say.

[vastedge330]

https://www.bloglovin.com/@vastedge/guide-to-creating-an-effective-cloud-migration

Learn how to create an effective cloud migration strategy for 2024. This step-by-step guide covers planning, risk assessment, cost management, and tips for successful execution, ensuring smooth transition and scalability.

[777-wailerchive]

Dear Nobody’s Daughter, to Live Through This, you scrape off your Celebrity Skin; you know full well that you’re Pretty On The Inside...

HOW TO GET INTO HOLE?

• st. onan guide: I.

Aimed at @saintfrancis-ofassisi and whomever wants to get into Hole...

HOLE is an American nineties’s kinderwhore band with a turbulent line-up and pure chaotic gold for music yet overshadowed by the controversial image of the lead singer and frontwoman of the band, Courtney Love. A staple in the grunge scene, the critically acclaimed sophomore record Live Through This of 1994 marked a peak in Hole’s career although the band was gaining audience for their 1991 debut: Pretty On The Inside. Celebrity Skin, the 1998 album, proved Hole’s peak which was rightly concluded by 2010’s Nobody’s Daughter thus finishing the legacy of Hole.

DO TRY Hole if you are into: Jack Off Jill, Bratmobile, Nirvana, Babes In Toyland, L7, Veruca Salt, Mommy Long Legs, Bikini Kill, Lunachicks, et cetera. Or, if you’d like to try something dolly and chaotic with an edge of feminism and aggression. I promise, listening to Hole makes you feel like a doll.

DO NOT TRY Hole if you’re a filthy misogynist who can’t stand the fact that the wife of a popular artist does in fact make good music on her own.

Yes, Courtney Love is a cunt, but she makes good music. Seperate the artist from the art.

If you’re still present here, welcome! Now, moving onto the actual guide...

FIRSTLY, I think to decode this, we’d have to learn about the albums individually. Of course, I’m going to leave my recommendation for listening, but to best suit yourself, you can find your own way around with the descriptions I give for each of these albums...

“ PRETTY ON THE INSIDE ”

Slut-kiss girl... PRETTY ON THE INSIDE of 1991 is about beauty, which is the life as a sex-worker about Courtney Love’s time as a sex-worker. It includes Courtney Love on vocals and rhythm guitar, Eric Erlandson on lead guitar, Jill Emery on bass, Caroline Rue on drums, produced by Kim Gordon of Sonic Youth and Don Fleming of Gumball.

tracklist. TEENAGE WHORE, BABYDOLL, GARBADGE MAN, SASSY, GOOD SISTER—BAD SISTER, MRS. JONES, BERRY, LOADED, STARBELLY, PRETTY ON THE INSIDE, CLOUDS.

IF YOU WANT... angry, chaotic, messy and sloppily mixed music that is very heady and makes you feel like a doll, listen to this album first.

Blending elements of punk rock, the album features distorted and alternating guitar compositions, screaming vocals from Love, and “sloppy punk ethics”, a style which the band would later distance themselves from, opting for a less abrasive sound on subsequent releases. Love’s lyrics on the album are often presented in an abstract narrative form, and describe disparate scenes of graphic violence, death, and female sexuality. The record was dedicated to Rob Ritter of the Los Angeles punk rock acts the Bags and The Gun Club. [< source, wikipedia.

If you want a more refined yet more depressed version of this album, migrate to Live Through This after; if you want a more refined and self-assured, slightly sarcastic but honest record after this listen, go to Celebrity Skin.

FUN FACT: the song BABYDOLL is allegedly inspired by Madonna.

“ LIVE THROUGH THIS ”

Miss Worlds... LIVE THROUGH THIS of 1994 is about the changes that come with marriage and motherhood, themes mainly being motherhood, body image, depression, child abuse and elitism. It includes Courtney Love on vocals and rhythm guitar, Eric Erlandson on lead guitar, Kristen Pfaff on bass, Patty Schemel on drums, produced by Paul Q. Kolderie and Sean Slade.

tracklist. VIOLET, MISS WORLD, PLUMP, ASKING FOR IT, JENNIFER’S BODY, DOLL PARTS, CREDIT IN A STRAIGHT WORLD, SOFTER, SOFTEST, SHE WALKS ON ME, I THINK THAT I WOULD DIE, GUTLESS, ROCK STAR.

IF YOU WANT... a tragic and softly edgy listen with a harsh sensibility and pure womanly depression scrawled all over, listen to this album first.

Live Through This marked a departure from the band’s noise rock roots toward a more alternative rock format. Love had sought a more mellow sound for Live Through This. The resulting music was starkly less aggressive than the band's former work, blending more structured melodies and smoother arrangements with heavy guitar riffs. Consequently, this featured a mixture of songwriting techniques, including use of power chords as well as arpeggios, and occasional use of keyboards. [< source, wikipedia.

If you want a tougher, rawer, more journal-entry music than this, migrate to Pretty On The Inside; if you want a more refined and self-assured, slightly sarcastic but honest record after this listen, go to Celebrity Skin.

FUN FACT: Courtney Love’s late husband Kurt Cobain does backing vocals on ASKING FOR IT.

“ CELEBRITY SKIN ”

Petals... CELEBRITY SKIN of 1998 is about the lost people, the more opulent Los Angeles and Californian culture, about the promises and agonies of Southern California; it was aimed to divulge greatly from the grunge sound of before. It includes Courtney Love on vocals and rhythm guitar, Eric Erlandson on lead guitar, Melissa Auf der Maur on bass, Patty Schemel on drums, produced by Michael Beinhorn.

tracklist. CELEBRITY SKIN, AWFUL, HIT SO HARD, MALIBU, REASONS TO BE BEAUTIFUL, DYING, USE ONCE & DESTROY, NORTHERN STAR, BOYS ON THE RADIO, HEAVEN TONIGHT, PLAYING YOUR SONGS, PETALS.

IF YOU WANT... a rock-fueled pop sound with many lyrics that are references and have layered meanings, a comforting almost listen, listen to this album first.

The band sought to use Los Angeles and the state of California as a unifying theme and began writing what they conceived as a “California album” in 1997. Unlike Hole's previous releases, the final songs on Celebrity Skin featured instrumental contributions from several musicians outside the band, primarily Billy Corgan, who co-wrote the musical arrangements on five songs. Auf der Maur's former bandmate Jordon Zadorozny, as well as Go-Go's guitarist Charlotte Caffey, also contributed to the composition of one track. Frontwoman Courtney Love, who wrote all of the lyrics, named the album and its title track after a poem she had written that was influenced by T. S. Eliot's The Waste Land. Motifs of water and drowning are also prominent throughout the album, as well as recurring themes of angels, Heaven and stars. [< source, wikipedia.

If you want a tougher, rawer, more journal-entry music than this, migrate to Pretty On The Inside; if you want a grungier yet more depressed version of this album, migrate to Live Through This after.

FUN FACT: Love clarified that she had derived the album name from a short-lived band in Los Angeles named Celebrity Skin, as well as a bootleg pornographic magazine featuring nude candid photos of celebrities.

“ NOBODY’S DAUGHTER ”

Dirty Girls... NOBODY’S DAUGHTER of 2010 is about the time of rehabilitation that Courtney Love went through after a long cocaine addiction and legal troubles following that, written in rehabilitation; about feeling lost, confused. It was supposed to be a solo album of Love’s, but was made to be Hole’s last album after their 2002 dissolution. It includes Courtney Love on vocals and rhythm guitar, Micko Larkin on lead guitar, Shawn Dailey on bass, Stu Fisher on drums, produced by Michael Beinhorn, Micko Larkin, and Linda Perry.

tracklist. NOBODY’S DAUGHTER, SKINNY LITTLE BITCH, HONEY, PACIFIC COAST HIGHWAY, SAMANTHA, SOMEONE ELSE’S BED, FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, LETTER TO GOD, LOSER DUST, HOW DIRTY GIRLS GET CLEAN, NEVER GO HUNGRY.

I DO NOT RECOMMEND LISTENING TO THIS ALBUM VERY FIRSTLY, but, IF YOU WANT... a polished and the most mainstream-sounding of the four albums, sad, confused, lost record written during rehabilitation, this is your key.

Before the album’s release, former Hole guitarist Eric Erlandson publicly disputed Love’s use of the Hole name, claiming it violated a previous agreement between the two, which Love contested. On its release, Nobody’s Daughter received generally mixed reviews from music critics, with some praising its instrumentation and lyrics, while others criticized it for its folk rock elements as well as production issues and Love’s vocals. Despite this, Love said in 2010 that she considered it the best record she had made. [< source, wikipedia.

If you want a tougher, rawer, more journal-entry music than this, migrate to Pretty On The Inside; if you want a grungier yet more depressed version of this album, migrate to Live Through This after; if you want a similar but more scattered listen, to Celebrity Skin.

FUN FACT: The painting on the cover is of Marie Antoinette and the tracklist page has the edited background of a painting of Anne Boleyn.

MY RECOMMENDED PATHWAYS...

Lastly...

HOLE is a kinderwhore band, which is minutely distinct from riot grrrl. And, Courtney Love has a lot of beef with, to be honest, mostly everyone. So, yeah... For example, Babes In Toyland, a band often mentioned in the same vein as Hole, has their frontwoman, Kat Bjelland, in hatred with Love. I do not recommend looking up to these people as people, but please do try their music.

Die, cry, adore Hole.

FUN FACT: My favourite Hole album is Pretty On The Inside!

Dear Nobody’s Daughter, to Live Through This, you scrape off your Celebrity Skin; you know full well that you’re Pretty On The Inside...

DID YOU GET INTO HOLE?

[drowninginblox]

Lets Be Lighter

A spiritual successor to this gem This is leaning more towards the romantic side of things I'm not gonna lie, but it can always be read as soft platonic. I'll let yall be the judges. Ofc no beta, second POV, and a GN reader. Optional and unrelated authors note at the end btw

"You look beautiful, truly." He mutters, making you smile. He's been like this all night and you don't have a clue as to why. "You can just talk to someone like that. Make them feel special." You tease. But you have a feeling that he knows, better than anyone else, how much you crave this sort of affection. Soft compliments in the dead of night, wrapped in arms undeserving of holding onto anything for too long. "You are special."

You don't know how many times he's told you that.

Why is it so easy to believe him?

"So are you." A hint of sadness laces your voice, making him frown as he follows you outside.

Sloothing through half-open widows is a practice you and Kurt have honed over the years. Although, his grace is something you can't outmatch no matter how hard you try. Your hair acts as a beacon, illuminating the ramshackle rooftop. Cat-like movements teater on playful as the apex of the shingles serves as your shared tightrope. The sadness fades to a bittersweet honesty. Especially under the moonlight. "Be careful Brandfliege." He says just loud enough from behind you. "Just because you light up my life, does not mean you can float."

A slow turn signals panic. Realization dawns, he might have said that loud enough that you could hear. You only smile back at him. "Something tells me a certain trapeze artist will catch me if I manage to fall." A smile breaks through his sigh.

Kurt moves to stand up straight in between his semi-playful scolding. He holds a soft gaze, one exclusive for you. You follow suit. With every step you take along the stipe of shingles serving as your tightrope, yet another cloud catches your eye. A light distraction from such a heavy topic.

Their silver lining enthralls you into a slow musing. "Tonight is divine isn't it?" You mutter. He manages to call back when he notices the distance. "This isn't me giving you permission to fall." He corrects it with a BAMF to your side, appearing on your right while a guiding touch graces the small of your back. "Why do you evade this conversation?" The question sounds absentminded even though it's designed for you. "Why must we put a label on what we have?" You respond. The hand he has on your back moves to your waist, securing you against him. He really wants this, doesn't he?

Your right-hand meets his left, ensuring a secure grip before you twist out of his chest. A small smile breaks onto his lips as you spin out along the line. Kurt pulls you back with a light tug, letting your laughter fill the air.

Returning to his chest insights another Bamf, this time to the window you exited from. A puff of warm air migrates in the cold. "I'm not doing to dance with you out here." He murmurs while guiding you to sit on the sill. "I'm not going to let you fall, mein Feuer." The smile softens with a warmth you missed. "I know you won't." The way his yellows mix with the hue of your hair ensures that he feels it too.

A guiding touch you've learned to love lingers when you head inside, followed shortly after by its owner. "It's late." He mutters while closing the window. "You owe me a dance." You counter. His tail seems to parry at the thought of sleep. Looking back at you leaves him lingering. Even though your hair has dimmed at the consideration of the other mutants that live here, the light in his eyes shines through the hollowed halls. For the briefest of moments, there is a flicker in his eyes. Almost a sense of wanting at your request.

"Your room or mine?"

Side note: For some reason I was writing this with either Comics Kurt or Fox!Kurt in mind. I wrote the first with no specific iternation in mind as I was starting my dive into other X-Men media at the time. However, now that I'm feeling out the posibilites of the character I can't help but feel this is Fox!Kurt coded. Don't know why. Obviously y'all can have your own readings on what iteration of Kurt belong to what I write as artistic interpretation is a byproduct of the liberal agenda but thats neither here nor there (/j) Anywho, if you guys have any feedback, don't be afraid to give it to me on any of my works. Could be bout anything, I'm not picky.

Take care of yourselves.